Like I mentioned, I did manage to write 4 chapters last week so I might as well share them since they show what all the loot rewards are and I know that's always a rough tease between books, haha. I didn't get a chance to really go back and do an editing pass, so apologies if there are rough edges in here.****Chapter 1
The sun was hanging low behind Riverwell when we lowered the ramp from the airship. Pale golds colored our group, which was still coated in blood, dirt, and all manners of filth from our time in the tourney and our final moments.
A warm, pleasant glow filled my chest as I looked upon Riverwell again for what felt like the first time in ages. And yet I knew it hadn't even been that long. Not even a full year since I first woke in a clearing not far from this place. Since I arrived at Riverwell's gates dressed in scraps of cursed tomte clothing covering my filthy body and Voidgaze on my head, oblivious to the attention it would bring.
Our group was large. So large, in fact, that I only realized how threatening we might look when I saw guards scrambling to man the wooden parapets above Riverwell's front gate. Shouting rang out from within and more men and women in dented, battered armor rushed out, lining up in a formation with weapons at the ready.
I held up a hand. Behind me, the entire group paused.
“Hang back,” I said. “I think it looks like we're about to attack them. I'll explain.”
I started toward the gate at a slow, hopefully nonthreatening pace. Just when I was about to raise my voice and call out that we meant no harm, Mana Sense pinged in alarm. My eyes darted toward the top of the gate where a windy vortex whipped behind an archer just as she loosed a magically infused arrow aimed straight for me.
With a simple gesture and touch of mana, I raised a mana shield and the arrow exploded in a shower of sparks.
The men and women in front of the gates inched back, eyes suddenly wide with worry. More archers on top of the walls knocked arrows.
“Wait!” I shouted. “It's me. Brynn. Is Jarn still here? He'll remember me.”
There was more hesitation. Faces turning. Whispered words full of urgency. A man darted inside the gates.
And before even a minute had passed, I saw a familiar face emerge from the gates. Unlike the rest of the guards I'd inspected who were all Wood Rank, this man was Iron Rank.
It was Jarn.
Even if he was never my favorite person, I found myself beaming beneath Voidgaze. Unfortunately, my illusion had already worn off, so the plain iron helmet with horns now looked like its real form. Blue metal that sparkled when looked upon like a gateway to the stars. Black shadows leaked from the visor, and while it once looked silly and out of place on my body, now I could tell “silly” was the last word people would use to describe me.
“Terrifying” seemed more likely to come to their minds.
But Jarn hesitated only a moment before he clapped his hands and made a “down” gesture to all the gathered guards. “At ease! For now…” he added more quietly, but advancing to silver had done more than increase my level cap and magical potential. It had also improved my senses dramatically, so picking up his whisper from several dozen yards away was trivial. If I focused, I could even see the way the vein in his neck throbbed with the pace of his heartbeat.
It was rapid.
Maybe part of him was relieved to see me, but… not all of him.
He strode toward me with the guards at his back and the rest of the men and women still clutching bows up on the parapets.
His pace slowed as he got closer, and his eyes scanned me up and down. The man looked years older despite it not having been that long since I left. The lines in his face seemed deeper. His five-o-clock shadow had turned into a full beard that was patchy in places and tinged with gray. He clutched a simple iron helmet under one arm that was dented and scratched to hell.
“By Ithariel… you're not him,” Jarn breathed as he inched a step backward. He slammed his helmet on his head and reached for his sword.
“It's me,” I said, taking a step closer, palms raised. “Look. See Lyria back there?” I turned and pointed.
Jarn followed my eyes and paused, sword half-drawn. His brows scrunched together and his mouth worked silently. “Lyria?” he asked, voice raised.
Lyria broke off from the large group at my back and came to my side. She stuck out a hand to Jarn. “You've looked better,” she said simply.
He took her hand and shook, gaze flicking between myself and Lyria. He looked at Lyria again, more deeply this time. “You've grown stronger…”
“I'm sure we would all love to catch up,” Lyria said. “But most of us haven't properly showered in weeks. We're hungry, thirsty, and tired. So would you mind telling them to lower their weapons and let us in?”
Jarn stood straighter. If he was off guard at first, he was doing well recovering now. “Who is he?”
“That's Brynn. Remember?” Lyria asked with a touch of amusement. “You assigned me to babysit him when he arrived? Said he couldn't have a place to sleep unless he agreed to join us when we raided the infested ruins? Ended up saving our asses?”
“This man… he's… I can feel his power. He's a Silver, isn't he?”
“I am,” I said. “And all of us are in need of… sanctuary. A safe place to gather and recover. To gain our strength for what's coming. If you'd have us, we're all capable fighters. And we'll do what we can to protect the town.”
Jarn's neck bobbed with a hard swallow. “You were Wood. Low level, at that. It couldn't have been more than seven months ago? Maybe less? It's simply not possible. I recognize the helmet… yet. But I suppose you killed the young man and took it? Forced him to tether it to you before he died, yes? Who are you really?”
“It's him, Jarn,” Lyria said. “You'll learn pretty fast he's not normal. It's a lot easier if you don't question it. Just accept that he'll probably save your ass time and time again, be grateful, and enjoy the ride.”
“And these people?” Jarn gestured behind us. From his tone, it was clear he was still dubious about the whole thing, but I didn't miss the temptation glinting behind his eyes. They needed the help. Badly. “How do we know they can be trusted within Riverwell's walls? These are grim times, Lyria. Evil things stir in the Black Wood. Stronger than ever before. The lich grows in power every night, sending larger waves of undead our way. Morale is low and supplies are dwindling because our scouts and hunters keep dying…”
“Then it sounds like you need us,” I said softly. “We're happy to help, Jarn. And if any of my people cause problems, they'll answer to me. I promise you that.”
He looked at me again, eyes glazing over as if he still couldn't wrap his head around the Wood Rank that came to his gates months ago turning into what I'd become. “I… yes. We need the help. You two remember Circa, yes?”
I shared a look with Lyria, heart rate spiking.
#
Circa
I pinched the bridge of my nose with one hand and clutched a large tankard of strong, cold ale in the other. Across from me, Rock sat, face grim and breaths shallow. He wouldn't admit his wound was troubling him, but I could see how he was moving carefully and favoring his left arm. His tunic bulged from the bandages I knew were thick beneath his clothes.
