AuthorShawnWilson

UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 073 -

Everything shifted as Bob took over and Max felt himself fade into the background.  It was like he was in a dark tunnel, watching the fight take place from a distance.

There was still pain, but it was muted. Max knew that the wildfire was consuming his body, yet it wasn’t able to affect him as it had a moment ago.

Bob somehow handled the pain better, almost seeming to thrive in that moment.

The sound of Vyr Kjal calling out in agony as two hundred feet of his being was slowly engulfed in a white fire that began to change color. The flames turned into a rainbow color, and the ice where the Jutonn stood began to steam.

Need… mana…

Bob’s words were controlled, but sounded almost as if his skill was speaking through clenched teeth.  A potion appeared in the skeletal hand and was lifted into the air by magic, then shoved into Max’s open mouth.

The liquid burned as it flowed down Max’s throat, absorbed by his being and fueling both Regeneration and Wildfire.

Look! Vyrk Kjal. He is moving.

Max saw what Bob was pointing out. Each second that passed the Jutonn moved a step, the ice quickly turning to slush, dimming the Wildfire slightly.

It’s healing from the ice! Similar to that boss we faced in the tower!

Except it appears only ice… works.

Can you handle this?

Max could sense the pain Bob was enduring, even though his skill was holding it back somehow.

I can. Together we do this. Help me. Control the spells. I’ll handle your body.

Sensing how difficult it was for Bob to control his Wildfire-consumed body, Max took over the spells for the two of them. He flew them down toward the ice.

There isn't enough mana to cast a large number of spells.

I know. I’ll handle this part.

Both of Max’s weapons transformed into giant pickaxes and Bob began to smash the ice repeated with the pointed tips, cracking and shattering the frozen surface.

Closer. We need to be closer to Vyr Kjal.

Max moved them toward the Jutonn, keeping them safe from the stumbling steps.  Steam rose and the rainbow flames seemed to reach out toward Max, wanting to claim more life to devour.

Bob went to work on the floor of the arena like a dwarf in a mine.  Max kept them moving in the direction the Jutonn tried to step. The ice that was broken up melted faster and the Wildfire seemed to retain its overwhelming hunger better.

“Noo!” Vyr Kjal groaned. “I cannot… lose!”

[ Blink ]

Max sensed the incoming two-handed hammer that came at them, somehow summoned to the world-eater’s hands.  Unlike the first time it had been swung, nothing held them in place.

The massive hammerhead shattered the ice, sending a spray of it everywhere, but it had missed.

More strikes came, destroying the ice that Bob had been attempting to break up.

[ All Cooldowns Reset ]

Multiple Blinks were required to avoid the blows that Vyr Kjal tried to land. Each one rent the icy terrain for a hundred yards in every direction.

He’s doing more damage than we were.

You managed to… anger him. Fowl would be… pleased.

Bob’s words still held the steady determination Max reconginzed. He could feel the wildfire trying to climb higher, to consume his neck and head, but Bob was somehow able to direct their regeneration to that point and keep it from progressing further.

We’re down to a fifth of mana… my mana regeneration can’t keep up with this demand.

I know… Fly us away. I’ve got a plan. It’s going to be risky.

Max winced as he realized what Bob wanted to do but knew it was a chance they had to take.

Leaving Vyr Kjal to stumble through the destroyed ice that the Jutonn had created, Max took them toward the edge of the arena, hovering a hundred feet above the floor.

Let’s see if this works.

His artifact transformed into a thin sword and Bob swung it at their own neck, right under the jaw.

[ Power Strike ]

[ Ghost Strike ]

[ Rampage ]

Max felt his body react as the weapon made from Wekime’s tooth severed his head from his Wildfire-consumed body.

Wind magic kept his head airborne as the body fell toward the ground.

A sharp sensation of pain came inside Max’s mind as he felt a sensation different than the last time his head had been freed from his body.

While bones began to reform from his spine, the Wildfire also came with it.

Crap.

Bob’s single word echoed the sentiment that Max felt.  Fowl had wondered if simply chopping the arm off the first time Max had used the spell would stop the pain and its spread. Now they knew for certain that there was no way to cheat the demand of the spell.

More mana trickled from his pool as both Max’s body and the spell reformed under him.

Now what?

Lower me.  I need to finish breaking the rest of the ice. This fight won’t be over anytime soon. 

Max felt his skeleton body touch down and when it did both of his weapons appeared in his hands, once again striking the ice around them.

Don’t fly us. It drains to much. I’ll endure this. You just keep us safe is something happens.

Max let Bob get to work, keeping one eye on the Jutonn and the other on the task before them.

***

Just a little more. I can take over if you need.

No… I’ll finish this. I need to finish this.

Max didn’t argue as Bob continued to smash through the last section of ice before them.

Vyr Kjal was trying to defend it, his hammer thudding into the ice whenever the got close, damaging the section that steam rose from.

Both Max’s body and the Jutonn’s were nothing but skeleton shapes, somehow moving though there were no muscles connected. 

He is at the end of his limits… this is going to be close.

Max didn’t say a word, knowing that there was barely 3% of his mana left. Bob had given up the attempts at keeping the wildfire at bay. Only Max’s eyes remained, every other part of his body was consumed by the magic that hungered in a way that seemed impossible to describe. Even Bob’s own bloodlust paled in some ways to how this spell wanted to devour all life.

[ Demonic Teleportation ]

Bob smashed another section, bringing the last bit of ice into ruins as a skeletal foot slammed down beside them.

The impact from it almost caused them to fall over, but Bob used a weapon to steady themselves. All around there was no more flat ice. Every bit had been turned to slush or was simple chunks that didn’t appear to heal as solid ice had. 

Now what?

Now I finish this.

Max watched as his skill somehow pushed through the limits of what he wasn’t sure he could overcome. Bob had a drive that went beyond simple self preservation. Max could sense that his own desire to win and return to his family and friends was strengthening Bob as well.

[ Ultimate Form ]

Max’s body grew and with it the Wildfire found more life to consume but for just a moment strength returned as the ability added power and life.

Both weapons transformed into hammers with a jagged tip, and Bob swung them at the joint that was engulfed by the Wildfire.

[ Power Strike ]

[ Rampage ]

[ Magical Strike ]

[ Ghost Strike ]

A crack came and for the first time in almost half a day, the towering presence of Vyr Kjal stumbled. The joint broke, and the bones slid down into the slush.

Bob didn’t hesitate. Max knew what his skill needed.

[ All Cooldowns Reset ]

[ Demonic Teleportation ]

There was no mana to cast flight. No mana to keep them airborne. Every inch that they took was going to require power that Bob was willing to sacrifice for this win.

[ Demonic Teleporation ]

The Jutonn’s hip joint was before them, and once again Bob unleashed the same combo on the section of bone that held everything in place.

[ All Cooldowns Reset ]

It took two salvos to crack the section of bone and cause the joint to give way, sending the flaming Jutonn toward the ground, a pained howl coming from above.

Again!

Bob’s voice sounded as if his skill was on the ropes, and Max wasn’t sure how his skill was holding on.

Willing every part of his own desire for the win, and trying to give any aid that he could, Max positioned themselves for this next part as the Jutonn fell.

[ Demonic Teleportation ]

[ All Cooldowns Reset ]

[ Ultimate Form ]

The pain of activating that skill twice was excruciating. Yet even as the Wildfire burned away the very fibers of Max’s body, Bob somehow pushed through it.

Both of his weapons struck against the base of the Jutonn’s skull, connecting with the spine.  Bob stood there, engulfed in the flames of the Wildfire that was eating Vyr Kjal’s body as well as their own. A hunger came and Max sensed its approach. It had appeared when they killed Kherbann. 

The knowledge of what came when they had claimed a life of a person was nothing compared to the power that was gained when a god died at their hands.  Bob knew it. Max could taste it. All they needed to do to claim everything they wanted was shatter the bone that rested between Max’s legs.

A god was falling toward the arena floor, covered in slush. Riding on its shoulders was a twenty-two-foot-tall god wielding a pair of weapons, designed to destroy. 

Today, they did what they had been crafted for.

[ All Cooldowns Reset ]

Bob’s strikes struck over and over the same spot, and a howl of pain came from Vyr Kjal, a hand coming at the insect that had bled the Jutonn dry.

[ Armored Warrior ]

[ Bulwark ]

[ Harden Body ]

Max gave himself to Bob. 

Don’t push me out. Let me help in this moment. You’ve helped me. We don’t fight alone!

A sensation surged through his soul as Max felt Bob respond.

One moment, Max had been standing in that tunnel, watching everything play out before him. The next he was back in his body, the pain of everything trying to drown him.

Together.

Bob’s words were the shield to the pain that came.

A skeletal hand slammed into them and bounced off.

Max ignored it. Sensing the same spot that needed to be broken.

He stored Sunder and transformed his artifact into a single spear. This had been the weapon he had started with. This would be the weapon he would announce to every god out there who was watching that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with.  Even if no other god challenged him in the next two hundred years, they would learn that messing with him or anyone he cared about would result in their death.

A primal roar came from lungs that didn’t exist. Somehow, sound emanated from his mouth where no tongue was present.

[ All Cooldowns Reset ]

Bob gave everything. The very power that allowed his skill to grow and evolve wasn’t held back. Max took the gift. Not just the power, but the friendship he had formed.  It was in this moment that Max found himself.

1% of his mana remained. Time was at an end. Everything had to happen now or he would fall and his family would lose him forever.

So Max struck.

[ Power Strike ]

[ Rampage ]

[ Magical Strike ]

[ Ghost Strike ]

The artifact, One of the Nine, pierced through the crack that Bob had created, driving deep within the Jutonn’s spine, lodging itself inside by a few feet.  With his feet planted, Max began to push, once again ignoring the hand that tried to rip him off, his skills keeping his feet firmly planted upon the shoulder bones of Vyr Kjal.  

A sound came. The body of a Jutonn, a world-eater, slammed into the slush of the arena floor. A moment later, another sound came as Vyr Kjal’s head bounced free, the skull landing dozens of yards from its shoulder.

Finally, an even greater sound came as the pain of everything that had burned away the very body of Max vanished and the cold sensation of power filled a hunger that had been waiting for so long.

Together, Bob and Max roared as one, a sound every predator made as it claimed its kill.

Finally, the arena went quiet as the flames of the Wildfire ended and Max found himself face-first in the slush, a power so hot that it chilled his bones greater than anything else filling him everywhere.

And Max smiled.

UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 072 -

That’s a big Jutonn…

It’s a good thing Fowl’s not here or we’d have to endure the joke that would arise.

Max grunted, the cold of the arena not even bothering him as he stared up at the two-hundred-foot-tall blue opponent.

Its arms and legs were covered in a black and silver chain but the blue of its skin was noticeable on Vyr Kjal’s hands and face.  A long, white beard was braided and easily over thirty feet long as it hung down over the black plate chest piece.

A hammer that mimicked the Jutonn’s height was resting next to it, the head of the weapon larger than a two-story house.

That thing is what probably breaks worlds. Imagine the damage it does when it strikes something.

Let’s make sure we’re not what gets struck.  There’s no way this Jutonn can be slow either. Jazzjak was also right. The kind of health it has will have to be immense.

“Today’s fight has gathered more viewers than in a while! There is only one minute left before we’ll find out if Max Hoste can do the impossible and defeat another world eater, or fall under the hammer of Vyr Kjal like so many others!”

Ignoring the announcer as they called out for the last minute, Max gazed up at the giant who was half a mile away in the arena.  Every inch of the floor was nothing but ice and Max knew someone like Fowl would have a hard time moving on this surface. With his skills and Bob’s control over them, he shouldn’t have too many issues moving.

How many miles are we guessing this arena covers? Five miles? Ten miles? And yes, I know you don’t know.

And yet you still ask it. Judging by previous arena’s we can assume it's at least five, but possibly a bit more.  Most likely, the sky will be capped to a certain point, limiting your ability to fly since any god with half a brain would have watched your fights.

We're going for the old ‘enter and attack from inside’?

Not at first. Something tells me that the inside of a world eater would probably be more resilient to us than many other creatures.  We’re going to have to try and wear it down but from what Jazzjak told us, this being can heal; he just isn’t certain how much.

I can always go Wildfire off the bat and see what happens.

Not our best opening move but one we can save for later if need be.  The problem is the damage it does to you. We don’t want to have that kind of problem in a fight like this.

“Where is your offer to me to surrender?” Vyr Kjal called out, his voice sounding like thunder in the cold wind. “You’ve ignored my other attempt to converse. Tell me, human, do you truly believe you can stand against me?”

You’re going to continue to ignore him, aren’t you?

I’m employing the Fowl method of pissing people off. We need him to be angry and to make a mistake.

I doubt we’re going to make him any angrier.

Lights flickered above the barrier in the sky. Max cracked his neck.

Let’s go all out on the first hit.  Aim for the neck, we’ll strike the soft spot and play against his larger size compared to our smaller one.

I’ll handle the spells. When the time comes, we’ll activate the bigger ones.

Both of his weapons appeared in his hands, each transforming into a spear, almost long enough to be considered a two-handed one.

Let’s see what Wekime’s tooth can do against something like this.

Three lights appeared, and then the barrier flashed with the announcement of the start of the fight.

Vyr Kjal didn’t move, his hammer still resting against the ice-covered floor as Max flew like an arrow at the Jutonn. Unfortunately for the world eater, he didn’t see it coming.

A frown appeared on the blue face of the god Max was about to attack, watching the fake show that was being put on.

[ Illusionary Magic ]

[ Stealth ]

[ Ultimate Form ]

[ Rampage ]

[ Magical Strike ]

[ Ghost Strike ]

[ Power Strike ]

[ Blink ]

Four images of Max all appeared where he had been standing.  Each one took off in a slightly different direction, appearing to try and surround the Jutonn.

As the towering god was distracted, Max appeared before its left eye, both spears thrusting forward as Bob unleashed an attack of fire.

[ Spell Burst ]

[ Flame Nova ]

Max’s weapons pierced the black iris, plunging deep into the giant’s eyeball.  Vyr Kjal let out a roar of agony as Max shoved the spears as far as he could into the giant’s eyeball. He sensed an oversized hand coming at him and used his ability to get away from the palm that was the size of a house.

[ Demonic Teleportation ]

Landing on the Jutonn’s shoulder, Max felt Bob refresh his skills and continued the barrage of attacks.

[ All Cooldowns Reset ]

Blue blood flowed as his spears pierced the thick skin of the world-eater, but Max could sense that the injuries he was causing weren’t doing any lasting damage.  Transforming his weapons to swords, he slashed and hacked, watching as Bob unleashed more spells upon the Jutonn as he carved off sections of flesh.

He’s healing! Almost as fast as I do.

Bob didn’t reply, sending lightning, fire and wind attacks at the exposed skin.

A sensation of force began to build around the Jutonn’s neck and Max felt Bob flying him away as the very air around Vyk Kjal started to grow thick.

[ Blink ]

[ All Cooldowns Reset ]

[ Blink ]

It took multiple uses of Blink to get away as if all space around the giant was frozen solid like ice.

What was that?!

[ Stealth Failed ]

His illusionary magic faded as a wave of power washed across the ice.  

A low chuckle emanated from Vyr Kjal as the Jutonn lowered its hand from his face. “That was a valiant attempt, little one, but now you shall see why you and I are not the same.” As it spoke, the world-eater reached over and grabbed the shaft of his hammer, lifting it easily from the ground.

All of its wounds are healed. Even the one we inflicted upon his eye. We’ll need to–

Bob’s words were cut off as the hammer swung far faster than Max could have imagined.

The metal tip of it glowed and no matter what Max tried to do, every skill he attempted to activate to move failed.

[ Consume is attempting to – ]

Before the words could finish being read, Max watched as the head of the hammer, bigger than a two-story house, came at him, somehow preventing his escape.

Every air wall Bob tried to summon was shattered as the two-handed hammer slammed into Max’s body, obliterating every bit of his body.

[ Negate Death Blow Activated ]

[ All Cooldowns Reset ]

RUN!

[ Haste ]

The weapon that had struck Max stopped immediately as Negate Death Blow took effect and in that moment, Bob and Max flew to the far edge of the arena, putting space between them and the god that had just killed them in a single strike.

Laughter rolled across the frozen wasteland as the Jutonn set the shaft of his weapon over his shoulder. “A trick! You survived what most could never hope for! Well done, little one! You are like an insect, given a skill that most would give anything for, but we both know that it doesn’t work but once.”

Finding the edge of the arena, Max’s mind raced as he and Bob considered their options.

Wildfire… we have to go with it. And spellburst as well.

I cannot imagine the toil it will take on us. You do not realize how dangerous that is.

We cannot keep taking those hits and we don’t want to show every skill that we have.  It knows we used illusionary magic and can defeat it. Whatever effect that weapon has, it prevents us from escaping and will kill us every time. I doubt if I activated every defensive skill I have that we could survive it.

As they moved around the barrier that surrounded the icy terrain, Max watched as the giant took slow, steady steps toward him.

“Come now, little one,” Vyr Kjal called out. “Beg for your life. Perhaps if you offer me all your worlds, I might grant it.”

“I doubt that!” Max shouted, knowing that surrender wasn’t an option.  Every bit of DP he and the rest of his team could wager was risked and taking that kind of loss meant they wouldn’t stand a chance of reaching the tier needed when the three hundred years expired. 

Another loud laugh washed over Max as the Jutonn stopped its approach and held out a hand, motioning with fingers toward itself. “Come, attack me. We shall take turns. You strike me and then I shall strike you.”

“You’re just going to stand there and let me attack?” Max called out, sensing the ideas running through Bob’s mind.

“What do I care if a bug pesters me. Eventually, I will squash it between my fingers. It has been a while since one has been foolish enough to challenge me. For that, and surviving my first attack, I will entertain those who watch. They will see why the Jutonn are considered the strongest of our kind!”

Max stopped moving and studied Vyr Kjal, who set his two-handed weapon back down on the ground, his arms spread wide, and closed his eyes.

“Come, little one. I’ll count to ten and then take another turn. One…”

Bob…

“Two.”

We’ll do it your way. I just hope we can survive the damage that spell will do to us.

“Three.”

We can’t drain all your power resetting Negate Death Blow. The cost is too much. Eventually, we’ll have to find a way to drain Vyr Kjal’s healing ability.

“Four.”

Max sensed his skill grunt in frustration.  

Fine. Go for the ear.  That stupid horned helmet doesn’t cover anything beyond the top of its head.  Stuff your hand inside and wedge yourself in as much as possible.

“Five.”

Stay inside its ear? What about the wildfire?!

“Six.”

We’re going to burn from it as much as he does. When he brings his hand up to his ear, it will spread. Everything we do from this point will be an unknown and I cannot imagine the pain we’re about to endure.

“Seven. Eight.”

Just keep me alive… 

“Nine.”

Always. For Tanila, Miranna and the rest.

Max flew across the distance as the Jutonn’s lips moved, preparing to speak the last number it had offered.

[ Blink ]

[ Festering Touch ]

[ Weakness ]

[ Spell Burst ]

[ Wildfire ]

[ Regeneration ]

Max shoved his hand into Vyr Kjal’s ear, his entire body fitting in the hole that led toward its eardrum. As the spell unleashed from his hand, Max understood then that Bob had been right. Whatever pain he thought he knew was nothing compared to that moment.

Magic ate away at his very being, the spell that consumed all life erupted inside the head of the giant and the roar that had come the first time was nothing compared to the ear-deafening one that Vyr Kjal let out now.

Max could sense the hand that was coming toward him, slapping at the flames and magic that were spreading across the blue skin.

[ Armored Warrior ] 

[ Bulwark ]

[ Harden Skin ]

Right before the oversized hand slapped into the Jutonn’s ear, Max felt Bob activating the one skill that he did not want to show.

[ Phasing ]

Vyr Kjal’s hand struck his own head with enough impact to stagger the Jutonn.  Max could sense Bob moving them away from their opponent.

Max’s own body was covered from his feet to his shoulders in wildfire. Only his head wasn’t consumed at the moment by the magical flames that were eating away the muscle, tissue, and flesh.  Those watching this fight now saw a skeleton with Max’s head on it flying through the air, trying to gain distance from the white flaming inferno of Vyr Kjal that was staggering as the magical fire moved across its body.

A howl of pain and agony roared from the world-eater.

Yet Max knew it wasn’t alone. His voice cried out in pain as the spell he had used claimed its portion from his own body.

Hold on! I’ll take control!

For the first time in so long, Max was willing to let go. The pain was overwhelming and to let Bob take the reins was a blessing.

Darkness came as Max let his skill take over.

UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 071 -Book 11

“So… Dad…” Miranna said between bites of her birthday pancakes. “What would you say if I told you I got a new skill this morning when I woke up?” 

“Well, since it’s your hundredth birthday, I’m going to guess it’s another one of those free ones you get,” Max replied. “You going to share it with me?”

“Yes… It’s just… I didn’t expect it,” his daughter stated. “I kinda started believing I wouldn’t get any more. I mean, it’s been fifty years since the last skill like this came.  Does this mean I’ll have to wait another fifty years for another? Or possibly a hundred?”

I have no idea before you ask. We’ve discussed this. She might be on a fifty-year path; it could go to a hundred. The fact that she got another one means more than the potential timeline of all this. Whatever skill she has that is hidden is a curious thing to consider. Nothing I’ve done has allowed me to peer behind that veil.

“Bob’s not sure either,” Max told her. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, smiling as he watched his daughter finish off the last of the ten pancakes he had made her. “Only time will tell, and all we can do now is wait.  Besides, you’re in the final stretches of the tower. Hopefully, whatever skill you received will be useful.”

Swallowing the last bite, Miranna nodded. The grin that formed was one Max knew meant she had acquired something good.

“So… everything I have right now is: Elemental Magic, Weapon Mastery, Parry, Blacksmithing, Ultimate Form, Power Strike, Evasion, Blink, Armored Warrior, Heal, Stealth, Blood Surge, Rend, and Spell Echo.”

“I still can’t believe you got Blood Surge and Spell Echo,” Max muttered.

Imagine what we could have done if we could have sacrificed 10% of our health for a 25% bonus to melee and magic damage… or getting a free auto cast of whatever spell we cast or attack we did after 10 seconds for free… or–

I get it…

Even better, imagine what we might have gotten had we drank those potions and used those skill shards you gave away.

Yes… But let’s not go down that road again.

“Bob teasing you again?” Miranna asked, winking at him.

“Perhaps… he might be trying to complain about me sharing potions and skill shards once more,” Max replied. “But let’s forget that. For now, tell me what you got today.”

His daughter glanced around her room, even though no one was present. She then leaned forward.

“I got Thorn Aura!” 

Max laughed, moving to embrace his practically giddy daughter.

“Congrats! Now you just have to break the news to Fowl and see how he reacts,” he stated.

“Oh, I’m sure I know exactly how he’ll react,” Miranna said. She freed herself from their hug and then stood, puffing out her chest while frowning. “Bah! Why doesn’t Ockrim show me that kind of love?!” Miranna said in her best Fowl imitation

“That’s pretty good,” Max said. “Now, if you’re done, I’ll clean up this mess, and you can run ahead and share the news with your mother. I believe she’s currently in the kitchen making something for you.”

“Mom’s baking?” Miranna asked, raising an eyebrow. “By herself?’

Wincing, he nodded. “Yes, but whatever she makes, just say it's good.”

“You want me to lie to mom?” his daughter asked, rolling her eyes. “We both know how that goes… she’ll just make more… I mean, how many of those muffins did I have to store and toss out in the tower?”

Both of them laughed as Max started picking up the dirty dishes. “Just go on. I’m certain it has to be better this time.”

Getting a quick kiss on the cheek from Miranna, Max watched as she raced out the door, seemingly excited about telling Tanila of her new skill.

Thorn aura… that’s a random one I didn’t expect.

Both of us were hoping for regeneration or something with a little more survivability, but it’s a good ability.  Combined with her Rend skill, she’s going to bleed them to death as well as make them suffer for hurting her.

Yet she doesn’t have the same caliber of survivability you did. They have ten more floors… While I think it’s a good thing they took a few months off to regroup and relax, you and I both know she’s itching to get back into the tower and finish it.

Yup. All I can say is we’ve done all we can.  From here on out, that party will have to make the best out of everything. Still… the realization that it's been almost 60 years of her fighting to get to this point reminds me of how hard the tower is for most others.

Yes, the rest of the world doesn’t progress in two years. They aren’t gifted with something like me.  Still, this proves the point of why fewer humans complete the tower.  Hearing the skill she was given has caused me to reconsider some of the ideas we had on her skill acquisitions.  With Miranna getting a skill that had to come from Fowl, the potential pool she is pulling from is far greater than believed. If she does get a new skill, it will most likely happen after she has defeated the tower, and then the potential things she might accrue would be even greater.

Which means if she becomes a god, then the potential pool of power scales off of those not just near her or…

That is what we don’t know. Her access to all the skills could be possible when she stands before the Archons. To have that kind of potential would be…

Worse than us?

Only time will tell. For now, we have other matters to attend to.  

***

“It’s time,” Jazzjak said, tapping on the tablet. “You’re going to have to decide which of the two gods you’re going to fight. Neither are options I like but you believe you can win.”

“Barely able to enjoy a few years after my daughter’s birthday and you’re already making me do hard things,” Max teased as he studied the two options on the screen before him. “I just wish I knew what’s better, a massive ice giant or an undead Leviathan…”

“I can tell by your tone, you're being sarcastic,” Jazzjak stated. “You wanted options, out of the thousands I combed through, narrowed down, did research on and created a final list of ten. Those two are your best chances to face something to give you a 2:1 odds or better in the arena. Anything else might not.”

“Because these are world eaters,” Max muttered. “None of these makes sense. I mean the Leviathan one, I get it.  But Vyr Kjal… It’s a frost giant basically. How is that a world eater?”

“A two-hundred-foot-tall frost Jotunn,” his helper corrected. “This isn’t some standard giant you’ve faced before. This is what giants wish they were. One of the original versions of giants before they got… corrupted, as the Jotunn would say.”

You know me, I’d much rather face the giant because killing the Leviathan doesn’t guarantee any skills since it’s undead.  

I just wish we had more information out there on what makes this thing so dangerous. Besides the fact that it’s super tall and somehow destroys worlds.

“I’m basically going to choose the one against Vyr Kjal,” Max said. “The question is, how long can I delay this? Miranna and her group are in the final four floors of the tower and leaving feels… wrong.”

“Tanila already told you to get this done before they hit the 99th,” Jazzjak replied. “What you need to do is figure out how you’re going to damage something as big as this Jutonn. The amount of health that it is going to have will take days or weeks to deplete.  The only other option you’ll have to speed things up is to use some of the abilities you want to keep hidden.”

Max grunted and nodded, knowing Jazzjak was right. “Send it. I’ll inform Tanila and the others that I’ve made a choice. You just handle the specifics on the arena side. As soon as you know the fights a go, I’ll be ready.”

A frown formed on the vorpal rabbit’s face as Jazzjak bobbed his head. “You do realize the risk you're taking. Once again, your name will be declared to all the gods out there of your presence and every tier four god out there might want to fight you after how this fight goes.”

“That’s the point,” Max stated as he stood. “I’m okay with whatever comes outside of a Void god.”

Shaking his head, Jazzjak sighed. “No, you’re not. There are other gods out there that would still be impossible for you to kill. I’m certain you can–”

Max moved to where his helper was and knelt. He then put a hand on Jazzjak’s shoulder. “Listen, I appreciate the concern, I really do but I don’t have a choice. Time doesn’t stop for anyone. You know that. I know that. I’m less than two hundred years from being able to protect my friends and that means I have to take risks to help them gain more DP.

“Besides, with the system not allowing anyone to sell items since they haven’t fought in the arena or are outside their protection period, the only way they’re going to get any extra DP is if I fight.”

“I get it,” Jazzjak sighed. “Just… for the first time in so long… I have hope. I know I’ve said it before, but for whatever reason, the System gave me to you all. Any other helper would have jumped at this chance.”

Max shook his head as he stood. “No, I don’t think they would have. If the System had given you the option to be a helper to a black skill holder, would you have taken it?”

Jazzjak winced. “No… I wouldn’t have.”

“And yet you are,” Max replied. “Now I’ll be back. I’ve got a wife to see and a celebration to continue planning for. It’s not every day one's child will complete the tower.”

“You’re so confident,” the vorpal rabbit said. “I… I didn’t want to believe they’d get this far after that… incident. And yet all this time you’ve kept pushing and encouraging.”

“That’s what family does,” Max stated, moving toward the exit. “Everyone has a role to play, even you.”

***

“It seems a bit overboard,” Sog stated, eyes scanning the miniature layout of Sunreach. “They’re leaving. Why would you want to celebrate it?”

Max chuckled, patting his demonic friend on the back. “After they defeat the tower, we won’t be able to see them for at least three hundred years. I’m not sure you understand how much that’s going to hurt.  Trust me… not saying goodbye to my parents, even though my mother didn’t want to hurt more than I can ever tell you.”

“No, I get that,” Sog replied. “I mean…” The demon took a deep breath and let it out slowly, lifting a finger to his eye. “I swear if I cry at this thing, I’m going to have to break something.”

“You two done yapping yet?” Fowl called out, his hands full of miniature figurines. “We’ve got a job to do before the ones in charge of this return and make our lives a living hell for eternity.”

“He’s right,” Rakonath said, his large fingers gently squeezing a stand painted to look like people and setting it down in the middle of a street. “Some of us weren’t given fingers for tasks like this.”

“Exactly!” Sog exclaimed, showing his sharp nails. “Some of us weren’t soft paws like Max and Fowl.”

“Soft paws?” their dwarf grunted. “Anytime you want to fight, just let me know. I’ll show you how soft my hands are.”

Max roared with laughter, joining his friends and trying to help finish planning the path for the last time he would see Miranna and the others for hundreds of years.

I can feel that twinge of pain in your heart. You’ll need to hold on to that when we fight in three days.

Don’t worry… nothing is going to prevent us from winning that fight. Whatever it takes, I’m willing to show all of our cards if we have to.

As am I. Besides, the cheat I’ve been working on might be ready sooner than later. We’ll get to test it out. For now, move that cart Rakonath placed back some. Otherwise, the other pieces won’t fi,t and you’ll never finish this.

UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 071 - A Prelude - Book 11

Book 11 Starts now - Enjoy the ride

**********

“You do realize these threads have spread,” a short, hooded figure said from a corner of the hallway. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

“And yet it is,” the other cloaked being replied. “Many things happen that shouldn’t or couldn’t have happened over all these years. Yet here you stand, proof that the impossible can happen.”

No sound came as both stood there, aware that none were approaching in the halls of the Archons. Many corridors and corners were like this one, designed to give beings opportunities to meet and discuss things outside the System's or anyone else's earshot. All it took was being willing to come here and pay the price for admittance to the hallways.

“Can the threads be contained? And what of this new one? Should it not be clipped before it grows too strong?” the shorter one asked.

The one who was supposed to answer stayed silent for a few moments, absolutely still and almost blending in with the plain stone. Finally, they spoke, their voice slightly softer than before. “Some have tried, none have succeeded. Right now, the game is changing faster than many can comprehend. Even the ones who thought they were masters of the game have stumbled. I would caution you on trying to control too many pieces that cannot be moved so easily.”

“Yet with the right motivation, one can often lure a piece into position.”

The taller of the two moved from their spot, not bothering to glance down the hallways to ensure none were coming. Instead, they drew close to the one they had come to meet and stopped just an arm's length away. “Many hunters and trappers have tried such things. Luring a dangerous beast that can turn out how one doesn’t expect. Do not forget Ezreal. He was skilled at what he did and yet played with his food.”

A grunt was the reply to those words.

The shorter, hooded being didn’t flinch, moving to stand just inches from the one who towered over them by a good two feet. “I will not make that same mistake.”

Laughter echoed down the hallways as the tallest one trusted the stone to do what they were designed to do. “One like you found out the hard way how untrue that statement can be. Play your game, hope to win, and see where you stand when it is all over. Just remember the price. If there is one thing you cannot escape, it is the rules.”

“Says the one who seems to have ignored them.”

Chuckling once more, the hooded figure turned and began to walk off. “Knowing how to evade them isn’t ignoring them,” they stated over their shoulder. “I must go. Remember the price.”

November Update - UL1 Book 11 Tomorrow - LoopBreaker 2- Nov 10th - Viking Book 3 - Chapter this week

Hey all!

It's hard to believe November is here, but I'm ready for it.

Yesterday was the 2 year anniversary from when UL1 started and I'll always be grateful for the support. In 4 days book 10 hits Amazon and it's such a surreal feeling to know that in 24 months I've had 10 books published in that series. As a reminder - Due to Amazon rules i'll have to take down UL1 chapters on the 4th for book 10.

Tomorrow (Nov 3rd). Book 11 starts. Right now I've got chapters coming 7 days a week but may go 5x a week in December due to holidays. I'll update obviously as I know how things look.

Loopbreaker - Book 1 Ended and Francis is now off to another kingdom. I'm enjoying the new place and a lot of different things that come. A spoiler for those who want it is he's going to die a lot... but also live a bit more. (wait... was that a spoiler?) This is the off week between books that I take. So no loopbreaker chapters until Nov 10th.

Viking Series - I've been massaging the current chapter and plan on having it finished by this week, and maybe a second one also. I'm trying to juggle series and if I can keep with the current pace I've had the last week, things look better.

For those who like life updates - I'm using an office space right now. It's been a big help, getting out of the house and being able to focus on writing versus other things that always claim my attention there.

Hopefully this will get me back to the 30k+ words a week or more I'm really wanting to be at.

Enjoy the colder weather, and good luck preparing for the holidays!

Undying Blood - Chapter 80

Chapter 80

Stenson’s face was like stone. 

Francis had seen this expression multiple times in all his deaths, but this particular one was different. There was nothing more than a tiny narrowing of the brows, just barely brought closer, and the general’s lips curled in slightly. His jaw didn’t show the tightness it sometimes held; instead, it barely reflected anything beyond teeth held together.

It was moments like this that Francis had been sent to the Spires, or when he had been told to attempt something new, that had resulted in leaps of improvement.

“How long do these conversations go?” Stenson asked. “I mean, I think they must get longer each time.”

