Chapter 521 - Training room

POV Aaron Dalton

Three days, and I'm already sick of this goddamn cold. The snow keeps blowing into the camp, and sometimes, to save mana used for war armor maintenance, they send us outside to clear it ourselves.

Dennis and I have always preferred warmer weather, and even though we got some clothes from the lumorans, it’s not helping much. Sure, these clothes help a lot, but they’re bulky and annoying to move in.

Nat claims it’s because they’re saving money on us. Despite Leth’s repeated warnings, he’s already started modifying them. He’s adjusted them for all of us, adding circuits we can power with our mana to boost heating.

He says the efficiency is “so shitty people from Easy difficulty could do better,” but he has no time to make it better. Now he and Sophie have gone full psycho mode, pressuring Leth for as much information as possible. Nat even clashed with the two remaining technician assistant groups: one with the thylarin trio and the other with the vyssari, the human woman, and that giant guy.

Something tells me he would fight them all if needed. The clashes are becoming more frequent, as each assistant group wants to prove themselves to get more interesting tasks.

Next to me, Dennis groans and tucks his gloved hands under his armpits.

(Do you also think the clothes and heating Nat made for Biscuit are much better than ours?)

(My man, that corgi is even eating better than us, and while you were training with Kim, Nat even started thinking about making a heated bed for him.)

(Fuck.)

(Yeah, but he’s cute, so…)

(I know… fuck.)

“Dennis, Aaron, my tiny human friends,” a deep voice resonates nearby, making me groan.

Not that guy, not now.

Hed, the giant man from one of the technician assistant groups, moves closer. In those thick protective clothes, he seems even bigger.

“Fuck off, Hed, we’re not in the mood for talking,” Dennis says out loud what I was thinking.

“Hahaha. You must be Dennis. Aaron is the nicer one.”

“Aaron is worse, he just doesn’t say it out loud.”

When Hed looks at me, I nod broadly and shift a bit, at least using him as a shield against some of the cold wind.

"Haha. Where I come from, humans aren’t quite so… outspoken." He smiles wider, seemingly unfazed by the biting wind or falling snow.

“You’d love the internet, my man,” Dennis replies with a smirk.

“Dennis, tiny human, I don’t appreciate the tone.” Hed becomes more serious, but there is still no anger in his voice.

“You think we don’t know the shit you guys say about us to technician Quent?” Dennis presses.

“Oh,” Hed finally understands, a smile spreading across his face. “You mean telling him about you guys sneaking around, trying to get into the workshop storage to grab more blueprints and armor parts? I wouldn’t call that talking behind your back, Dennis. It’s nothing personal—just the rules we all have to follow.”

“Tell this to Nathaniel,” I join in.

Right away, he straightens up, looking around as if checking for someone, then turns back to us with a growl. “Nathaniel won’t try starting a fight again, not after the last time he got punished by Camp Overseer Serabeth.”

Knowing this will rile him up, I just giggle, and Dennis adds a snort of his own.

Hed growls again and quickly turns around to leave.

(Fuck, that was close. Is it done? I think I hid it from him well. He is a nice guy but nosy sometimes.)

(Yeah, it went perfectly, and the defensive array didn’t seem to react. We’ll need a few more tests to be certain, but we might be able to sneak into some of the less important tents,) Dennis nods.

(Good! Nat will be happy.)

***

The Exoria deployment camp has a training hall. Or something akin to it—one or two stories tall, long and narrow, with multiple “rooms.” Sure, some might think it silly for me to constantly train here, even now when the worries about this expedition grow worse.

Is this some secret spy mission deep into monster territory? Is this a suicidal mission where the lumoran Champion will throw himself against monsters to stop some evil plan? Is this just the normal way Champions operate—delivering surprise attacks and hiding, to avoid enemy Champions teaming up?

This should be the 2nd front. The snow and everything else match what we’ve learned. The question is: how deep are we into the 2nd front? Currently, it doesn’t look good. There should be no reason for us to “disconnect” from the Absolute’s web and hide our presence so much. The web itself disappearing also doesn't help.

So either we’re doing something we don’t want our forces to know or something we don’t want the monsters to know.

All of this is “fun stuff” that I really pity others for dealing with, especially since most mercenaries and even some lumorans act scared but refuse to share why.

Anyway, back to training.

“Serabeth, hello, can I use training hall number 2? One would be nice, but you clearly hate humans and won’t let me. Are you maybe a xenophobe, Serabeth?” I ask.

As usual, the third-in-command of this camp spends her time here training. She’s probably on par with the Champion’s two disciples, maybe slightly weaker, but she’s undoubtedly one of the top dogs in the camp.

I can almost hear her groan in annoyance, but I fully exploit her easygoing nature. “Hed complained about you bullying their group, Nathaniel. And no, I’m not a xenophobe, I just dislike little shits like you.”

“Because I’m human, right?”