“Commotion at the gates,” Rock said simply. “With luck, they bring mushrooms.”
I stared at him, expression blank. “Our death comes tonight, and you're worried about mushrooms?”
“If Rock will die, he will do it with good food in his belly.”
I sighed. “I wouldn't get your hopes up. The Black Wood has gone feral. A merchant would need a very powerful Iron escort, perhaps even a Silver to make it from Thrask to Riverwell right now. And the other direction leads to the outer rings. Merchants from that way are virtually nonexistent.”
“Still…” Rock grumbled. “Mushrooms. I hope they bring mushrooms.”
I glanced toward the doors, letting out a weary breath. My plan was to recover and rest as much as possible until tonight. There was still a chance if I handled myself better during the fight, I could maybe buy us another night. Possibly two.
And yet…
My senses were screaming that something was off.
“Where do you go?” Rock asked as I stood from my place by the fire.
“To see what's going on. If it was a simple traveler, we would've heard the guards coming back into town by now.”
Rock grunted and stood, wincing at the motion silently. He fell in beside me as I headed out the double doors of the inn and stepped onto the dirt streets of Riverwell. Even though my rebirth after dying at the hands of the lich meant I was in a body that couldn't be much more than eighteen-years-old, Rock still only stood at half my height—and he was tall for a tomte.
That said, he was thicker than any normal man and looked as if he was made of his namesake. He was thick with muscle and wore loose, simple robes. He kept a metal-plated quarterstaff on his back and could use it with deadly efficiency.
Riverwell was a small town cut through by a river. The main street had a walking path wide enough for a horse cart to pass one another on either side without much trouble. One and two-story buildings flanked the road, though most looked to be in disrepair. All the windows were shuttered, and I knew the majority of these structures had been abandoned since the evacuation after the raid on the infested ruins.
Wisely, most of the inhabitants had fled when they learned a lich was in the ruins near town. The endless waves of undead we were facing each night were exactly why they left. A lich didn't truly die unless its phylactery was found and destroyed. So in essence, the only thing I accomplished by killing the lich back then was pissing it off and buying a little time.
But time was nearly up. Without an Ascension Token to push myself from Level 50 Wood to Level 1, Iron Rank, my power wasn't growing anymore. I was largely stuck, and even my legendary class wasn't enough anymore.
I moved with Rock toward the front gates. We passed the footbridge over the river, spotted a few hollow-eyed inhabitants of town going about their daily routines like ghosts before darting back inside buildings with covered windows, and then the front gates came into view.
They were open.
I paused, faltering a step when I saw beyond the gates. There was a large group of unfamiliar faces being escorted inside the town by Jarn and the guards. But behind them, there was an airship sitting in the grass. A Thraskian airship.
Had King Theon actually sent aid? Maybe a team of Irons or even a Silver sent to deal with the lich?
But it wouldn't be enough, I feared. Even a Silver Rank could likely only help buy us more time as the lich grew in power. It might take a Gold to truly defeat her. After all, I was Silver when I faced her the first time. Silver and experienced in dueling Forsaken, at that. And I still failed.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw a blue horned helmet. The metal radiated power, its surface looking more like a doorway to the stars than something physical. And the man wearing it…
I hardly recognized him, but I could feel the truth. It was him.
Gods… he was doing it. He was surviving. And that power…
Rock took a few steps, paused, and looked back at me. “Need to use bathroom before we help?”
“That's him,” I breathed. “Brynn.”
Rock nodded. “Oh. Yeah. Is him.”
I was still staring when the group approached. Behind Brynn, there was a filthy collection of individuals. Sekmeti marked for slavery. Many humans. A few tomte. A pale-skinned man whose eyes shifted and scanned as if he was planning his escape. It was a mismatched but determined looking collection of dirty and tired men and women. But men and women who looked like they could handle themselves in a fight. Some even appeared to be Iron rank.
And the man leading them… Brynn Stygos… he had grown so much since I last saw him. It was the sort of growth that was only possible by advancing through the ranks. A supernatural kind of strength and height that some gained. He was broader across the shoulders and stood at least a head taller than the others. He wore a clearly powerful bow across his back and black clothing that had to be self-repairing, because it seemed to be in perfect condition despite the dirt and blood staining his skin.
He moved with the quiet confidence of a warrior now. Each step was measured and there was a calm awareness about him, as if nothing escaped his senses. And if he had climbed as high through the ranks as I suspected, I doubted anything in this place was beyond his enhanced senses.
He spotted me and paused, the tall horns of his helmet standing above a visor that leaked black shadows. I couldn't see anything of his face through it, but I knew he was looking at me. I could feel the aura of his attention like a weight.
“Circa?” he asked, voice muffled slightly through the helmet. And despite all his poise and the dangerous aura that clung to him, he broke into a run and rushed toward me, sweeping me up in a hug.
I was lifted from my feet, arms hanging limp as I glared at nothing in particular. I could feel the guards who knew me making excuses to look away. Jarn was watching with a shit-eating grin. “Careful with that one,” he said. “I've been told she bites.”
Brynn set me down as if I weighed nothing, big hands on either shoulder. He stepped back, shoulders rising and falling once as if he was letting out a sigh. “I always suspected you lived somehow. I saw a light… but…” he seemed to lean closer, seeing me better now. “Don't take this the wrong way, but you look a lot younger than last time I saw you.”
“It's a long story,” I said carefully.
Rock waddled up to Brynn and gave him a companionable slap on the arm. “Welcome back. Did you bring mushrooms?”
Brynn tilted his head, but a bald man from the group behind him came forward. “Mushrooms?” he asked. “My small, wide friend… I did not just bring any mushrooms. I have white-tipped frillshrooms, blue cottons, and I've even managed to stash a few tilly rockbottoms.”
Rock's eyes widened. “Tilly rockbottoms? You know how to cook them?”
“Know?” the man asked, planting a hand on Rock's shoulder and guiding him to a nearby inn. “I will make them sing on your tastebuds, friend. I assume you appreciate the fine art of soupcraft?”
Rock and the man wandered away, and Rock sounded more excited than I'd heard him in months. I smiled slightly. “Who are these people?”