“I try to keep them as concise as possible,” Francis replied. “Over a few thousand deaths, one learns what’s important and what’s not. Still, we’ve been talking for almost two hours, and you’re at the point where the questions you ask often repeat, or occasionally a new one comes along. Each time I mention a new skill or how these last few major fights went, I’m not always certain what you’ll say. I could try and repeat them as exactly as possibly, but I think I get more from you when I don’t. Kind of like how I mentioned how you shared your life a little and the conversations you had with the others from different kingdoms.”

“That might be why I am thinking what I am,” the general said. “Tell me, Francis. Have I ever mentioned you going to the other kingdoms and training there for a while?”

“As in actually going, like right now or later at some point?”

“Right now. I'll get you some gear, and we’ll tell the King you need to travel to the northern kingdom of Tules to help us and them win against this enemy.”

“We had discussed it,” Francis said, standing. “You’re not wanting us to go back and fight this same battle again and see if we can’t figure out what killed Baxter?!”

“Calm down and sit,” Stenson said.

Francis started to open his mouth and protest, but stopped, his mind reminding him of all the times the general had asked him to do things that seemed weird and yet they had paid off. Sighing, he sat down and waited.

After a moment, the older man grinned and then chuckled. “Francis Lancaster… you are an exceptional young man. I–”

“You give this speech a lot,” Francis interrupted. “I’m exceptional, you’re impressed, can’t believe what I have, think I’m the future to save us.”

Grunting, the general’s smile became a frown. 

“And you usually curse,” Francis stated.

“Well fuck me… now I’m really unsure what to say.”

Francis laughed and shrugged. “The real question you’ll ask yourself is if I didn’t say what I did, would you curse or not?”

Both eyes started to dart as the general thought for a moment and sighed. “I don’t have time for this esoteric shit,” Stenson said. “You need to go to Tules. I’m not sure how long you’ll make it before you die, but every time you do and restart here, tell me I said you should do this.”

“This is about the skills you’re hoping I might acquire there, isn’t it?” Francis asked.

“You mentioned I talked about things of legends… when you get to Tules, I’ll have a letter for you to give to whoever greets you. They will take you to meet Glitvall Stormrend. He’s the war chief of Koldrak and will help you on this next part of your growth.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, you’re telling me I can’t stay here and get strong enough to defeat what we’re facing?”

“I don’t think so,” the older man replied, frowning.

“But you told me it might take ten thousand deaths or more. Why change it all right now?”

“I can see how I thought that,” Stenson replied. “But this loop, as you call them, I believe I was foolish. You need to go and see what a true warrior can become in an environment like Tules. Besides, it will also give you a chance to see what that army is facing and learn new ways to fight. Eventually, you’re going to have to learn a skill like mine. You need a way to reach beyond the length of your blade. I think with your Warrior’s Resolve, you also need to learn how to heal your own wounds, and only one kingdom is said to have ever produced a skill that could bring a warrior from the brink of death on their own.”

“So… every time I die, you just want me to open up with this?” Francis asked.

“I would. It might not seem like much, but it will save hours. Learn what’s important that I need to hear. If you need a break, take it. Find a way to enrich your life. Perhaps you can find a warm body to spend time with over there.”

“Wow… not the advice I was expecting,” Francis stated.

“You’d be surprised what the right companion can add,” Stenson said. “A good night filled with a different kind of relief sometimes last weeks in raising one's spirit.”

Francis started to chuckle and nod.

“Did we have this conversation before?” the general asked.

“No, but I might have done that once. And… you’re right. I was a bit happier.”

Stenson slapped his knee and then stood. “Good, now then, let’s get the king informed and get you prepared. I’m looking forward to the next time we talk.”

***

Baxter’s fingers were interlaced, and the King was staring at the two of them.

His wife squeezed his arm and coughed.

“They’re being honest… or at least Stenson is.”

The king’s red eyes narrowed, and he glanced at his wife.

“She can’t read me with her magic, my King,” Francis informed them. “I can stop her threads and if I wanted, could injure her for trying, but I don’t wish to do such a thing.”

Baxter’s attention snapped back to him, and the large man stood. “You can resist magic and hurt the caster?!”

The general and Francis nodded as the booming voice assaulted them.

“He can, and yet when I say he must go to Tules, know that I understand the potential ally Sage Francis is,” Stenson said. “I swear by my oath, my sword, my life, and the life of my daughter that what I am telling you is the path I firmly believe must be taken if we are to win this war.”

“But… he can see the future! He knows so much and to toss that away–”

“Means nothing if the other kingdoms fall before we win our battle.” Stenson’s words cut off the King, whose frown slowly faded.

“Wise words as always from the man I am fortunate to have by my side and leading our army,” Baxter said. “Very well, what do you need from me?”

“Priscilla will need to send him, and you and I should both send a letter to Glitvall. While I believe mine might be good enough, yours would carry even more weight and help in getting him before the war chief. Beyond that, he could use another sword. I have already gifted him with the one you gave me.”

A grunt came from Baxter as he nodded. “I saw that on his hip and for a moment felt slighted, but now I understand why. And we won’t be giving him armor, will we?”

“Why wouldn’t I get armor?” Francis asked. “I thought we discussed giving me armor.”

“I think it would be good for him to show up in armor,” Stenson said. “Lessons like that are best learned through experience, I always believe.”

Both men laughed, and Francis glared at the two of them. “I swear, I’m going to be upset if you two are doing something nasty.”

“Trust me, Sage Francis,” Queen Auri said as both men continued to laugh. “They are giving you a life lesson that is best learned hands-on. You will understand it and it will cause no real harm.”

“No real harm,” he muttered. 

Baxter clapped his hands and moved to where Francis was and held one out. “I shall draft this letter. You go with Stenson, and he shall have access to my vault. Are we… going to give anything else?”

The general shook his head. “No.”

“I trust your wisdom. Good luck, Sage Francis. Return soon, and may we one day drink in celebration of this war being over and us having survived.”

Having shaken the oversized hand of the King, Francis bowed and followed the general out of the tent.

“What else would you give?” Francis whispered once they were outside.

“Just wait, you’ll see, and I’ll explain later.”

Later wasn’t long, and Francis struggled to look at the items on the table before him.

“Magical rings, bracelets, belts… why… why don’t I get these?”

“Well, first, they are not common.” Stenson replied.” Ask me how many enchanted items I have.”

“How many?”

“Three. Only three. And they are nothing compared to what lies before you. These will not win a war or a battle; they will simply aid you in being able to fight longer, strike harder, and provide other advantages. Had I given you these in previous times, you wouldn’t be where you are. You’d be dependent upon them, and I doubt you’d have half the skills you do now.

“Magical items work… differently. For whatever reason, the rules we live under make it so that using them limits our growth. One cannot have a ring that provides extra strength and expect to wear it daily for every task and expect it to grow stronger. In some way,s it would do the opposite. Nothing is designed for everyday use. These items are for moments when one must eek out the last bits of luck and power they can, knowing that tomorrow may mean death if they don’t have just a slight advantage than before.”

Sighing, Francis nodded. “So had I used these with every loop, I’d have gained almost nothing. And the rings I trained with?”

“Those are so rare you cannot imagine how much they would cost to replace, if that were even possible,” Stenson replied. “You remember what they gave?”

“I do.”

“Those are over three thousand years old. The power inside them is different from what is made today. Had you worn them out of that training area, you would have died. Even now, if you tried, they would most likely make it so you could barely move. Some sort of magic set within them is limited to training areas. I cannot tell you why or how, but that is just how it is.”

“And those boots and bracers?”

“Similar in age and power. Those are gifts passed down to kings to prepare them for battle. One can only get so strong in a training square, and there is a desire for the King to be one who can fight.”

“I guess my dreams of being outfitted in magical equipment are just that… dreams,” Francis said with a sigh.

Stenson patted Francis on the shoulder and nodded. “You’re far more without them. Learn that first. A crutch is good while one heals, but if you keep using it after your body has recovered, it will cause more harm. You’ll never walk right again.”

“So this sword?” Francis asked.

“Is nothing special. The only magic inside it is the strength of the blade. It will not shatter or break unless something so powerful it could level a city strikes it.”

Nodding, Francis accepted the blade and followed the older man out of the tent they were in, wondering when the day might come that he would potentially wear those.

***

“Sage Francis, leaving already?” Priscilla’s tone was one he knew far too well, and he ignored her attempts at causing frustration.

“I am. The gods have ordered it. Now, if you don’t mind, open the gate and don’t be foolish enough to try and use a spell on me as I leave.”

Her blue eyes widened, and she started to open her mouth, but Francis held up his hand.

“Don’t. Lying doesn’t suit you, and I know the bonds you’re bound with from the Concord. Believe what you want, but I know far more than I have time to speak of right now. Time is valuable and I have things to do in Tules. So, summon the gate.”

She stood there only a moment longer, blinking a few times before she bent her neck slightly. “As you wish, Sage Francis.”

The light traveled along the ropes, and a gate appeared before him.

“Keep the King safe, and be careful walking the line you do between both sides,” Francis said before stepping through it. “I’ll return and perhaps one day be able to free you from the bond you’re under.”

She said something, but he didn’t hear what it was, having already entered the portal.

When the light faded, he found himself in a room made from ice. A puff of white came with his breath, and it took only a moment to understand what Baxter and Stenson had just taught him.

God, it’s fucking cold!

The chain suit of armor started to absorb the coldness of the room he was in, and the thin layer of cloth between him and it did little the longer he stood where he was.

“A visitor!”

He turned and saw a massive woman wearing multiple furs and armor that looked like a patchwork of animal skins, studying him. Her blonde hair and blue eyes stood out against the black paint band across her eyes.

She was easily seven feet tall and made him think the gods had been unkind in making him so short.

“I have a letter from King Baxter and General Stenson from the Kingdom of Reevotort,” Francis said. “I need to see War Chief Glitvall Stormrend.”

She scoffed as he pulled out the two letters, each with a seal on it. “Bah, a waste of time. We’re not coming to aid them!”

“I’m not here to ask for aid,” Francis replied with a grin. “I’m here to give it.”

Her eyebrow rose as she looked him up and down. “What could a man such as yourself hope to offer us? Can you cook and clean?”

“If you want, we can fight, and I’ll prove my worth.”

She grinned and laughed, the ice-covered room causing it to echo all around. “Well, at least they sent someone with balls and perhaps no brains, but let’s go, boy! To the Warchief, before I get to kick yer arse all over the snow!”

Final Stats - Book 1

[ Status ]

Francis Lancaster

Age 17

Strength: 47

Endurance: 49

Agility: 48

Wisdom: 28

Perception: 37

Magic: 10

Skills

Swordsmanship (Common) - 71 Elite

Shield Use (Common) - 58 Advanced

Tracking (Uncommon) - 11 Novice

Stealth (Uncommon) - 11 Novice

Traps (Uncommon) - 3 Basic

Rock Throwing (Common) - 7 Basic

Mental Resist (Uncommon) - 45 Advanced

Blood of the Undying (Unknown)- 100+ Sage

Fast Learner (Epic) - 1 Basic (Locked)

Mace (Common)- 11 Novice

Horseback Riding (Common)- 11 Novice

Horseback Handling (Uncommon) - 6 Basic 

Pain Resistance (Uncommon) - 58 Advanced

Poison Resistance (Rare) - 45 Advanced

Power Strike (Rare) - 54 Advanced

Brawling (Uncommon) - 38 Proficient

Strong Bones (Rare) - 56 Advanced

Magic Resistance (Rare) 53 - Advanced

Magic Feedback (Legendary) - 21 Novice

Quick Attack (Uncommon) - 44 Advanced

Guarded Stance (Uncommon) - 31 Proficient

Riposte (Rare) - 36 Proficient

Thick Skin (Rare) - 27 Proficient

Night Vision (Epic) - 38 Proficient

Iron Wall (Rare) - 26 Proficient

Dual Wield (Rare) - 42 Advanced

Flurry (Rare) - 22 Novice

Battle Sense (Epic*) - 15 Novice

Warrior’s Resolve (Legendary) 5 Basic

Undying Blood - Chapter 79

Francis’s blades came at the panther, who spun, ignoring the knight it had just kicked and sent tumbling across the field.

“Where is your—”

“Screw you!” Francis shouted, attacking with everything he had.

[ Power Strike ]

[ Quick Attack ]

Francis repeated that combination two more times, ignoring the strain of doing so, praying that Kels would join the fight sooner rather than later.

Curved blades came for Francis, and he activated Guarded Stance and Iron Wall. His Battle Sense was struggling to keep up with the musky scent, which alerted Francis to the panther using its ability to shift to the side.

[ Riposte ]

Pain came, and Francis ignored it as his Warrior’s Resolve flared with power. A large gash across his side had come from one of the panther’s swords. Francis’s own blade managed to slice off a finger on the beast’s right hand. As his blade began to draw back, Francis activated his newest offensive ability, letting the power of Warrior’s Resolve fuel the demand on his body.

[ Flurry ]

[ Quick Attack ]

His blade lunged forward, no longer pulling back, stabbing and slicing the panther’s forearm; the last cut managed to hit something that caused the beast to drop its sword.

Battle Sense went wild as those yellow eyes glowed, and the panther unleashed a barrage of kicks, punches, and slashes with its remaining sword.

[ Iron Wall ]

[ Guarded Stance ]

Francis took a claw to his face, losing part of his cheek and his left eye as his swords worked at stopping the metal that tried to cut his body in half.

As the panther raised its foot to kick it, the beast stumbled forward, a pair of swords driven down through both its shoulders.

Francis spotted Kels descending from above, plunging both swords into the beast’s oversized traps. One moment, the blades were plunged to the hilt, the next, the knight was kicking off backward, roaring as he ripped the weapons free.

Taking the opening given, Francis stepped forward, thrusting the pair of swords upward into the exposed black fur that rippled with muscles. 

Only because of the injury to his face was he able to summon the power he needed to activate his skills again.

[ Power Strike ]

Both blades pierced the skin, slicing through the sternum and plunging into the beast’s heart. 

Francis found himself pinned against the beast before he could blink. The panther lifted him upward, its jaw coming down at his face. Inches before the large fangs sank into his skull, its head lifted upward, the glint of steel appearing under its open jaw.

Struggling to breathe, Francis fought against a headless body that was still squeezing him with enough force to crack one rib already, overpowering his Strong Bones.

“One second!” Kels shouted as he flew past Francis, landing on the ground behind him. A flicker of metal removed one arm and then the next, freeing him from the embrace that had almost caused this loop to end sooner than expected.

“What were you doing?” the knight asked, pulling both of Francis’s weapons free for him. “Why did you run off like that?”

“Those mages—”

“Weren’t the things to focus on,” Kels stated. “You should know better… Even now we need to move!”

“I… You’re right,” Francis admitted, taking the swords that the knight held out to him. “It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t waste this moment,” Kels shouted, pointing toward the center of camp. “Stenson’s on his way, and it looks like the king is winning his side!”

Francis ran after the knight, noticing the way his left leg wasn’t working right.

“You’re hurt! Find a healer,” Francis called out.

“No! No time,” Kels replied. “We’re focused on one thing, and I’ve had worse.”

Choosing not to press the issue, Francis joined his partner in slaying every beastkin that got between them and where the king was. Siege beasts were collapsing, spells from the mages who had come with the army unleashing spells upon them, destroying the weapons that were set on top.

More human warriors pushed forward, where they were, facing elite beastkin. Everywhere, the sounds of men and animals dying rang out, but for now, it felt like the battle was shifting in their direction. 

When they reached the first section about a third of a mile away, they saw the two parts of a giant gorillakin. Both of its hands still held large war hammers in them, its flesh burnt and row upon row of beastkins was slaughtered; the elite warriors who had been with Priscilla and Baxter finished off the last of the enemy army before the siege beasts.

“What is all this?” Francis asked as they ran past the human army that was finally winning a battle. “How strong is she?”

“Strong enough that she’s only using one artifact,” Kels shouted. “Surely someone told you the power she possesses!”

They did… but I didn’t imagine this kind of power. She could easily have changed the battle a long time ago. Surely she can’t be unwilling to do this… so she must be prevented from doing so.

Francis stayed close to the knight as they made their way to where the king was fighting. When Baxter’s black armor came into view, Francis also noticed a shape that had a few healers around it. 

“Is that Priscilla?!” he called out.

Kels grunted and looked at where Francis pointed. “We can check, but we don’t have a lot of time!”

When they got closer, Francis saw the burnt corpse of a different kind of beastkin. Over a dozen were in different states of having been burnt to death. He could see the circular ring of fire that had traveled about fifty yards from where who he assumed, was Priscilla, lying on the ground.

“What happened?” Kels asked as they slowed down.

“She’s dying,” one of the healers said. “I can’t cure the poison that afflicts her. All of our healing is for naught.”

Francis moved to kneel beside Priscilla, seeing over a dozen different holes on the front and side of her torso. She looked like someone had pierced her over and over with daggers.

“What happened?” Francis asked.

“Lizards… invisible… they—” Priscilla coughed, blood leaking from her mouth with each breath. 

“Rest,” Francis said, reaching out and squeezing her hand. “You had your moment. I’ll make sure you’ll get another chance to do it again.”

“How can you give her another chance?” the healer asked. “She’s dying! Do you—”

“Don’t,” Francis growled. “For now, just keep her as comfortable as possible. Kels.”

The knight nodded, and they both began racing toward the area where they could see Baxter killing beastkins.

“My king!” Kels shouted as they drew near.

Baxter spun around, his eyes red and glowing, the man taking deep breaths over and over. A crazed look was upon his face as the king stared at them for a moment.

“King Baxter?” Francis said slowly. “Are you okay?”

“The battle lust has him,” Kels whispered.

The oversized man let out a roar that washed across the area, and Francis felt power wash over him.

A couple of breaths later, the king’s eyes dimmed slightly.

“You two… thank you for not coming closer,” Baxter said. “I couldn’t save Priscilla, but I have killed two of the ones you told us about. Both were—”

As the king spoke, roars came from off to the left, toward the last of the army that had no fighters like Stenson or Baxter.

“It would appear we’re about to find the last two,” the king said, smiling. “We’ve lost many, but we have almost secured victory. All we need to do now is–”

Francis blinked. His eyes struggled to see what he was looking at. Slowly, his hand touched his face, and he felt nothing. There was no wetness to his cheek. One moment, the king had been there, talking with them. Now his lower half crumpled to the ground, the top half of his body gone.

“Kels?” Francis said, his voice squeaking.

There was no reply, and when he tried to turn, it was then that Francis realized his body wasn’t working as he had expected it to. 

Notifications had scrolled by, but Francis was trying to figure out what had happened. Trying to use his left arm, Francis found it was gone. His vision was starting to fade, and he saw that half his own torso was gone.

Warrior’s Resolve was keeping him standing, and Francis was certain he would be near death in a few seconds. Straining, he scanned the battlefield, trying to make sense of what had just transpired. 

From the edge of the line about a hundred yards away, a beast in long robes stood. A staff of some sort was pointed at them, and everything between it and Francis was basically gone. Human, beastkin, it didn’t matter. 

“What the…”

***

The sound of the morning bell rang, and Francis sat up slowly.

“It’s earlier than usual,” Michael grunted as he sat up. “What gives?”

Francis said nothing, ignoring the words his brother sent his way, his eyes focused on the notifications.

[ Magic Resistance Increased - 53 ]

[ Magic Feedback Increased - 21 ]

[ Warrior’s Resolve Increased - 6 ]

It killed us so easily… a single spell.

“Hey! Francis!” Michael shouted, clapping his hands as well. “What’s going on? Why are you… OH MY GOD! What the fuck happened to you? You’re huge!”

Francis blinked a few times and frowned. “Sorry… I uh…” He paused, not wanting to lie but also knowing this wasn’t the best moment to have this conversation. “I uh… had a dream, and the gods said they wanted to use me… It appears they have made certain I can be used.”

“Why would they pick you?” Michael asked. “I mean… how… or… I… I don’t even know what to say!”

Francis stood, moved to where his brother was standing. As with all the loops since his body had evolved, Michael’s eyes were wide like a full moon.

“Listen, I’m going to tell you everything. But first we need to go outside, I need to kick Malcomb’s ass, and then we’re going to take our time walking to town.”

“But Phillip… I mean… Malcomb does deserve a beating.”

Laughing, Francis hugged his brother and pointed at the door. “Come on, let’s go scare Phillip after we get a little revenge.”

Undying Blood - Chapter 78

Chapter 78

Francis couldn’t help but stand in awe of the man before him. Baxter had looked intimidating since the first time he had seen the behemoth of a man. Today was no different.

Standing in a black set of plate armor with red wolves etched into it, the King shifted the shield that was taller than Francis with ease. Baxter’s sword hand was free right now, but Francis had seen the blade the king had displayed for a moment and the sight of that red blade with black lines had sent a shudder down his spine.

I can only imagine the kind of magical equipment Baxter has on.

“You ready for this?” Stenson asked.

Nodding at the older man next to him, Francis gazed at the battlefield, which was preparing for a fight that would not be held back. “I’ve been ready for a while,” he replied. “Everything I’ve been doing, all those deaths… it all comes down to this moment to see if we can win.”

He felt the general’s only hand grab his shoulder and squeeze. 

“I want you to know, Francis, that I am grateful you’re the man you are,” Stenson said softly. “You have proven yourself to be a true ally of the kingdom. Whatever happens today, the next time we speak after it, know that even if I can’t voice it then, I’m proud of you.”

Francis cleared his throat and smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

The older man nodded and clapped his shoulder once before walking off to join the king and a few of the other officers.

I’m not sure what’s worse… hearing those words from him or wanting to believe he actually means it…

Movement from his other side caught Francis’ attention, and he turned to see Priscilla beckoning him with a finger.

“Mage,” Francis said, giving a small wink after checking that no one was able to see what he had done.

“Sage Francis,” Priscilla said softly, bending her knees. “Your words the other day… I am… excited.” Her lips were curled up into a grin that Francis couldn’t recall ever seeing the woman wear. She looked beautiful and scary at the same time.  Her red robes had metallic runes that ran down in lines from the top to the bottom of it. In her hand was a staff he had never seen with four different colored gems set inside the metal rod.  She also had on more jewelry than he could recall, with a pair of bracelets on each wrist as well as a necklace laced with rubies.  She had two earrings on each ear, all of them set with sapphires that glowed. “Today, you will get to bear witness to what I can do. Perhaps it might make you think twice about how you speak to me in the future.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. Francis tapped his own armor, which was a gift from Baxter and the pair of swords that the King had pulled from his treasury, strapped across his back. 

“I’m certain that after witnessing the extent of what everyone can do today, I will be a little hesitant to upset any of you in the future,” Francis replied. “Still, I am grateful for your help. I know the request I made wasn’t an easy one.”

Priscilla nodded, her lips pressed together as her new expression hid her teeth. “Nothing has been easy since the day we stepped foot on this battlefield, but the truth is for over three hundred years, I have been in a battle of sorts. Today is the first time I can allow myself to let loose. Your… secret… allows me to bypass some of the ropes that bind me. Knowing what I do won’t break any of the oaths I am bound to because one way or another, you will die, and this will all start again.”

“I do try to be helpful sometimes,” Francis joked. “Now then, if you’re good, I need to go speak with Kels.”

Priscilla nodded, and Francis moved to where the knight was a little bit away, shouting at different men and giving orders.  As he walked away, he could sense a barrier that he passed through, knowing that she had created a bubble of silence.

“Sage Francis!” Kels shouted as he drew near. “I cannot tell you how excited I am about today! You and I, slaying beasts without regard! And to hear we’re going to work together to take down a creature far greater than any of the others we have faced is a dream come true. Now tell me, what can I do for you?”

Admiring the knight who had trained him in so many different lessons beyond simply just how to swing a sword, Francis could see that the young man was wearing equipment better than the last few times they had fought together.  He wore plate versus chain armor and had a sword on each hip as well as two more crossed on his back.

“You look like you’re ready to go to war or something,” Francis teased. “But all I wanted to say is I’ll let you lead once we find one of the special beasts.”

“I know you’re not being a coward, but why?” Kels asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you hoping to learn just how good I am?”

“Maybe,” Francis replied. “I mean, what kind of fool would I be not to watch the great Knight Kels, whom the General handpicked? Besides, I think you’ll have an easier time surviving if they focus on you at first versus me. I need to last as long as I can for this to work.”

“Tsk,” the knight said. “You and Stenson both are so negative. It’s like neither of you expect this to turn out well.”

“Maybe I’m a little… jaded by things,” Francis said. “In the end, I can’t wait to see us destroy every last one of those beasts on the other side of the field and return home. No matter what, today we’re going to take revenge on them for what they’ve done to our people.”

Kels only nodded, a small smile on the knight’s lips.  A few seconds later, a warrior called for the man’s attention and Francis didn’t hold him back.

For once, we’ll see what power really lies beyond all these animals… 

“Hey, moron!” a voice Francis knew by heart called out. “Get over here.”

Turning, he saw Michael waving at him, dressed in fine clothes and flanked by two women who he had yet to take up on their offer.

“What are you doing out here?” Francis asked as he reached his brother. “I thought you’d be somewhere safe, in a tent, staying busy while the real men and women fought.”

“Please,” Michael replied, rolling his eyes. “Some of us are tasked with keeping the two most beautiful women in the kingdom safe. Of course, I have been granted that privilege.”

He just smiled and nodded at Bella and Lucy. “Thank you both for watching over him. One day I’ll repay you two for that.”

“It is our honor,” Lucy said. “And we’ll hold you to that promise, Sage Francis.”

“Besides, if you’re half as good as your brother here, we’ll both be satisfied,” Bella said.

Michael’s cheek flushed just slightly as the woman wrapped her arm around his and drew close.

“Well, I won’t keep you all out here then,” Francis said. “I need to go join the army–”

His brother moved faster than he had expected, and Michael had freed his arm from Bella, wrapping Francis up in a hug.

“I love you,” Michael whispered. “No matter what, I’m always here. Let’s talk about what happens soon.”

Squeezing his brother, Francis had to stop when a grunt came from Michael. 

“Sorry, I forgot how strong I have become.”

“Lies,” Michael replied, laughing. “You and I both know that was a lie.”

Francis winked. “True.”

***

The horn sounded, signaling the retreat, causing the warriors who were at the greatest risk of the death spell to turn and race toward the camp.

Francis watched as the men tossed down their swords and shields, knowing that there were only a few seconds that would determine who lived and who died.  Even though he had watched this play out before, he still couldn’t tear his eyes from the line, urging every man to run faster.

Time ticked down slowly, and the black sheet descended, claiming the lives of those who didn’t make it far enough.

“You weren’t wrong,” Kels said. “That was gruesome. How long till we make them pay for that?”

“Less than a minute. I’ll motion for when to blow the horns,” Francis said, sensing the anger in the knight’s voice. “Focus on the path I lead. We’ll quickly reach the rhino-kin, and then after that, something should approach you.”

“And after that?”

“We kill whatever comes at us,” Francis replied. “Stenson has the one to the right.  That leaves Priscilla and the king to manage the ones from the middle on. We’ll have to move as quickly as we can, protecting the other men so they can engage the elite warriors in the back.”

“All this,” Kels said, his eyes locked upon the group of warriors crying out in pain from the spell that was killing them. “Tell me we’ll win.”

“We’ll win. Someday we’ll cleanse this land from these beasts,” Francis said. 

Even if it’s not today… one day it will happen.

Both men were silent, waiting for the moment to come when the battle would push forward.  Every horse around Francis was waiting for the slightest nudge, telling them it was time to charge.

“Seven seconds,” Francis shouted. 

“I still can’t believe you can’t ride a horse,” Kels stated. 

“I can, but there’s no time for that discussion. Blow the horn,” Francis replied.

The knight gave the signal, and the horns erupted nearby, stretching across the battlefield field and the wave of warriors surged.

Francis took off running, knowing the horses would eventually catch up and pass him, but he wanted to see what was happening off to his left.

The human army ran toward the beasts, but a swirling of magical power formed hundreds of yards away.  Fire rose into the sky and raced toward the first rows of beastkin that had waited outside the range of their death spell. 

Soon, large chunks of fiery rocks rained down upon the beasts; any magical shield that appeared to stop the spell seemed to fail, the flames falling toward the creatures below.  A single spell from Priscilla erased hundreds of beastkin, creating a massive hole in the enemy army lines as the fire seemed to spread from animal to animal.

“She’s strong!” Kels shouted, his horse having caught up with Francis. “You need to focus!”

Francis nodded, turning his gaze toward the line of beasts that had slowed their approach.

They're afraid… 

Roars came from behind the beasts, barely audible over the pounding of hooves, but it took a moment for the enemy army to race toward them again.  During that time Francis watched as the army around him seemed to realize things had shifted.  Every warrior present was shouting, their gazes fixed upon the beasts before them.

As the first lines clashed, the healing spell came, stretching across the chaos that quickly turned one-sided.

We’re doing it… We’re fucking doing it!

Every beast that came near Francis was slaughtered in a moment. His swords cut through flesh, bone, and the light armor each opponent wore.  He was death to any creature he got near.  A little further away, Kels was the better version of him.  The knight’s armor began to turn red, blood splashing against the silver metal plate.

A wave of magic struck some of the warriors to Francis’ left as a serpent sent out blasts of poison to try and halt the overwhelming force.

Once the magic healing wears off… they’re going to die.

Changing his original plan, Francis raced toward the snake and roared, drawing its attention.

It smiled, sending out a blast of poisonous magic at him.

Francis laughed, letting his Legendary skill make the caster pay for its attempt at attacking him. 

I suppose Kels can handle things until I hear the leader challenge him… in the meantime, I’ll do what I can to save as many men as possible.

Francis’ skin burned, but the pain and damage were minimal. He’d felt worse and, with a clear goal set, did what he was good at. Killing the stronger ones so the other soldiers could handle the easier ones.

Minutes passed as Francis worked his way through the beast army, always keeping his attention focused where he knew Kels was.

As he freed his sword from the corpse of a rhino-kin that once had been his greatest threat, the sound of a cat calling out to his right rang out.

More roars came, and Francis ran with everything he had.

Up ahead, he saw the panther moving toward Kels as beasts began to give the pair room to fight.

He shouted, waving his sword, doing what he could to announce to Kels that he was coming.  As Francis ran, he saw firsthand the difference between him and the knight. 

Shit… I should have stayed closer!

Undying Blood - Chapter 77

Chapter 77

Stenson’s eyebrows had almost become one connected layer of hair. 

Francis had seen this expression multiple times in all his deaths, but this particular one was different. There was nothing more than a tiny narrowing of the brows, just barely brought closer and the general’s lips curled in slightly. His jaw didn’t show the tightness it sometimes held; instead, it barely reflected anything beyond teeth held together.

It was moments like this that Francis had been sent to the Spires, or when he had been told to attempt something new, that had resulted in leaps of improvement.

“How long do these conversations go?” Stenson asked. “I mean, I think they must get longer each time.”

“I try to keep them as concise as possible,” Francis replied. “Over a few thousand deaths, one learns what’s important and what’s not. Still, we’ve been talking for almost two hours and you’re at the point where the questions you ask often repeat, or occasionally a new one comes along. Each time I mention a new skill or how these last few major fights went, I’m not always certain what you’ll say. I could try and repeat them as exactly as possibly, but I think I get more from you when I don’t.”

Francis intertwined his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “This next part was something we discussed only two times in all my deaths,” he lied.

He had spent the day traveling with Michael and the others, working through a few things that had bothered him. No matter what he did, there was a wall he couldn’t climb alone. Today would be a day others were called in to help scale this mountain.

At least my ability to lie has grown… I guess one day I’ll find out if there’s a skill for that.

“We need to convince Baxter to join us on the battle line. The time has come to see what happens when no one holds back. That means I’ll make sure Priscilla joins us on the front line as well.”

Stenson frowned and sat there for almost a minute, not saying a word. Finally, the older man spoke. “You’re telling me that I said this would be a good idea?”

“To attempt, yes,” Francis lied again. “Even if we don’t win, we’ll finally see what we can do against this enemy we face. If we win, I’m willing to learn from our successes and failures so that we can improve.  That way, we can plan on how to win the battle with the fewest casualties. You also mentioned we won’t tell Baxter about this but this one time. Only you and I will know the true potential of what I can do.”

The stony expression on the general softened slightly and Stenson started to nod his head. “The plan has merit. With what you shared about me being able to survive the one I faced, you being able to stand up to the panther one… I think if you and Kels work together, the two of you could bring it down.  Baxter will be able to handle one if not two on his own. And if Priscilla does join the battle… we could possibly end this fight tomorrow.”

“And all I ask is that you keep my brother safe,” Francis said. “He stays back. I know it sounds stupid, but that’s what I need more than anything.”

Stenson’s teeth showed as the man smiled. “You never change on that one point, do you?” 

“No, I don’t,” Francis replied. “My family first, the kingdom second. Now then, tell me, what do we need to do to convince Baxter to fight beside us?”

A chuckle came from Stenson, who rose from his seat, motioning for Francis to do likewise.

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. Trust me. He’s been itching to join since the moment we arrived.”

***

“Finally!” Baxter roared, pounding his palm against Stenson’s shoulder. “It’s about time I get a chance to wet my blade with their blood!”

“Dear,” Queen Auri said slowly. “Perhaps you should take a moment and consider the risks of such an action.”

Francis watched as the king spun, his red eyes almost glowing as they locked in on the woman standing next to Francis.

“Did he lie?” Baxter asked, pointing a finger at Francis.

“No, he–”

“Then what is there to fear?” The king asked. “If I die, he’ll die and we’ll reset the loop! If we win, he’ll do the same thing again so that we can learn what we can improve upon. You tested him! You know that he isn’t lying!”

“It’s not that,” Auri replied. “What if he doesn’t restart the loop? What if something happens and you stay dead? What if–”

“What if we stay here, never take a chance and lose everything?” Baxter asked, moving to stand before his wife. “I’m tired of this game. I’ve watched our people and our kingdom suffer. If the gods have given us a chance to win and then help the others, you and I both know what that means.” The king leaned in close, placing his forehead against his wife's. “You know that we could finally be free of this rope that threatens to hang us all.”

She sighed, standing on her toes; Auri kissed him. “I know… just… be safe.”

Baxter laughed, picked her up, and spun Auri around the tent. “That’s what I’m talking about!” When he was done celebrating, Baxter turned and smiled at Francis. “So, now what? You’re certain you can get Priscilla to join the fight? I’m not sure she will even if I ask her to.”

“I can and I will,” Francis said. “And if I can’t this time, I’ll just die and repeat it until I learn how to.”

The king chuckled and gave Francis a tap on his shoulder that showed him a reminder of the moment Baxter had killed him with a single hand long ago.