“Fuck off. And no, you’re not allowed to use training hall number 1. Number 2 is taken, so take number 3.”

“Sounds good.”

Before I leave, she halts me. “Nathaniel.”

“Yes?” I stop.

“Just a little warning. Some competitiveness is fine; you guys can even beat the shit out of each other if you want, but don’t cross that line.”

“Where is the line?”

“Fuck around and find out.”

“That's as expected of someone so xeno—”

She rouses her mana and I halt my words, only giving her a small bow and quickly leaving.

Not even for a moment do I doubt she would kill me if I screwed up too badly. Hell, if killing me increased the lumorans’ chance of defeating enemy forces by 1%, Serabeth would be willing to skin me alive. She knows I know that, and she doesn’t mind some teasing. I swear, it must be difficult nowadays to find someone who doesn’t jump at every shadow.

I suspect even she doesn’t know why we’re here. That’s my guess. Simply put, this situation is extremely… precarious.

Entering the training room number 3, I activate a panel on the wall and the canvas door seals the room, shielding it. It’s fairly simple: rough gray-black stone floor, walls made of that incredible canvas, plenty of shielding, and even some privacy. Still, I think someone like Serabeth can access the data.

Yup, even though I didn’t agree to any cookies, my data is probably free for some lumorans to look at. If they are selling it I would like a cut of that money. There is nothing I can do about it, and it’s not like I could do this training in our tent-house thingy.

I allow myself to relax a bit and let my mana cycling become sloppier, some of it leaking from my body and filling the training hall. A satisfied breath escapes my mouth. It’s like coming home, taking off your jeans, and putting on comfy sweatpants.

If the human race were slightly more advanced, we’d wear sweatpants everywhere without being judged. They’re obviously more comfortable than jeans.

Another thing—after banning invisibility skills—to look into after Biscuit becomes Absolute.

Stepping to the side, I activate another panel and, on the far side of the room, a target pops up from the ground—a metal circular plate with shock absorption and fancy inscriptions.

This room is surprisingly durable, only numbers 2 and 1 surpass it. There's even a rumored number 0 for the Champion, and damn, I'd love to see that.

Even number 3 can endure my tricolored orbs, but the problem is mana allocation. There’s a set amount of mana for everyone, and if you want more, you must use your own. Especially when using a lot of bombardment-style attacks, you don’t want Serabeth’s assistant cursing you or threatening your salary.

Knowing this, I activate another panel and a small pillar rises up. I put my hand into the groove at the top and start filling it with my mana. This time, I give it a lot, a really nice chunk. Satisfied, I let it slide back down, knowing I should be able to train more now.

[Empyrean Lance] is a skill I’m still deciphering, far from fully understanding it.

I form it—a lance woven from luminous energy, layer upon intricate layer. It radiates with a brilliant glow, quietly humming by my side.

After feeding more mana into it, it hums stronger. Its core of white and golden light shimmers, and the tip glows with blinding intensity, pulsing with the rhythm of my mana, my heartbeat.

I wonder—is the white part akin to my tricolored orb’s destabilizing, and the gold part its stabilization? Is it just an “evolved” version of the tricolored orb? Wouldn’t that be too lame for a level 300 primary class skill?

I shoot it, and it pierces the air, leaving streaks of prismatic light in its wake. There’s no extreme shockwave or wasted energy like with the orbs. The lance is much more concentrated and directional.

It hits the target, exploding into a blinding light.

I’d be disappointed that it didn’t pierce through if I didn’t know how insanely tough these targets are.

Even so, there’s a small damage on the target. Some inscriptions weakened, and the material underneath bent. The floor below has grooves that now fill with some liquid that hardens, restoring them. But the target remains damaged.

Using my eyes, I notice even more subtle damage. Three of my tricolored orbs exploding close by never even made its frequency shift, yet this lance—at only level 9—did so much more.

Someone call the admins.

Stepping closer to examine the target, I tap it with my finger and wonder how the lance compares to Fracture. Sure, Fracture is stronger. No question— that sword is evil. But something about this lance feels a bit similar. The way it releases these concentric waves and destabilizes mana and material reminds me of Fracture, even though Fracture straight-up erases everything.

So, was the lance influenced by Fracture, the weapon I made? Was it influenced by [Eclipse]—just destabilizing without taking over entirely? Is the lance more mana based while Fracture is more [Disintegration] based?

Am I just overthinking this and the lance has nothing to do with Fracture?

Overall, I’d say it feels like a combination of [Resonance] to damage material and [Eclipse] to mess with mana, both done in a very concentrated way. The interesting part is the weird field that stays after the lance disappears—a small area where mana is harder to use and materials feel weaker, at least from my testing. It’s not exactly mana radiation, but something else—not too dissimilar, though.

And I think that as the skill levels up, the lance becomes more material, more real.

This will need much more testing.

***

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