“Long story,” Brynn said simply.
“Then it seems we need to find a time to talk.”
“Yeah. I've got a shit load of loot to claim. So… feel free to come hang in my guild hall and we can talk all you want once I'm done.”
I stared. “Your guild hall?”
“Oh, right. That's part of the long story. You can ask Hoot about it when you get there. Hey!” Brynn shouted suddenly, and all the easy calm of his voice was gone in an instant, replaced by command and authority. “Quit acting like you're about to run off, Vay'nar.”
A sickly pale man in the group hung his head in shame and shuffled his feet back toward the main group.
Brynn turned his back to me and raised his long arms, gaining the attention of all the strangers following him. Lyria stood at their front and punched a man who was still talking. He went quiet and apologized.
“Alright,” he said. “I suggest everybody go find a place to clean up. Get some food. Get some rest. And then as soon as you're able, ask a local what you can do to help. This place looks like it could use some assistance. And if you don't want to help, feel free to go your own way. None of you are prisoners here, but any who stay will be under my protection.”
People within the group exchanged looks.
Before they could disperse, I stepped beside Brynn and raised my voice. “Listen carefully,” I said.
I heard someone laugh softly, their lips forming the words “who is the little kid?”
Insolent…
I took a calming breath and continued. “I'm not sure if you're all aware, but we are under siege. The infestation from the ruins in the hills has spread deeply in this place. It has infected the Black Wood. Travel by foot without anything less than a Silver escort would be suicide. Travel in the other direction will take you first past the infested ruins, which I highly doubt any of you would survive. If you did make it beyond them, you would find yourself in the wilds of the outer rings, which would also likely kill you.
“So… as much as we would appreciate the help, I suggest you all climb back on your airship and leave this cursed place while you still have your lives.”
“Yeah, no,” Brynn said. “If anybody wants me to give them a ride to the nearest city tomorrow, then sure. But I'm staying, and I'm going to personally kill that fucking lich.”
My blood ran cold at the authority in his words. The conviction. “Brynn… she is more powerful now than she was before. The deaths from our party in the ruins are food for her. And she feeds each day. By night, she sends raids, and every night she's stronger.”
“Alright,” Brynn said simply. “Then I'll help fight off the raids by night. And I'll go into the Black Wood by day to get stronger. And once I'm Gold, I'll go into those ruins and kill her myself. Then I'll find her phylactery and destroy it.” He turned his attention back to the silent onlookers. “Anyone who wants to help is welcome. We can use the Black Wood to level up. The raids, too. And if you aren't interested in combat, you can do what we did in the tourney here. Reinforce the walls. Help rebuild. Make us armor and weapons. Those of us who go into the Black Wood will bring back any resources we can find.”
People within his group actually nodded as if they were already onboard with the crazy idea. “Brynn… you don't understand,” I whispered.
He leaned low, voice barely a whisper. “I think it's that lich who doesn't understand. Because from my perspective, she's just giving me the next opportunity to get stronger, and I'm going to take it. If I can do some good on my way, all the better.”
He straightened back to his full height, the shadow of his massive frame blocking the setting sun from my eyes. “So… do you want to see the guild hall or not?”
Oh… and there’s still a naidu at the arcanery here, right? I’ve got to claim some tokens before I meet you there.”
“Y-yes…” I said softly.
And I couldn't help but look after him as he strode toward the arcanery. For my whole life, I was told the gods would return one day. That Seraphel would need me. That I would be a key piece in helping him reclaim his power. And most importantly, I was told that Seraphel alone could fix what was broken with our world—that he could climb back to his former glory and protect us from the thing that eats the stars.
I didn't know that I ever really believed it.
Even when I met him for the first time in the adventurer's guild before the raid on the ruins… even then I didn't believe an ordinary man could climb to godhood twice.
Now I wasn't so sure. The faintest glow of hope lit in my chest. Not just hope that tonight wouldn't be my last. Hope that maybe this man could truly save our world after all.
Chapter 2
I sat alone in my personal space within the guild hall. A pile of opened loot chests sits beside me and my body still hums with the adrenaline of seeing what I’ve already earned.
The list of accomplishments I earned in the tourney was dizzying. One common, seven rares, seven epics, one legendary, and one cursed token.
Some of my tokens were simple “tournament” tokens, while others had the extra “master” designation. Like a kid on Christmas starting with the smallest presents first, I started by opening all the non “master” tournament tokens. That left me with one common, three rares, and one epic.
The common was a little bag stuffed with twenty silver coins. Hardly a fortune, but I wasn’t going to complain. The three rares were all “field kits”. Essentially, it was a combination of money, consumables, and a utility item. Each had a gold coin, which was a much more exciting amount of money, meaning I’d already earned three gold and twenty silver from the common and three rares. The consumables were mostly field bandages like I’d seen before. They were of limited use to me, but I could either sell them or let Lyria have them in case she got hurt when I wasn’t around.
For utility, I got a smoke bomb, which I could imagine might come in handy. I also got a one-time-use armor repair kit. From the looks of it, it was magical and didn’t require any special skills to make it work. After seeing how easily the plate mail I wore in the tourney got battered in combat, I certainly didn’t mind having the item on hand. The last was an antidote—a simple vial of white liquid that could supposedly cure basic poisons. Considering Voidgaze made me immune to poisons, it was another thing I could give to Lyria, I supposed.
The epic tournament token was a little more exciting, and I hadn’t opened it yet. This one wasn’t a “tournament master’s” token like the others, but being epic meant it was probably going to be something useful.
I was about to open it when the door to my personal space opened and a glowing astral owl bear poked his head in. He was a combination of blues, whites, and a iridescent sort of purple at the edges where his body faded to nearly translucent and streaked sparkling starlight.
Heutacratan'ka Nuk'ra'tet of the Astral Keep was his official name, but much to his annoyance, I just called him Hoot.
“Hoot, I asked you to wait outside.”
“Yes,” Hoot said, his beak-like mouth clicking a few times as he touched his feathered hands together in front of his rounded belly. “And you also stormed through the guild hall as if you didn’t even notice the improvements I made in your long absence. And you didn’t bother introducing me to the young girl with the white hair. I am finding it quite uncomfortable, Master Stygos.”