“You are an amazing gift, Francis. When we win, I will make sure your family is rewarded for your service.”

Rather than get into a discussion on how that wouldn’t be worth anything, Francis just bent his neck slightly. “Thank you, my King. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a mage to convince to fight in a war she doesn’t want to be a part of.”

***

“You speak of things that you shouldn’t know,” Priscilla stated, her complexion looking paler by the second. “I… I find it hard to believe, but there’s no other way for you to know what you do.”

“Which is why the King is willing to join the fight tomorrow, and you must as well,” Francis said. “I’m playing a game that I cannot win without your help. The good news is you’ll be getting one over on Stenson by going along with my plan.”

“And yet how do I know you won’t just use all this to your advantage upon the next death?” Priscilla asked. “You’re telling me you just need to die and you’ll relive this moment again. No one but those you tell upon each death knows anything. What’s to stop me from believing you haven’t attempted this moment before?”

“Nothing,” Francis said. “Except that I allowed you to verify that what I said was true.”

“Only that phrase,” she replied, frowning. “Which means there are things you don’t want to verify.”

Francis nodded, smiling as he pointed to the cup nearest to him. “Are you wanting to tell me what that glass is laced with? I know it has something inside it and that it’s not the liquid I pour into it.”

Her cheeks reddened and the mage clenched her eyes shut before opening them a second later. “You… keep saying things you shouldn’t know… just adding more weights to the scale that already tips in your favor and paints me in a bad light.”

“And yet,” Francis said, leaning forward. “I’m here, being honest and telling you I know what it is like to be bound to something you can't escape and wishing you could, but only if the conditions to escape mean getting what you want. I will die as many times as I must, no matter how horrible they are, until my brother is permanently safe and this kingdom survives.”

Francis moved his hand to his belt and slowly pulled a knife from it, keeping it sheathed.  

“I could use this, threaten you with it. You could try and use magic to end my life but all that would do is cause you pain and potentially make me stronger. Each time we could do this dance, until the day comes when you cannot harm me. How many deaths would it take? A thousand? Ten thousand? There was a moment I considered this path, but I do not take joy in killing someone I don’t believe deserves it.”

Putting the knife back, he kept his eyes on Priscilla, watching the light in her eyes dim slowly.

“I killed a man who deserved it over a hundred times,” Francis stated. “I used him as a crucible to make me stronger and prepare me for the battle that I need to win. But I haven’t done so in so long. Why? Because his death means nothing anymore. A day will come when I hope the war can be won, and on that last attempt to take it all, I’m going to kill him again, because he deserves it. Because…” Francis leaned forward, locking eyes with her. “The world is a better place without him. Only those who show the world is better off without them need to fear me.”

“That… feels like a threat,” Priscilla said slowly. “Yet… I know it’s not.”

Shaking his head, Francis laughed. “I’m not threatening you. If I wanted, I could kill anyone. Even the King,” he replied. “But I wouldn’t see this kingdom being in a better place because I took that action. Sure, I might get stronger from doing so, but I don’t have that kind of drive in me to kill those who don’t deserve it. So when the army gathers and the battle begins, I need to know who cares more about winning a war that saves the entire kingdom than their own petty things? Baxter is willing to fight, has wanted to fight, and my ability gives him the chance to do what he wants for a moment without the fear of dying.”

“You don’t think he fears death?” Priscilla asked. “Everyone fears death?”

Francis laughed and shook his head. “Think about it for a moment and see it from his eyes.  Forget everything you know about death, Priscilla. Let’s say the battle goes against us, and you die? Then what? If I die, you’re back, never knowing the pain of what you felt in that moment. There’s no memory of whatever claimed your life.  Even if it’s more painful than you can imagine, you’ll come back to a moment days before now, unaware of it.”

Smiling, Francis leaned forward and raised both of his eyes playfully. “Tell me, Priscilla Obsterano, mage bound to King Baxter. Wouldn’t you for once like to walk across that battlefield and show everyone around you the true power you possess?”

Her blue eyes sparkled, not with magic that Francis could sense, but with what he guessed was finally understanding what he was offering. 

A smirk appeared on the woman’s face, and yet Francis knew it wasn’t directed at him.

“A chance to finally let go of all the rage, anger, and frustration I hold inside me?” Priscilla asked. “Why, if I didn’t know better, we’ve had this conversation before, Sage Francis. It seems you know more about what I want than I could ever imagine.”

The pair laughed as Francis rose. 

“I look forward to seeing what you can do,” he said. “Perhaps it might make me less likely to test myself against you anytime soon.”

This time, light appeared in those eyes, and the mage’s skin glowed white. 

“Fear not, Sage Francis, I’ll show you the true power I possess.”

Undying Blood - Chapter 76

Chapter 76

Francis felt unstoppable. Behind him was an army, cheering for him. 

Stenson had helped procure better armor and another sword from the king. Baxter had balked at first at the request of his general to give this kind of equipment to someone so young, but after having watched Francis duel Kels in the training area, he hesitated no longer.

Francis had to turn down plate armor, partially because none fit his physique and the other reason was that he had never trained in it. There would be time, many loops where this moment could happen again, but for now Francis wanted to fight to the best of his ability.

Hundreds of beastkin lay dead, a straight line of destruction carved in a single direction.

Rhino-kins charged, and Francis slaughtered them all, carving flesh from bone, even removing heads from their thick necks, staining the soil with blood like a spring rain.

Snakekin sent waves of magic, trying to drown him in poison, yet Francis shrugged those spells off, stunning the casters as he used Magical Feedback to stop their casting the moment their threads reached him.

Every creature that came at him found a pair of blades drenched in the blood of their allies waiting for them. Arrows flew toward him and Francis danced to the side, deflecting a few with his weapons, laughing at how much easier all this was in the light of the morning sun.

Elite catkins charged, and while his sword skill was still not an elite one, his Warrior’s Resolve, combined with his skills, made short work of them, even when surrounded by three or four at a time.

Francis didn’t pause, ignoring the roars that carried through the beastkin army; instead, he dodged arrows and finally reached the bearkins that had pincushioned him so many times in his life.

Each of them dropped their bows which were taller than Francis, reaching for swords on their hips, but it was too late. He was upon them and regardless of how strong they were, Francis was too fast. Their swings felt slow and he parried, riposted and took off hands and arms, eventually removing heads when the bearkins fell to their knees.

Giant feet of the creatures they had hidden behind tried to step on him, but Francis just laughed, running and jumping, using Power Strike to stick his sword into their thick skin.

Francis climbed his way up the twenty feet or more of legs, parrying an arrow that came at him from one side, racing up the creature as fast as he could.

As Francis neared the spot where he could climb on top, having to weave his way around large spikes that jutted downward to keep him from doing what he was, Battle Sense told him of an incoming arrow. All he could do was twist, feeling the arrow pierce his armor and chest, destroying a pair of ribs as it got lodged inside him.

Pain Resistance nullified what would have caused most men to black out, and Warrior’s Resolve roared with power.

Ignoring the injury and four feet or more of an arrow sticking out of him, Francis sheathed a blade, grabbed a spike, and yanked himself airborne.

One moment, he had been a target for archery practice and the next he was once again death. Francis assaulted the group of bearkins on top, cutting them to pieces and spotted a different-looking kind of creature, a pair of what looked like bearkins but with big white faces, black circles around their eyes and a black body holding reins to the massive beast on its head.

Woflkin’s came at him, and Francis continued to slay every creature on top of this beast, hacking at thick ropes that bound the siege weapons to its massive body.

Snapping sounds and the fraying of the bindings rang out. While Francis wasn’t a genius or would ever claim to know much about siege weaponry, Francis knew something bad was going to happen as the tension in the equipment started to give. He ran to the area he had climbed, keeping his feet as the giant creature shifted and swayed.

Every second Francis’ speed and strength increased, the arrow still jutting from his back, causing Warrior’s Resolve to fan the flames that burned within.

His attempt at jumping and using his swords to work like anchors in the beast's leg failed and Francis fell, pulling off an incredibly impressive flip that resulted in him landing on his feet and not on his face.

Holy crap!

Impressed with himself and that falling from that height didn’t hurt at all, his Strong Bones and high Endurance and Strength had just revealed a truth he had yet to uncover.

I can fall from that high and not get hurt!

Not that he was planning on running and jumping off cliffs or walls anytime soon, Francis didn’t have time to ponder the other things he might be able to do. A roar growing louder as it raced toward him.

The quartet of elite catkins that had approached were backing off, and Francis grimaced, sliding both swords into their scabbards and quickly grabbed the arrow with one hand and pushed.

Its tip pressed against his armor and Francis continued pushing until it poked through, grabbing the exposed metal with his other hand and began feeding it through his body.

As he did this, the pure black beastkin cat he had fought last night appeared, pausing as it watched him pull out the arrow.

“Impressive… tell me, softskin, what is your name?”

Francis tried not to laugh, finally freeing the arrow from his body and discarding it on the ground.

Blood flowed from Francis’ chest but his body felt alive. Far more than it had ever felt with Death’s Dance.

“I’d ask the same, but you’ll tell me you don’t think I’m worthy of knowing it, so why bother?”

The beastkin’s head reacted slightly, eyelids closing some, hiding a part of its yellow eyes.

“How would you know such things?!” it demanded.

“I’ve faced your kind before. Honor is important, isn't it? But for now, I don’t have time for this.” As he finished shouting at the beast, Francis pulled both swords free and charged.

This time Francis could see the grin appear as his opponent pulled two curved blades from its back and came at him.

It was fast, just as fast as he could remember last time, but Francis saw the way it moved without the aid of night or what might have been some trick of his senses. Somehow, its body blurred as it moved. Both swords came in the same pattern as the first and Francis met them, blade against blade, sparks flying when the metal connected. This time he only slid a few feet, a small rivet of dirt where his boots had dug in.

“You–”

It had tried to speak yet Francis knew this battle wasn’t going to be one where they could spend hours talking about life. His chest ached; the pain was there, a dull throb and one of his ribs had punctured a lung. In his chest, Francis’ heart pounded and Warrior’s Resolve controlled its beat. 

Every step he had taken in the last few moments helped him to process the new speed at which he moved. 

[ Power Strike ]

[ Quick Attack ]

[ Flurry ]

Two attacks landed and Francis cut the creature on both arms, drawing blood that dripped from its black fur.

It retaliated, crying out like a tortured child. Their blades created a song of battle that played out before all the beasts watching.

Francis dodged, activated Shield Wall, used Riposte and parried every strike that he could.

Each moment an opening came, Francis got close, striking at the beastkin, cutting its leg when it tried to kick him, stabbing at its stomach and chest.

Francis gained more wounds, the cat’s sword having sliced sideways and getting past his defenses. Francis’ attempt at parrying failed and a deep gash that cut through his armor and a good three inches into his right side leaked more of the blood his body needed to keep going.

Yet through all of this, Warrior’s Resolve showed its true power. Death’s Dance had been a small trump card occasionally. It allowed Francis to fight above his level, adding power he wouldn’t normally possess, but was limited to when he was on the losing path already.

His new legendary skill made Francis stronger from the moment he took damage. None of the first creatures he faced had done any damage, and it wasn’t until the snakekin that Francis truly felt the power waiting to be unleashed. Even with his Magic Resist and Poison Resist being at the level they were, he still took damage, his skin still melted some, and Warrior’s Resolve showed its teeth.

And then came the arrow that had kicked in the door to true power as it rammed through Francis’ back and chest. It was like a forge filled with coals, suddenly surrounded by multiple people with dozens of bellows blowing air over it in a well-timed pattern. The heat grew and now it threatened to burn the very ingot one would try to craft something with.

Francis’ body ached from the sensation inside his muscles. There was so much power that his body almost seemed at risk of damaging itself because it couldn’t contain the strength and speed it gave. Everything felt pressed to its limit, yet it was the greatest sensation he had ever felt in a while.

Francis felt alive. Truly alive. Every death had led to this moment. He was facing a foe far stronger than him, and yet Francis was causing it injuries and pain. Only once had it revealed a skill, right at the start, but Francis knew it had to have more it held back.

Even with all the wounds Francis had inflicted, he was certain it was only inconvenienced. But even a mosquito could cause someone’s life to suffer as it bit them all night long. And Francis was more than happy to be that mosquito that drank deep from the creature before him.

[ Power Strike ]

[ Quick Attack ]

[ Flurry ]

Blood flowed from wounds that Francis’ weapons created. He pulled his sword back from the fourth strike, sensing the beast’s own weapon coming down at his head.

Francis tried to dodge, but another blade was coming from the side, pinning him in.

[ Shield Wall ]

Right arm extended, unable to parry both, Francis parried the blade to his side, shifting and twisting, feeling the metal tear through armor, flesh, and bone. His right shoulder, side and down to his hip was cleaved from his body. Blood ran like a river the moment it realized it could be free from the flesh that held it inside.

And Warrior’s Resolve ignited as if someone had tossed casks of alcohol upon it.

It surprised Francis how much power filled him and it was then he knew what it meant.

I should be dead.

Ten seconds was all Francis would have. Each one would pass quickly but for those precious moments, he was going to unleash the power that needed a release.

His left arm pushed back the attack and Francis struck.

[ Power Strike ]

[ Flurry ]

His blade carved through the creature's right leg, hacking far deeper than ever before, striking bone.

The beast stumbled as the impact of metal on bone radiated up its body and Francis’s arm.

Yet Francis wasn’t done yet. Over and over, Francis used those same two skills again, ignoring the blade that came at his body. He still had easily seven or eight seconds left, but Francis knew his opponent would probably take off his head before that time ran out.

So, he surged as close as Francis could, ramming his sword upward, once again using the inner thigh and the exposed skin as a target. Francis had wondered why it didn’t wear more armor. Others did, this one didn’t. Just some simple garbs that protected its groin.

Maybe it was pride and the desire to show off its impressive stature, but one’s pride often came before their fall.

Francis sent his sword upward, carving through the flesh inside that thigh, finding the artery most had right there, and slit it open for over a foot.

Francis was knocked backward, sent tumbling from the strike that impacted his chest, the sensation of everything from below his ribs gone.

Precious seconds were spent rolling along the ground and Francis found himself face-first in the dirt. Still surging with power, he used his left hand, turning himself over and looked at the beastkin whose eyes were wide, hand pressed against the wound Francis had made, blood rushing out as its heart beat.

“Looks like I got you,” Francis tried to say. His voice sounded weird, blood spewing forth with every word he spoke.

A look of fear came over the creature as it ripped off its loincloth and tied it around its leg near the top.

“I will–”

Whatever it had been trying to say fell on deaf ears. Time had run out and darkness had taken over.

Undying Blood - Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Francis felt reborn. It was unbelievable how a single act had stripped away all of the frustration that had built up over three thousand deaths. Now he roared with fury every second he took the battlefield. 

Sometimes Francis wore a blindfold, other times he simply closed his eyes. There were loops he stuffed his ears and nose, relying only on his eyes. Death came, that damn bell rang, and Francis each time moved with purpose. 

He mixed things up, not starting at the same spot on the battlefield, finding different paths and clearing through the army that never seemed to run out. Like the sea, each death brought a fresh wave, ready to crash against the sand.

Yet Francis was a stone wall, an immovable object that stopped its advance. Death was harder to come by sometimes. That was until one of the creatures that could kill Stenson would appear. Today, he ran into a new one.

Its fur was pure black, and its yellow eyes reflected the dim light of the sky.

Every beast nearby had moved away as it roared, apparently claiming Francis as a chew toy it would enjoy. The lack of light hid much of the impressive physique this beast had. Muscles filled its ten-foot-tall body in a way that almost seemed impossible. Its legs were as thick as Francis’ chest and the claws looked more dangerous than the two curved blades it carried.

“Who are you?” it spoke. “I smell something… familiar.” Its voice pierced the distance between them, a shout from fifty yards away that carried a weight of power.

“Just a man who is tired of your kind and the death you bring,” Francis replied. “Tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine.”

It laughed, or it appeared that it did, leaning its head back, body shaking, but what came from it was a high-pitched scream. It sounded like children in pain.

“You would know my name? Softskin, you’re not worthy of knowing my name.”

“And yet, you want to know mine,” Francis replied. “Seems unfair, especially since I’ve lost count of how many of your kind I have killed.”

Francis’ night vision struggled to see anything beyond the large shape, but the hair on his neck stood as Francis felt anger coming from the beast.

“You have earned the right to die by my blades. Know I shall save part of you to feed my children so that they may grow stronger off your bones.”

Francis didn’t reply. There was no time as the beast moved faster than he could believe.

One moment it had been before fifty yards away and before him, the next it was on Francis’  left, two massive blades coming at him.

[ Shield Wall ]

A crack came from the secondary blade he held; only the one Baxter had gifted Stenson survived the initial clash.

That curved blade swept across his body, grinding against the bones of his chest, unable to break them, yet the blow sent him rolling through the dirt.

“Impressive,” it snarled.

On his feet the moment he could stand, Francis heard those words and sensed the beasts' approach.

It was quiet, impossibly quiet. No sound came from where it touched the ground. The black fur seemed to absorb light, making it harder to follow with his eyes. But there was a smell. An overpowering smell of musk.

Wherever it moved, the scent was stronger, overwhelming, and Francis used the only sense he could to track the beast.

It struck with single sword attacks, toying with Francis, not killing him when an opening in his defenses was present. Francis could see that it wore what had to be a smile. Multiple teeth displayed, lips curled upward, and the sound of screaming children occasionally came as Francis tried to parry and dodge the blows.

Francis thought he saw an opening and went for it, knowing this thing was toying with him.

[ Power Strike ]

[ Flurry ]

[ Quick Attack ]

His weapon flashed, the speed of them increasing to a point they blurred. The beastkin’s weapons clashed with his single blade, but one strike made it through, nicking the midnight-black skin.

The beast hissed, and the game of cat and mouse was over.

Two blades came at him, faster than Francis could track.

[ Shield Wall ]

His attempts at minimizing the damage that came were pointless. A sword strike took off his left arm at the shoulder, and another removed his right leg.

[ Death’s Dance Activated ]

With an arm and a leg missing, Francis should have been a twitching piece of flesh on the ground, but he didn’t allow that to take place. Francis shouted, the power of his ability and the will to go down fighting combined. In his mind, this fight wasn’t over. Not until the darkness claimed him would he give in.

And so Francis attacked.

[ Power Strike ]

[ Flurry ]

[ Quick Attack ]

Two strikes struck the beast, cutting deeper than the first one had. His opponent backed up, pulling its weapons into a defensive position, but Francis didn’t let it escape so easily.

Lunging off his only leg, ignoring the torrent of blood that came from both his wounds, Francis felt the power of Death’s Dance reaching a culmination. He was going to die in less than three heartbeats no matter what. But all that meant was he grew stronger until that very last breath.

So he attacked again. 

And again. 

And again.

Over and over those three abilities were used, and he ignored the fatigue that wanted him to stop. The beast struck back, both blades coming together, at Francis’ midsection, cleaving his body in two. Yet Francis wasn’t done.

As his torso fell toward the ground, he willed everything he had, thrusting once more with his blade, using his three skills.

Though Francis didn’t have legs to push off for momentum or power, his will made a way. A single blade strike struck true, slicing up the beast's thigh and into its groin.

A wail, far higher than any other one the beastkin had made, came and Francis smiled.

Death should have come.

But it didn’t.

Something flashed before him, a notification but he didn’t care.

All Francis wanted to do was hurt this opponent like never before.

Chunks of flesh were stripped off its lower leg and ankle as Francis hacked at the beast's leg while he fell. And then Francis felt a force pin him to the ground.

“Die already!” it screamed.

Finally, darkness came as pressure pressed against his skull.

***

Francis sat in the woods, needing a moment to comprehend what was before him.

It had taken effort to answer his brother, ignoring the questions that always came now.

“How are you so big? What happened? Why don’t you share?”

Phillip hadn’t argued once when he told him where they would meet later today. He could see the fear in his trainer’s eyes, and it was far stronger than the questions he might want answered.

But all Francis wanted to do was stare at that notification.

[ Skill Evolution - Death’s Dance (Epic)has Evolved into Warrior’s Resolve (Legendary) ]

[ Warrior’s Resolve - 5 ]

[ Warrior’s Resolve ( Legendary ) - Few will ever know what true resolve is. Those who do understand that death isn’t the end. Anytime you are injured a bonus to speed and strength will be granted, increasing the closer to death you become. Far greater is the power to push past death itself for ten seconds. Only the destruction of your mind will prevent or end this ability. ]

This ability felt earned. Far more than the others. Francis was closing in on five thousand deaths, having pushed himself over and over to become what he must. Every other time he faced one of those monsters that appeared, Francis had been cut down quickly. This time had been different. He had pushed past the moment of death. 

Smiling, Francis stood and started jogging. He would beat Phillip to town, and he would keep another promise he had made.

***

“You seem awfully happy,” Stenson said. “Are you always this… excited?”

Francis roared with laughter and shook his head, having not yet told the final part of the last death.

“No, usually I’m all business but this time… well, let’s just say I’ve kept a few promises and it feels good.”

An eyebrow raised on the older man’s face and he nodded slowly. “So, you fought a new beast, one just as strong as the one you say kills me, yet managed to hack its balls off. I would find that to make me excited as well. Even though this whole situation is new to me, I can read when someone is holding back and that smile you’re wearing tells me I’m right.”

“It’s.. I… one of my skills evolved,” Francis finally blurted out.

Stenson leaned forward so fast, Francis was almost certain the older man would lunge at him. At the same time, Stenson’s eyes widened, and he waited like a dog wanting a treat. “Well, tell me, boy! Don’t just tease me!”

“Death’s Dance evolved,” Francis replied. “It became Warrior’s Resolve.”

“No… that’s not possible. Warrior’s Resolve is a…” The general stopped talking, his eyes darting back and forth as they always did when he was thinking. “What does it do?” he asked, almost whispering at how faint his voice was.

“Well, now when I take any damage, my speed and strength are increased, no longer having to wait until my life force is over half.”

“Yes… that does seem… wait,” Stenson’s gaze narrowed, his lips forming a frown. “There’s more… You’re still holding something back.”

Accusing eyes glared at him, and Francis grinned, having been unable to keep a straight face. “Yes. So even ifI  took an injury that should kill me or suffered enough that I would die, I won’t for ten seconds. Unless of course they chop off my head or destroy it in an attack.”

“Jaeggars balls,” Stenson muttered. “The legends… they were true.”

“What did the legends say?” Francis asked.

“They’ve changed so much over five thousand years,” Stenson replied slowly. “Tiny pieces of paper, broken stone tablets. Things that are remnants of time long ago. Across the four kingdoms are… stories… we call them legends, of heroes who defied death. Some that even rose to become gods. None of us believes them because that is foolishness. No grandmaster I know of has ever grown strong enough to claim such power and the rare sage was so old they are said to have died from burning out their life force and not an injury. 

“But… a few stories from all four kingdoms speak of something,” the general continued. “The Kingdom of Tules is known for having the strongest warriors one can imagine. Where they live breeds men and women who are much tougher than in any of the other kingdoms. Every day is a fight and they make our way of training look like pampered nobles that consume potions and elixirs to grow stronger. Sure, they are rare as the ingredients required to make them are not traded that often, but to be one of the greatest in Tules is a sign of true physical and mental fortitude.

“That is where the legend of the skill, Warrior’s Resolve, is mentioned. Legend says a war chief there could push past injuries far beyond what should have been allowed and with each moment he became stronger, dealing out punishment none could withstand.”

“But if he could do that, how did he live?” Francis asked.

Stenson slowly smiled, his lips curling upward and for a second looked almost evil. “That is the rub, isn’t it? How would a man survive such wounds and still manage to live? How could he lose an arm and a leg and still be the war chief even if he survived? That would make him a target and you and I both know a smart fighter would turn the fight to their advantage. Someone might fight in a way where the chief couldn’t catch their opponent.”

“So he heals? Like… from healing magic or what?”

The general shrugged, still smiling as he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. The legend changes based on who tells it. I have read a few scrolls from the last three or four hundred years with different variations of the chief’s power. Even his name changes. The only reason I know the name of the skill you now have and what he supposedly had is because I traded knowledge for knowledge a few hundred years ago.”

“You did what?” Francis asked. “Like got together with other old men and swapped stories over a drink?”

“Not exactly, but something like that,” Stenson replied, chuckling. “You don’t know everything about me, I’m certain. My family, our history, or our ties to the throne. Or do you?”

Francis shook his head. “No, I can’t even get you to tell me the name of your attack skill. Sometimes I get so tired of the games you play but then crap like this happens and I pick up something that’s a legend. It’s hard to argue with results. I guess that’s where that damn Trainer Oidrun gets his crazy method of teaching from.”

“You are correct,” Stenson replied. “Still… I sat down one day… well a month actually, with one person from each kingdom. You’d be surprised who shows up to a meeting like that. If I hadn’t been married…” The general cleared his throat and shook his head. “Another time perhaps for that one, try not to make me suffer if you mention it. I’m a little embarrassed to admit she had such a sway over me, but I later learned it was magic.”

Francis felt his eyes widening and the older man held a hand up before he could ask any questions.

“Still, we traded secrets,” Stenson stated. “Things most don’t share because we were interested in learning what might be possible. We were the ones willing to return home and attempt the impossible.”

“Can you stop reminiscing and just tell me what you’re holding back before I grow old like you?” Francis groaned.

“Patience!” snapped Stenson. “Still, you’re right. I’d hate for you to endure another hour or two in peace when you could be out there killing more creatures. Regardless… it was believed… or is believed there are abilities which allow you to heal faster… regenerate if you will. A few variations, some stronger and some weaker. Part of me is surprised you haven’t acquired one yet but then again, you fight till you die. Not the best way to accrue a skill that lets you heal.”

“So, what?” Francis replied. “I need to get cut and beat up and then stand around and wait?”

“There are those who would say yes. But then ask yourself, how many are willing to endure a thousand cuts every day or can afford to have someone heal them from those cuts?”

“Well, crap, now I have to fight and stop to rest,” Francis muttered. “I guess I’m going to be fighting naked till I am old like you.”

Stenson cleared his throat before shaking his head. “Possibly. But, I think in the next ten or twenty thousand death’s you’ll be strong enough to win.”

Francis coughed and gave the general a one-finger salute.

Twenty thousand more deaths… could I mentally survive that?

Considering that question, Francis looked at his current stats and knew the answer was an easy one.

Yes… yes he could.

Undying Blood - Chapter 74

Chapter 74

“This is absurd! What right does this one have to challenge me?!” Valehart shouted.

“Oh, are you a coward?” Francis asked. “I’m sorry I though the rumors of you being a gifted man with a sword were true. Perhaps I was wrong. You only fight the weak because that is what you are. A weak man.”

The circle of warriors and guards chuckled as Valehart’s eyes glared at Francis. The disgraced officer turned toward Stenson while pointing a finger at Francis.

“You cannot allow this!” Valehart proclaimed.

“Would you prefer to fight me instead?” Stenson growled. “I swear on my title and my blade that the one who is challenging you was trained by Phillip and is acting as his proxy.”

Francis tried not to pay attention to Phillip. The man stood next to him, trembling. Francis wasn’t sure if it was anger, rage, or something else, but he prayed Phillip didn’t react and let this work out as they had planned.

“That’s impossible! Look at him! He doesn’t look like–” Valehart’s words were cut off as Stenson moved with a speed Francis longed to have. The older man’s hand gripped the noble by the throat and lifted him up.

When Stenson spoke his voice sounded like metal on metal. “If you imply I am a liar again, I will personally cut every part of your body off and have a healer make it so you do not bleed out until all that is left is just a head. Do I make myself clear?”

Grunting, Valehart nodded, finding himself freed from a grip that could have probably crushed his windpipe had the general tried.

“It’s alright, General,” Francis said. “It’s obvious the man’s a coward and a thief. No honor, just a–”

“I accept!” Valehart shouted. Fury and rage consumed every inch of the man’s face as his cheeks turned red. “I will gut you like a fish but not until I’ve done far worse to you than I did to him!” Valehart’s finger shook as he pointed at Phillip.

“Make him suffer,” Phillip said, turning and putting a hand on Francis’s arm. “Just know… whatever happens… I am more grateful than you will ever know.”

Francis nodded and stood there, watching as men began to draw a square upon the dirt. Over three dozen warriors stood at the outer edges, and once it was done, Stenson nodded to one of the guards next to him.

The man moved toward Valehart and threw the man a sword, letting it fall to the ground near the dishonored officer's feet.

“Win and you might just escape with your life. Lose and… well you’ll be dead,” Stenson announced for everyone to hear.

Francis studied the officer he was about to fight. He had been told that Valehart’s position within the elite fighters wasn’t merely just a title or a way to potentially die while fighting. Valehart was good with a sword and not an opponent to be taken lightly.

Francis could see the way the man walked and how he moved. Always maintaining balance, staying low without crouching. 

Stenson was right… This should be a good test. Shame the old man wouldn’t tell me what skills Valehart has.

Knowledge was power and Francis could only laugh when the general told him that if he died, it would just serve as another training opportunity and they could do this all over.

Valehart was loosening up, rotating shoulders, shaking his legs a little, his blue eyes watching Francis like a hawk.

All Francis did there was stand, arms crossed over his chest, smiling.

“You really think you’re going to win? Do you realize–” Valehart asked.

“That you’re a prick? A thief, a predator… a coward? To call you scum dishonors those who are indeed scum,” Francis answered. “Why yes, everyone here believes I’m going to win and we all know what you are. That is why we’re here. To see justice done.”

Francis could hear the frustration in Valehart’s breathing and then it was gone.

Well at least he can push away that rage. Hopefully this is a good fight.

“Let the trial by combat begin!” The moment Stenson called for it to start, Valehart moved, his sword thrusting before turning and slashing downward.

Francis leapt back, drawing his weapon and avoiding a wound that would have probably killed him or at least gutted him had it struck.

Valehart kept pressing the attack, sending out slashes, thrusts and even a few kicks.

The sound of metal on metal rang out in the tiny area as Francis got a feel for what Valehart’s true power might be. 

He’s holding back.

With each passing second, the barrage of attacks and combos continued, a flurry of strikes that began to grow faster and Francis knew the man was starting to use his full potential.

It became increasingly difficult for Francis to defend against the attacks. It had been a while since he had really fought against a man and not beasts. Valehart fought with skill, experience and wisdom.  It was one thing to dodge and parry strikes from creatures he knew like his own hand. Now Francis faced an opponent who had spent a lifetime fighting with a blade. Francis wasn’t sure how much time he had really spent training with a sword. Sure, all the loops started on the same day, and the fights that took place on the battlefield sometimes ended upon his arrival. Valehart had been training his whole life to fight. Francis had been training since his first death how to get stronger.

Physically, Valehart was slightly slower and his strength wasn’t as high as Francis’, but it was the experience behind the blade that made Francis have to get serious.

Francis went for a thrust, seeing an opening and attacked. His blade was parried and then Valehart’s weapon slid forward, a counterattack coming at Francis immediately.

Francis’ senses detected it as the attack came, his Battle Sense announcing the use of the Riposte skill and Francis retaliated, shifting and activating his own.

[ Riposte ]

Valehart’s gaze changed slightly, the look of disdain gone as his eyes narrowed, more serious now than before.

Francis’ attack was parried and Riposted again. For a moment they both continued the parrying and counterattacking until they ended up pressed against each other, hands holding each other’s weapon wrist.

“You’re better than I expected,” Valehart growled. “This will make it even better when I kill you and then gut Phillip.”

Francis just smiled, close enough to smell the garlic from the meal the man had recently eaten.

“Then you'd better do something before I get serious,” Francis replied.

Valehart shoved, trying to push him away, but Francis didn’t move; instead, mimicking the shove his opponent had just done, sending the officer stumbling back a few steps.

Cheers came from the warriors and officers around them and Francis took a few steps back, watching his opponent as the man glared at him.

Valehart came and the moment the officer’s blade was in range of Francis, Valehart’s sword turned into a whirlwind of death.

[ Iron Wall ]

Francis knew what was coming and even with his abilities, couldn’t defend against the four attacks completely. 

Flurry…

Francis’ body reacted, diverting the two aimed for his chest, choosing to allow the one that struck his right side, and twisting enough to only suffer a gash along his right leg.

Valehart drew back his sword, now stained with red and came again, attacking high and the officer’s sword’s path changed upon getting close, now aimed for Francis’ left side.

Quick Attack.

Francis parried the attack enough to prevent a strike to his vital organs, instead, another area on his shirt turned crimson. The damage was minimal as his Iron Wall ability and other defensive skills negated the potential damage that should have come. 

Valehart disengaged, an evil smile forming as he waved his sword a few times. “Beg and I will end this quick.”

Francis just started to laugh. It was hilarious to see how much Valehart thought about his own ability.

Pain Resistance made it so that what Francis felt was like a bee sting. It was there, but he didn’t suffer like others might. His Thick skin and Iron Wall had made it so the weapon’s tip didn’t get more than a quarter inch at best. Sure it bled, but no major damage had been dealt, especially compared to what Francis had experienced against the beastkin.

“You know… I heard you were good, but I guess those were all lies you spread,” Francis said as he moved back a few more steps. “In fact, I honestly don’t think you’re good at all. To prove it, I’m going to blindfold myself.”

Gasps and grunts came from the guards and warriors around at his words.

“Francis!” Phillip shouted.

“It’s fine, he’s nothing,” Francis replied.

“Seriously?! You think–” Valehart shouted.

“Stop flapping your lips and move to the other side and I’ll do what I say,” Francis said. “We all know you have no honor, but I do. Move to the edge of the box and I’ll blindfold myself. Once my blade is in my hand, attack. Or don’t. Either way I’m going to kill you.”

Behind Valehart was Stenson and the general looked absolutely pleased with this moment. A smile so large that teeth showed, something that rarely happened in all the deaths Francis had endured.

His opponent stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths as he did nothing, his weapon held ready. “You’re serious?”

“Unlike you, I keep my word,” Francis growled. “Now, either move to the other side and let me make this a fair match or I will come at you with everything I have. If you win, it will be my folly for such an act. If you lose because you didn’t let me blindfold myself, well… every man will tell the tale of how stupid you really were.”

For an area full of so many men, the silence that lingered for a few moments seemed like an eternity.

“You’re a fool, just like your trainer,” Valehart spat, taking a few steps back. “You’ll die with your eyes open or closed.”

When his opponent had reached the other side, Francis drove his blade into the ground and pulled out the cloth he had put in his back pocket. Tying it quickly over his eyes, Francis took one breath and then grabbed his sword.

Francis heard the approaching steps. He could sense the concern in the men around him by the way they held their breath. Valehart didn’t hold back, attacking from his left side, going for the area his sword arm would struggle to reach.

But Francis saw it all in his mind. He could almost see it better in some ways as he focused on what he could feel. Sidestepping and bringing his sword to parry, Francis moved, his feet sliding across the ground as Valehart paused for a moment before rushing him again.

Attacks rained down upon Francis and a full-on assault of metal sent to kill him came.

Francis endured it, using his Iron Wall once more when another Flurry attack added two more red spots to his outfit.

Groans and moans came from some who watched, but most were silent.

For one to be blindfolded and only now have a little over a dozen small injuries was not the outcome they had expected at all.

And Francis just laughed.

“WHY WONT YOU DIE!?” Valehart screamed. The man’s words were like a beacon; his breathing and rage were a roaring fire on top of a hill. It made keeping up with his presence far easier than the beastkin who said nothing, being silent as they struck from every side.

And so Francis endured each attack he let through, waiting for what he wanted to happen. 

Finally, it came.

[ Death’s Dance Activated ]

Francis could sense his vitality slowly going down, his clothes and Endurance causing his wounds to clot quickly. Eventually, after suffering over thirty stabs and cuts, he felt the power grow.

The abilities that had come at Francisvhad gone silent. Even though Valehart had an Endurance in the proficient rank, the man’s skills were not as high as his. The number of times Valehart could repeat them over and over was far less.

And as his body swelled with the added strength, Francis smiled. “My turn.”

Two words signaled the shift in the entire fight. For so long Francis had played defensively, allowing the man to control the flow of it all. Yet it was his turn to show what kind of fighter he was.

[ Quick Attack ]

Francis felt his sword pierce flesh and heard the cheer of those around them.

Valehart tried to react, but Francis kept up the assault.

[ Flurry ]

Three more times his blade met a moment of resistance as it cut cloth and skin, slicing through muscle.

[ Quick Attack ]

[ Flurry ]

In moments, it was an entirely different fight. The one-sided duel had flipped. 

“It’s always fun to play with your meal, isn’t it?” Francis said as he activated Quick Attack again.

Grunts and cries of pain came from Valehart as Francis’ blade struck again and again. His opponents' speed and balanced waned as the injuries piled up.

Yet with each passing moment, a little more power flowed into Francis. 

Part of him wanted to use Power Strike, and the other remembered what Stenson had said. One never knew what an opponent might have, and Francis wouldn’t risk having a blow turned against him even if all it meant was dying and doing this again.

No, Francis wanted to do this the first time. He had made a promise and it felt like he would break it if he failed.

Phillip was somewhere in this crowd of spectators to his left, cheering and shouting for him. The sensation in his chest felt strange. For so long every memory of the man had been one who cursed and put him down. Even when he fought against Cutter, Phillip never cheered for him. 

Yet right now, all Francis could hear from his trainer was words of encouragement.

And so Francis honored them.

He attacked with everything he had, but his flame was controlled. It did not burn down the countryside but refined an ingot inside a controlled forge. It was a weapon, precise and deadly.

Each attack was more powerful, forcing Valehart’s sword out of position and allowing the next strike to land.

And soon, the moment came and Francis took it, his blade piercing the shoulder socket of his opponent's right arm, causing the weapon to fall to the ground.

“I yield!” Valehart cried out.

So quickly, those words came from a man known for ignoring them. 

But Francis paused, blade extended, tip pressed against his opponent's chest.

“I yield!” Valehart called out again.

Francis shook his head and then slowly lifted his left hand, removing his blindfold.

Terror filled those blue eyes, and a little bit of snot dripped from Valehart’s nose.

“Where was the mercy when you did what you did to Phillip and Miren?” Francis asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, stabbing his blade through Valehart’s left shoulder, both arms unable to rise.

There were no more shouts or cries from those around him. Francis scanned the crowd, his eyes finding Phillip. His face bore a smile and his trainer gave him a single nod.

“What if I promise not to kill you?” Francis asked, pausing for a second as he waited for the next part. “ What will you do? Will you somehow repay all those that you have wronged?”

“Yes! Yes, I will!” Valehart cried out. “I will–”

No other words came as a knife ran across the man’s throat. A gurgling sound was heard, and both shoulders tried to move to bring his hands to stop the flow of blood that flowed freely.

“Thank you,” Phillip said as he wiped the bloody dagger on Valehart’s shoulder.

Francis just nodded and used his blindfold to clean his blade. Having kept this promise, a sense of peace filled his soul.

Chapter 23 Loopbreaker ((Trying to adjust story some)

So this is a spot I felt might work for what I wanted in the story and one of the first changes I wanted to make after you all gave me some feedback. Let me know your thoughts.

******
Chapter 23

Francis could almost zone out through most of the first few moments, able to repeat everything as the previous time, earning some extra silver, punching a bully he hated, and securing a chain helm after having learned what not to say to the same armorsmith.

None of it seemed important anymore as he considered everything he had learned and knew what would come next. His mind was focused on telling his brother some of the truth about what was happening and trying to figure out how strong he could get between deaths.

I wish I knew how Fast Learner really worked. It’s not like I can just go and ask someone about that skill. I mean… I could, but then what? Would Stenson or Kels tell me? Would that cause problems? Heck, I’m not even sure if I should mention it to Michael. What happens if I die and that’s the last time I’m allowed to come back?

Lost in his thoughts, Francis pushed the food they had purchased with his fork.

“You don't seem interested in that meat,” his brother said. “You sure you’re not sick?”

Nodding, Francis smiled at Michael and considered how things had played out last time. “I’m not… just…” Pausing, he glanced at the others near them. The tavern was filled with noise and laughter as people talked about the day, a few even mentioning the race he had won. “After we eat, we need to talk.”

With a frown, his brother shook his head once before sighing and digging his fork into a piece of meat on the plate. “I’m telling you, if you get me sick, I’m going to punch you in the face.”

***

Michael sat on his bed, his face revealing no expression at all. “You’re telling me that when we arrive at the camp in a few days, you’ll get us a pass to the good side, put me up in a tent, feed me real food, and keep me from fighting?”

Nodding, Francis waited for what he knew had to come next.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Michael asked.

“I–”

“Seriously, you say you’re not sick, but that’s the dumbest fairytale crap I’ve heard you ever say since we were kids and you wanted to join a traveling carnival, promising me we would be rich and famous.”

Michael turned and lay down on the cheap blanket and sighed.

“There’s not a chance in the world the gods will ever show us that much love, and unless you’ve managed to keep a treasure hidden from me all these years while we struggled on our own, I’m going to call bullshit.”

“So if it happens, then what?”

Groaning, Michael rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t have time for this… We’re about to go to war… war, Francis! We’re going to die, and you and I both know it. I’m glad you got a nice helm, but perhaps you should have been wearing it non-stop since someone obviously hit you in your noggin.”

“We’ll see,” Francis replied, frustrated at how poorly Michael was taking this. 

I almost used the phrase he knows that I’m telling the truth but I need to see if I can find another way to convince him. Something tells me I’m going to have to die a few more times before I figure out how to save him and the army.

“Yeah… and I’m suddenly going to grow wings and learn to shoot fireballs from my butt,” Michael said.

Chuckling, Francis rolled over and ignored his older brother, knowing that he’d eventually find a way to deal with this problem.

Yeah… I’m definitely going to die a lot more before I figure out how to get through his thick head. I just need to find something to help me get through it, too.

Lost in those thoughts, Francis wrestled with what to do while his brother quickly fell asleep.

*** (((NEW STUFF)))

Francis stared at the coins they still had between them. Two silver and some copper would have seemed like so much before all of his deaths. Yet now, it felt like just enough to do what he needed to. 

Michael was fast asleep, a stupid grin on his face, snuggled up with the small pillow they didn’t get to enjoy back at their training area.

Francis couldn’t remember the last time his brother looked at peace. He lay there for another hour before turning the lamp's handle. The room grew brighter, and he whispered, “Wake up.”

Michael grunted, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Still nighttime.”

“Then why the heck did you wake me? I was having an amazing dream.”

Francis sat up, slipped the coins into the pouch on his belt. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” Michael asked, blinking a few times. “Why would we do that?”

“I need to get away. Just some time with you and none of this… this other stuff.”

Michael glanced around the room, still half-asleep. “The hell are you talking about?”

Francis lifted a finger to his lips. “Everyone’s asleep. If we’re going to get out of town, now's our chance.  We’ll still have to be quiet and go over one of the walls. We can be gone before anyone wakes up.”

Michael hesitated. “This isn’t smart. You know what will happen if we do.”

“I know what happens if we don’t. What’s different than dying in a few days?” Francis replied. “I… I just need a day or two with you and no one else.”

That ended the discussion as Michael nodded once and sat up. 

They slipped out the door, Francis setting the path as he remembered which boards squeaked from previous deaths. Descending the stairs and out into the dark, their boots sank into damp soil. The air smelled of smoke and food. Neither spoke as they wove their way through the streets until they found the wall.

There were sections of light and dark, torches flickering in the wind, but none of the guards were present. 

They probably think we’re too drunk and worn out to make a break for it.

Interlacing his fingers, Francis easily boosted his brother up to the ledge and then jumped, getting a handhold and pulling himself up.

“Which way?” Michael whispered as they glanced down both sides of the wall.

“I got an idea,” Francis said. “Anywhere is better than here.”

***

Francis knew the path well, leading the way. The moon gave off just enough light to help him stay the course he had set. Soon, the water that was always too cold announced their arrival. 

They found a half-collapsed shack near the stream by dawn. Francis wasn’t sure if it was some hunter’s place, as most wouldn’t build a place out here unless they were planning on surviving off the land. Only a few hooks on the wall remained. Francis built a fire while Michael gathered more wood. They sat close enough for the heat to warm their feet and hands.

Neither talked for a while. Then Michael suddenly laughed. “Remember when we tried to build a raft? The one that sank before it was ten feet from the bank?”

Francis groaned but nodded. “You blamed me for the rope snapping.”

“Yeah! You tied the knots.”

“But it was your rope that snapped,” Francis replied. “Those knots should have held.”

Michael shook his head before throwing a twig into the fire. “Still better than when we tried to dig that well for the farmer.”

Francis grinned. “That one worked… kind of.”

“Not really,” his brother stated. “Remember, we hit the runoff from his outhouse. That water smelled so bad, and he blamed us for it.”

That made Francis laugh harder than he expected. The sound surprised him because, for the first time in so long, it felt different. He leaned back against the wall, feeling warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fire just a few feet away.

For hours, Michael shared more stories about the things they had done before. Sometimes Francis had to pretend he remembered fleeting moments of his past that were missing.

They moved out after finding berries to fill their stomach, traveling down the stream, neither needing to talk. Each step felt hard as the promise he made to serve in the army reminded him of his broken word. Yet the occasional joke or moment with his brother silenced the magical complaint.

Later that night, as Michael slept, Francis thought about the memories they had discussed. He tried to recount some of the ones his brother had talked about, but couldn’t. The image of them running through tall grass, their mother calling to them, was gone. The parasite had taken it. In his mind were holes, yet after today, some of them had been filled. 

***

Two more days passed as they traveled through the woods along the stream. No beasts threatened their lives, and no soldiers were there to punish them for this path. For the first time since the loops began, Francis didn’t wake up expecting to hear the sound of the bell.

When they reached the town of Fallowmere, its walls were more of a fence than a defensive barrier. Inside, narrow streets twisted around wooden houses, smoke rising from every chimney. They paid for a single room above a butcher’s shop, trading one of their silver coins for stew and a place outside the elements.

Michael fell asleep almost instantly, his mouth half-open. Francis sat by the window, watching the clouds drift across the sky. He thought maybe this was what normal should feel like.

Normal lasted one night.

***

They were halfway to the edge of town when the bells started. Not alarm bells–bond bells. The faint calling of the oath magic ran through Francis’s veins. His stomach tightened immediately.

“They found us,” Francis said.

Michael froze mid-stride. “Already?”

Francis didn’t answer. He grabbed his brother’s arm, pulling him along, breaking out into a sprint.

They raced through a narrow street, darting between carts and barrels. Shouts rose behind them. The air felt thicker, as if it were trying to slow them down. Both boys pushed on. Francis spotted a guard coming at them on the street they were on. His eyes noticed an alley and he motioned toward it.

“Hurry,” Michael said between deep breaths. “They’re catching up.”

They turned into the alley and made it a dozen steps before seeing what sealed their fate. It ended in a wall too high to climb.

Francis slowed down, turning to stare at his brother.

Michael looked around, breathing hard. “Another way?”

“There’s no time,” Francis replied, grabbing Michael by the arm and shoving him toward the end of the alley. Wooden buildings boxed them in.

The sound of grown men in armor, weapons drawn, grew closer. Half a dozen guards with a red wolf on their shoulder appeared at the entrance. 

Francis turned to his brother. “I’m sorry… I was selfish.”

Michael shook his head. “No. I needed this too. Anytime you need this, let’s do this again.”

The guards gave them confused looks. The one in front pointed a sword at them. “On your knees. Now.”

Francis smiled and then chuckled. He gave Michael a small punch on the shoulder. “I’m going to take this one. I’ll see you in a couple.”

Before Michael could reply, Francis moved toward the men who had come for their lives.

I guess I’ll see how I fare against a few guards.

The answer was not well. 

The first blade pierced clean through his chest. Another came seconds later, and Francis felt the darkness announcing what would come next.

His brother shouted his name.

***

The sound of the morning bell jarred Francis from his bed.

"It's earlier than usual," Michael grunted as he sat up. "What gives?"

Touching his chest, Francis smiled, the memory of what had taken place providing a sense of peace he longed for. “Just Phillip being Phillip. Let’s go see what he wants.”

*** (((OLD STUFF)))

Both guards stood there, blinking in confusion and surprise, yet neither moved, unable to react to what they had just heard.

“I’m serious. Dirk, you know that Vella is mad at you. Her father, General Stenson, has only one arm, and when we arrive, she will have you get Nehemiah to verify everything I’ve said. Now, unless you want me to repeat myself a third time, feel free. But I can tell you right now, I’m the guy you want on your side. No, I won’t answer any other questions. Perhaps if you’re lucky, I’ll make sure she takes you off this duty and let you work Douglas’s cush job.”

Coughing, the older man shook his head. His blue eyes studied Francis' posture, looking like someone with the authority he claimed to have.

“Fine, let’s go… but just know that if you’re wrong–”

“You’ll beat me, and I’ll die in a horrible death. Don’t worry, Peter can hold down this spot till someone joins him.”

Grunting at being caught off guard, Dirk turned to his partner, who was shaking his head and shrugging.

“This is so going to be one of those nights,” Peter muttered.

***

Vella’s eyes studied Francis, her face bunched up as she bit her lip.

“I’m telling you,” Francis said, “The moment he comes in here, Nehemiah is going to say I swear I’m going to cut her balls off.”

Vella grunted, and no one said a word—they were all waiting for Nehemiah. When the older man was tossed into the tent and his curses rang out, the captain’s face drained of all color.

“I swear I’m going to cut her balls off!” the older man’s voice rang out as he entered the tent.

“Someone, go get my father. Now!” Vella shouted.

One of the advisors who had been standing nearby ran from the tent, and Francis had to work hard not to chuckle.

“Who the hell is this boy?” Nehemiah asked. “And why do you look like you’ve seen a spirit? Or perhaps you caught sight of my manhood and realized what you’ve been missing out on?”

Seemingly unconcerned with decorum, the older man lifted the shirt he was wearing.

Francis coughed and turned his head in response.

“Why is everyone staring at—”

“If you don’t shut your mouth, Nehemiah,” Vella growled. ”I swear I will stick a cloth in it until my father gets here.”

Snapping his jaw closed, the older man’s glare at the captain did nothing to cool the building tension between the two.

If I don’t do something, these two may come to blows. 

“I need you to hold my hand and see if I’m really a sage,” Francis said as he approached the only one he knew who could verify his claim. “And stop standing there leaning back like that. It’s disgusting and we all know your son Kels probably hates it. We’ll get you clothes, we can talk about your son later, and I’m tired of all this crap as well.”

“What?!” Nehemiah gasped. “Who—"

Sticking his hand out closer, Francis sighed. “Just verify it. Now.”

Caught off guard by Franci’s demeanor and command, the half-dressed, bald man grabbed it, frowning. Closing his eyes, Nehemiah started to complain again. “Wasting my time for this bu–”

The trickle of energy flowed through Francis and the cold sensation of being dunked in a river of ice came again.

Nehemiah’s eyes were wider than Francis thought possible, and the older man seemed to choke as he tried to speak. “It’s… how… this boy! Where did you find him?!”

“He strode in here like the king himself, and everything he has said has been absolutely correct,” Vella replied. “I’m assuming by your reaction that his claim of being a sage is true?”

Nodding, Nehemiah said nothing, eyes locked on Francis.

“Can I have my hand back, please?”

Nehemiah glanced at the hand he was still holding. It took a second before all of his fingers let go. “Impossible… a sage… at his age.” A frown came over him, and then his eyes narrowed. “What did you say would happen?”

“Just that if we don’t change our plan of attack for tomorrow, we’ll lose all of our troops besides the veterans and the cavalry,” Vella replied. “He spoke about all of our tactics and even mentioned the spells that we have and details no one but someone with the gift he claims to have could know.”

“But he’s so young,” the older man muttered.

The tent flap flew open and the general strode in, flanked by two guards and the advisor who had fetched him.

Unlike Nehemiah, Stenson had clothes on and a suit of armor that wasn’t his battle one. However, the same sword was on his hip as had been the last time.

“Vella, what is wrong?” her father asked.

His tone conveyed his displeasure with whatever had pulled away from something else. His eyes swept the room, stopping on Francis, who stood before the half-naked man everyone knew had a single talent.

“This boy is a sage,” Vella replied. “It has been verified, and he has the knowledge to share that will change how we must attack tomorrow or we will lose over forty thousand troops.”

Snapping his fingers, the general halted his escort and moved to where Francis stood, not flinching, a slight smirk on his face.

“General Stenson,” Francis said with a slight nod. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Tell me, does your sword have an ability that causes the blade to turn red before sending out a cutting wind, or is it a skill you possess?”

Coughs and gasps rang out through the tent, and the general’s hand snaked out faster than Francis could see, grabbing his shirt and lifting him off the ground as if he were a feather.

It was hard for Francis to breathe as he dangled there, eyes just a few inches from Stenson’s face as the older man glared, concern displayed as the older man’s brows became one. “Do you have any idea–”

“He is a sage father!” Vella said. “With the sight to see the future, he claims! You need to–”

“Do not tell me what to do! You know how few are aware of my sword, yet this boy acts like the whole camp should know of it!”

Choking and holding the hand that gripped him, trying to keep himself in a position and able to breathe, Francis fought for the ability to speak.

“Forgive me, General. I wanted your attention and to… prove I know what I claim…”

Gravity took over, and after falling to the ground, Francis stumbled; the one responsible for most of the knowledge he now possessed snapped his fingers.

“Everyone but Vella and this boy, out!” Stenson ordered.

“I’m not going anywhere!” Nehemiah shouted. “You can’t–”

He watched as the tester of abilities held up a hand and waved off the approaching general.

The look Stenson gave the older man seemed to change Nehemiah’s mind quickly.

“Forgive me, I shall go, but know I am headed straight to the king!”

“Make sure to put on some pants first,” Francis said as he rubbed his throat. “And when he is on his throne, he’ll know you speak the truth.”

A few more gasps followed, and after one more snap of Stenson’s fingers, the tent cleared.

No one said a word, so Francis used the time to try and decide if this path had been the right one. 

So much for coming in here wagging my skill like that… perhaps that was a bit too much, but at least we should be able to skip all the other stuff.

“Who are you? Stenson asked.”

“Francis Lancaster. Ninth son to Barron Lancaster.”

A chuckle came from Vella and she stopped when her father glared at her.

“A ninth son… a sage,” the general scoffed.

“Not usually something most believe,” Francis replied with a wink. “But then again, I’m certain you never were a fan of that archaic way of thinking. Kind of like how important it is to know how to use both a pen and a sword?”

For once the older man went silent and the laughter from Vella filled the tent.

“Oh my gosh! The look on your face, Father! Francis, I owe you a drink for that one!”

Her outburst made Stenson close his jaw—he seemed to realize it had been open after his daughter had mocked him.

“You seem very familiar with things that most should never know,” Stenson stated. “Tell me… Ninth son of Barron Lancaster… why are you here?”

“I’ve come to help our kingdom live to fight another day and share what the gods have shown me. My gift doesn’t happen often but when it does, I know for certain things will happen, provided we do not change the course. Suppose you do not adjust how you attack tomorrow, and you do not hold off on using that healing spell as you have for the last two months. In that case, the enemy will unleash a power you have not seen yet and it will consume the entire army except for your veteran warriors and the cavalry.”

Motioning to the table with all the troops, he continued:

“I got here today. For the last few months, I have been training under an asshole named Phillip, who has made my life and my brother's life miserable. I won’t lie, I could have run, but I needed to be here. In the woods is a caster, a black-and-purple lizard who will attack tomorrow, casting a fear spell on the left side of the army. It will cause chaos and confusion, resulting in the death of many men. The king will attempt to sway their minds, driving out the fear, but many will still die from the problems it causes.”

“You’re certain?” Stenson asked.

Nodding, Francis moved to where the table was, going slowly as he picked up an unmarked token and stood near the section he knew the lizard would be located in.

“Right here is where the caster can be found. It will start using its ability about the time the sixth and seventh lines of fodder are fighting. There will be guards, cat-kin—stronger than the usual ones—protecting it.”

“And the rest? How do you know about our troops?” Stenson asked. “What about the spells?”

“That is a much longer discussion, and I’m afraid it will have to wait. Nehemiah will soon reach the king, and a summons will follow. I’ll be forced to change, endure women trying to get me to sleep with them, and finally be presented to the king. Could someone fetch my brother and bring him here, if you wouldn't mind? Obviously, if I’m lying, we’ll both die, but I would prefer to have him close as he is the only family I care about.”

“What son is he?” Vella asked.

“The eighth.”

Chuckling, she shook her head and looked at her father, waiting for instructions.

Scratching his chin, Stenson frowned, and then it was as if a weight on his shoulders had been lifted. “Tell me, Francis, is there anything else you have seen?”

“Some… the world right now is hazy, but there is much more you’ll want to know. All of that can wait because I’m hungry and want my brother. After that, I’ll tell you about the elite beastkin on the other side.”

A loud whistle rang out immediately, the general not even needing to bring his fingers to his mouth to do it.

Both of the men who had escorted Stenson were inside in a moment.

“Yes, sir?” one of the guards asked.

“Fetch this boy's brother. I am going to take him to my tent. Someone will no doubt be by to clothe him before he must appear before the king. I want his brother retrieved immediately.”

One guard nodded and looked at Francis.

A moment of silence stretched on until Francis realized what the guard was waiting for.

“Oh, sorry, you probably need directions. He’s right here,” Francis said pointing to the spot on the map. “Michael Lancaster. In the section led by Phillip of the new recruits. Seventh line in the reinforcements.”

Without delay, the escort was gone.

“I guess we shall move to my tent, then. Vella, are you going to stay or come?”

Laughing, she shook her head and moved toward the tent flap. “You couldn’t pay me enough to stay away from this.”

Undying Blood - Chapter 73

Chapter 73

“A noble's son, Valehart, used to be an officer under some of my men,” Stenson said. “He was… aggressive and spoiled. Perhaps you know the kind?”

Francis grunted and nodded.

“He was a smart man, capable with planning, gifted with the sword from his training and ruthless in his love for blood,” Stenson continued. “I knew little of him at the time because there were other concerns at that time. There were countless spats between the noble houses and the King. As the one who oversees the safety of the kingdom, I do what all men in leadership must do and delegate.

“So one of my officers did that, copying what I did and gave some who were not ready for the mantle of leadership just yet. I cannot blame them as I myself did the same thing many years ago. The blame, however, was when they did not stamp out those bad qualities. Valehart grew to love his position and used it for his own gains. One of which was a taste for women.”

Francis watched as Stenson’s face darkened, a slight scowl appearing as he paused. 

“There had been rumors and yet Valehart remained free to do as he wished,” Stenson stated. “Valehart was safe from those he had harmed do to position both by blood and rank. He was smart, never angering those above him, keeping his slights to those who had no recourse. It was reported that one day, Valehart spotted a woman in Prevastyr. You are familiar with that city, are you not?”

“Very much so,” Francis replied. “They are known for taking the ore my father mines and turning it into many great things.”

“That they do,” Stenson said. “And that is why we had a thousand men station in the area, to prevent some of the problems that arose from the success and wealth of the city. Still, Valehart’s lusts had consumed many of the women in the town, and yet this one evaded him. That was because she and Phillip were close.

“Phillip was stationed there years before Valehart was sent there and when that sorry excuse for an officer and a man found out about those two, he did things which forced Phillip to defend the honor of the woman he loved. A duel was called and it was a horrible affair from what I was told. It was one-sided and a painful thing to watch, according to the reports. Valehart left wounds on Phillip that most men would have asked for death as a mercy. Yet Phillip did not. There was a line your trainer wouldn’t step across. Phillip wouldn’t abandon…” Stenson paused a moment, eyes moving as he appeared to be thinking. “Miren. That was her name. And so Valehart was left with a choice: end Phillip’s life or accept defeat, realizing that his opponent would never give in. Valehart had his knife ready to slice your trainer’s neck open when she stepped in.”

The general sighed, a weight of some kind evident from how he sat there a moment. “Miren begged for Phillips' life and in exchange offered herself. Of course, Phillip tried to argue back, but the truth was he would die from the blood loss soon enough. So Valehart accepted, causing the wound that he did and ordered the healers to heal everything but the scar along Phillips' face.

“It broke your trainer and even worse, Valehart discarded Miren a few days later. Neither her nor Phillip ever recovered from what had been done.” Clearing his throat, Stenson sat up. “By then, I had learned what had taken place and put things in motion to solve some of the… problems that had taken place. Even now, I hate to admit it but Valehart is in this camp. His service has been mostly clean and he is one of the officers who directs the Elite warriors. Some might say it's an honor he earned. Those who know me know the real reason Valehart is in that group on the front line.” The general frowned. 

“But now I need you to tell me why all this matters?” Stenson asked. 

“I believe Valehart tried to get Phillip killed the first time I ever set foot in this camp,” Francis replied. “No one warned him about touching the beasts in the tent and we almost died as the magic they sometimes carry filled the air.”

Stenson frowned and that look of anger filled his eyes. “You have proof?”

Francis laughed. “Beyond my word? No. But I did promise Phillip I would look into this. I’m not certain we could recreate the same thing to take place again, but perhaps. With me not there, it might not come up, but every loop I’ve always asked about what happens if we touch them.”

“Perhaps we can set a trap for tomorrow,” Stenson said. “Your company will arrive, and we can see if what you say takes place. If it does, we can follow the breakdown and learn who gave the order. Even all the way to Valehart himself if that is the case.”

“And if that trap is set and we find that Valehart is the reason for it, then what?” Francis asked.

“Punishment of an officer is… difficult and we are at war. The time and effort spent on such a thing would be considered folly… except it is you asking. If it were not you, I wouldn’t give it a second thought. Yet I know you won’t drop this and would rather see it resolved in the right way.”

“But Phillip can’t win against Valehart, can he?”

Stenson shook his head.

“Could I challenge him instead?” Francis asked.

“I’m sorry, Francis but all this for a single man in a single moment? Is it really worth it?” 

“Yes. Absolutely!” Francis exclaimed. “This is what keeps me on the line of the hero and not the monster. I would prefer not to just find the man, gut him where he stands and then remove his head. That kind of chaos would cause problems, and even though I’m aware my position and power would keep that action from hindering me in all this, I would rather do this the right way. Perhaps when we find out how to end this war, I can do it then. Right now though, I made a promise and I need to keep it.”

“Very well,” Stenson said. “Then I will make some preparations for that moment. Go, get some rest or do whatever you want until then. I must speak with the King and prepare for a battle I know we will lose. Right now, I realize how much I must enjoy knowing each time you’ll die, the deaths of yourself and my soldiers who fight each time won’t be truly lost.”

“One day,” Francis said as he rose. “One day I’ll find a way.”

“I know, Francis. I know.”

***

“You… you’re serious?” his trainer asked.

Francis nodded and put his hand on Phillip’s shoulder. 

“No one warned you about touching, did they?” Francis replied. “How many times have you come here and not once has someone shared how dangerous that might be?”

“Too many… but if that is the case, do you really believe it is out of spite or simply overlooked?”

“You heard how the guards in the tent responded when Michael did what I asked, raising that question in there.”

“I did,” Phillip replied, frowning, his scar causing his lip to curl. “Still… my… my mind is lost because even if it was proven, they would do nothing. I could do nothing.”

Squeezing his trainer’s shoulder, Francis winked at him. “That’s where I come in. If what I believe is true, I’ll kill him for you.”

Phillip's body trembled slightly and Francis used his other hand to steady the man who never looked weak in all the times he had watched him.

“Would you prefer I did nothing even if it –” Francis said.

“No!” Phillip shouted. His teeth ground together as the man glared past Francis and into the camp they were a bit away from. “He took from me the only good thing I had. I was a fool and… didn’t take Miren back when she came. She gave herself to save me and I… was a coward. Even then I could have had love. Miren didn’t care about the scar. She just cared about me.”

“What’s done is done,” Francis replied. “I can’t fix that or help you with that moment, but I can keep a promise I made to help you. Perhaps today is the day I repay the debt I owe for all the beatings you gave me.”

Phillip grunted and shook his head. “You could snap me in half. I can feel it. You’re not the boy from a few days ago. One night you went to bed, a sheet… er a weakling that never gave up and the next morning you strode into the training yard with a physique that screamed power most men can’t even dream of. The fact this is how you say you’ll repay me is…”

His trainer’s throat moved but no words came.

“The gods look upon us all,” Francis said. “We’re idiots but sometimes they show grace and mercy. Today, Phillip, I pray they let me show you revenge.”

Sniffing and nodding, Phillip cleared his throat once. “I pray that today is that day, Francis.”

Giving his trainer a gentle tap to the arm, Francis winked. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see if I was right.”

***

“My King! I am honored!” Valehart declared.

Francis stood with the others who were gathered, wearing a simpler jacket and outfit. He didn’t want to stand out, simply glad to be present as Stenson stood near the young man named Valehart who seemed not to know why he had been summoned.

He does have a decent build… maybe I’ve seen him on the battlefield, but without all his armor on, it’s hard to tell.

“Rise,” Baxter said, causing Valehart — a man at least six and a half feet tall, with his blond hair cut short and blue eyes that scanned everyone — to stand. “Tell me, how is the morale of the men under your care?”

“As good as can be considering the threat we face every day, my liege,” Valehart replied. “Fear not, though, my men and I are ready when the horn sounds to answer.”

“He’s good,” Francis whispered to Nehemiah.

“He’s a second son,” the older man replied. “The Breevotarn family is in a better position from his rise through the ranks. Their weaving business has flourished in ways that now seem… unusual.”

And to think no one pointed out how much fabric they were supplying to the army. I’m certain Stenson will have me keep track of this for another time.

“I see. Tell me, Captain Valehart,” Baxter said. “There are rumors of some officers who are not acting in the best interest of the kingdom, my kingdom. Do you know of any who are doing such things?”

Francis saw a little bit of color vanish from the man’s face as Valehart cleared his throat and winced.

“I’m sorry, my king. Do I know what?”

“Captain Valehart,” Baxter repeated. “Do you know of any officers who are acting unbecoming of their rank and abusing their power to achieve things for personal gains or other such reasons?”

Stenson shifted just slightly behind the young man as Valehart seemed to sway for a moment. The summoned officer appeared to be struggling under the gaze of a pair of red eyes and the mountain of a man who they belonged to.

“I… I might,” Valehart replied finally.

A faint glow emanated from the gems set inside the wolves on the throne, and Valehart’s face paled.

“Lying is not something one should ever do before their King,” Baxter growled. “Now tell me truthfully, Valehart, did you give the order to withhold information from Sergeant Phillip? The same man you left a mark on years ago when fighting over a woman.”

“I–”

“Do not lie or I will kill you where you stand,” Stenson said, his voice causing the officer to jump and glance back at the general.

Steadying himself, Valehart took a breath and let it out slowly. “I did.”

Murmurs swept across the room and Baxter shifted on his throne, his massive hands clenching the armrests.

“You withheld that information for over a year, knowing it could have killed the very troops we need for the front line,” the king growled. “It is not becoming of an officer to act petty. What is worse is that I have just learned that you have also used your position to help your family grow. Perhaps when this war is over I will root out that weed and rip it free, but for now, I shall turn this matter over to General Stenson.”

Baxter stood, and Valehart took a step back.

The King’s red eyes swept across all those gathered in the room, slowly looking at each one individually. “Let this moment be a lesson for all of you. Soon, I may find a need to ask that same question from each of you. Perhaps you should repent and ask for mercy before you find your head and your family crushed beneath my boot.”

“My King, I–” Valehart cried out.

Stenson yanked the young man backward, dragging Valehart from the room as the onlookers turned their gazes to him, not wanting to meet the glare the King was giving them.

Francis, however, smiled and nodded once as Baxter gazed at him, a slight smile visiting the king’s lips.

Been a good week. Small update

So I have a friend who let me use his office space this week. In 3 days I managed 24k words which is more than I've gotten in a single week in so long. I was finally able to just 'focus' on my stories and write.

UL1 book 10 ended - Picks up on Nov 3rd

Time loop ends at chapter 80 currently ((looking at writing a few chapters to potentially fix/flesh out some stuff)).

I also went back and commented on the one long post for time loop. You all gave me some great feedback and I really want to make sure I hit all the points I can to make this thing a great story.

Plotting stuff this week for hopefully what will be a week of 4 chapters a day if I can manage it. Trying to get caught up.

****

For those who care about life stuff - the last 3 weeks were brutal.

My 5th kiddo who has seizures had a bunch of episodes. We thought his meds were dialed in and then suddenly they started up. been talking with both Neuro doctors and trying to make headway on getting more testing done to pursue the path of a potential epilepsy surgery if it looks like it might help him.