I stared at him. “I’ll properly admire everything you’ve done in like… thirty minutes. I just wanted to claim all my accomplishment tokens first.”
“Yes, yes…” Hoot’s eyes lingered through the cracked doorway, which was slowly opening wider by the second. He was inching deeper into the room. Behind him, the tall pillars of the guild hall common area were visible. I also saw Circa and Rock standing and looking around as if they were still in shock and confused.
I sighed heavily. “You just want to watch me open my loot, right?”
Hoot’s beak opened in outrage. “You speak as if I am some simple loot goblin from your world, Master Stygos. Need I remind you I’m an Astral Custodian? A celestial being of great importance. I’ve been tasked with a job of incredible gravity, and I am far beyond the simple Erosian desire to see pretty things and wonder what will come out of the next shiny box.”
I bite back a smile because somehow, even during his outraged speech, Hoot has continued to slide deeper into the room. Behind him, the door has begin to close.
There’s a soft click as the door slides shut and Hoot scoots himself into the corner of the room, posture upright and belly proud. He stares ahead, nearly motionless aside from the drifting specks of stardust floating away from his huge frame.
“Do you think if you just stand still enough, I won’t realize you let yourself in here?” I asked.
Hoot’s double chin bobbed with a swallow. “I simply… believe it is prudent that I am here. What if you are awarded some sort of explosive device and you handle it improperly within my—your guild hall? Hmm? What then, Master Stygos?”
“Fine. You can watch, but you have to admit you’re a loot goblin or I won’t open a single box.”
Hoot’s beak falls open again. He shuts it, stammers, and shakes his big round head. “I will say no such thing.”
“Admit it…” I wiggle the epic loot token I was about to claim towards him, grinning. “Loot goblin Hoot… Astral Loot Pervert. Lover of all things shiny.”
Hoot closes his eyes and closes his beak, saying nothing.
With a smile, I let it slide and claimed my token, watching the metal dissolve as a velvety purple pouch appeared from thin air and landed heavily on my lap. Raising an eyebrow, I pulled the strings holding it closed and let out a low, appreciative whistle at the contents.
Hoot has drifted closer now, leaning over me with wide eyes and a parted beak. He’s like a goddamn kid at a birthday party who won’t give the birthday boy room to open his presents.
But I don’t really mind him. In all honesty, I missed the big weirdo. So I open the bag wider and tilt it toward him so he can see the contents.
Gold coins.
I dug a hand through the clinking metal and counted twelve of them. Damn. It was a small fortune. I could probably afford an epic level ingredient from the alchemy shop back in Thrask or several rares. And my window shopping told me I could even pick up some powerful magic equipment with this kind of money. Granted, I wasn’t sure how much gear suited for a Silver Rank would run me. Everything I’d been looking at back then had been Wood Rank, and I’d only chanced an occasional glance at Iron gear, which was much more expensive.
I stashed the money in my slip space and tossed the empty bag with the rest of the containers in the corner of my personal space.
“You have made quite the mess in here,” Hoot says. “You are aware that these boxes can be dismissed when you are finished, yes?”
“Wasn’t aware,” I say, distractedly counting my remaining tokens. Eleven left. Unfortunately, two of them were going to have to wait, though. I had an Epic Personal Space upgrade with no “tournament” designation as well as a Legendary Tournament Master’s Personal Space Upgrade token. Last time I was here, the best I could claim at Riverwell’s furnisher had been rare because their facility wasn’t high enough level.
Thankfully, I didn’t need to risk my life traveling the Black Wood on foot anymore. I could take the airship to Thrask first thing tomorrow. Then again… fuck.
I couldn’t just fly up to Thrask in an airship I’d stolen from them before escaping the tourney. But I supposed it wasn’t the end of the world. There were other cities. Coil was supposedly down the river from Thrask, and with the speed of the airship, I doubted it would take us too long to travel there.
In any case, I certainly would find a way. I wasn’t going to sit on these personal space upgrades any longer than absolutely necessary, because I desperately wanted to turn them in and see what they granted.
For now, I moved my attention to the remaining nine tokens I could claim. The red token that radiated black motes of dark energy did make me a little nervous. Another cursed token.
But I put it from my mind for the moment and worked my way up the rarities again.
Hoot inched closer from his corner again when he saw I was getting ready to claim another token.
My first Rare Tournament Master’s Token was a long wooden crate. I opened it to find a well-made sword inside.
[Ever-sharpened Blade of Slicing (Iron) (Rare)] The edge of this blade is sharpened to masterwork perfection. It will never dull.
I lift the sword and turn it over in my hand. I haven’t found myself personally drawn to swords, so despite the description seeming pretty nice, I wasn’t sure I would use it. But maybe I could sell it for some decent coin. “Any idea what I could sell this thing for?” I asked Hoot.
He made a low hooting noise, feathery fingers tapping on his belly and releasing poofs of starry magic dust in the space.
I waved it out of my face, along with the ozone smell the things gave off.
“I am not familiar with your silly Erosian economies, Master Stygos. But may I suggest you leave this in my care? It is rather shiny. I could hang it in the guild hall for the admiration of those who appreciate such… simple things.” His voice trailed off near the end as his beak parted, small blue tongue quivering within.
“Sure. Mount it or something for now. I’ll ask around and see if it’s worth selling later.”
Hoot took the sword carefully, eyes widening as he rocked it side to side and watched the way the torchlight played off its surface.
The next Rare Tournament Master’s Token was a small metal container no bigger than both my fists side by side. I caught it from the air and opened it. Within, there was a little tree on a grassy patch of soil. But the tree wasn’t an ordinary tree of wood. It was made of some kind of sparkly purple rock, and the leaves were various gemstone colors.
[Tree of Patience] When cut, this tree will die, but it will also produce gold coins. The amount of coins will not be revealed until the tree is cut, and the tree cannot be revived once cut. The longer this tree remains uncut, the more coins it is worth. The better cared for and more loved this tree is, the more coins it will be worth if the caretaker is monstrous enough to cut it down.
“What the fuck…” I whisper. “So the longer I wait, the more it’s worth. But the tooltip is trying to guilt trip me about cutting it down eventually? What’s the point?”