For those who know about my 2nd son and all that - we haven't spoke in over a month which kills me. My whole family is experiencing the pain of this. Primarly my 10 year old who cries everytime he sees a photo or 'misplaces' an item my older son had given him.

It's made for some stressful and difficult moments. I actually started counseling, trying to figure out how to deal with the pain and rejection. (as has my wife). As a parent, all I ever wanted to do was love my kids and be loved back. I've made mistakes, I'll own to that. But it really stings... if I'm being honest, I broke one day at the end of august.

So love your family. Bridge those gaps while you can.

Lastly - my mother... her mental faculties are declining faster. The daily care taking is taking its toll which is why I was so thankful for a friend letting me use his office space. Mom's going to my sisters for december and a few weeks in february to see them for the holidays and as much as I love her, my kids, wife and myself need a break. It's been a hard 3+ years since my dad passed and she has gone the way she has.

All i can say is so much of what I often write which is about family is that I think it's important. People, relationships, they're things that help us be who we are.

I'll tell everyone here the same thing I tell people on FB, Reddit, discord and more. if you ever need someone just to listen, send me a message. I can't promise i'll have answers, but I'll gladly let you have a place to share your hurts, pain or struggles and let you know I'll say some prayers for ya.

Thanks again for the support.

Sorry if the last part got heavy. I just try to always be real for everyone.

UL1 - Book 10 - Chapter 70

Everyone shifted in their seats as they sat around another one of the stolen Faction tables inside Max’s dimensional space.

“This place always feels weird,” Sog sighed. 

Ignoring his demon friend’s complaint, Max focused on Jazzjak. “This is about as safe a place as can be to talk? Right?”

“Yes and no,” their helper shrugged. “You know that we’re basically inside a space of the one we won’t mention. Provided we don’t say that name, we’re probably in the best spot for keeping other listeners from hearing.”

Nodding, Max plopped down in the chair he had placed next to Tanila and sighed. “Tell me about traveling to other realms.”

Jazzjak stretched and groaned, a thin smile appearing on the vorpal rabbit’s lips. “Finally… Specifically or—”

“Whatever you think we need to know,” Max said. “How do I travel to other realms? Why would I travel to other realms? What is the point of—”

“Slow down,” Jazzjak said, holding up a paw. “You’re going to ask too many things, and I’ll be struggling to keep up. Let me answer the first one, and then I’ll go from there.”

Their helper hopped off his seat and approached Max. “Can I have some rope? Three pieces long enough to cross the tables?”

“I’d offer some,” Batrire said, “but I can’t access my dimensional space.”

Max began summoning rope and cut three equal pieces, handing them to their helper.

Jazzjak took them and handed one end to Max and then tossed the other to Rakonath across the table. He then gave Cordellia and Tanila an end of the second. Finally, Sog and Batrire were each holding an end.

“What about me?” Fowl asked.

“You don’t need one,” Jazzjak replied. “Besides, you don’t sit still long enough to do what I need.”

The dwarf didn’t protest, and their helper continued.

“Each of you pull your ropes taut,” Jazzjak said. “It doesn’t matter that your pieces touch another.” 

As the six pulled their pieces tight, each rope intercepted another at two points.

“So, if you’ll notice, there are multiple points at which these threads, as many would call them, are touching. I could have you all trade seats so that the ropes didn’t touch like that, but the truth is that this is typically the easiest way to understand it. However… let’s talk about Max for a moment. If you would, please follow me.”

Jazzjak led them away from the table and laid the ropes on the ground in a small section of the dimensional space. He created a single point of contact where all three ropes met.

“Max, if you would, please stand at that point,” Jazzjak said. Once Max was there, he continued. “The threads don’t always align, and for each god, it’s different. They can also change the path they travel. But for one like our black skill holder here, they will probably stay like this forever.”

“And is that because he is a black skill holder?” Fowl asked.

“It is,” Jazzjak replied. “What happens is you can’t just travel to another realm once you reach Godbound. You still need a way to do so, and that requires having a transporter.”

“Which is something we don’t have yet,” Sog stated.

“That is true, and that is also because most gods don’t reach that rank until after the three hundred years of protection,” Jazzjak said. “So there are very few gods who run into this predicament before their first three hundred years expire.”

“And that’s not a big deal?” Max asked. “What’s the point of being able to cross between realms?”

“It’s all part of the game,” their helper said slowly. “All I can tell you is that realms provide you with other opportunities to search for other gods to work with or to fight against. Out there are more gods than you can imagine. Each of them is playing the game differently and for different reasons. You are playing the game to keep your family and friends safe. They may or may not be. Some… are playing for revenge.”

“Revenge on who?” Cordellia asked.

Jazzjak pointed at their ranger. “Would you like to kill Thuyja if you had the chance?”

Cordellia grunted and frowned. “Maybe… I mean… I’d at least like to punch her in the face.”

“And based on the little information I know, she’s probably easily tier ten or higher. Tell me… how would that go as a tier four god?”

Their ranger sighed. “Not well.”

“Not well at all,” Jazzjak replied. “But what if you could find other gods who were upset with her or willing to help your cause? Would you be willing to enter into agreements or other pacts to gain their favor or aid to achieve that goal? What are you willing to trade to—” Their rabbit coughed, gasping for air. He swallowed and massaged his throat. “And thus ends that line of discussion.”

“Seriously?” Sog asked. “You can’t just stop there!”

“I wish I didn’t have to,” Jazzjak said. “You take it up with the Archons and the system when you reach the Intermediate God rank and can visit with them. I’m sure they’ll change the rules just because you ask.”

“No need to get all moody.” The demon grunted. “You’re like Rakonath when Cordellia’s being…” Sog stopped talking when a cough from their archer reached his hearing. “And, let’s just move on.”

“Okay, I’ll ask a question,” Tanila said. “What does it mean when someone has a portal pad and they’re only tier one? Was Igarra really that strong?”

“Without knowing everything about her but based on her entity type and what I’ve been told… yes. A dragon is a dangerous god. Just like a void god or some of the others. Just because you can attack someone doesn’t mean it’s the best decision. Has anyone here spoken with Shale Spark and asked her what her stats are right now?”

Everyone turned to look at Rakonath, who shifted slightly on his feet. “Uh… no. Dragons don’t go around asking those questions, and very few offer those numbers outside of the wyrmling time.”

“How strong would you say she is?” Jazzjak asked. “Roughly?”

“Oh… she’s probably not at the third tier on every stat, but I’d say she’s probably getting close. Besides, you do seem to forget they’re almost to the 90th floor of the tower.”

“I haven’t forgotten what floor they’re approaching, trust me,” Tanila said. “Are those stats good for a dragon?”

“Very good,” Rakonath replied. “Don’t forget she’s barely a hundred years old. And based upon what you all told me, and what I read in the book Max wrote, they should all get some extra stats in the coming time when they reach that one floor.”

“So she’s what? Above average,” Fowl asked. “What are we really asking? If a dragon is stronger and more dangerous than the rest of us? We know that.”

“Correct, but dragons are typically solo hunters,” Jazzjak replied. “The tower floors they face are unique for them. I believe we’ve already discussed how a few of the floors they faced were easier than they would have been for others because the team can attack from the back of a dragon. Similar to what you all told me about Max’s ability to fly or store you in places like this. A dragon is not an easy foe to bring down for a lot of reasons.”

“And she has multiple skills that grow on their own,” Rakonath added. “Don’t forget she doesn’t operate under the same rules as you all do. The advantage your races bring is numbers and parties.”

Which always brings me back to an old question I could never get answered… what was it that made Ezreal and Igarra share a world? I still think it had to be one she acquired from an arena fight and moved to. The history was always off. And she didn’t have a herald there.

Which means she most likely killed it… for whatever reason.

“Something you want to share?” Tanila asked after hip-checking Max. “You get that look when you two talk.”

“They’re just talking about Igarra,” Rakonath said. “Working out the idea of a dragon being partnered with another.”

“He’s right,” Max said. “When Miranna and the rest do defeat the tower, they’ll have a chance to form a world similar to ours.”

“Three hundred years without getting to see our daughter,” Tanila sighed. “Maybe more…”

Max could feel the way some of the others shifted at the tone in his wife’s voice. “Time goes by fast when you’re immortal, right? But let me ask this question then. When should we create a portal pad?”

“After everyone is tier five,” Jazzjak replied. “You could do it sooner, but you’re asking for the risk of gods who are a tier higher coming and attacking. Does it happen? Sometimes. Do I believe you could protect this world against them? Sure, but you’d be alone in that fight. What you really don’t want to face is two, three, or say seven gods on a world, each with a domain, and all of them using it on you at the same time.”

“Holy dwarf…” Fowl paused, coughed and shook his head. “You can do that?”

“Yes!” Jazzjak exclaimed. “I’ve tried to hint at it for so long, and I can only now start to speak on it because you’re asking the right questions and are high enough level. Remember, you seven have a chance to do something most don’t. As long as you’re past that one rank and out of danger of the arena, this group is a danger to any god who invades.”

“So we’re back to just waiting for time to pass,” Cordellia said. “Nothing like racing to beat the tower, just so we can wait to earn DP.”

“You haven’t even really begun to wait yet,” Jazzjak stated. “You’re still in the early stage. We’ll talk after ten thousand or, say, fifty thousand years. Then you can mention to me how great the old days were when we only had to wait fifty or a hundred years between big decisions.”

“Ten thousand years,” Fowl muttered. “Maybe by then I’ll be able to reproduce the stuff Ockrim gave Max.”

“I doubt it,” Batrire said. “You drank it all… how are we supposed to recreate something we can’t taste test against?”

“Bah, I can remember every note and flavor,” their warrior replied. “Right here… on my tongue!”

“Please don’t show it,” Cordellia pleaded.

“Bah, you’d love me to show you the magical tongue of Fowl Hamm—”

A kick to his leg from Batrire cut him off. “No one sees it but me… got it?”

“And it’s time to go,” Tanila said, pointing at the closed pair of doors. “I know where this is going to lead, and I did want to eat today.”

Laughter echoed around the room as the group made their way toward the opening doors.

Max called back at Fowl and Batrire, who were drawing close to each other. “If you take too long, I’m going to shut the two of you in here for a few months.”

***

“You seem… contemplative,” Rakonath said as he stood next to Max. 

Rubbing his palm against the obelisk before him, Max nodded. “Just thinking… Bob and I have been doing that a lot, as you know.”

“Oh, I do. Sometimes it’s almost comical when I hear you both discussing something, and I’m trying to have a conversation with another. I could remind you what it’s like wanting to listen in to both of you while also not invading those moments.”

“It’s not spying on us,” Max replied. “Bob and I know you can hear us. You’re welcome anytime to offer insight.”

That’s because you’re usually better than Max at figuring out certain things.

“Thank you, Bob,” Rakonath said, smiling. “I think you’re going to struggle with this next part. Even if you don’t reach tier six, we’ll be in a better spot than most others. Don’t push yourself so hard that it kills you. Literally.”

Sighing, Max nodded. He could feel the gentle pulse that occasionally went out from the pair of obelisks and the reply that came from the other five on their world. 

“I’m not trying to be foolish. It’s just a race… like the tower.”

“And yet when you reach that point of the race, then what? How fast do you hope to blaze through tiers that have taken other gods five hundred thousand or a million years or more to reach? Do you truly believe yourself and the others are that different?”

Max nodded. “You forget… when was the last time someone remembers or discusses the black skills being released? Forty thousand years ago? Maybe fifty thousand? No one talks about how strong they were or what tier they were… just that they caused chaos.”

And we don’t know when they were actually released upon the system. Which means we’re not sure how long it took for them to defeat the tower, or what rank they reached before whatever fight took place between the three of them. All we can assume is that they were at least tier six.

“And you two think that one of them will reach it before you?” Rakonath asked.

“Perhaps… the question is… does it matter?” Max asked. “Something forces the three skills to fight. The question is, when must they fight? Is there a set point or power level? What happens if we can delay that time or push deeper into the god tiers before that moment?”

Rakonath grunted. Max could see those silver eyes glowing.

You two mean not to die… I mean… You’ve always planned on that, or hoped for it, but you’re trying to change the game and how it’s been played, even before you know the rules of it.

I’m not sure what the rules are, but you know me. I love to break them.

As do I. For now, we’ll have to play by the rules to avoid drawing too much attention. But when the time comes, we’ll cheat if we can.

Laughter filled the area near the obelisks as Rakonath moved and placed his hand near Max’s on the obsidian.

“I’ll gladly be there to help you cheat,” his dragon said.

A dragon, a black skill, and a broken god. I wonder what kind of mischief we’ll get into when all three of us start to break the rules.

Undying Blood - Chapter 72

Chapter 72

Stenson’s eyes were bright as the older man stared at Francis.

“You’ve grown from what you’ve told me. And a day earlier than usual. All so you can have some armor to fight in. It appears that you are taking what you say I’ve taught to heart.”

“I need to get stronger,” Francis replied. “This is going to be the new norm. While the fighting naked has worked well, I’m sure I can improve in other ways if I stay alive longer and push deeper into the enemy lines.”

The general shook his head slightly. “No, not yet. I would keep fighting without armor. Try a few dozen more times and then see what happens.”

“Why?” Francis asked, surprised at the older man’s response.

“Because you might gain another skill or two,” Stenson said. “You could miss out on if you give up the path you’re on. I probably wondered if you’d ever get thick skin. No one ever gets thick skin. Combined with Strong Bones and Pain Resistance, you’re a walking juggernaut and that’s what you’re aiming for. The Juggernaut skill.”

“What does that skill give?” Francis asked.

“I don’t know. I just know if you get it, things will change for you in a big way,” Stenson replied. “It’s one of the skills of legends. Rumors swirl that there are variations of it, but you possess enough of the defensive skills that you could possibly unlock either the legendary or perhaps mythic one.”

Francis coughed, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, did you say mythic?”

“Still want that armor?” Stenson asked with a grin.

“Hell no!”

***

The green liquid dripped off his skin as Francis yanked the sword from the second snakekin’s chest. Carnage lay everywhere and in the middle of the night, he was the creature these beasts started to fear.

Roars came from all over and once again, Francis imagined what was being conveyed.

Another armored rhino-kin thundered toward him, and in under a minute, the creature he had once died to in a single blow lay gasping for life, face down in the dirt. Francis turned, the arrow that he knew was coming, missing him by inches.

Two hundred plus deaths later…

Stenson’s advice was to keep pushing on since Francis’ willpower and mind weren’t buckling under the constant deaths. Francis was wading through the army, his offensive skill gains having stalled out again. 

There was a method to his madness. Like the first few times Francis had fought at night, he had made sure to follow the same path, learning where the hiding beasts were. It turned into a battle so similar that Francis had managed to close his eyes a few times, killing his enemy while dodging other attacks, all from memory.

It was utterly glorious, and that was why he wore a blindfold now. Stenson had told him, no, he had basically ordered him to do this. Rumors had swirled for thousands of years of a blind monk who could defend against any opponent that attacked him. Many had attempted to learn whatever skill he must have possessed, but none were recorded as ever having done so.

Still Francis did it, placing his feet with confidence in where he was going. His hearing had improved and he felt like he could sense those creatures around him that Francis knew were present. Less than twenty deaths ago it had felt like an awakening of some kind within and around him.

Raising his shield and angling it slightly, Francis moved to his right, deflecting an arrow meant for his chest.

He smiled, knowing what was coming, and prepared for the fight that always got him.

Three of the elite tiger-kins came toward him, one pressing from the front, the other two making their way around his sides as they always did.

Francis could smell them, the musky scent that oozed off them. It was stronger than the other beastkins, who were weaker and far easier to kill. Each also moved almost silently, only making a sound when they attacked. The earth was unable to help prevent it. A cry of pain came from the ground they attacked, their feet causing the dirt to grind and shift from the pressure of their assault.

Then there was the sound of their claws coming at him through the air. It was hard to hear unless one knew what to listen for. That one had taken the last nine deaths to learn.

Francis raised his shield, blocking the first attack, and activated Iron Wall, lessening the damage he couldn’t avoid from his left.

A claw came from his right, downward, meant to slash him from head to waist, and Francis sensed it, using the impact of the injury from his left to help push him into position for an attack.

[ Riposte ]

[ Power Strike ]

[ Quick Attack ]

[ Flurry ]

His blade moved so fast that when he had tested it, Francis’ own eyes almost struggled to track its path. Stenson had congratulated him while laughing, almost giddy from what Francis had demonstrated. It was closing in on the speed at which the general could swing for just a single moment. All he needed to do now was get faster and stronger.

The blade Francis used–King Baxter’s gift to Stenson–sliced through flesh like a cleaver through tender meat.

Warm blood sprayed across him and Francis twisted and turned, dancing to the right. Everything that happened from this moment on was new and Francis felt alive. He could hear the dirt shifting and brought up his shield, listening to the wind warn of an incoming slash.

Francis raised his blade, catching a kick from the one trying to attack from behind, severing off clawed toes and a section of flesh from its foot. Even with the blindfold on, Francis had his eyes shut, trusting in the things he had practiced over and over. 

[ Power Strike ]

[ Quick Attack ]

A grunt came from the one before him, his blade catching an opening he could sense. Francis drove forward, shield upward, bringing his blade around to slash across the creature's body.

The high-pitched whistle came and Francis flung himself to the left, twisting his body as an arrow impacted his shield head-on, shattering the metal barrier as he rolled on the dirt a few times. Rising to his feet, Francis swept his blade wide, empowering it again.

[ Power Strike ]

Two bodies fell to the ground with wet thunks. The pair of beastkin who had come to help were weaker than the last one he was facing. As the battle around him continued, Francis felt the landscape seem to take shape in his mind.

[ New Skill Battle Sense - Epic* ]

As it had been when Francis had learned to sense threads during combat, he could now feel the very world around him. Each of his senses announced what was near him for about ten yards. Francis could sense every direction, the air, and how it shifted based on the bodies lying on the ground. The scent of blood provided another layer to the image that appeared in his mind.

It was overwhelming, and Francis barely survived the barrage of attacks coming from the last remaining elite tiger-kin. A few slipped by as Francis adapted, learning to let go and letting the skill he had just gained help him react. It was like handing the reins over to someone else, sitting back against the seat on a wagon, and enjoying the ride, no longer needing to worry about managing the horse or mule.

Francis’ blade rose, the sound of metal against fur and flesh filled his ears. Squelches came from all around and Francis danced, weaving and moving through the weaker ones, cutting them down like stalks of wheat before the farmer.

A sensation flooded his mind as everything suddenly stopped. Nothing else came at him, and the circle he sensed went silent. Pain came in the silence, threads attacking him from all directions as fire of a different kind ignited his bones. These were the cords of magic, their damage far stronger than what he had ever endured from his sister. 

Part of him felt honored that they used magic against him, while the other hated the sensation of his body being burned away. Even with the power granted from Death’s Dance, his body began to vanish, and darkness came once again.

***

[ Battle Sense ( Epic* ) - You have honed your senses to the point that they work in unison, allowing you to sense everything around you for a certain distance. As you continue to grow and nurture this skill, the distance will increase and the skill can evolve. ]

“An evolving skill,” Stenson said, his voice unable to contain his shock. “I… I have one. Francis, do you realize you have acquired something most cannot imagine?”

“And I’ve died thousands of times to get here,” Francis replied. “I’m pretty sure I’m past what most cannot imagine.”

The older man snorted and nodded.  “Yes… There is that. But still, you, my boy, are quickly becoming far stronger than… this world can even begin to imagine. Soon… perhaps soon you shall be able to advance even more.”

“Does that mean I’m done with fighting naked and blind?” Francis asked.

“That depends on whether you want to give up any hope of acquiring what we discussed.”

Rubbing his eyes, Francis sighed, trying to decide what to do. He was excited, his skin tingled, and with his mind felt clear.

[ Status ]

Francis Lancaster

Age 17

Strength: 38

Endurance: 41

Agility: 39

Wisdom: 23

Perception: 30

Magic: 10

Skills

Swordsmanship (Common) - 64 Elite

Shield Use (Common) - 53 Advanced

Tracking (Uncommon) - 11 Basic

Stealth (Uncommon) - 11 Novice

Traps (Uncommon) - 3 Basic

Rock Throwing (Common) - 7 Basic

Mental Resist (Uncommon) - 45 Advanced

Blood of the Undying (Unknown)- 100+ Sage

Fast Learner (Epic) - 1 Basic (Locked)

Mace (Common)- 11 Novice

Horseback Riding (Common)- 11 Novice

Horseback Handling (Uncommon) - 6 Novice 

Pain Resistance (Uncommon) - 52 Advanced

Poison Resistance (Rare) - 41 Advanced

Power Strike (Rare) - 48 Advanced

Brawling (Uncommon) - 35 Proficient

Strong Bones (Rare) - 49 Advanced

Death’s Dance (Epic) 22 Novice

Magic Resistance (Rare) 44 - Advanced

Magic Feedback (Legendary) - 16 Basic

Quick Attack (Uncommon) - 31 Proficient

Guarded Stance (Uncommon) - 17 Novice

Riposte (Rare) - 14 Novice

Thick Skin (Rare) - 9 Basic

Night Vision (Epic) - 14 Novice

Iron Wall (Rare) - 8 Basic

Dual Weild (Rare) - 17 Novice

Flurry (Rare) - 4 Basic

Battle Sense (Epic*) - 2 Basic

His skills and stats were a testament to the amount of suffering he had endured. Even with Stenson urging Francis to continue this path, a part of him was frustrated, knowing he still wasn’t strong enough to even help with the beasts that could kill Stenson one-on-one.

“There really isn’t any other choice,” Francis replied. “I have to press on, even if it takes me a thousand deaths or more for that single skill you think is worth it. But tell me, could you endure the weight of what I carry knowing what I have told you?”

Stenson frowned and shrugged. “I would like to say yes but the truth is no man knows what they will do until that moment comes. Many men have been trained for battle, given the best instruction, endured enormous pain and still froze when someone next to them dies. Others who were often considered lesser warriors rose to greatness, the fire inside them spreading to the others around them as they fought. Some even carried on while missing a limb.”

“Brag much?” Francis teased.

“I am not talking about myself,” the general replied, narrowing his eyes. “You are different, a rare man in a world of men who seek only themselves, Francis. I believe that is why you endure what you do. Some might say they could and would do this for the ability to grow stronger and be the best, but the fact is, without real resolve, they will give up. Do you know the difference between a hero and a monster?”

Francis realized he had never heard this question from Stenson before. With no answer having been given, he tried to consider the one he should give. In his mind, Francis saw his father and his older brothers. Each had power, yet they used it only for themselves. A few of his trainers, like Lucan and Oidrun, seemed content to endure teaching the same thing over and over because they knew what the kingdom needed.

“It’s… something inside a person, isn’t it?” Francis asked.

Stenson nodded slowly. “It is a fine line between a monster and a hero. One may start off with every intention of doing good and to be a hero but may find themselves swayed by power, lust, or hate, turning into the very thing they despise. Even a monster might one day encounter kindness or compassion in a way they never expected and turn from the path they had gone down. Do you believe your father–who I know you envisioned by the look you gave–can ever become a hero?”

Every part of Francis wanted to say no. Not just to say it, but to stand up and shout that there was no way his father could ever become a hero, but a small nagging voice told him the general was proving a point.

“I would be foolish to think there was never a chance it could happen,” Francis replied, not hiding his disgust at having to say those words. “While I doubt it will happen, to believe it cannot after having the gift that I do defies all logic.”

“You seem to have grown wiser,” Stenson said, agreeing. “Right now you are on the path to becoming a hero but who is to say one day you won’t give in to the lust of what is inside you? Then what will you become?”

Francis shuddered, trying to consider how lucky he had been to even meet the parasite that had tried to control him and take over his body and mind. It had tried to brute force its way in, even woo him with the promise of not fearing death, but Francis had resisted. 

What if one day I do give in? What kind of monster would I be?

“I see,” Francis replied. “I think I will sit this fight out. You know what to tell the King and I can appear before him, but I’ve made a few promises I think I need to keep, even if they don’t last more than a single death.”

Stenson smiled and nodded. “Then it is settled, pursue those things and then find me when you are ready to train again.”

As the older man stood, Francis raised his hand. “I do need your help with one thing.”

“Oh, what is that?” Stenson asked. 

“My trainer, Phillip. He bears a scar on his face. Tell me, who gave it to him and why?”

Sighing, the general sat. “This may take a moment to tell.”

“No worries,” Francis replied. “I’ve got all the time you can imagine.”

UL1 - Book 10 - Chapter 69

DP Deposited

20,000,000 Arena Win

240,000,000 Arena Betting Payment.

New DP Total: 1,410,682,401

Max knew Bob was doing the math on what he still needed to reach tier six as Jazzjak showed Max’s current DP total for everyone to see.

“That’s a lot of DP,” Sog said slowly. “What are you going to do with it all?”

“Spend it, of course,” Cordellia stated. “He’s going to spend it.”

Jazzjak snapped his padded fingers, and the noise it made was surprisingly loud for such soft skin. “You all need to forget about what Max has. You need to spend your DP to purchase the third tier.”

“For once, I agree with Sog,” Batrire said, seemingly ignoring their helper. “I mean, we’re sitting just a little over 230,000,000 DP after getting three-to-one odds on Max and that fight. We’re barely going to have 61,000,000 DP left afterward. Meanwhile, our resident bald friend is going to have a lot more left over.”

Tanila squeezed Max’s hand she was holding. “Getting tier four isn’t Max’s problem. It’s the tiers that come after.”

“Tanila’s right,” Jazzjak stated. “I tried to warn you all… The cost to progress gets exceptionally harder. Max’s biggest question right now is what to do with the list of items Hoekamona sent over with the DP from the fights and the bets.”

You need to sell them. Even if the others can use them, it’s not worth passing up any DP. This is a race, and you know that now.

Some of them are nice, though. That ring—

It’s not worth the potential DP you might get. We need every point of DP. I know why you’re thinking, it may be worth keeping those items, but the numbers don’t lie. We’re going to be short if we can’t find different ways to reach the numbers we need.

“Max?” Fowl called out. “You’re frowning. What’s wrong?”

Clearing his throat, Max nodded slowly and made a hand gesture toward their helper, waving a finger in the air and then tapping his ear. “Can you make it happen?”

“No… there’s no guarantee, and that item you have isn’t going to do anything to stop if anyone is listening.”

“Why are we being all hush-hush?” Sog asked.

“After that fight and the discussion with Nerdok, I’m wondering who might be actively watching us. Some older gods might be listening in to what we say,” Max replied. “That doesn’t mean we can’t discuss certain things, but we’re going to have to go back to the old ways when dealing with sensitive subjects like this.”

“Pen and paper,” Rakonath said. 

Max nodded and began pulling out blank pieces of paper, starting to write down his thoughts as well as Bob’s. “Whatever you do, don’t read it out loud and don’t discuss it. We’ll destroy them all after we’re done writing messages.”

Max made a few extra copies as he handed out a sheet with the same words to all of his friends.

***

Zogooruth was told to attack me both times by his father. This means we’re looking at another one of the Nine, who has been commanding Zogooruth’s actions since the time I was on Igarra’s world. The problem with this is two-fold:

First, that means I’ve been watched by at least two of the Nine before we ever reached the 50th floor of the tower. With the god of Death involved, that makes three I personally know of having an active hand in my actions. If three are aware of me, the odds of more being aware are likely. That also means they are most likely also aware of the other two black skill holders.

Second, if Zogooruth was told to simply challenge me and take Igarra’s world, not choosing to kill me unless we fought, why did he desire to fight me this time? Is the god of Void wanting my death? Did he expect me to surrender? The only thing I can think of is that by doing so, it weakens and limits my potential gain of DP.

There has to be a reason for one of the Nine, if not multiple ones, wanting to slow down my speed of growth. I fear that it involves all of you.

Bob and I find the timing of everything to be off. Hoekamona didn’t send the list of items over earlier. No reason was given for the delay, and no response came after Jazzjak asked. My first question was how long it takes to sort out the equipment from the death of a god. Jazzjak stated it depends, and he couldn’t answer any better than that. The higher the quality of items one has, the longer it takes. Based on the items Sirocco had, I’m not sure how to measure the timeframe. When I defeated Igarra or the others on her world, I was allowed to claim them immediately because the fight was hosted on that planet, in her arena. But since we fight in the arena hosted by this group of jelly creatures, the rules are different.

Bob says I need to sell all the items and hope to close the gap on the next tier quickly. The longer I stay in tier four, the less potential I have if a fight comes for placing more DP. That then limits how quickly I can try to advance through the ranks. Currently, everything I do is aimed at reaching tier six as soon as possible.

***

He watched as everyone read what he wrote, almost teasing Fowl as the dwarf took longer than the others to finish.

Sog, Rakonath, Batrire, and Tanila all wrote notes and passed them to him. After reading them, Max started another letter for everyone.

***

Sog - The plan is to sell all the items from Sirocco and choose an opponent to fight soon. I’ll bet the maximum of 320,000,000 and hope that the fight has better odds or at least similar ones. Jazzjak wasn’t sure why they were so low, especially since I was facing a void god. We guess that my success in the arena has also been my failure. Any fight I choose now will have to be against a god that Jazzjak believes will be seen as an impossible opponent. Fighting anyone else will result in 1 to 1 odds at best. 

Batrire - I’m not sure what we can do for all of you. You’ve obviously done the math. If you all don’t manage to win by betting on me or the other gods that fight, you’re going to be stuck at tier four when the protection window ends. We need to find a way to quadruple what you all could potentially make over the next two hundred years. The problem is… I didn’t see it as a possibility until what Rakonath just asked.

Rakonath - You’re on the right path. Jazzjak will let us know if we can sell items I craft, and if so, only time will tell what dragon armor or dragon tooth weapons are worth across the system. I don’t believe we’ve seen but a few dragon items when looking for equipment for our champions. That does give us a little hope. Nice job on that one. And no, I don’t want to use the scales you or your elders have unless its something you freely give and the chance to sell them is valid. Even still, we’d have to release things slowly. Flooding the market would cause a drop in value. We’ll need to figure out not just how it works, but how much having two or ten or more items listed at a time affects their values.

Tanila - Your question… You always ask the hard ones. I think you’re right. The Nine hope to control me via you all. They have played this game before, yet I’m not sure how many times there have ever been “friends” of a black skill. If what Bob and I think is true, you all are pieces in whatever game they are playing. Right now, only Death is limited in his ability to interact with you. Wekime is a… probable ally, but again, I’m not certain after his encounter with Miranna. With the god of the Void involved, we’re in a game neither Bob nor I has a real understanding of yet. Whatever game is being played, we’re not prepared for it, and all that matters is gaining power as quickly as possible.

Tier five provides the basis for defending our worlds by possessing a domain. This is the point you all need to reach to help protect yourselves. It also allows you to start stacking worlds and trying to increase the long-term DP over time.

This means we need to be cautious about sharing any important plans outside of this process. We also need to stop using the names of the Nine. Doing so may invoke their attention, and apparently, they can hear things, even on a protected world.

***

Max chuckled when Fowl raised his hand after his friend finished reading the second sheet. 

“What?” Max asked.

“So… like… are we going to always be writing, or can we talk?” the dwarf asked.

“We can talk, you fool,” Batrire groaned. “It’s just when… it’s important.”

“And how am I supposed to know what’s important and what’s not?” Fowl shot back. “I mean, we’re looking at going through a lot of paper otherwise.”

“He’s right,” Cordellia said. “We’ll have to decide what’s worth talking about and what isn’t. Is even this conversation one that should be written down? Ultimately, we face a major decision on how we communicate going forward in the coming years. In the meantime, I have a question for Max.”

He nodded at their ranger, seeing her smile before she spoke again.

“When you purchased the third tier, did it feel different?”

He smiled and nodded. “Oh, it did. You’ll all enjoy it,” Max replied.

Soon, the six gods around the table all glowed, their skin, scales, and hair all radiating with power as each of them quickly purchased the next tier of godhood.

“Wow… that feels amazing,” Sog said. “Almost better than rubbing Max’s bald head.”

“Did anyone else see that notification?” Fowl asked. “It says I’m immortal now. Wasn’t I before?”

“Not technically,” Jazzjak replied. “You would age extremely slowly, especially for a dwarf, but now your body and your soul are immortal. You can suffer immense damage, but what matters is the destruction of your soul. It’s not like a normal attack to your heart will end your life. There is more to it.”

“Uh… so like… how would someone kill me?” the dwarf asked.

“By smashing you into a paste until there was nothing left,” Sog stated. “I’m pretty sure that would destroy your soul.”

“It would,” Jazzjak said.  

A few groans came from the others, but Max took a deep breath and mimicked their action, spending 175,000,000 DP to rank up to the fourth tier.

Power washed through him, and Max felt a cold wave of power that seemed familiar and yet different. Like the others, his body radiated with light as if something had infused it. Max could feel a massive change within him as the power from the system altered his very being.

I can see it… the other realms.

Max closed his eyes and tried to let himself go, letting Bob take over in the steering of everything.

There was one central thread that was woven around Max, which vanished into the darkness of everything. On either side of him were two threads, almost as thick that seemed to move like snakes along water. They flowed past him, but were close. Each had its own distinct scent of some kind.

Are those… the other two realms?

Not the actual realms, but the threads that we are now permitted to touch and interact with. You do remember the book and what it said, don’t you?

Words appeared before his mind as Max pulled the memory Bob was talking about.

*****

Godbound – Gains the ability to travel between realms.
They can directly interfere with other worlds of other gods.
This is limited to one rank above and below their current Divine Hierarchy rank.

*****

How do we travel between realms?

Beyond the ability you have right now? I’m not certain. I am…

Max knew immediately what Bob thought as his skill stopped talking.

His eyes flew open, and Max stared directly at Jazzjak.

“Everyone, into my space. Now.”

Undying Blood - Chapter 71

Chapter 71

[ Endurance Milestone Advanced Acquired - Select when ready to proceed ]

Francis looked around and felt this place in the woods was as good as any. 

It had been hard not to start the process already. Every part of him wanted to do it upon resurrecting again but the memory of the first one had not been pleasant. He was certain the attention would have caused problems between now and when he arrived to talk with Stenson.

Francis sat down in the dirt, leaned against the tree he had selected, and closed his eyes. The air smelled clean, and the breeze was nice. Not wanting to waste any more time, as there was no telling how long this would take, Francis gave in to the desire within him and activated the change.

[ Endurance Milestone - Initiated ]

[ Pain Resistance Increased - 51 ]

Francis could barely make out those notifications as his body did what he thought it would. Every fiber in his being tore loose, and the very fabric of each muscle, bone, tendon, and even cartilage turned into mush at some point. It started with his bones, each of them dissolving before a new version reforming. Francis’ muscles collapsed, and the ligaments drew close as there was no bone to attach to.

Had someone watched what was happening, Francis wondered if he looked like a blob of flesh. The pain made it hard enough to focus on anything besides the process he was enduring.

Soon, the bones regrew. Francis could sense it; the sensation of bones pushing their way through muscles that were beginning to dissolve as well. His chest cavity had collapsed, and breathing felt impossible. 

Even Francis’ skull slowly gave up its shape, and pain radiated everywhere as his mind floated in a sea of soup. As his bones finished regrowing, pushing certain parts back within the areas they were supposed to be, the muscles and other non-essential organs took their turn. Francis’s body collapsed, sliding down the tree even though he had bones, but his inability to support them was his downfall.

Faster than his bones had, his body rebuilt everything. Denser and stronger, the very fabric that provided power and strength returned, and the tendons and ligaments that grew back felt far stronger and more resilient than before.

At this point, Francis took a deep breath, felt the sweet taste of the air fill his lungs, and basked in the sensation of life. His lungs then exploded, the air that had just inflated them spreading through his body, but that was the least of it all. Every organ started to break down one at a time, regrowing and then another.

His heart stopped and panic set in as Francis waited in agony, his mind trying to hold the iron will that was the thread that let him do this without going crazy. Finally, a beat sent a rush of blood through his body and Francis wanted to cry out in joy until his brain started to change.

It felt like someone had taken insects and let them feast on every piece of flesh inside his skull. Yet unlike the rest, which vanished completely, this was a different process, starting at the center of his brain and working its way out. A moment came when everything vanished, and Francis was certain the sound of a bell would ring out.

Then his senses returned and without thinking, Francis turned to the side, as a torrent of foulness escaped through his mouth. Even worse was what came next as hot magma escaped his colon, filling his pants that had stayed on the entire time.

Just as Francis was thinking the worse was over, his skin dissolved. His improved thick skin was like jelly dripping off his muscles, fingernails, hair, and even his nipples found themselves either inside his clothes or on the slush-covered dirt he sat in.

Just as quickly as it had all vanished, Francis watched as his skin grew back, nails reforming, and an itch ran over the length of his head. Touching it, he felt hair growing until it reached the same short length he had always had. And Francis waited. Seconds ticking by as he hoped that was it. Then once more his body said no and Francis puked and dedicated himself again.

Stripping naked, Francis grimaced at the stench and the look of his clothing. His body, however, had transformed. There would be no hiding this from anyone who saw it. Muscles and definition were there, not like brute brute strength that might be hidden under some fat. His new body was lean and ripped.

Looking at the state of his clothes, Francis shook his head and dropped them, running barefoot through the woods towards the stream. He spent a few extra minutes washing, making sure to clean all those spots. The cold water didn’t faze Francis at all. Unlike the first time, it had not taken his breath away; it was simply refreshing against his skin.

Laughing, Francis started to swim, his legs kicking smoothly and easily, and before he realized it, he was across the water. Shaking himself sent some of the water flying, but he was still wet. Francis stopped trying to get dry and just started running. He was certain things were going to go sideways upon reaching town, but he felt better than he ever had.

***

“What in the hells–” his trainer started.

As Francis jogged to the gate, the men gave him dirty looks, and the women gave him a different gaze.

Phillip’s mouth hung open as he stared at him. “You… impossible. You… transformed. There’s no way!”

“I did,” Francis said. “I’ll tell you later, but right now, can I please get something to cover myself and some coin?”

“Aye!” a guard shouted. “Get that man dressed before we haul him off and flog him!”

Francis glared at the guard who had shouted. “Touch me and I’ll snap your neck.”

“Who do you–” the guards began saying, grabbing his hilt as he spoke.

Phillip moved before the guard, shaking his head. “Don’t. He’s reached a new rank of a physical stat. He’d probably crush you even without a weapon.”

Gasps came from those gathered and Francis sighed.

“I did and can,” Francis stated. “Now then, someone? Anyone?” 

A younger woman came forward, a little red in her cheeks, and held out her apron. “It won’t do much, but…”

Francis gave his best smile and took it, wrapping it around his front, feeling a draft from the back.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Francis said. “Phillip, I need coins… now.. Then we can talk.”

Francis wasn’t embarrassed. He didn’t blush or hide, having fought so many times naked that the concept of being without clothes didn’t bother him. He just wanted to make it through the day without any more problems.

***

“So… Strength or Endurance?” Phillip asked as they stood in the shop they were trying to purchase clothing from.

Francis was sliding his legs into a pair of pants that finally fit when he looked at his trainer, noticing the apprehension on his face. “Endurance and I’m not going to do anything to you,” Francis said. “Trust me. I know why you do what you do. I might have hated it but in some small way because of you, I’m the man I am today.”

“I doubt that boy… er Francis,” Phillip replied.

Francis waved off the words and took the shirt the shopkeeper held out to him. 

“Now get out. My daughters have had their virtue ruined enough!” the shopkeeper yelled. Some giggling came from a doorway, and the older man scowled at Francis.

“Sorry for the trouble,” Francis said, putting a silver coin on the counter. “Perhaps this will help with their… ah hell, just take the coin.” He turned and walked out of the shop, still missing shoes, slipping the loose linen shirt over his frame as he left.

“How? How in the gods did this happen?” Phillip asked as he followed Francis through the street toward the same inn they always stayed at. “It’s… impossible. You showed no signs of this kind of growth this morning. And you didn’t do anything that would trigger… this.”

Francis turned to see his trainer waving his hands up and down. “Drinks,” Francis said. “In a corner of the tavern, away from others.  I’ll tell you what I can. Just know I’m not leaving, I’m still going to the battlefield and someday, I swear, I will find a way to repay you. Even if that means getting revenge on the one who gave you that mark.”

A scowl appeared on Phillip’s face for a moment and then vanished. “You’re serious. You’ve have the same expression right now like you did when you tried to sucker punch me.”

Francis held out his hand. “I promise. One day I’ll pay you back. For now, drinks. I’m going to have enough problems dealing with my brother and it’s better if we get some things out of the way before he arrives.”

“But we–”

“I don’t have time,” Francis said. “I know what we’re facing. You know what we’re facing. General Stenson is expecting me, and trust me, I’ll make sure he knows you helped.” Francis left his trainer stuttering, jaw moving, and making nothing but noise in the middle of the street, where everyone apparently had shown up to see what the fuss was.

***

“Anything… I mean it. Just let me know,” the waitress said.

Francis smiled and nodded at the young woman, who had once again made sure he understood the standing offer she made each time she brought more drinks.

“Advanced,” Phillip muttered. “I… I can’t imagine. Nothing you say sounds anywhere in the realm of possibility, yet you sit across from me, your very stature and the difference you project is a sign if one ever needed it. So now what? You want me to leave a day early? We’ll get there before others and those boys will end up in the front.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Francis replied. Those words pained him, but Francis had taken Stenson’s mantra to heart for now. If the man didn’t want to leave, he would set out on his own, able to reach the camp faster. Francis’ appearance alone would draw more attention, but he could always handle that.

“And your brother?” Phillip asked. “What will you do when he finds out?”

“That’s a talk I’ll manage,” Francis replied. “I need you to either have us gone by tomorrow or know I’m not running away when I leave.”

“I don’t think anyone would chase you if I told them to,” Phillip replied. “Or at least no one with half a brain. Even if you walked into a town and someone there could sense you had broken the contract, they would have to either summon the whole town or pretend they didn’t know anything.”

“Yeah… that promise,” Francis grunted. “It’s crap, but it is what it is. For now, what do you want to do? Stay or go? Either way, I need to head up to my room.”

Phillip grabbed the fresh cup of ale and guzzled it. Setting the empty vessel on the wooden table, he shook his head. “I… Please don’t ask me to bring them to the front.”

Francis nodded. “I understand. You’re a good man, and that one act proves it. I know you wear the mask of a bastard, but it's because you can’t let yourself get close, knowing what’s coming.”

Phillips' hand trembled, and he nodded. “Give those creatures an ass kicking… and thank you, Francis.”

Francis shook the outstretched hand and moved toward the stairs, shaking his head and frowning at the young woman who was rocking on her feet, staring at him.

“Not tonight. Perhaps another time,” Francis said. “Something else demands my time but I’ll see what I can do about another time.”

Her face turned pouty, and her hands wrung the towel, almost making him laugh. The woman was easily in her twenties but acting like a much younger person. “You promise?”

Inwardly, he groaned even though a part of him yearned to say yes. “I promise.”

Her face turned into a smile, and she winked at him. “Well then, I’ll be here and waiting.”

He nodded and hoofed it up the stairs, ready to wait for his brother's arrival.

***

“Oh, sorry, wrong room, I–” Michael’s mouth stopped moving as he got a better look at Francis.

“It’s me, you’re in the right room, brother,” Francis said.

“No… you… I…” Michael stuttered. His brother’s eyes looked him up and down multiple times as Francis sat on the tiny bed without a shirt. “I… I mean you looked bigger this morning, I just thought I was… I don’t know but this… what in the gods happened?”

“Close the door, Michael. We need to talk,” Francis said.

“Hell yeah, we do! Whatever you got, I need some!” Michael shouted, slamming the door and plopping down on the other bed.

“This is going to sound… well, no… it won’t since how I look is already crazy enough.”

***

Hours had passed and Michael was almost out of questions. His brother had worked through a lot of emotions and now seemed to accept the truth.

“So how many times has it been?” Michael asked.

“I’m past two thousand.”

“Two thousand…” Michael said quietly. “I… And you always keep that promise, don’t you?”

“Every time I can, I can save you I do,” Francis replied. “You’re the reason why I remember what I do. After those first few deaths, I could sense memories had been stolen but as you talked about them, I could remember… I could remember who I was and what you meant to me.”

“Well, I’m glad that I’m the reason you’re able to keep going,” Michael said. “And those women?”

“I swear you are the horniest guy I know,” Francis said. “Every time we have this talk, you change the subject and focus on that for most of it.”

His brother snorted and shrugged. “It feels weird to hear you talk about me like that. I mean… I’m not the hero kind of guy. If I had gotten what you have, I doubt I could do what you’re doing.”

Francis nodded and smiled. He then leaned over and punched his brother playfully in the chest. Having not realized how much his body had just changed, Francis’ punch knocked his brother backward into the nearby wall.

“Michael!” Francis exclaimed.

Coughs and wheezes came as his older brother held up a hand, holding Francis back while trying to breath. When he finally caught his breath, Michael lifted his shirt, showing a bruise already forming. “I… I think you broke something.”

“Tell you what,” Francis said, glad to know he hadn’t seriously injured his brother. “I’ll get Bella and Lucy to kiss it and make it all better once you arrive at the battlefield.”

Michael grimaced and then smiled. “I guess it will have to do.”

Francis pretended he was going to punch his brother again, laughing when Michael flinched and almost smacked into the wall on his own.

“You’re a jerk,” Michael stated.

Looking for feedback and using this post to get it

Hey everybody, I’ll let you know that I read the comments you leave and make a note of them

Sometimes I have the opportunity to reply and sometimes I don’t just depend on life, but I want you to know that I appreciate all the comments you make regarding the stories

So for the time loop, let’s talk about it for a second. Let’s make this post the one that we converse in for a while. I’ll try and see if I can find a way to sticky it and I’ll comment on the post that you make. Let’s list the things that you find the most. Immersion breaking.

Obviously, the last chapter with Francis, not being happy with Stenson when Francis realized he was being played more than he had thought wasn’t given enough leading up to

I’ll take a look at that and try to see if I can’t find a better way to make it work the way I wanted to

The part with the King‘s wife and potential manipulation is Story stuff for down the road so it’s supposed to be kind of the way it is, but I’ll take a look at that again

Anything else you guys want to discuss or talk about or share with me please do it here and I will gladly go back-and-forth with you guys to make sure I’m getting the best story out to everybody

Thank you again for Enjoying the story enough to want to see it written better and tell me about it

UL1 - Book 10 - Chapter 68

Max felt the same force assault him the moment he appeared in the arena that had the first time he met this void god. 

“You came,” Zogooruth said, his voice booming across the sand dunes they both stood on. “What place is this? A desert?”

Laughter followed as Max shrugged, pointing at the arena he had picked out. 

If what I asked for happens, we’ll have roughly ten miles of desert to use. And the ceiling of this place should only be about a quarter mile.

Either what you plan on works or it doesn’t. Know that whatever happens, I will spend every ounce of power I have stored within me to keep us going.

I know. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.

Max focused on the swirling purple and black vortex within a giant shadow that absorbed the light near it. Zogooruth’s presence still felt every bit intimidating, with thunder ringing out occasionally, the sand turning purple and black as it drew toward the god.

“You’re the one who chose to challenge me,” Max replied. “Though I must say I’m really more curious about who told you to challenge me for a second time.”

The shadow grew, and more peals of thunder rang out as a finger—black and purple material, pulsing nonstop—extended on a hand that emerged from the shadow, pointing at Max. “What makes you think you are worthy of someone—”

“Who?” Max shouted over the other god. “Who pulls your strings? Who told you who I was?”

The finger pointed at him shook slightly.

“Does it matter if I was given a name?” Zogooruth replied. “You should have just forfeited, giving me a second world to devour.”

“No,” Max said, shaking his head. “All that would do is buy me another hundred years before you rechallenged me. I want to know who told you to challenge me, or I will make sure you never challenge another god again.”

Zogooruth’s laughter boomed louder than before. Slowly, the finger lowered, and the cacophony of noise diminished. “You think you can defeat me? I am not like the others you have faced. There are none who can—”

Max summoned the fake black-hole bomb, its appearance cutting off Zogooruth immediately.

“You see,” Max said, waving the black and purple metal orb around, small waves of energy and light traveling with it, “I like to do research and pull strings. It turns out there are four items I know of that can kill a god like yourself. It’s a shame I don’t have a quadrillion DP to purchase one of them, but I did have a favor a god owed me and thus…” Max summoned the activator in his other hand.

“Impossible! You cannot have one of those!” Zogooruth shouted.

“Says the god who, a second ago, didn’t fear me but now knows how this will work. You cannot—”

Red lights began to flash overhead, and a screen appeared in the air. A red gelatinous figure appeared on it, bouncing wildly.

“You cannot use that here! Our arena is not designed for that kind of power!”

“And yet I will,” Max said, turning his eyes from the screen back to Zogooruth. “A challenge was made. I accepted.”

“You will die to that bomb as well!” the void god shouted. “Surely you aren’t—”

Max moved his finger to the edge of the purple button and smiled. “Zogooruth, you don’t have a clue about what I can do, and all I have to do is survive longer than you. Once I do, I’ll turn this off and walk away, while you’ll be gone forever.”

“The protocols! You must not—” the arena owner called out.

Max held the metal orb in the air and glared at the screen. “Tell me once more what I cannot do, and I won’t wait. Let’s see if your power can break the rules of the system. Someone must die or surrender, and it won’t be me,” Max growled. “And remember, once we’re both here, unless we agree upon allowing the other to surrender, it’s not an option.”

Peals of thunder erupted, and the sand around Zogooruth began to swirl like a cyclone. “I will never surrender!”

Max nodded. “That’s fine. Then you’ll die because I won’t surrender either. But the only way I’ll accept your surrender even when you beg for it as your life is about to end is if you tell me the name of who sent you.”

The crashing of thunder stopped for a moment, and the silence of an arena stretched on longer than Max had expected.

Thoughts?

You’ll have to activate it. He’ll have to believe it’s real.

Max looked up at the screen. “Start the countdown, and whatever you can do to reinforce this place, you’d better activate,” Max said.

“I’ll crush you before you can do that,” Zogooruth shouted.

Max laughed and shook his head. “You forget. I’m the one the other gods can’t catch.”

A series of beeps began, and the screen vanished.

I’m ready.

I know. And thank you.

When the call for the fight to began came, Max moved with everything he had.

[ Haste ]

[ Cooldown Refreshed ]

[ Haste ]

There had been a time when Max thought he understood the concept of speed. Bob had shown him how wrong that idea was. The other day, while hanging out with Fipple, his skill revealed how much they could push the limits. The world below had moved so fast that it had taken Max a moment to adjust to everything. Playing around with it gave him an understanding of how all this would work.

He pressed the button, and Bob played the second part of the show.

A thunderous roar came from Zogooruth as pockets of void appeared on the sand. Chunks of weird black and purple substances that arced with magical energy rose from them, sent toward Max, yet he was past the attacks before they had a chance.

Bob used Wind Master and Elemental Mastery, combining Sand Mastery and Darkness magic into a vortex of swirling energy. His skill drew the sand around them into chunks, shoving the particles that came close into dimensional storage.

The battlefield was chaos as void magic tried to find him, but Max evaded it all, focused on letting Bob do his trick. Furrows of sand began to vanish as Bob expanded the spell, leaving a giant pattern on the desert as Max raced across it.

“I need a name, Zogooruth! Ten seconds, and I’ll drop this at your feet!”

The whole arena shook as portals appeared almost every thirty yards, and giant chunks of the material that Max knew would hurt came at him. It was like someone had taken a section of land and torn it apart.

[ Evasion ]

[ Blink ]

[ All Cooldowns Refreshed ]

[ Blink ]

Max’s body twisted and turned, sometimes only mere inches between him and the objects that wanted to suck his body toward them as he raced by. His Blink spell kept him ahead but only by a thread.

“Five seconds!”

Another roar came, and Max wasn’t sure what was going to come next. He had no idea of what kind of spells Zogooruth could use or even his attacks.

We’re running out of storage space.

It’s okay, we’re running out of time.

Bob increased the show, adding lighting bursts from the ball of sand that continually came toward them.

Most of the desert and its brown sand were gone, either stolen by Bob or corrupted by Zogooruth. 

“Three!”

Max turned his direction toward the shadow that hadn’t moved, its aura radiating like a sun.

“No! DO not—” the void god called out.

“A name!” Max roared, zipping past the void god so close, his skin dissolving from its essence.

[ Regeneration ]

“I cannot!” Zogooruth protested

“Then die!”

Max made a few laps, preparing to use the moment when he dropped the fake bomb at Zogooruth’s feet as an opening for an attack with his artifact.

When Max turned for the moment, he would learn if he could win this fight; he sensed it. The desert was almost all gone. Bob was right, there wasn’t any more space to store the mountains of sand they had collected. 

But Zogooruth’s shadow had decreased, and so had the portals he had been summoning.

“I’ll give it! I surrender!” the void god called out.

“Accepted!” Max shouted, veering off as Bob ended the show, and Max pressed the button that turned off the fake black-hole bomb.

Max slowed down, staying a few hundred yards away. He stared at the void god and realized just how much the aura had shrunk. 

“Turn off the show!” Max shouted. “This part is for me and no one else.”

Two seconds ticked by, and the voice of the announcer, whom Max realized hadn’t said a word, rang out. “Done.”

Nodding, Max stored the fake bomb and crossed both of his arms. “Who sent you after me both times?”

“My… father,” Zogooruth almost whispered. “I cannot say his name, but you know who he is.”

Another one of the Nine? How could he have known back on Igarra’s world?

Focus. We’ll talk later.

“Then you are free to go,” Max said. “Just know, I wouldn’t challenge me again.”

No words came from the void god as two white discs appeared beneath them.

Max felt the charge of Jazzjak coming the moment he entered their starting room.

“You did it!” the vorpal rabbit said, jumping up and down as he hugged Max. “You actually won!”

“I did, but wait,” Max said. “Wait till we’re home. Then we can talk.”

Clearing his throat, Jazzjak took a step back and adjusted his black suit. “Ah, yes, forgive me. I was a little overwhelmed.”

“You’re fine. Fowl usually cries at moments like that,” Max replied.

The stone door formed, and through the opening came the red shape, Max had expected.

“It is I, Hoekamona,” it said. “I believe we would both find it easier that way if I just tell you from the start who I am.”

“Thank you for that, Hoekamona,” Max said. “Sorry if I was a little… aggressive before the match started.”

The red body shook, its eye stalks moving in the liquid as it appeared to turn, coming completely into the room, and the door behind it sealed, closing them all in.

That’s new.

“Ahh… yes… Your action was a bit unexpected, but the way you have seemed to grasp the contract bindings of the system did cause some problems on our end,” Hoekamona said. “I must admit, your deception was well played.”

“Deception?” Max asked, keeping his face straight.

Hoekamona bounced up and down, and a gurgling sound came.

“While it would appear that Zogooruth believed you possessed what you claimed to have, we can monitor things like potential collapsing of our arenas, and none of what should have come from the bomb you started did. In fact, I believe you are in possession of a large amount of the sand we created for this battle.”

That’s a bit disconcerting.

“So this… theory… you have on what I did,” Max said slowly. “Would anyone else outside of your group be able to tell?”

“No,” Hoekamona replied, his body going still when he spoke. “There might be a few out there who know what one of those bombs looks like, but most would not know. They are very rare, and the risk of fighting a god who has one is great.”

“So… do you want your sand back?” Max asked, smiling.

“No… Keep it. Consider it a well-earned reward,” Hoekamona stated. “We are in the process of transferring the DP you gained right now, but it might take a moment longer than usual. A hiccup, I believe, is the term your kind uses that was found in the planet put up for collateral.”

“What kind of hiccup?” Jazzjak asked. 

“Ahh… a most unfortunate thing. It seems that the world that was offered as collateral was technically still within the guidelines of what can be used at the issuing of the challenge,” Hoekamona said. “But at the time this fight started, the world is now… useless to one like yourself.”

“Zogooruth gave me a devoured world?” Max asked. “Is that what you are saying?”

“Not devoured but severely damaged. It would take a large amount of DP invested into the current world and probably half a million years before you might consider it worth counting as a world you would want.”

“That is unacceptable!” Jazzjak exclaimed, hopping up and down. “You owe us a world that is—”

“Silence, assistant,” Hoekamona said, his tone carried an edge. “Do not tell me what we owe. I am well aware of the rules and the bindings of the systems. Instead, I have an offer to present. Neither of us will like it as both of us will suffer for it, but in the end, we believe it will be a better deal for Max.”

“And what is that?” Max asked.

“You accept the world you won, as it is, and ignore it. Perhaps you can find a use for it. Maybe you’ll turn it into a training facility that hardens those who serve you. We will not allow the information that we possess about your deception to be traded on our end.”

“You’re blackmailing us?!” Jazzjak shouted. “You can’t—”

“I accept,” Max said. “The offer is fine.”

“What? How is it fine?” his helper protested. “You’re losing out on income you need. The goal you say you have requires every drop of DP you can get.”

“And the best way for me right now to not lose any more worlds or risk facing Zogooruth is to make sure he doesn’t learn about my trickery. Soon, it won’t matter once I reach the fourth tier. I’m not certain the void god will be increasing his rank anytime soon.”

A gurgling sound came, and Hoekamona started to bounce. “A shrewd one you are, Max Hoste. Then our offer has been made and accepted. None shall learn of your trick from us. Expect the deposit of your DP soon along with your winnings to arrive shortly. Now, if you will excuse me, I must answer those waiting on the outcome of this meeting.”

The door formed and slid away.

As Hoekamona started to exit the room, Max raised his hand and called out. “One last question. Had that been a real black-hole bomb, could the arena have withstood it?”

The gelatinous being stopped, his voice quieter than usual. “That is a good question, Max Hoste. While I would like to answer it, there are some secrets we like to keep. For the right price, I would be willing to tell you the answer.”

“I’m fine,” Max replied. “I guess I’ll have to see if I can’t get my hands on a real one someday. Then we can find out.”

A gurgling sound came as Hoekamona vanished through the doorway and the stone returned, sealing Jazzjak and Max inside.

“You okay?” Max asked. “You seemed a little worked up.”

“A little?!” his helper exclaimed, voice cracking once. “We were stolen from… they should have… argh!” 

Max waited as the vorpal rabbit took a few deep breaths to settle down.

“You’re right, Max. The deal was a good one,” Jazzjak finally said. “Let’s return, I have no doubt the others are waiting to see you.”

Undying Blood - Chapter 70

Chapter 70

“What’s wrong? Stenson asked. “Something's troubling you.”

“I just hate using Baxter’s trust like this,” Francis replied.

The general nodded, frowning slightly. “Sometimes we must do things we dislike to win a war. I’d rather not do such a thing but because of your skill we can see what may come from this attack. You of all people know this is the only way.”

Throwing away lives because you know they don’t have consequences. Lose the battle, kill me.

“I do,” Francis replied. “Perhaps it's just some leftover frustration at how Priscilla tried to use Michael as a bargaining chip.”

“That could be,” Stenson replied. “Only a fool or someone who believed they were above any potential consequences would do that. And we both know she is not a fool.”

Francis nodded and watched as Vella and the others set up the table with all the pieces and how they envisioned the fight going.

“By the way, thank you again for saving that line of men,” Stenson said. “That one act has given us far more power than what you had described before.”

Francis nodded and said nothing, noticing the guards who had just walked in.

Soon King Baxter, his wife and seven others were present, all waiting to hear this plan to be discussed.

“General,” the king said.

Stenson bent his head and motioned to the model. “If you all will join me, I’d like to show you what Sage Francis, Captain Vella, and I have come up with. I truly believe this is a gift from the gods.”

As everyone approached the table, Francis saw Priscilla’s blue eyes fixated on him. He nodded and they quickly followed everyone else's attention as the General laid out the plan.

***

Every man roared as the horn sounded again.

The birds that feasted on the carcasses were what had given their advance away; a thick black swarm of them flying into the sky announced that more death was to come.

Francis ran behind the horses Kels was leading. Rather than get tied to a horse again, he used his newfound speed and kept up. His armor moved well and a part of Francis was sad that if he died today it would be a while before he wore armor actually fitted for him.

Stenson had given it to him, mentioning how the older man had someone working on it after the previous battle, knowing it would be needed at some point.

The sword in his hand felt wrong, yet Francis shoved his growing frustration at the General into his stomach, using it to fuel the rage he was about to unleash.

Arrows came and Francis held his shield up, laughing at himself when a shield appeared above them, deflecting the incoming death.

Carried away in my own thoughts and I forgot he has his own personal mages.

Kels wasn’t even looking back at Francis. Having seen early on that he could keep up, the knight was focused on the lines that were about to clash.

The armies collided further in enemy territory than the first time they had done something like this. Having another line of troops greatly impacted the battle, allowing them to focus more on the cavalry and elite warriors.

Francis could occasionally see over the heads of those before him, wishing for the height a horse provided. Ever so often, he would jump, noticing that the number of cat and wolf-kin was less if his eyes were right.

I swear if this works I’m going to…  Actually, I’m not sure what I’m going to do…

The kingdom’s mages held their spells, waiting for the moment Stenson had ordered it. As the first wave of elites met with the advanced, clouds formed above.

Francis was surprised to learn that the healers and the mages worked together to create the healing spell. Through a few artifacts, they could combine their mana and the threads they wove, turning them into something new. It made Francis wonder if that was why the black sheet of death and this healing spell reacted the way it did. Three different kinds of magic all in a single place seemed like a bad idea.

The wall of warriors cut down the beasts that they had engaged. A combination of highly trained men, unable to be hurt or killed by claws or teeth, wasted no time using the spell to their advantage.

Rows of warriors were running behind those lines, carrying the next part of the plan. There weren’t enough lances to go around as the cavalry needed some but Francis could hear and see the large shapes coming at the men.

“FORWARD!”  Kels’s cry and the horns that sounded after had the warriors on horseback shout, urging their mounts ahead, the wedge forming tighter.

Francis marveled at the magic that went out before these horses. The first time he had been on one, his eyes didn’t notice it, but now, with his increased Perception and being this low to the ground, it was obvious. Each horse had a magical gem set in its armor, resting against the base of its chest. The gem caused the ground to become flat, transforming bumpy soil into flat ground and filling holes that threatened to sink into their hooves and break a leg.

Even in a full charge, the magic could keep up with the mounts. When the cavalry broke through the last line of beastkin, a new problem arose. Large rhino-kins came, bellowing their challenge and as the first horses were less than a hundred yards away, the next trick was revealed.

Mages, tied to horses like he had been cast the Quicksand Shift spell before them. It was a risky gamble, bringing mages into battle but the spell did exactly what the general had hoped it would, trading a mage's life for results.

Rhino-kins sank immediately, their weight and speed sending sand spraying to the sides as the ground gave away beneath them. As those beasts faltered, the mages immediately cut off the spell, and the horses struck solid, smooth ground.

Lances buried deep in targets, unable to dodge or avoid the weapons, so many rhino-kin dying and even better, fewer warriors falling in the first charge.

Roars were answered with the battle cries of men as over fifty rhino-kins never rose from the soil they had fallen into. Other beasts were struggling to break free, trying to stop the incoming cavalry attacks.

Francis joined the fight, claiming his pound of flesh for all the times he had died to a rhino-kin.

Most of the ones still alive were armored and bigger. Francis kept his shield ready, his eyes scanning the battlefield as he used a combination of his skills to end every rhino-kin he encountered.

Kels was off his horse, and Francis watched as the knight mimicked his performance from the first time. The knight tore through each creature that felt they could do something against the young man, finding out, as so many beasts before, that Kels was truly a different caliber of warrior.

Elite troops drew near and Francis spotted Stenson arriving.

“Where?!” the older man cried out.

Francis pointed in the direction of what the general was seeking.

A single nod was all that the older man gave as the general dismounted and took off in the direction of the tiger-kin that had killed him last time.

Knowledge is power…

Soon the roar came and Stenson found himself facing the beast again but this time the rest of the army didn’t stop.

Francis gazed upon the large beasts with siege weapons attached to them. Each was easily fifty feet tall and had large leathery noses with giant spikes set on the end. Their legs were also wrapped in spikes, likely a deterrent to anyone trying to get close to them.

Then what Francis was looking for caught his eye.

Arrows were coming from near the base of one of the gigantic creatures, and at first, Francis wasn’t sure if he could believe what he saw.

It was a bear, easily twelve feet tall, standing on its back legs, a massive bow in its hands and the arrows it sent were four feet or longer. Even from a distance, Francis could see that the bow wasn’t designed for just anyone to use. Thick beams were bent, metal running up and down them and the speed each arrow moved with had enough power to penetrate a man, horse and more.

Francis watched as another bear-kin stepped from behind a leg and fired, darting back to hide before appearing again. Each arrow killed someone it hit in the chest and the few who managed to get their shield up were sent flying, arm broken and shield shattered.

The sound of chaos and carnage drew Francis' attention back to where Stenson had gone.

Dirt flew into the air, a cloud of dust forming as the creature and the older man fought.

Flashes of metal were visible as it reflected the light of the day and for a solid thirty seconds, the pair destroyed a section of the battlefield. Multiple men and beasts were killed, unable to escape the carnage the pair left in their wake.

Francis raced toward the area where Kels was standing, accompanied by four other men, all of whom had shields out and were scanning the line of beasts.

“Watch out!” Francis cried out. His words were swept away in the chaos, but both man and beast broke apart, each covered in blood from head to toe. The armor Stenson wore was different from the first time, and Francis suspected it was more durable than the previous one the general had fought in against this foe. Still, the chest piece was torn to shreds, and one of the armored legs was missing completely.

Francis knew that this was a jaguar and not a tiger, his one-up-close memory refreshed as he watched the battle continue. Part of him swore it had been a tiger he had seen while pushing through the lines but clearly it wasn’t. Sections of its orange fur were missing, a solid chunk of flesh was gone from its right thigh, and a large gash covered the beast's chest. 

Both swords the jaguar-kin held looked chipped and Francis watched as Stenson dropped the sword he had been using and pulled a short sword from over his back.

“He brought it,” Kels said quietly.

“Brought what?” Francis asked.

“A gift from Baxter. Let’s see what happens now.”

Man and beast clashed again, and the air grew thick with gusts of wind, dust, and a sense of power. A flash came, followed by another, and then a howl.

They separated again, and this time, Stenson was still standing, but the beast had lost its left arm at the elbow.

No one reacted when a roar washed over them, the jaguar-kin shaking as it did it, the torrent of blood that raced from its stump quickly slowing.

More roars came from the lines of troops from both directions.

Stenson didn’t look away but Francis and Kels did. The battlefield was littered with corpses.

If Francis guessed, at least eighty percent of the rhino-kins lay dead, but the cost had been expensive. The line of warriors that had been saved from the black sheet of death was gone, and if half of the elite troops were still fighting across the battlefield, they would be fortunate to have that many still alive.

Five distinct roars came again and Francis felt his stomach sink.

Appearing from the last few rows of animals that protected the beast with siege engines, shapes could be made out.

“It was a tiger-kin!” Francis shouted.

“What?!” Kels exclaimed. “There’s more?”

Francis wanted to curse and scream at the heavens, but none of that was going to save him or the men who continued to fall.

The sound of metal on metal rang out from their right as one of the men blocked an arrow, rolling back about ten feet before standing up, the warrior’s left arm dripping with blood through his arm.

“If I’m going to die, I will make it a good one,” the knight said.

Francis watched as Kels raced toward the rows of slightly larger wolf and tiger-kin. Francis could see what appeared to be a frown on the general’s face before the older man shouted.

“GO! LEARN SOMETHING!” Stenson yelled.

While Kels ran one way, Francis went the other, dodging an arrow and moving toward the bear that had tried to kill him.

Another arrow came a few seconds later from a second bear-kin and Francis realized they were operating in pairs. Their grey fur blended in with the siege beasts' legs and they had a height advantage, shooting over their allies at Francis.

Drawing closer, the sound of combat between Stenson and the jaguar-kin boomed and a wave of something washed over everyone.

Francis wanted to look, to see what the outcome had been, but he could not dodge these arrows and do that all.

Beasts came at him, trying to stop his approach and Francis unleashed skills upon the first ones that drew near, noticing that these didn’t have the threads like the ones he had faced before.

Their claws came faster and the one Francis blocked had enough force to stop his advance.

Elites…

Before he made it past the first line, Francis found himself boxed in, claws raking off his armor. The animals worked together, striking from all sides in unison.

[ Death’s Dance Activated ]

Francis’ ability activated as the beasts tore into him,  and the power it gave helped turn the tide. A catkin roared as it came at him, one claw swiping downward, the other thrusting forward.

Francis was going to die and he knew it. There were too many and this battle wasn’t going to be the last one he fought. Yet, like every time death came, Francis wanted to take as many beasts as possible with him.