Hoot reaches and takes the tree from me, dangerously clutching the sword under one arm as he holds the tree reverently. “Allow me to care for it, Master Stygos. I will provide it love, as it desires.”
I raise my eyebrows. “But we’re cutting it down eventually.”
Hoot gives a strained, beaky smile. “Yes. of course.”
Eyes narrowed, I move on to the next tokens. I have four Epic Tournament Master’s Tokens to claim.
The first two are more bags of money, but unlike the plain Epic Tournament Token, these have twenty gold coins each and also include a few rare gemstones Hoot practically salivates over. I add the money to my growing fortune, along with a very strong itch to find my way to a city and completely overhaul my potion collection. With this much gold, I should be able to buy plenty of extra equipment to store ingredients and spare potions. I should also be able to finally explore some of the higher quality ingredients.
I move on to the last two Epic Tournament Master’s Tokens.
The first produces a soft parcel wrapped in silky fabric and string. I untie it while Hoot creeps closer.
Inside, I find a silver colored robe marked with strange runic symbols in a reflective black fabric. The hood and sleeves are trimmed in black as well, and the fabric gives off a subtle sense of power.
[Torkun’s Robes of Shielding (Epic) (Iron)] These robes will consume a small portion of the user’s mana pool to reduce the damage of physical and magical attacks. Self-Repairing.
“Ohhh,” I said, standing and holding the robe up to check the fit, as I didn’t already know it would fit me perfectly. “Not sure robes are really my vibe, but this seems too good to pass up. By the way… is there any reason I can’t just stack magical gear on top of itself? Like can I put this robe on over magic armor if I get it?”
“You could,” Hoot says. “But magical properties are taxing on an individual’s mana manipulation. You will find your ability to concentrate on your magical spells and use your equipment to maximum effect grows strained the more you wear. You… haven’t experienced this yet?”
I shrug. “Not yet. I’m wearing all kinds of magical shit already and I’ve never noticed a problem.”
“Hmm… I suppose it makes sense. After all, why would they assign one of such reputation and esteem to a simple human without extraordinary abilities? Yes… it does make sense. Your abilities are a reflection of how important I am. Mmm…”
“Right,” I say, already turning my attention to the next epic token. I throw the robe on over my clothing. Now that I’m looking for it, I do feel just the slightest tug, as if the item is pulling something from me. But it’s a trickle of liquid from a raging river. The mana manipulation I gained from my prestige path apparently has had benefits beyond making me intuitively good with magic, it seems.
Thanks again, past me. Good call on choosing that as the one skill to give me after we reset.
The last token vanishes from my fingertips and a wooden crate thumps down in my hands. There’s a sound of something rattling within.
Inside, I find an arrow that looks like it’s made of solid, black metal that shines like obsidian.
[Regenerating Arrow of Penetration (Epic) (Iron)] This arrow will pass through magical shields and physical barriers of Iron Rank and below without losing speed or power. Silver Rank obstacles and beyond may resist the effect. Regenerates after [2] minutes.
“Hmm,” Hoot says thoughtfully. “It seems you have been granted the gift of penetration.”
I grin to myself. “Uh, yeah. You could say that.”
“A valuable gift. Penetration has many benefits. Some even find it quite enjoyable.”
I look up at Hoot. “Are you messing with me?”
His face pulls back, eyes wide with outrage. “Messing? I strive to eliminate messes of all manner with extreme prejudice, Master Stygos. I would never mess.”
I rub my hands together, thoughts already moving to the next three tokens. All trophies. Two rares and one epic.
I start with the Rare Atrocity Trophy I got for slaughtering all those red goblins. A glass case appears and lands in my lap. Inside, there’s a tribal style mask with red paint dripping from the eyes and a mouth carved to look as if it’s screaming.
“Awesome,” I whisper.
[Mask of Horrors (Rare)] Displaying this trophy within your personal space will apply the following boons at all times.
[Atrocity Aficionado] You’ve shown a unique skill for committing acts of mass horror and destruction. The requirements for earning future atrocity rewards will be reduced significantly. Happy hunting!
[Instincts of the Beast] Next time you are near a rewardable atrocity, you will feel a sense of impending glory. Follow this to your next reward.
“Hmm,” I said aloud, finding my face had turned slightly toward a distasteful expression as I studied the mask.
“Atrocity?” Hoot asked. “What have you done this time, Master Stygos?”
“I mean… a bunch of red goblins attacked me. Basically,” I added after thinking back on the situation. I supposed I had attacked their fort with Erasmus. And then I’d charged through their front gate in my Muscle God form. I shook my head, lips pursed. “Atrocity is a strong word. We needed the outposts and the goblins were violent, anyway.”
“I see,” Hoot said. “An atrocity committed out of necessity, then. May your shame and guilt be reduced by an appropriate margin.”
“I don’t feel shame and guilt!” I snapped. “The little bastards were trying to kill us.”
Hoot offered a beaky smile, then winked. “It is easy to tease you. I understand why the system enjoys it so.”
“The system enjoys it? Does this system have feelings?”
“Not precisely,” Hoot said. “I have said too much. Forget my words. It should be easy with your weak, meat brain. I have seen humans forget why they walked into a room, after all.”
“Anyway,” I mutter, moving on to my next trophy. This one was a Rare Tournament Master’s Trophy.
A small metal chest thunked down in front of me. Inside, I found an object like a snow globe, but within, a stony archway glowed with purple magic. When I put my ear close, I could even hear ominous music and screaming.
“Badass,” I whispered.
[Secret Finder’s Trophy (Rare)] Displaying this trophy within your personal space will apply the following boons at all times.
[Secret Sniffer] Hidden areas will be easier to spot. They will smell like cinnamon and syrup to your senses. Keep a nose out!
“...the fuck?” I asked nobody in particular.
“Syrup…” Hoot said thoughtfully. “I would like to try this substance.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll find you some when I get a chance, Hoot.”
The last trophy was from ascending to silver without an Ascension Token. I’d earned the same kind for ascending from Wood to Iron back in Beastden dungeon. It was a pair of wooden wings that gave me resistance to identification methods of wood rank and an aura I could “flex” to intimidate Wood Rank people and creatures.
I assumed I knew what to expect, but was still excited to crack this one open.
I lifted the token and watched it dissolve before a huge wooden crate landed. It was nearly as large and wide as Hoot. Back on Earth, I probably would’ve needed a crow-bar or something to that effect because the box was nailed shut. Here, though…
I dug my fingers into the wood, watching as the fibers split as if it was rotted. I lifted, feeling only slight resistance as I ripped the lid of the box away, nails popping free one after another. I stopped halfway, though, because I had an idea.
“Sword me, Hoot,” I said, holding out a hand.
Hoot fumbled with all the things he was clutching, then passed me the sharpened sword I’d looted earlier.
I ran the edge along the top of the crate, watching as the metal sliced through wood and nails like butter. I may have played with it longer than necessary, shaving off little bits before proceeding to make action noises as I hacked pieces of the box away. I only stopped when I remembered Hoot was watching me, disapproval written on his cosmic features.
I cleared my throat, handing him the sword. “Yep. Just needed to make sure it worked properly. Test complete.”
The hacked apart box was glowing slightly. Straw filled the container, but glints of metal and white light were showing through. I dug my way down and found a pair of metal wings that seemed to be made of Iron within. Each feather glowed from behind with white, silky light. The wings were even larger than the wooden ones I’d earned before.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, lifting one and turning it over to appreciate the detail.
“Quite shiny. Yes,” Hoot agreed.
[Iron Ascension Trophy (Epic)] Symbolizes the user's ability to ascend beyond Iron Rank through sheer force of magical will, marking their vast potential. Mounting this trophy will apply the following boons at all times.
[Iron Mask] Provides immunity to [Iron Rank] items of identification or tracking.
[Iron Aura] With a small expenditure of mana, you may exert your aura upon Iron ranked individuals—filling them temporarily with a sense of crushing dread.
[Iron Awareness] Your magical potential grants you increased perception. Items of (Rare) quality and below will display their full tooltip to you upon inspection.
“Oh, shit,” I said. I pulled off Voidgaze and chucked it aside, not worrying about scratching the thing because nothing I’d seen in this world could even chip it as far as I’d seen. I pulled a random. “This means I’ll be able to see every last detail about herbs I find. No more fucking question marks.”
I pull one Brightbell Flower, one Rotbane Moss, one Bloodrage Shroom, and one Acidbloom from my slipspace as fast as I can, laying them on the ground in front of me. I stare at them, then realize I haven’t mounted the trophy yet, so the boons aren’t working.
“Damn it,” I curse. “Hoot, do you mind just… hanging this on the wall real quick? We can put it in the hall later.”
Hoot makes low rumbling noises of irritation, but sets down all the things he’s clutching, lifts the huge wings from the crate, and then sets them up on the wall. They seem to magically stick in place, because of course they do.
My personal space definitely isn’t big enough for such a grand display of awesomeness. The wings reach nearly wall to wall.
I stare at the Brightbell Flower and I just… know. It’s not like when I inspect things with Voidgaze. Instead, I am suddenly sure it’s a modification class herb of common rarity. I know it’ll make a potion that creates bursts of light. And, most importantly, I now know that brewing it in direct sunlight will yield a slightly more potent version of the potion.
Holy shit. I never knew there were different potencies for my potions.
I look at the Rotbane Moss next. It’s a restoration class herb of common rarity and cures Rotbane poison when brewed into a potion. But I also now understand the raw herb can be chewed to reduce the length of several other types of poison. And if I drip a single drop of rotbane poison into the vial before brewing the antidote, the resulting mix won’t just cure Rotbane Poison, it’ll grant immunity to it for a full day.
Smiling to myself, I look at the Bloodrage Shroom next. It’s a rare modification class herb that, as I already knew, will make a potion that grows muscles rapidly when they’re used but at the cost of internal damage and bleeding. But I also now know that adding three drops of blood to the potion before it’s brewed will create a higher potency version that accelerates all the effects of the potion. While interesting, I’m not sure that’s a potion I felt needed accelerated effects.
Lastly, I look at the Acidbloom. It’s a rare destruction class herb. Apparently, grinding up the bones of any predatory beast and adding them to the potion should increase its potency.
“This is going to be a game changer,” I say, scooping up the herbs and adding them back to my inventory.
“Yes,” Hoot says, standing back with his feathered hands on his bulging hips. “They are quite pleasurable to look upon. They will make a worthy addition to the hall.”
“Wasn’t talking about the wings…” I mutter to myself.
But my heart is already pounding, because there’s only one token I can claim right now. My two personal space upgrades will have to wait until tomorrow at least. But this last token…
I stare at the cursed token, licking my lips. I know I can destroy cursed items because of my divine ability. And yet… some part of me is still nervous as hell to claim the thing. What if it turns me into a slug and my brain isn’t capable of issuing the command to delete it? But that seems like a stretch. And I still know in my former life, I was said to have several cursed items. I doubt a god would risk claiming them if he thought he could be turned into a slug.
I grip the coin between my fingers, noting how it seems to prick at me as if little needles are reaching through it and into my skin. Black motes roll off the red metal, seeming to take the shapes of laughing skulls as they drift to the floor, fading from view.
Hoot’s eyes go wide and his belly vibrates. “You are sure, Master Stygos?”
“Nope,” I said, watching the coin vanish as a wicked red and black chest thumped to the ground in front of me. With a deep breath, I opened it and blue light rushed out, surrounding my neck.
I cried out, trying to scoot back but there was no use. The magic was burning itself into my neck, carving patterns into my skin that burned like fire.
Chapter 3
“Hideous,” Hoot said simply.
I was on my back, fingers clawing at my neck as my mouth formed a silent scream. And suddenly, the pain stopped. My skin felt… strange.
“Would you like a mirror to look upon the horror of your flesh, Master Stygos?” Hoot asked.
Without waiting for a response, he gestured and a metallic fluid formed in the air, solidifying and giving me a glimpse of myself as I was backed into the corner of my personal space. Despite the obvious physical changes since ascending to Silver I hadn't yet seen, the cursed item drew all of my attention.
It was a tattoo.
My whole neck up to my ears and just below my jaw was covered in glowing blue symbols and shapes. I turned my head, watching the thick muscles in my neck shift as the runes twisted, glowing and reshaping themselves.