Ignoring the obvious decision to block and parry, Francis lunged at the beast, whose eyes widened.

[ Power Strike ]

[ Quick Attack ]

A side of Francis’ face was tore off, and claws pierced his stomach. But Francis’ sword struck true, lodging in the beast's chest, and his opponent's eyes blinked rapidly. Francis tried to speak, to say something cool, but the darkness came before words ever did.

UL1 - Book 10 - Chapter 67

“So it’s not a black hole bomb?” Max asked, studying the metal ball in his hands that looked just like the one Nerdok had displayed on the screen.

“It is not one, but it looks and will act like a real one at first,” Nerdok stated. “I sent in my request, got laughed at, discussed who I put in the request on behalf of, endured a day’s worth of grumbling, and three days later, received that.”

“So I’ve been given a fake one,” Max said, sensing the reasoning behind the gift. “And how would anyone know this isn’t the real thing?”

“Well, when it doesn’t suck in four or five systems or create a tear in space that typically requires the Archons to eventually fix,” Nerdok replied, matter-of-fact like. “You’ll just have to bluff your way out of it.”

“Bluff my way about having a black-hole bomb in a monitored arena, while it’s shown across thousands of worlds, and hope the void god doesn’t call my bluff.”

Saying that out loud sounds really stupid.

I’m certain you’ve said dumber things. Or at least Fowl has.

“Exactly,” Nerdok said. “Remember, you have the switch. Press the button, and it starts to exhibit some of the qualities of the black hole bomb. It will suck in dust, dirt, and stone, but that will only last about sixty seconds before the bomb stops working. After that, it’s just a play toy.”

This is so you. I mean, we’re playing with death, bluffing about something we don’t have, all while fighting a god that should be able to kill us. How can this not be something you would come up with?

Because…

Max stopped arguing, knowing that Bob was right and that he would indeed come up with a plan like this if given the opportunity.

“Odds of success?” Max asked the gnome.

Nerdok frowned for a moment. “Honestly… less than 10%. I was told 17%, but I’m not so sure. You don’t seem like the kind of god that could pull something like this off.”

“Should I take that as an insult?” Max asked. 

“No… you seem… nice. Most gods aren’t nice. They’re ruthless. Sure, some can play the nice card, and a few of the kinder ones are horrible opponents, but nice gods don’t last long. You have to be willing to sacrifice everything sometimes. Friends, planets, family.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Max said. 

“Maybe, but I’ve been around a long time,” Nerdok stated. “These silver strands of hair aren’t just ’cause the four who chose my appearance put them there at the start. They made me change over time because they changed over time.”

“They got meaner?” Max asked.

Nerdok didn’t say anything. He just shrugged, his lips pulled tight.

“Well, thank you,” Max said, holding out a hand. “I appreciate everything.”

The gnome shook it and sighed. “I wish you the best, Max. I really do. I hope nice guys… or gods don’t always lose.”

Max knelt and put a hand on the emissary’s shoulder, smiling. “Bet on me. Always bet on me,” he said. “I’ll prove to you I can make it.”

Those silver eyes sparked just slightly before Nerdok coughed.

“Well, time for you to go. I’ve been given orders, and standing around in this room all day isn’t one of them. But before you go… take this.”

A red and gold card appeared in Nerdok’s fingers, looking gigantic in those tiny fingers.

“What is this?” Max asked as he took it.

“When you return, show that upon arrival. It will… make it easier on getting you to me and not cause as many problems.”

Max nodded, took the card, and admired it. There was a certain energy that was set inside. Tiny runes lined the surface of the card. “So you say, when. Does that mean I’m permitted back?”

A small chuckle came from the tiny gnome. “I’d expect you’ll return at some point. Perhaps I’m just trying not to have as much excitement when you do. I would like to express my gratitude for the drink and our conversations. Whatever happens, be safe, Max Hoste.”

“Thank you again,” Max replied. “I hope to prove you wrong about the nice guy stuff.”

[ System Travel - Planetary ]

As he stepped through the portal, Max’s sonar picked up on a few words.

“So do I.”

***

“I can’t believe you’re going to go through with this,” Miranna said. “Mom told me what had happened… why can’t you just let the planet go?”

Max would have shrugged if she hadn’t been leaning against his arm as they sat on the ledge that overlooked the city.

“Because I can’t. I have to take this fight. Something about it is wrong… Zogooruth challenging me two times in a row, basically a hundred years apart, is impossible,” Max said. “Every angle I look at it, the truth is there’s no way someone isn’t pulling his strings.”

“And so you’re just going to walk into a trap? A fight you can’t win?”

Max patted her leg. “Do you walk away from fights that you’re not sure you can win?”

He felt Miranna tense, moving away from his side and frowning. “That’s a bad question, Dad.”

“But it’s the one I need to ask. You of all people know what it takes to walk through a portal, not sure what is on the other side, and know you have to defeat it.”

His daughter grunted. For a brief moment, she had trembled, but then appeared to have stopped herself.

“Every day I ask myself if today is the day someone else will die,” Miranna whispered. “Or if Shale Spark will die… or… me. I don’t have a spark… If Shale dies, she’ll come back. If the other three die, they’ll come back. But if I do… that’s it. The weight of that will haunt you and Mom forever.”

“And we understand that,” Max said softly. “We understand the drive you have and the pain you carry. It’s why I like times like this. You and I, spending a moment talking about life and its hard parts. We both know each of us is there for the other.”

“Yeah… but…” Miranna started to say. She stopped and leaned against his arm. “I can’t imagine life without you.”

“Nor I,” Max replied. “But I won’t hold you back from chasing your dreams. Just like you can’t hold me back from chasing mine.”

“And what is that dream?” Miranna asked. “You never really told me your real dream. Not the one you always talk about, ‘keeping us safe.’”

Max took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His words got stuck in his throat, and he had to repeat the action several times. “My dream is to be able to protect you both and know that no one will harm you. That’s never changed. What has changed…” Max paused, knowing he was about to voice something he hadn’t planned on saying for some time. “Is helping Bob. No matter what the day is going to come when the two of us will be facing two other gods, each with a black skill. I have to make it to that day. I have to survive a fight, I don’t think I’m supposed to.”

He turned and gently tapped her chin. “And that Star is part of me, keeping my dream. Those two are intertwined; one just doesn’t get voiced as much because talking about it is hard on everyone. Your mother especially.”

***

“I can’t believe you’re going in like that,” Fowl said, slugging Max in the shoulder. “You know I believe you’ll win.”

Max chuckled and gave his dwarven friend a small punch back. “Of course I’m going to win. I have to be here to keep my shorter brother out of trouble.”

Fowl shook his head, a smile beginning to form, right until Max grabbed the dwarf by his shoulders and spun him around.

“I hate when you do that!” 

Max laughed and sat his dwarven brother down. “I know, that’s why I always do it.”

A large hand rubbed his bald head, and Max sensed a second hand coming to repeat the gesture.

“I’m not okay with this,” Max protested as Sog attempted to mimic Rakonath’s action. “The head rubs are only for Tanila.”

“But it feels so… smooth,” Sog stated. “It’s hard to describe other than I might need to get a human friend with a bald head like yours that I can rub whenever I want.”

“And things just went sideways,” Cordellia said, groaning. “You two stop messing with him and let Jazzjak and Max get going.”

Max smiled at their elven archer. “You sure? I’d let you rub my head if you wanted.”

Her cheeks reddened, and Cordellia gave a hand gesture that sent the rest gathered in the room into tears and laughter.

“Be safe, Max,” Batrire said, patting his arm. “You know you’re my second favorite dwarf.”

“I do,” Max replied. “And you know you’re my favorite dwarf.”

“Hey!” Fowl protested, winking at Max.

“Give me a hug and get going,” Tanila said as she came toward Max, the rest of the group all giving them space.

Max moved toward his wife, wrapped his arms around her, and drew her close. She smelled of lavender, a scent that always reminded him of her.

“I love you,” Max whispered. “I’ll come back, I promise.”

He felt Tanila tighten for a moment as she hugged him a little harder. “I know. You always do.”

Giving her a quick kiss on the lips, Max moved to join Jazzjak, who was waiting by the portal area.

“See!” Cordellia exclaimed. “That’s how you kiss in public! Not making noises and trying to see who passes out first.”

Max chuckled and motioned to Jazzjak. “I’m ready.”

The vorpal rabbit nodded and pointed at the spot next to him. “We’ll be back soon.”

***

“Max… Can I just say… You don’t have to do this?” Jazzjak said once it was just Max and him in the waiting room for the fight. “You could still back out.”

Max put his hand on the shoulder being the system had given them. He squeezed and pretended to pick a bit of white fuzz off the perfect black suit Jazzjak wore.

“Listen, Jazzjak,” Max said. “Sometimes I think I should have asked what you wanted to be called or how you wanted to look. At the time, I got caught up in a stupid game of dwarf-donkey-beer and didn’t ask. Then I felt stupid later when the thought came to me that maybe I should. Another part of me experiences great joy when I see you. You remind me of a friend who sometimes acts just like you. He would be nervous, thinking I was crazy and that I didn’t have a chance. But like him, you’re also wrong. No matter what happens, no matter who I face in that arena, I’m coming back.”

Jazzjak stiffened slightly, and then his shoulders relaxed. “I hear you… It’s just… like you said, I value our friendship. I really do. A hundred years almost, and it’s like I’ve known you far longer. You still treat me… all of you treat me differently than I’ve ever been treated, and sometimes…” A few tears rolled down the white fur, escaping those ruby red eyes. “Sometimes it pains me to think I might lose one of you.”

Max nodded and thumped his own chest. “That pain you feel, right here. That means you love someone enough that losing them will hurt. But that doesn’t mean you can’t let them grow up, make their own choices, and possibly fall. Love doesn’t do that.”

His friend and help slowly bobbed his head, a single ear flopping over as Jazzjak did. “You’re right. I know it.” He cleared his throat. Jazzjak wiped the tears from his face and then took a deep breath. “Go win again, Max. Show all the gods who you are.”

Max laughed. “That’s what I’m talking about! Now then, I’m ready whenever they are.”

Jazzjak’s tablet appeared in those fur-covered paws, and he tapped once on it.

A shimmering white disc began to grow below Max’s feet.

We may have a chance of winning this after all.

You really think so?

After the performance you just put on about how we’re winning no matter what, yeah.

Undying Blood - Chapter 69

Chapter 69

“The Concord… you know of it?” Priscilla asked.

“Everyone knows of it,” Francis sighed, waving his hand. “Please do not speak like I am some child arriving at the Spires for the first time and learning the history of our kingdom.”

Priscilla nodded and frowned. “Forgive me. The Concord was a mistake and I wish it had never been done, but I understand the reason it was created. Do you truly understand my bond?”

Francis didn’t reply, taking the bottle and filling her cup, as well as the one she had offered him. He picked his up, swapping spots with hers, and sat back down, motioning to it.

Priscilla blinked and slowly took it, pupils illuminating for a second as she waved her fingers over the one he had given her.

“I–”

“Speak of your bond,” Francis growled. “Speak the truth and please do not waste the gods or my time any longer.” He set the cup down that he had taken from her and then returned to his seat, motioning for her to continue.

“The rogue mages… they wanted power and so they took it,” Priscilla said. “Many of our best and brightest died, yet Grandmaster Guiletta Linzam did nothing. She could have struck them down with ease and she didn’t. Abiding by some foolish pact the other grandmasters made so long ago. Even now if one rises to that rank, those who are still alive, hiding their presence from most seek them out and warn them of the consequences of their engaging in daily affairs.”

“Your bond. I need not a history lesson.” Francis groaned.

“Yes… so I was the one who agreed to serve the King and all who come after. In exchange, I was given power but for a price… a heavy price.”

Her eyes glanced down at the cup in her hands and she frowned.

“I serve two masters and one binds me more than the oath I swore to King William. I understand the need for balance and I also understand the power we, I… all mages have compared to those like the General or other warriors. Can you see the threads that bind me? Even now I feel them tightening as I speak of them, warning me not to–”

She gagged and winced, grabbing her throat and taking ragged breaths.

Holy crap! How bad can this be?

Francis felt his mind torn. He wasn’t sure if she was playing at something or if what he saw and believed was real was the truth. 

If she is an ally but bound by something and cannot break it, is there a way I could help break it?

He said nothing, keeping a bored look on his face. Francis watched as she recovered and took a drink.

“I… can’t say more. Just know that if the army falls, King Baxter will return safely to Caereenal.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of how you will get him there,” Francis said. “Many of the others though… won’t be as lucky. This plan to wait out the invading army and find a way to survive is ludicrous. You’ve heard the reports of the other kingdoms.”

Francis leaned forward, shaking his head. “You have no idea how dangerous what lies in the other kingdoms truly is. When one kingdom topples, they all will and the army that will march upon Caereenal will be far worse than anyone can imagine.”

“Yet I cannot change–” Priscilla stopped talking, holding her throat again.

Francis sighed as she recovered. His mind was racing, trying to connect all the pieces he had learned from his Spire visits to the moment now with Priscilla. 

Stenson should have some ideas. Still… if I press too hard, then I could reveal my weakness. All that I need is to die again, and we can do this whole dance over. The knowledge I’ve just gained will be a powerful motivator if it’s true.

“Sage Francis,” Priscilla’s voice called out.

He nodded, shaking his head and waving a hand. “Forgive me, something the gods showed me… I… it is hard to watch.”

Priscilla’s head turned slightly and he could see how she was studying him.

“Everyone fears death… well most,” Francis said. “Everyone except me. I don’t. I’ve seen my death and it is… gruesome. In fact, I’ve seen it so many times and it’s changed in so many ways that I want to laugh. Even now, threads are changing and the death I know will be different.”

“And why is that?” Priscilla asked, her left eyebrow raising slightly.

“Because I’m trying to decide if I want to travel to the Spires and speak with Avelis,” Francis replied. “Unfortunately, many in the capital do not want the truth of the situation here shared or spoken of to the students or others. Even worse is how many will be rather upset with me if they found out I helped prevent such a significant loss of lives yesterday. Avelis is quite fond of that spell that traps one in a bubble that makes it impossible to breath in. A horrible way for one to die.”

Francis chuckled as his words hit home again, a slight wince from the now broken mage.

“Oh, yes, as I mentioned, I have seen much,” he continued. “For now, I shall let you tend to your thoughts,” Francis said as he stood. “I’m always willing to listen and talk if you stop with the games, lies, and half-truths. Just know there are others in this camp who play a similar game and while you think all might be bound to the same rules, some are not. Oath or not, your position… is at risk.”

He bowed slightly, smiling as she reached out her hand for a second. Francis turned, leaving her sitting there in that state.

***

“I would torture her if I thought we could gain more, but Baxter would not allow it,” Stenson growled. “Still… to hear what she said, I believe she is telling the truth.”

“Because only the Kings and mages have ever seen the actual document that was signed and agreed upon?” Francis asked. 

The older man nodded, his frown growing with each bob of his head. “Mages are tricky things. Promises are… dangerous and oaths are far worse. You know that.”

Francis nodded, having seen how his father had used them on others before he and Michael had run away. That was why the contract they signed upon capture was so difficult. They swore to it, and all who ran away were eventually found. 

“So now what?” Francis asked. “Do I fight tomorrow? Hope to live? Head to the Spires and see what I can find out before I die a most likely horrible and painful death. Try to kill Avelis?”

A single chuckle came from the general.

“No… part of me would love for that to happen but I doubt even you could pull that feat off yet. I would struggle to do so against her unless I had the drop on her and even then… Avelis has many things in place.”

“So it's the perfect place to grow my abilities,” Francis said. “Even better, I could find out more about what she plans to do.”

“You’re a fool and a genius all at the same time,” Stenson said. “That logic is dead on but the problem is it requires you to die, no pun intended.”

“It’s okay, you’ve told it before and it lost its humor a hundred deaths ago.”

“Let’s see what happens in the next two days,” Stenson said. “I believe we can push Baxter to attack. You’ve never seen what happens next, right?”

“Nope,” Francis replied.

“Then let’s go from there. Next time you can go run headfirst into Avelis and see how many deaths you suffer before giving up.”

Rising, Francis nodded and moved toward the entrance of the general’s tent.

“I’m good at doing that,” Francis joked. “If dying were a skill, I’d be a sage at it.”

***

“I am unsure what to do,” Baxter said as he and Francis sat in a small, curtained area. “Talk like normal men… I’ve longed for that.”

“I know,” Francis replied with a wink. “I’m just someone who doesn’t care about politics or position. All I want is this war to be won, my brother to be saved and for you to return to the capital with as many soldiers behind you as possible. All that would make our kingdom safer.”

“That day is far from happening… even if we win,” the king replied. “We cannot sit by and do nothing while the other kingdoms languish under the assault of these creatures also.”

“Perhaps you can return home, and I can go and assist with that. After all, who knows what the gods have in store for me?”

“What kind of boy… man are you, Francis Lancaster?” Baxter asked. “I know your family and your father and the reputation of your household is…”

“Ugly? Dark? Dangerous? Deceitful?” Francis fired off answers. “Don’t hold back, I can find lots more D words to describe my father, none of which are appropriate in the company of women.”

“And yet we’re not in the company of women,” Baxter replied.

“No, we are not. But my father supplies the ore you need as well as what the Spire has been requesting. I cannot begin to fathom how much gold he has tucked away, not that it will do him any good if this army falls.”

“Gold… jewels. Titles, land,” the king said. “All these things people kill for, yet they provide nothing but more heartache. One must spend considerable time and resources to protect the very thing they worked so hard to acquire. Was the life you lived before you joined this army easier?”

“Joined or was forced through coercive magic to enlist?” Francis asked.

A slight grimace was his reply as Baxter shifted on his chair. “Yes… a necessary evil. Without it we wouldn’t be here today.”

“So enslaving a man to die… that is not a very honorable thing.”

Baxter grunted and scowled. “You do not understand what it means to be a king!”

The oversized fist came down on the small table, which held cups and a bottle of wine, cracking it and sending the objects tumbling to their new resting place on the rug.

“I don’t,” Francis replied. “Yet even though you know I could easily run away and defend myself for some time, I stay here and fight for the right reason. Not every man would say no, and those who chose to say yes on their own would be better fighters. 

“But I am not here to talk about politics or philosophies,” Francis continued. “I’m simply here to let you relieve some of the weight you carry. Most of what you would say I probably already know, but sometimes saying it out loud and getting things out still helps to ease the pain.”

Baxter scoffed and shook his head. “What could you know that would make me feel better to talk about?”

“You could talk of the awe you felt the first time you met a high priest or priestess and experienced the presence of a god. Or you could mention the lack of remorse the day you struck your brother down, having known for so long it was inevitable.”

The king’s eyes widened and his jaw loosened, so Francis continued.

“Talk about your wife and how you love her or her ability to cast a spell which detects when one is lying. Speak of–”

“Enough… You have proved your point,” Baxter called out. A sigh that could have blown away clouds came from the large man. “Some of those were great things… My wife… she is what helps keep me grounded and going forward every day. Like a shield in battle or a blanket on a cold night. She protects me and keeps me warm.”

Francis watched as Baxter gazed up at the ceiling, leaning back in his chair, putting his interlocked fingers on his chest.

“I remember the day I met her,” the king said softly, smiling. “There was no one else who tugged at my heart like she did. Ever since that moment, I knew she was the one I desired and through all this, Auri has helped me with every challenge. Even now she keeps me focused on this battle and helps me know who to trust by telling me who lies.”

Francis sat there silently, letting the king he felt sorry for get a moment of reprieve before Stenson and he pulled the noose tight. A part of him felt guilty knowing he was playing a man who needed this so that when they presented the plan to attack Baxter wouldn’t refuse.

Politics… games of deceit and lies… am I–

His heart missed a beat as he sat there, unnoticed by King Baxter who had closed his eyes, spilling forth what could be a sonnet of love for his wife.

Stenson… once he and his daughter used me. The Spire… Priscilla and this! 

His gut clenched and he wanted to curse and to scream. 

Everyone plays the game and those who tell you they don’t are the greatest players… I’ve been a fool. Stenson has held the strings for so many deaths and while I know he wants this war to end and the outcome to be in his favor… I think he sees me as a way to rid the world of the threat of the mages.

Francis sat there, smiling and nodding, occasionally making sounds of listening, the entire time reciting every curse word he knew at the man who had played with the most painful string of all.

If he calls me son again… 

It was hard not to fear a man you knew could kill you as easily as snapping a dry twig. But for Francis, there was no fear. Death didn’t have a hold on him.

Weekly update

It’s that terrible time and all stories when I tell you that a book is going to be ending this week and we will have one week off before I resume posting chapters.

Ultimate level one book 10 will end on the 24th and I will take a week off and then start posting the book 11 on the following Monday Nov 3rd. Book 10 will hit Amazon on November 6. After that, I’ll probably be on a five chapter week schedule for book 11.

I am finishing up some plotting points on My Time Loop, Story book too and then I’m gonna start writing book 2

When book 2 finishes on patron, I will take the week off like I did with ultimate level one and then start posting chapters book 2

I’ve got another month and a half or so before football season ends and my life will no longer have three football games a week

Thank you for the support!

UL1 - Book 10 - Chapter 66

Max found himself in a simple room that was similar to the ones he and the others met in back on his world. The only difference was the four large thrones, evenly spaced around a circular metal table.

“Please, take a seat,” Nerdok said as he motioned to one of the thrones. “Don’t worry, none of them will care, as they haven’t been here in decades.”

I knew it!

You never chose one.

Smiling, Max moved to the closest throne and studied it. This one was made of metals he had never seen. Seven different types of metal, all in long ropes, were twisted together, fused somehow and yet not, which created a seat that almost seemed to hover an inch above the stone floor.

“Do I have to?” Max asked as he ran a finger along the metal. “I have my own chair.”

“Suit yourself,” the older gnome said, his robe changing into a sparkling, skin-tight one-piece outfit. 

Unable to help it, Max winced as Bob laughed.

“Does this outfit cause you pain?” Nerdok asked, motioning to himself, light bouncing off the sparkly sections, hundreds of moving dots of light along the walls. “Forgive me, I’m not allowed to wear it outside of this area, and old habits.”

Wanting to breathe a sigh of relief, Max was thankful when Nerdok’s clothes returned to a simple robe.

“So, Max Hoste, what is it you need?” the gnome asked. “I was instructed to reward you from those I am a caretaker of. What kind of reward was left up to me within certain… limits.”

“You want the straight answer or the story on why I’m going to ask for something most will say no to?” Max asked. 

A smile appeared on Nerdok’s lips. “A long story? That would be… enjoyable. I haven’t had a really good one since the last time you visited.”

Chuckling, Max summoned two chairs from his dimensional storage and one near the round table, motioning for Nerdok to take it. 

“Drink?” Max asked. A pair of cups and a small green bottle of liquid were nestled in his hands.

“Max Hoste… I’ll have you know, I’m not that type of gnome… but if you keep this up, I could be,” Nerdok said, jumping up into the chair. 

Unsure if he should laugh or stay quiet, Max just poured a drink for himself and a double for Nerdok.

“So…” Max said. “I need to kill a god.”

***

Nerdok took another sip of the alcohol Max was continually pouring into the tiny gnome’s glass.

Where he puts all this… 

Four empty containers were on the table, and Nerdok was almost halfway through the fifth.

“That story was more enjoyable than you know,” the gnome said slowly. “A void god… I can understand your emissary’s hesitations about you fighting. Even though you feel you’re strong enough in some ways… I agree with, Jazzjak, was it?”

Max nodded.

“Jazzjak is right. The things you would need to even hope to damage one of them are beyond your current level.”

“So you’re saying I can’t do what I’m hoping for?”

Nerdok shook his head. “No, I’m not saying that, I’m saying it’s beyond your current level. What you are desiring is something that I believe only one of the four could make, and I’m not certain they would be willing to do so. Even for you.”

“And there’s no way for me to acquire the knowledge myself?” Max asked. “Or maybe point me in the right direction?”

“No,” Nerdok replied. “It’s more than just a skill or ingredients you need. The bomb you removed from our world was powerful, and it was a foolish venture even to try to create one where she did. No, the problem lies in where you’d have to create what you seek.”

“And where is that?” Max asked.

I swear, he reminds me of someone who knows the answer but wants to make me suffer to get to the point… and I can’t just grab him and shake him until he spits it out.

Bob’s laughter didn’t do much to lessen the frustration Max felt.

“So are you willing to help me at least try?” Max asked. “If not, I need to see if I can figure out another path?”

Nerdok took a long drink, finishing his glass, and then smacked his lips together. After that, the gnome set his glass on the table and leaned forward. “I will ask, but there is no guarantee they will even come before the time of your fight. You should consider walking away from this fight. I understand the dilemma of losing a world, but I also understand the dangers of fighting against a void god better than your helper does.”

A tablet appeared in Nerdok’s hands, and the gnome’s tiny fingers began moving with the same speed as Jazzjak’s when working. Soon, a screen appeared in the middle of the table. Four items were shown, two of which Max could kind of recognize from what he had learned back home.

“I can see it in your gaze,” Nerdok said. “You don’t know what you don’t know. These are the only four items I have ever witness that did any damage to a void god. The first you see is what you are seeking.”

Max nodded, his eyes fixated upon the small, round ball of metal with runic lines that seemed to absorb light even through the image that displayed it.

“This is a black hole bomb. Extremely rare and feared by gods everywhere. One doesn’t typically walk away from one of these.”

The gnome chuckled suddenly and then laughed. After he stopped, Nerdok cleared his throat. “Forgive me… a… gnome crafting joke. I can tell you on two hands how many of these I know about, and I can tell you that rumors of having one give many gods a free pass in some ways. There are tiers; they become less dangerous, but you’re not in that category yet. Any god with a few points in intelligence would avoid conflict against one of these.”

Nerdok pointed at the second item, which looked like large spikes with a flat end. They pulsed with a weird purple color.

“Those are known as void nails,” Nerdok stated. “The problem is you have to drive them into the void god you are facing. Getting close is painful, as is avoiding their attacks. But if you can manage to sink a few of those into the god, you’ll have them begging for mercy.”

“What do they do?” Max asked.

The gnome shrugged. “Don’t know, just know about them and witnessed them being used once in a tier 4 fight. Where you get those, I don’t know, and no one wants to tell. That coil you see which looks like wire, is usually called a system leash. I’ve heard of one being used. Ugly things, from what I was told. It would work on a void god, or any god, but where one acquires them from, I have no idea.”

A tiny finger pointed at the last object on the display. A box covered in runes spun slowly. The dull brown metal had seams all over, where red or yellow light seemed to try to break loose from.

“That right there is about 1,000,000,000,000,0000 DP,” Nerdok said slowly. “One quadrillion.”

“That’s… so gods spend that kind of DP on a single item?” Max asked. “What does it do?”

Nerdok started to laugh and shrugged. “Beats me. All I know is another god killed a tier 12 void god with one. They also destroyed about a hundred worlds that didn’t belong to them. Some kind of chain reaction object. There’s only one of them, and no one but the system knows who has it.”

That kind of power seems… foolish to allow gods to purchase. Especially if it could take out a god of that power.

“Would something like that be able to injure one of the Nine?”

Nerdok winced, two silver eyes darting around the room as if he were searching for something. “We don’t talk like that… it isn’t smart to speak out loud one’s ideas on that. If you want to have those kinds of talks, you’ll have to reach the home of the Archons. Only there can you speak without fear of being heard.”

Max felt his heart beat just a little faster as his mind raced down a hundred paths at that statement. “You’re saying that other gods, potentially those we won’t talk about, can listen in to conversations my friends and I have?”

“Possibly,” Nerdok said. “So please do not discuss them at all.”

“The whole name the god and it gets their attention thing?” Max asked.

“Basically, yes,” Nerdok replied. “Now, back to why you’re here and what you want. I’ll ask if I can acquire what you seek. Just know I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“Any ideas how long I might have to wait to find out?” Max asked. “I’m kind of on the clock here.”

Nerdok shrugged. “No. That is the nature of the ones I serve. They may come, or they may not. All I can do is send them a request.”

Max nodded, trying not to lose hope or allow frustration to sink in. “I guess I’ll wait. Can I borrow Fipple while I’m here?”

A silver eyebrow rose. “Why would you want to torture that poor dwarf? He’s getting past that age where a good scare might just make his heart give out.”

Max chuckled and shrugged. “I’ll behave, I promise.”

***

Fipple finally caught his breath as he lay flat on his stomach, glancing down at the city below, his pink beard flapping in the wind that blew across Max’s dimensional space.

“You… weren’t kidding. We’re so… high.” The dwarf gasped.

“And no one but you gets to see this,” Max said, his feet dangling over the edge. “Tell me, what’s a hundred years been like for you?”

Fipple coughed and slowly made his way to the edge and sat like Max was, both eyes growing larger by the second. “Uh… fast? Slow? Long? What kind of answer are you wanting?”

Max shrugged. “I’m just trying to understand what it’s like, living as long as you do, seeing the world below pass by. How many dwarves, gnomes, and goblins have you seen grow old and die? How do you handle that kind of pain?”

Fipple’s eyes narrowed, and Max could sense the intensity of the gaze.

“You asking for personal reasons or something else?”

“Both,” Max answered. “I’m watching people I’ve invested in and nurtured pass away. I know more are coming, and I am well aware that I will watch many more grow old and pass away. I just thought I’d ask you that question.”

“Did you ask Nerdok?” Fipple whispered.

“No,” Max replied. “I considered it, but if he’s anything like the one on my world, I’m not sure the answer he gave would work for me. You’ve lived less time. You’re invested. I’m still new to this and thought I’d ask my older friend what it was like.”

Fipple chuckled before puffing out his chest. “Older friend… I like that… I wish I had a better answer, but you kind of get used to it. It was hard when I lost my Grams and Gramps. They were old, bitter, hilarious dwarves, but time got ’em. The funeral was nice. I did meet a cousin there, but we didn’t hit it off after the third date, so I…” Fipple stopped talking, his cheeks going red as Max bit his lips. “Uh… sorry, rambling there. Forget the whole cousin thing.”

Max nodded. “Forgotten.”

Oh no, we will never forget that.

Clearing his throat, Fipple stared off across the sky. “One day I’ll die. I know it. I just hope when it comes, I can look back and say my life was worth it. If I can say that, then I’ll have no regrets.”

Max clapped a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder, gripping it as Fipple lurched backward.

“Sorry,” Max said. “Forgot we were up here.”

Undying Blood - Chapter 68

Chapter 68

“Tell him,” Stenson said when only the three of them remained in the tent.

“Feels kind of wrong to share my secret but I won’t argue,” Kels sighed.

Francis watched as the young man took a deep breath and let it out, a serious expression replacing his constant cheerful one.

“I have a Legendary skill… it gives me a boost to everything I practice.”

“Just say the name,” Stenson said.

Kels snorted and shook his head. “If it weren’t you, I’d say something ugly but since it is… my skills name is Physical Fast Learner. I gain physical skills at five times the normal rate.”

“Holy….” Francis found himself unable to finish his comment, jaw hanging open as he stared at Kels. 

He has the same skill that I have almost!

“That is how he has managed to become the warrior that he is,” Stenson said. “It is also why I do not risk him often. His potential is… greater than most. If the fool continues to obey and does not make some of the mistakes I did, he will surpass me long before his hair turns gray like mine did.”

“And then what, you’ll expect me to carry on your legacy?” Kels asked. “I mean, it’s bad enough everyone already thinks you’re training me to marry your daughter.”

The general blew a raspberry and then frowned. “You and I both know she would not agree to that.”

Francis watched as the pair chuckled and studied them, trying to figure out what he was missing, but neither man commented further.

“So in a hundred years, you’d be what?” Francis asked.

“He might be a grandmaster if he stays at it and we survive this war,” Stenson replied. “Still, to achieve that at his age is exceptional. I believe we have discussed how some individuals acquire skills that significantly alter the course of their lives. I found him doing things boys his age shouldn’t be able to. His father was very protective of him and after assuring the man I had no ill intentions, I enrolled him in the Spires.”

“And ever since that ill-fated day I’ve been labeled as this man’s protege,” Kels said. “Though it could be worse. I’d probably be the best woodworker in the kingdom by now otherwise.”

“How… how does one acquire a skill like that?” Francis asked, still having not shared the truth about him having a similar one.

“Fate, the gods, luck, no one knows,” Stenson replied. “Some are born with it. Our records and history indicate that it almost exclusively occurs in those born within the first three of a family. Perhaps there have been one or two outside those first three born within the past two thousand years.”

“And that’s why the first three are the only ones given a place in the kingdom,” Francis muttered. 

“Perhaps you will change that,” Kels said. “For a ninth son to have what you do and to change the current path we are on in this war, it will send ripples through what some believe is a–”

“Stop.” Stenson’s tone and glare cut the knight off. “We both know what kind of problems will come if anyone catches a whisper of you speaking that way.”

“Why is it so bad to talk about?” Francis asked.

Both men remained silent and finally the general broke first. “The other kingdoms–”

“Don’t believe that, I know,” Francis finished.

For the briefest moment, an eyebrow rose before the older man’s face returned to its stony expression. “Ours is not like that. We have fought, bled, died and killed to keep a system which focuses on a few. If you wish to continue this discussion, we will need to return to my tent. There are stronger wards in place to prevent… prying ears from hearing things that shouldn’t be heard.”

“Well, I’m done here,” Francis said. “Besides having somewhere else to go, I’m not going to gain any more points in my skills.”

“And here I was hoping to have more fun,” Kels teased.

“Oh, to be young and have two arms,” Stenson said.

Francis and Kels looked at each other, neither laughing until the older man gave a slight grin.

***

“Sit, please,” Priscilla said, motioning to a chair near hers.

Francis moved toward the offered seat, his eyes studying the place the mage called her home on the battlefield. It was filled with luxurious rugs, paintings, multiple tables, and chairs. He could see there was another section tucked away behind more tent flaps.

A hint of smoke and the scent of incense filled the air, but Francis could also detect multiple threads of magic surrounding the tent, unlike any other he had been in. 

This thing has way more wards and who knows what else than Stenson’s.

Pricilla sat in an ornate, padded chair with red fabric and what looked like green gems lining the outer edges before dark, black wood provided the frame. Francis’ chair was a little smaller and less ornate, featuring only silver and gold trim around the edge of the fabric, rather than gems.

“Drink?” she asked.

He shook his head as Priscilla motioned to the bottle near her half-filled crystal glass. 