“Hideous, is it not?” Hoot asked.
“Honestly?” I said, lifting a finger to touch them. “I think it looks kind of badass.”
“Ah, I see. The cursed item has also blinded you, then? Quite tragic.”
Ignoring Hoot, I inspected… my neck.
[Cursed Mark of The Drinker] You've been marked by Olu'kon, drinker of souls. Olu'kon was a Gold Ranked man awarded with a Cursed Potion of Souls. The potion's tooltip strongly advised against drinking the brew, but Olu'kon, believing this to be a trick, drank the potion. He died a horrible death.
[Cursed Boon 1] Once per day, absorb a spell that strikes you. The absorbed spell will be converted into a liquid potion and may be stored in an appropriate vessel, such as a potion bottle or the mouth. The mouth is not recommended.
[Cursed Boon 2] Olu'kon is watching. This likely provides no benefit as he is formless, without body, and of extremely limited consciousness. But he watches. Everything.
[Curse 1] Any liquid you drink will now poison you. Aggressively.
[Curse 2] The mark of the drinker tattoo cannot be removed, covered, or hidden by any means physical or magical. Equip items that cover your neck at your own risk. You have been warned.
[Curse 3] You will sometimes taste magic. No, this will not be predictable or happen consistently. It will almost certainly be unpleasant when it does happen.
I swallowed hard, and then frowned. Shit. Did my own spit poison me?
But I waited a few moments and felt relief when nothing happened. Thank god. If I couldn't even swallow without getting poisoned, I'd have to start sleeping with Voidgaze on my head. Thankfully, I'd tested whether Voidgaze protected me from poison if it was only partially on my head, like when I tipped it back to eat. The protection worked as long as it was sort of on my head, so I should be mostly safe, assuming Voidgaze was powerful enough to resist this poison from this curse, that was…
“That seems unfortunate,” Hoot said. “You will destroy this curse now, I suppose? Taking care not to accidentally destroy the disgusting stump of flesh, bone, and muscle that suspends your head above your body, of course?”
“No,” I said. “The benefit is amazing. I can absorb abilities and turn them into potions. It's like megaman.”
“Mega man… such a great man could not think of a better way to describe himself? Perhaps he was not as mega as he believed?”
“Nevermind. It's better than good, though. It's incredible. If I find an enemy with a really strong attack, I can just kind of… eat it. And then I can stash it in my Alchemist's Kit and use it to fuel all my other spells. That's a game changer.”
“Hm. But we must discuss the hideous markings upon your neck, must we not? The females will find it disgusting.”
“Even if you were right, I wouldn't give a shit. I'll drink an ugly potion if it makes me stronger. But women like tattoos. So it's a moot point.”
“Allow me to express my skepticism. I was quite successful with females in my world. I believe I would know.”
“Sure. Yeah.”
I stood up and stretched. My personal space was a mess of opened boxes and containers I'd kicked into the corners. “I'll uh… clean this up a little bit later,” I said, moving to pull the door that led to the main guild hall.
Hoot huffed, but began waddling around the room and touching boxes. At his touch, they disintegrated into flakes like ash that blew away in an unseen wind, vanishing.
“Thanks, Hoot.”
I stepped into the guild hall itself—an expansive stone chamber with pillars running toward the raised platform at the far end. Thick wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling above, and my trophies hung in their usual places: the wooden Wings of Ascension at the center, the mounted carapax bug to the left, and the Guild Master's parchment to the right. The little red tomte hat trophy sat on a wooden table next to the training area.
I found Circa standing patiently in the center of the long hall. Rock was in the training area, grunting happily as he battered an illusionary carapax training target with his quarterstaff. Lyria and nearly all the mongrel army stood on the raised platform at the end of the room. They were all talking seriously about something as other members wandered the hall, eyes up and hands running over everything.
Hoot sprang into action. “So much filth…” He began gesturing like an oversized magician, vaporizing dust, dirt, and grimy fingerprints people were leaving.
I noticed Kass, Perch, and Bloody Steve were with Lyria as well. It seemed wrong, but only for a moment. We may have been in Riverwell right now, but the guild hall was a dimensional space connected to the personal space of members. In other words, Kass, Perch, and Bloody Steve could enter this place from any place on Eros with personal space access. The only catch was they couldn't simply walk out the main door and join us in Riverwell. We could only exit to the same place we entered from.
I was about to go to them when I remembered something. “Wait,” I said, getting Hoot's attention as he grumbled and shooed Protus away from the tomte hat trophy. “Shouldn't I be able to push the guild to Tier 2, now? I won the tournament, right? That was the last Tier 1 task?”
Hoot looked pleased, bobbing his head eagerly. “Correct. Yes. You earned the training rooms with a donation of ten gold to the guild coffers. And you will still need to bring me more hardwood to claim the beautiful furnishings I can provide, but that can still be done after increasing the Tier Level of the guild. Upgrading the guild now will simply improve the number of members you can recruit and house here from six to twelve. It will also allow you to summon up to Iron level phantasms in the training room, improve the meditation room, and allow the completion of new Tier 2 tasks for further improvements.”
“Okay, great,” I said, clapping my hands together. The others had noticed me now and were drifting down from the raised area to where I stood. I could feel the weight of their gazes on my new tattoo, most of all. They were all staring.
“What is that?” Lyria asked.
“New item,” I said dismissively.
“Item?” Circa asked. “It appears to be a tattoo, Brynn.” She wore a white robe, though nothing as grand as when I'd first met her. And strangely, she was showing as a level 50 Wood Rank instead of Silver Rank like when we'd gone to the ruins. I had a hell of a lot of questions, but there was so much to do for the moment that I knew it could wait.
“Yeah… don't worry about it,” I said, waving off the questions.
“How is any of this possible?” Circa asked, gesturing to the huge room. “I've never heard of such a thing.”
“Apparently there's only one of these besides this guild,” I said. “No idea who the owner is, though. I was guessing a god, or someone very powerful.”
“You include yourself in rather high company, then?” she asked with a slight twist of the lips that told me she was only teasing.
“I'll fill you in on everything soon,” I said as Lyria and the others gathered around.
“What's the plan, Brynn?” Lyria asked.