A pair of blue eyes sparked as she stared at him. She had a slight smile on her face that looked almost playful, but Francis knew it hid power and danger behind it.

She shrugged and picked up her cup, taking a drink and licking her lips with her tongue before setting the glass down.

“I wonder, Sage Francis, if you could tell me exactly when you acquired this gift from the gods you have.”

He felt the presence of something settling on his mind. There weren’t threads that he could see, just an overwhelming aura and force that tried to ply its way inside his head.

[ Mental Resist Successful ]

Her face didn’t react, but he did, leaning forward and shaking his head.

“Do you always try to use a spell on someone you’ve invited to visit?” Francis asked.

Slowly, Priscilla moved her head up and down. “Call it a test. Those who are worthy to be in here need to possess a certain level of power. It appears you do. Now then, will you answer my question?”

“I remember the day well,” Francis replied with a grin.

As he spoke tiny threads, similar to the ones he watched the queen use on the platform, except thicker and radiating more power, began to wrap around him.

Wanting to prove a point, he flared against it, fighting with his skill, watching as the mage winced, leaning back in her chair before scowling.

“The gods do not like it when you pry with something they have given,” Francis growled. “I would be careful of what you try to cast on me lest you find yourself on the wrong side of their favor.”

Both pupils flared with a magical power and Francis watched as the woman’s fingers twitched.

A standoff took place as he glared at her. The face Francis had practiced on Derrek many times was unwavering, and Pricilla looked like a predator, ready to pounce and attack.

“You… have a very nasty ability,” she said slowly. “For the gods to have granted you that and the other is… a sign of their favor.” Pricilla’s tone changed with those last five words, and the light in her eyes faded. “Forgive me, and may the gods forgive me as well. I have seen many attempts to rise to power, claiming things they are not worthy of. It would appear that you are.”

He waved his hand at her words. Leaning back in his chair, Francis studied her face and he believed it was the look of well-practiced penance. “So if you believe that, how does what you wanted to talk about change?”

Priscilla smiled and sat upright. “You seem very familiar with a game most don’t learn for many more years and even more alarming is that you are the ninth son. Landon would be… surprised to find out that such a thing has come from his bloodline so late in life. I wonder how your father would feel if it were your brother, Michael is it, who had your gifts.”

Francis’ hand gripped the wooden arm and for a moment, he wondered if it would snap under the force he held on with. “I wouldn’t worry about what my father thinks or use my brother as something to bargain with. Threats do not bode well with me, and I remember those foolish enough to do so.”

She scoffed and shook her head. “Do you realize who I am?”

Francis nodded, leaning forward, mimicking the smile he had seen his father wear whenever he was about to do something evil. “I would ask the same question, Priscilla Obsterano. Mage bound to the throne. One who was there at the signing of the Concord. Bound to act to save the King but not required or forced to lend aid to this battle unless you wish it.”

Francis paused a second, glaring at the mage before him. “You don’t know what I have been shown and know. And before you do that,” he said, watching her eyes light up immediately, “remember that if your spell fails. I’m right here, and no one will make it in time to save you. I’m the one who waded deep into the army and slaughtered them as an offering. I’m the one who returned covered in their blood. I am also the one who told the King to act, saving even more lives.”

Francis paused, watching the struggle Priscilla seemed to be experiencing due to his words. He could sense a buildup of power inside her that felt like it wanted to escape.

With one last prepared card to play, Francis struck. “And I know that there are many who would prefer if the king lost this war.”

Her arm twitched slightly, yet no threads came as her face paled. Her eyes widened as the light within dimmed slightly.

“What… what do you know?” Pricilla asked, her voice sounding weak.

Francis wanted to laugh but Stenson had warned him not to. There was a fine line he was walking and the older man had given him advice for this moment. Francis could only push so far before she pushed back and if he said something that didn’t ring true or went against what she knew to be true, Francis’ status as a true Sage who saw things would vanish like the dew under the hot sun.

“Not all things will be shared,” Francis said, “but if you want knowledge, you must be willing to answer some things for me. I won’t tell you if you lie but I will know. Just as I am aware of Avelis and her current plans for the Spire. She loves to use the same trick of forcing people to speak and share things they would most likely not want to. I could talk about those god-awful, ugly purple couches. Her room also makes this place pale in comparison due to the gaudy art and trinkets she displays.”

A slight opening appeared in Priscilla’s lips as her jaw loosened, not enough to be considered a true gape, but Francis could see that his words had struck a chord.

“Stenson could have–”

“Stenson has never been in her room,” Francis replied, cutting her off. “You know that. I know that. Do not toy with me, Priscilla. Either attack me and see what happens or dismiss the magic you hold ready to unleash. I will not play your game, nor will I be some puppet you think to yank my strings around and make me do your bidding. I may be young but know that the one who sits before you has seen things that would make most people in this kingdom beg for the sweet embrace of death.”

Seconds ticked by in silence and then the light vanished from her eyes.

“Good. Now then, tell me,” Francis said. “One chance. Lie and when we are done, know that I will give you no inclination of whether I know it or not. Also know that if you attempt to cast a spell at my back while I leave, you'd best make sure it is more than a simple one of fire and that you pour every ounce of magic you have into killing me because trust me, you won’t make it out of here alive if you do.”

The way she had been sitting this entire time shifted. Her shoulders sagged just slightly, and her proud, stiff back became a little bent.

“I… I will answer truthfully,” Priscilla said.

“We shall see,” Francis replied.

UL1 - Book 10 - Chapter 65

Max felt the world shift after having traveled to a planet he had forgotten about. Knowing the rules of the place, he immediately stepped off the platform he was on, spotting a bald gnome with spectacles looking ready to shout at him.

Moving to the side, he found a bald dwarf and a hairy goblin standing nearby, both wearing orange jumpsuits, talking about lunch choices.

“Excuse me,” Max said, holding out a card. “Where are the ones I need to check in with?”

“Bah, can’t you see we’re discussing important things!” the dwarf exclaimed. “Find your own way and bugger off!”

Shaking his head, Max ignored the glares both of them were giving him.

To your left, that dwarf over there is giving you the nasty look.

They all have a nasty look on their faces. Don’t any of them ever smile?

Max moved to where a pair of dwarves stood, each with a tight suit featuring metal frames that ran along the outer edges like seams.

“Bout time you got over here,” the dwarf said. “Now give me your paperwork and tell me why you’re here!”

Max handed over the card, admiring the tri-colored beard. Even though he wasn’t a fan of the orange, green, and white combination, the dwarf did pull it off well.

“I’m here to collect a reward from Council Members Oleens and Raszu.”

“Uh–” the dwarf said, his throat catching as he stared at Max and quickly brought the card he had given near the tablet he held. All color vanished from the tanned dwarf’s skin, and Max moved quickly, catching the dwarf who had just fainted.

“Hey! What’s goin on over there!?” a goblin in a mechanical suit called out as it clanged its way over. “Do you know the penalty for assault?”

“He passed out,” Max replied, not flinching as another goblin joined the first; the pair looked quite impressive in their seven-foot-tall mech armor, as they had called it the last time. “I simply told him I was here to collect a reward from Council Members Oleens and Raszu. It was after that he passed out.”

Two pairs of bushy eyebrows rose on green skin as the duo of goblins glanced at each other and then at him.

“Who did you say you are?” the goblin asked. 

“I didn’t, but I’m guessing if you scan the card this dwarf dropped it will tell you everything you need to know.”

A small crowd was gathering, and Max was certain there were a few dwarves and goblins making bets as coins exchanged hands after the pointing of fingers.

Max bent down, picked up his card, and held it out toward the goblin. “Go ahead. Scan it.”

The goblin grunted, his robotic fingers nimbling, taking the card from Max, and raised it to the mechanical chest. A display appeared before the goblin, and Max was almost certain this one might pass out too from the light shade of green his skin became.

“Oh… for… forgive me, honorable one!” the goblin stammered. “Please… this way. We have a room for one like you!”

Groans came from some of the onlookers as coins changed hands. Max nodded, following the goblin as his mech suit stomped across the metal floor.

This should be fun. Seems they haven’t forgotten us.

I would almost be insulted if they had.

***

The sound of a door sliding open made Max turn, his eyes landing on a familiar dwarf, even if the beard was colored different than the first time they had met.

“Max!” the dwarf shouted, coming toward him, a giant smile on his face, teeth appearing between a pink beard. “You’re back!”

“Fipple,” Max replied, standing and moving to meet and shake hands with the dwarf. “You look good! New beard color?”

“Bah, this old thing?” Fipple said, preening a little bit before winking. “It’s a perk of the new position. I’m enjoying the easy life. Got me a fancy office and may retire soon. It’s good to see you! Someone mentioned there was a commotion earlier, and when I saw your name pop up, I might have laughed so hard I needed a minute to breathe. Now, before I take you to the council hall, what are you really here for? Ready to destroy another compound?”

Pretending to be hurt, Max smiled. “Me? I’m as gentle as a baby… unless you take my bottle and then I get worked up. No, I’m here to collect on the reward I was promised for saving the planet and to ask for some help crafting something. I’m kind of in a time crunch.”

Fipple frowned for a moment, bobbing his head. “You always seem to be in a time crunch. But you humans usually are. Short lives and all. Do you want to tell me what you need before you stand in front of everyone else, so I can tell you if it’s possible or not?”

Max nodded since they were alone in the room. “I need to build a bomb, similar to the one that Nimyn built and I defused. Except I need it to be able to work against a void god.”

Fipple’s jaw opened, and the dwarf’s mouth moved, no words coming forth for a few seconds. “You… you want… to build… a bomb? But worse… than that other one?”

“I don’t know if I’d say worse, but I want to ask how your world keeps from being attacked. I suppose there are at least three gods who ensure that doesn’t happen. Surely, with all the technology your world possesses and the history of weapons you’ve built, you all must have something like that here.”

“I… I don’t know if our gods would even consider it,” Fipple said. “Even though they owe you… what you’re asking for is dangerous. I mean… we’re talking, destroying a whole system of planets, maybe more.”

Frowning, Max shook his head. “I believe there is a way, I just need to talk with someone who specializes in those kinds of things.”

A frown formed on Fipple’s beard and the dwarf sucked in his lower lip, chewing on the pink hair. “Maybe… we’ll see. By the way, you do realize it’s been almost a hundred years since you were here. Councilwoman Oleens is no longer with us, yet her name does carry weight if someone mentions her. You may need to prove yourself to the new Goblin Chairwoman. None of the ones who were in charge when you… saved us… are the same.”

“Well at least they remembered that I had been promised a reward,” Max replied. “I guess I don’t have a choice but to meet the new ones and see if they are willing to help me.”

“And you’re not going to vanish on me like last time suddenly, are you?” Fipple asked. “I don’t want to be responsible for you destroying buildings and homes again.”

“Me?” Max asked, pretending to be innocent. “I wouldn’t think about doing that again.”

***

This is the most ostentatious place I have ever seen. Tell me it must be a goblin thing.

I cannot guess what goblins do, yet the memory you carry of the goblin in the yellow tutu is enough to make me believe that perhaps it is a racial thing.

Max stood in a giant half-circle room. Nine stone thrones, each twelve feet tall, were set in groups of three. Two dwarves in flowing robes sat upon theirs, their boots dangling a few feet from the floor. One seat was empty, but a screen, where someone would sit, showed a third dwarf occasionally looking up before their eyes focused on something in the room they sat. Two of the gnome seats had screens, and only one gnome was present. The older-looking gnome stroked a red beard as his eyes rested on Max. The bright purple and pink robe he wore clashed with the choice of colors for his facial hair.

All three goblins were present. The three women wore robes with a variety of colors that almost made Max’s eyes hurt to look at, as the patterns seemed to swirl together. The only thing worse was the giant poster that hung above the throne, showcasing the three of them, each ten feet wide, with their winning smiles.

“What in the gods is that?” Max whispered to Fipple.

“The banners? Oh, they won this year’s wager, so they get to have ’em,” his dwarf escort replied. “Those are tame compared to the ones the gnomes had last year.”

“Tame?” Max said, eyeing the banners again.

“Oh, very much so,” Fipple stated. “Now then, give us a moment, and they should start soon.”

It appears we are not worthy of all their presence, though I wonder if some might be afraid to come here in person.

That would explain the four robotic warriors similar to the ones that escorted them last time we met some of the Council members. Still, I am curious what our reward is. Fipple said he had no idea. 

He does seem excited, though. The way he talked about his job sounded like he was bored, and he was happy to be summoned, even if it was to assist you in all this.

One day I might get offended that helping me might be dangerous. I did save the world from a racist gnome. That should surely earn points for thousands of years.

A small door swung open off to the side, and a very tiny gnome entered the room. Max and the others watched as the older gnome slowly made their way toward him, plain grey robes swishing as he walked.

“That’s the speaker,” Fipple whispered. “He’s really old.”

“I’m not so old I can’t hear you talking about me,” the gnome snapped. “Now be silent or leave. This isn’t a place for you to talk.”

Max sensed Fipple straighten immediately, the dwarf standing like he was frozen and unable to bend.

“Max Hoste,” the older gnome said as it continued to draw close. “Your name is written down in a book that used to only contain the names of those who dwell here. Tell me, are you ready for your reward?”

Max waited until the older gnome got within about five feet and nodded. “I am. Though if I’m honest, I came for a different reason than the reward.”

A silver eyebrow rose as the tiny gnome looked up at Max. “A different reason? Do you seek to open trades? You should know that it isn’t possible, as you don’t have a portal system set up on your world. It appears you used a skill to reach us.”

Max heard the council members who were present shift in their seats, none of them saying a word yet.

“I do have a skill that allows me to travel between worlds,” Max said. “I chose to appear on the portal rather than elsewhere because I didn’t want to cause any problems like the last time I was here.”

“You destroyed a family line!” the gnome councilman shouted.

A small staff appeared in the older gnome’s hand, and he banged it once against the floor, the sound of it echoing around the room. Whoever had just spoken snapped their jaws shut, and every other councilmember present sat a little more upright in their chair.

I’m glad we’re both thinking the same thing.

Yes, it would appear that we have met the real power in this world. 

Want to bet if he’s an emissary or god? 

A laugh echoed inside Max’s head.

You sound like Sog used to. There is nothing we could bet besides bragging rights, and we both know you’d never admit to the others I was right.

“Forgive me,” Max said as he kneeled. “I’m just wondering. Are you the emissary for this world or one of the gods that protects it?”

A grin slowly appeared on the older gnome’s face. “It appears you’re smarter than I had given you credit for. My name is Nerdok. Come, let us go elsewhere to chat. These nine will be nothing but trouble if we stay here.”

Undying Blood - Chapter 67

Chapter 67

“So… you weren’t lying,” Michael said, grinning like a fool.

Francis finished chewing the bite of food in his mouth and nodded at his brother. “Remember how I promised you what would happen with those two women and the life you would be living?”

“Well, yeah, but I mean who's to say this isn’t a dream?” his brother asked.

“Do you want me to kick you in the crotch and try to wake you up?” Francis replied.

His brother laughed and shook his head, waving his fork, which still held food waiting to be eaten. “No… please don’t, it’s sore enough down there already, but in a good way,” Michael replied. “I… I just can’t believe your stats and your skills are where they are. All that time we spent training and I’m still stuck in the basic and novice side for most things.”

And I’m still not telling you the real truth.

Part of him felt a little guilty at not sharing everything, but the other part had witnessed Michael singing like a bird when under the influence of magic. Francis wasn’t certain who in camp might have that ability, so he lied about his stats and skills. If someone did try to acquire knowledge that way, they would learn quickly they were not as prepared as they hoped. The early loops Michael had been the anchor that pulled back some of the memories he had lost. Each memory regained helped Francis hold on to who he was. The knowledge that the parasite or whatever it was had that ability to devour his own memories was a scary thing.

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” Francis replied. “Still, the General said he would keep you safe. I’m certain Bella and Lucy will continue to seek you out.”

“Well, of course,” Michael replied, motioning to himself. “Who wouldn’t want to keep coming back to this?”

Rolling his eyes, Francis continued to eat. 

He wasn’t as hungry as he thought he might be. His endurance helped to minimize hunger, but the truth was he enjoyed eating. There had been far too many days when neither of them ate much, and nothing had ever tasted this good in the last six years. So he stuffed himself because he could and because it gave him some time to think while spending it with his brother.

“Any idea on what happens next?” Michael asked.

Francis shook his head, finishing off the last bite on his plate. “No. We’ll have to wait and see. Part of me thinks we should attack as soon as possible. The other part of me wants to see how long we have before they attack us.”

“Well, now that I’m officially a lover and not a fighter,” Michael sighed. “I guess I’ll leave that up to you and the rest of those people who make big decisions. I don’t think I can…”

His brother paused and Francis knew what he was thinking about having heard him mention it in a different loop.

“They’re gone,” Francis whispered. “Henry, Gregory, all of them. If I could have saved them, I would. I even asked Stenson and he said that removing our whole group would cause problems, not because of the loss of men and warriors but explaining why a certain group was absent. The worst part is I don’t know if them not being on the battlefield would cause something else to happen. Right now, I just need to focus on keeping as many things as I can consistent and perhaps later I’ll get a chance to save them.”

Michael bobbed his head a few times, staring at the food on his fork. He sighed and set it down. “Just makes me think about how crazy all this is. You and I… we would have been out there and dead like them.”

“But we’re not,” Francis said, tapping the table to get Michael’s attention. “Look at me. We’re not. No matter what happens, I’m going to ensure you live.”

“But I don’t always live. You already told me that.”

It was his turn to sigh and Francis shrugged.  “That was also your idea, Michael. I’m caught in this vicious cycle. Save you, don’t get as strong. Abandon you, get stronger. Even now I’m… not strong enough to change things enough.”

“Please,” Michael snorted. “Somewhere on the other side of that battlefield is an army of beasts all telling nightmares about the naked man who slaughtered so many and ran off to fight again.”

Both of them laughed for a moment before Francis pushed his chair back and stood.

“I need to go. I’ve got some things to do.”

“Don’t mind me,” his brother said, stretching and groaning. “I’ll just sit here and experience what true living is. You go and save the world, alright?”

Giving his brother the middle finger, Francis made his way toward the tent flap, ready for what was about to come next.

As Francis left a pair of guards nodded at him.

Stenson really went overboard putting these men here. They aren’t lightweights like the ones outside Vella’s tent.

Francis moved through the camp, those who recognized him giving bows and he struggled with the sensation of having people fawning over him. Even after the time at the Spires, this was different. These were grown men, hardened by battle and yet they looked at him as some figure that inspired. Francis could see it in their eyes as each one nodded and acknowledged his presence.

There was a sense of pride that came with the realization of earned respect. The fawning of a few lesser nobles who looked past his birth order and recognized his power felt cheap. Francis didn’t believe those nobles had earned anything. Luck had placed them as one of the first three sons. Positions that had given them the chance to be where they were. Sure, they trained hard, but since the day they entered this world, their lives had been laid out to be in the Spires.

But these soldiers around Francis were not like them. Almost every one of the warriors present was born after the third. He knew some officers had a higher birth order, but the warriors still alive after yesterday's battle earned everything they had through blood, sweat and sacrifice.

They received a nod back and Francis held his head high. He made his way through the maze of tents, arriving at the one he knew held the next part of this loop.

Inside was Kels, shirtless once more, the man’s body moving through motions he recognized more every time. He could see the balance and flow as the knight bent low, weapon ready. A few seconds passed and then Kels moved, a flurry of upward and outward strikes moving so quickly, Francis wasn’t sure he could follow them all. Five rising and outward slashes, each flowing from the man’s wrists and elbows, with no threads visible, didn’t indicate which way the blade would go.

“Sage Francis, welcome,” Kels said.

Francis chuckled as the blond-haired man turned, flashing a smile before moving across the square section.

“The Way of the Shifting Seasons… very nicely done.”

Kels stopped his advance, eyes widening and blinking rapidly, locked upon him. “You… know of it or know it?”

Chuckling, Francis shook his head. “I wish I knew it, but alas, I do not. Still, you appear to have that one move down rather well. Stenson must be proud.”

A few coughs came as his training partner and teacher started walking again, head shaking slightly. “I… I wish I could say that I did, but the truth is I haven’t mastered that one technique yet. There are supposed to be seven strikes, and I cannot accomplish them all in the allotted time. Perhaps one day I will get it and then the General will grant me another lesson to spend hours practicing every day for years.”

“No one complains that you spend that much time practicing?” Francis asked, surprised to hear such a thing.

“My… position grants me some perks, but the truth is the General is far too kind and does not require me to do other tasks within the camp,” Kels replied, stepping outside the square training area and giving a slight bend of his neck. “He sponsored me to attend the Spires even though I come from a family that could not afford such a thing. So I dedicated my life to becoming what he wanted me to be.”

“And what is that?” 

“You would have to ask him,” Kels said, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat off his body. “Sometimes I think I know but that answer seems… beyond me. Still I do everything I can to pay back the debt I owe for the life Stenson has given me. Even if it means dying or training every person he sends my way.”

“Including Sages who run around the battlefield naked and covered in blood?” Francis asked.

The young man’s laughter filled the tent as he grinned. “My men were a little hesitant to allow you to approach but I couldn’t resist finding out if that was really you. The General told me what you were doing and I’ll admit it seemed… foolish, yet there you stood, buck naked, sword and shield in hand and covered in blood.”

“I do try to make an entrance.”

“And that you did. Now tell me, are you serious about wanting to test each other?”

“I am, though I suggest we send for Dawn and perhaps another healer? Even though I know I’ll probably lose, I’d rather not have you get in trouble for killing me.”

“A wise plan,” Kels replied. “Give me a moment to summon her.”

***

The sound of metal on metal filled the tent as their swords connected again and again.

Every time Francis felt he might land a blow, Kels showed his true potential. Only once had Francis landed a sneak attack using Riposte and Quick Attack simultaneously. Since then the knight didn’t hold back.

This bastard held back even when we dueled the first time. He was never in danger and just let me believe I was that good!

A smile never left the knight’s lips as they danced around the square, drops of blood falling from the cuts on Francis’ arms and legs. None were deep, just enough for him to know that had Kels wanted to injure him, it would have happened.

Every attack that came at Francis was so fast that by the time he sensed a thread the blade was upon him, unable to be diverted as they fought at his skill level.

Stenson’s eyes felt heavy upon his back, the older man having joined Dawn in coming to the tent.

“You’re not paying attention!” Kels called out. 

Francis grunted as Kels’s sword darted forward, nicking his chest, drawing blood and pulling back before he could counterattack.

He breathed, maintaining his balance and tried to stop predicting attacks like Francis had the beastkin. His weapon skill was far above those animals and that was why he could easily read them. 

Dozens of more cuts came and Francis endured them, waiting for it, praying it would come. Slowly but surely, his body was covered in blood, and Francis knew Stenson was waiting to see what happened when he got low enough.

Finally, Death’s Dance answered the call as his vitality dropped beyond the halfway point.nPower surged through him, and Francis held back, trying not to tip his hand as he had done before against the beasts.

Kels’s eyes narrowed slightly, so Francis went for it, not yet revealing the power, but trying to keep the knight off guard.

[ Quick Attack ]

[ Power Strike ]

His sword’s path adjusted, yet the Knight’s blade intercepted the new path, forcing it away, allowing Kels to punch at him.

Francis blocked it and moved back, the dance continuing as the power swelled within.

When a third of his health remained, Francis went all out.

[ Power Strike ]

[ Quick Attack ]

Three times in a row, Francis activated Riposte, managing to stop Kels’s attempt to counter him, their blades grinding against each other. He could feel the force of the knight’s strength as they fought and just when Francis believed the third strike would land, Kels showed just a little more of his ability.

Francis’ sword twisted in his hand, from the strike that came, and then four quick strikes from the knight struck him in the chest, each one sinking deeper than before.

“Stop!”  The general’s voice boomed throughout the tent, and Kels danced backward before Francis could react, bobbing his head but never lowering his sword.

“Fools,” Dawn muttered.

“Well done, well done! I’m unsure what ability you used, but the power added to those last three attacks was impressive!” Kels exclaimed. “For a moment, I’d almost think you advanced to the elite tier of sword play but I can tell you’re on the cusp. No wonder you were able to toy so easily with those beastkin.”

“And yet you’re still holding back, aren’t you?” Francis asked, waiting for the healing Dawn would provide.

“No more than when Stenson grants me a chance to experience what you just did,” the knight replied. “Trust me, I’ve used more of my true ability against you than I have in a while. You actually made me use a skill I rarely show.”

The general cleared his throat and both men nodded, driving their swords into the ground before turning toward the older man. “Francis… I am impressed. Your skills are exceptional.”

“Sage Francis would be a great candidate for the Spires but I’m not certain what they would teach him,” Kels said. “I don’t think I was near the same level as he is when I left.”

Stenson nodded slowly, biting just the tiniest part of his lip. “It is true. A few might teach him a couple more tricks, but you have an advantage Francis is unaware of,” the general replied. 

Francis watched as both men stood there, neither saying a word.

“Alright, I’m done,” Dawn muttered. “I’ll be outside and you can call me in when you’re ready. It doesn’t take a genius to know you won’t talk in front of me.”

“You always were a smart one,” Kels said.

“Always with a kind word toward me. Some might think you like me,” the healer replied.

Francis and Stenson both laughed as the slightest hint of red ruined the knight’s perfect complexion.

UL1 - Book 10 - Chapter 64

Max stared at the name displayed on the screen. He could feel the looks everyone was giving him. 

“Why do I feel like something is different than usual?” Jazzjak asked. “Is it because we’re just a month or two from you all being here a hundred years? Or perhaps of the party in the tower, that—”

“It’s the name,” Max said, cutting their helper off. “I’ve faced him… Well, I didn’t fight him, but he’s the one I surrendered to when I was the champion of Igarra’s world.”

Jazzjak’s eyes widened, and the vorpal bunny turned his head slowly.

Max could see their helper wince as he saw the tightened eyes and lips of all the other gods.

“Why would he challenge you again? For an easy win?” Sog asked. “Surely he can’t expect you just to roll over this time.”

“Bah, I hate these kinds of games,” Fowl muttered. “Out of all the gods out there, why you, Max?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Max replied. “Why me?”

“Do you believe it’s because he thinks you’ll surrender another world to him?” Cordellia asked. “I mean, would you?”

Max didn’t say anything yet. Bob was still going on about his thoughts.

It’s too convenient. There is no randomness to this. For him to challenge you so soon after his last attempt, it suggests something else is at play.

A ploy of the gods? You sure you don’t think it could just be a god who enjoys devouring planets and trying to find an easy meal?

He would have had to see you fight. The only way Zogooruth would know that you are the same is if he witnessed a match you were in and recognized you. If that didn’t happen, then we both know it means something else.

That he was told to challenge me.

Exactly.

“Max? What’s Bob saying?” Tanila asked, her hand touching his.

Max blinked and then frowned. “Bob says it’s too… convenient. Unless Zogooruth saw one of my fights and recognized me, the odds of him challenging me the moment his hundred years are up are almost impossible.”

“Which means what?” Fowl asked.

“Someone told him to,” Tanila replied. “Do you think that’s the case?”

Shrugging, Max studied Jazzjak. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“Possible? Absolutely,” their helper replied. “I mean… you’re an anomaly already, so why should I consider this outside of the realm of what could happen. The question you should ask is who would command a god to challenge you.”

The sound of Sog’s nails carving out a few strips of wood from the table silenced the room.

“It cannot be Death,” the demon said. “And I doubt the dragon would order such a thing, though we know that is possible. Who else could be targeting you? I doubt there are other gods out there who care so much about you.”

“I don’t know if I should be hurt or glad to hear that,” Max replied. “I’m either going to give up a world and turn down his challenge, or I’m going to have to show up to the arena and fight. One way guarantees I lose a world and the DP that comes from it, and the other gives me a chance to earn some.”

“Do you think you can defeat him this time?” Tanila asked.

He turned and looked at her, frowning a little bit as he considered the question and how she had asked it. “Are you saying you’re not sure if I can beat him or just wondering if I believe that I can?”

“A little bit of both,” Tanila replied. “You’re about to face the only god you ever willingly walked away from because you knew you couldn’t defeat him. Sure, you’re stronger now, and yes, you have some advantages that he probably hasn’t gained since the last time you two met, but we don’t have any way of knowing Zogooruth’s real power. You said it last time, fighting a void-based—”

“Did you say void?” Jazzjak blurted out. “As in the god uses void magic or…”

“I believe it’s a void god…” Max said, glancing at their helper. “Its whole body was gigantic and was hidden in some kind of void aura. There was no way I could have fought it back then and won. I knew that then. But why do you ask?”

The vorpal rabbit winced and moved to his tablet, making his padded fingers dance and glide across its surface.

“A void god is rare,” Jazzjak said, pausing between taps to look at something before swiping and moving it again. A few more seconds passed before he grunted, and an image of a swirling vortex with a shape in it appeared on the screen that everyone could see. “Is this what Zogooruth looked like?”

“Basically,” Max said. “I’m not sure how tall that one is, but yeah, that’s what he looked like. Why?”

Jazzjak didn’t respond; instead, he just stood there, silently.

“What’s wrong?” Sog asked. “Why are you acting like that?”

“I need a minute,” the vorpal rabbit replied. “It’s not easy trying to go through every memory you’ve ever had and making sure you’re not wrong.”

“Wrong about—” their demon said.

“Give him a minute,” Cordellia said, cutting off Sog. “We can wait a minute or however long it takes.”

That can’t be a good sign if he’s acting like that.

Out of all the interactions we’ve had with the helper the system provided us, I’ve never seen him like that. Sure, he gets worked up and occasionally acts silly, but part of me expects a silly rabbit now and then.

They sat there, silently for over five minutes before Jazzjak looked up and frowned.

“In all my time of doing this, I can only remember two instances of void gods doing something at this tier. I know there are a few outside this realm, but they are unique and very… different.”

“What does that mean? Sog asked, leaning forward. “Aren’t all races and gods different?”

“Not like those,” Jazzjak said, slowly pacing the end of the table. “A void god is a world eater. They destroy worlds. Like the leviathan that will devour and destroy Max’s world he lost, these are on a different level. There are many different kinds of world eaters. Each one has its own unique version of destroying the planet, but a void god… it leaves nothing behind when it is done. Some might leave a frozen or burned world. Others might leave a hollowed-out one. A void god destroys everything, down to the last grain of sand.”

“So… besides now scaring the heck out of me,” Fowl said, “Do I want to ask how they even exist or how they defeat the tower or—”

“No and stop asking me questions I can’t answer,” Jazzjak said. “I don’t know any of that. I just know enough about them to tell you that if a void god has challenged you, most wouldn’t even accept the offer, simply turning over a planet and being done with it. If you accepted a challenge without realizing it was a void god, and it appeared in the arena, you would surrender if it allowed you to. Not that it most likely would.”

“And yet Zogooruth gave me that option,” Max stated. “Which means something, doesn’t it?”

The vorpal rabbit nodded. “It does… or it should. What would cause a god to turn down a free meal? In the end, you’re just DP to it.” 

Max felt the concern and dots that Bob was putting together.

Someone sent Zogooruth against us on Igarra’s world.

And someone is doing it again.

Correct.

So how do I turn down a request like this? Can I even defeat something like it?

Bob didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then Max almost laughed when his skill spoke.

We should consider spending some DP to explore the types of skills that might be available. Perhaps we should acquire something that might help. Just in case.

Max turned toward Jazzjak and grinned. “I’m going to need your help, and I’m going to need access to the skill purchasing options. I can’t turn down this fight, but I also need a way to defend myself if possible.”

“Wait, you’re seriously going to enter the arena with something like this?” Jazzjak asked, his eyes widening. “It’s madness!”

“Guess he hasn’t been paying attention,” Fowl muttered. “Silly rabbit, Max isn’t a kid.”

***

Max scrolled through the lists of thousands of skills, so many that he couldn’t take because his entity didn’t match them. It made sense, but still he was flustered at how nothing seemed to stand out as an actual skill that might hurt Zogooruth if it came to that.

Who knew there were so many versions of sound spells, fire spells, nova, and more? Part of me wishes I had the ability to turn my skin into some other kind of matter, but then I’m certain Tanila wouldn’t like that look.

You need to stop thinking about any of these as a potential option right now. I’m still looking, and you’re not helping by wanting to stop and read descriptions. Besides, some of those abilities cost a billion or more DP for the earliest tier.

But Time Control - T1 does seem worth 10,000,000,000 DP. I mean, imagine—

Stop… please.

Chuckling to himself, Max watched as Bob considered every option that appeared.

“Anything yet?” Jazzjak asked. “I’m not certain you’ll find anything in there.”

“But surely there would have to be something in this list,” Max replied. “Wouldn’t the system have some counter in place to allow others to fight against such a being? Surely there isn’t a single one of the nine that doesn’t have some weakness that the system allows to be exploited against.”

“Exploiting is a dangerous idea,” Jazzjak stated. “While you can find something that might damage a void god, you’re also weak and a low-tier god. You don’t have billions or trillions of DP to invest in an ability. You’re simply trying to find a way to survive to get to a point where you can wait hundreds of thousands of years to get something like that.”

“But I don’t have hundreds of thousands of years right now.” Max grunted, his eyes scanning the list Bob was still looking at. “I have barely two hundred years now, and giving up a planet doesn’t feel like a good decision.”

Jazzjak shrugged and left him to keep looking.

I just wish there was some kind of—

A wave of something Max rarely felt washed through him.

I am impressed! That is a terrific idea! Part of me is jealous I didn’t consider it. The real question is, where could you craft one?

Max smiled and stopped scrolling through the list of abilities, having made a mental note of things to revisit or recommend to his friends later.

“Jazzjak, I’m going to need the full seven days for this challenge,” Max stated. “I’m going to have to take a trip.”

“A trip? Where are you planning on going?”

“Oh, nowhere special,” Max replied, winking at the rabbit. “I just need to go visit planet LYC-58252 and see if my reward they promised is ready.”

An eyebrow rose on Jazzjak’s face, and the rabbit tapped a few times on his tablet.

“What? You’ve been to this place? Wait…” He held up a furry paw and waved it at Max, shaking his head. “I don’t want to know right now. Just go… I’ll tell them you’ll accept and fight in seven days. Anything else I should know about?”

“I once had hair,” Max said with a wink, pushing back the tablet he had been looking at and standing. “I’ll go tell the others what I’m about to do. Perhaps they won’t make your life difficult while I’m gone.”

A snort came from their helper. “Uh… no… It’s often quieter when you are.”