Cassian, who had kept himself relatively distant since we'd arrived, loomed large in the group. Though he said nothing, I could feel the weight of expectation practically rolling off of him. He still had plans for me. I'd barely had time to process what he told me on the airship after the tourney. Even now it hardly felt real, and I wasn't sure I was ready to fully believe it.
But if Cassian was telling the truth, then my sister was in this world, too. Somehow. And she also became a god before we activated prestige mode. She went by the name of Sylphara, and her prestige path granted her oracle-like abilities. But Cassian's father supposedly found her and captured her.
It was a lot, but if his father was a Mythril, then I knew there was nothing I could do about it for the time being. Cassian knew, too, and he seemed content to follow me and do what he could to help me grow strong as fast as I could.
“Hoot,” I said. “What do we need to do to make the guild Tier 2 now that I've completed the task?”
“Simply ask,” he said.
“So…” Old Torgen the tomte blacksmith from the tourney asked. His eyes narrowed beneath huge eyebrows so long he had braided them so they hung to either side of his face. “Is anyone going to explain the giant fucking owl thing?”
Bloody Steve, another tomte, but one I met my first time in Riverwell before we journeyed together across the Black Wood, slapped him on the back. Bloody Steve looked like he had upgraded his gear. Instead of straps of leather over a mostly bare belly, he now had plated sections like his shoulders, and weirdly, his belly button. There was a little circular shield of metal just large enough to cover the belly button on his rounded stomach, and it hung in place from chains that dangled from similar plates covering his nipples.
Priorities, I guessed.
“He's a pain in the ass,” Bloody Steve said to Old Torgen. “Always trying to get my wood. Hardwood, specifically. The beast is a feckin' deviant, eh?”
I cut in before Hoot could go on an outraged rant. “Let's do it,” I said. “Upgrade the guild to Tier 2.”
“Very well. I suggest everyone closes their eyes,” Hoot said.
“Why?” Vay'nar asked. “Will we be blinded if we don't?”
“No,” Hoot said. “But the surprise will be more satisfying if your eyes are closed.”
Several people sighed, and only a few actually covered their eyes.
Hoot waved his wings dramatically and sparkling dust rose from the floor. The motes turned golden and white, then flocked to the walls, ceilings, and floors suddenly as if drawn in by magnets. For a moment, everything sparkled and glowed bright, the motes swelling as a sound like roaring wind filled the air.
And then… pop.
The motes burst, and when the glow cleared, the hall had been transformed. The rough-sawn rafters above were sleeker now, as if made from finer materials. The pillars that were once simple were now carved and decorated. The walls had gained wood paneling in places and smoother stone in others. The floors had fewer knots and gaps between the boards and a few decorative stone mosaics. The training room and meditation room had grown in size and both looked more high-end now.
Everything I could see had been given a slight makeover. In isolation, none of the improvements were too dramatic. As a whole, it was a complete transformation. The guild hall felt… more.
I smiled when I heard the gasps and impressed noises of others watching, along with dozens of questions that Kass, Perch, Bloody Steve, and Lyria jumped in to answer as well as they could.
“Okay…” I said, holding up my hands to quiet the dozens of overlapping voices. “Let me just explain this all once so we're on the same page.”
It turned out that Circa had no problem getting the remaining thirteen pounds of hardwood Hoot needed to complete the Tier 1 furnishing task. So it was only an hour before we were all comfortably seated around various well-made long tables with drinks and food people were bringing from the outside world every few minutes.
The sound of conversation, laughter, and clinking dinnerware was a comfortable roar.
Bloody Steve had captured a large portion of the mongrel army and looked to be telling embellished stories about my deeds of heroism. Exaggerated or not, he had a rapt audience. Naia seemed especially amused, shooting the occasional smiling glance my way when he revealed particularly ridiculous details.
Unfortunately for me, he was currently telling the story of the carapax queen and my “bug lover,” most of which sounded exaggerated but was completely true.
The sekmeti slaves with their deep purple skin and glittering star-like freckles sat with Thorn, whose face was still a mask of grief. Sylara died in the tourney, and I worried the bald and bearded former gladiator slave wouldn't be the same without her.
Vay'nar sat alone, the necromancer's pet looking seriously out of place here. But at least he didn't look like he was thinking about running anymore. My promise to help him must have finally been sinking in. Cassian leaned against the wall nearby, my new Iron Ascension Trophy wings floating high on the wall above his head. He seemed to be keeping an eye on Vay'nar for me.
I wasn't sure if he noticed, but the tattooed windrunner from the airship lingered near him as well. She kept her arms crossed, eyes watchful as she studied the room. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was waiting for one of us to reveal her newfound freedom was only a cruel joke.
Rock and Protus had commandeered a corner near the new kitchen area that appeared with the Tier 2 upgrade. Steam poured from a large iron pot while Protus seemed to be deep in explanation about the contents of the soup. Rock was listening eagerly. Hoot was there, too. He kept reaching for the ladle, but Protus whacked his feathery hands away with a spatula when he tried to steal a sample. “It is not ready, Bird. You must wait for the flavors to get to know one another. To taste now would be to disrespect the soup.”
Hoot rumbled his displeasure, but waddled back and waited, eyes large and wanting. He settled beside Tamrin and Yolo, who were lurking patiently with their eyes on the bubbling cauldron of soup.
In all, everybody just seemed happy to have a momentary bubble of peace away from the constant threats we faced in the tournament. And while I knew peace wasn't in my own future, I was happy to give this to them. To protect them.
But I knew our work here had only just begun. I wasn't ready to face the lich yet, so I'd need to use the next few weeks and possibly months to train. For once since arriving here on Eros, I'd have the opportunity to set roots in one place and simply grind. I was sure it wouldn't be as easy or as pleasant as it seemed at the moment, but I couldn't lie. The opportunity felt like a welcome breath of air after so many constricting months where it had felt like circumstances limited my choices.
Now I'd be able to help fortify Riverwell with the help of my allies here. I'd be able to focus on growing the guild hall, trying to find ways to push the evolutions of my various corestone abilities, and maybe experimenting with various loadouts of my six active and passive skill slots.
A pang of guilt bubbled up from deep within me. Guilt because I felt as if I was actually enjoying this. It felt as if I should be grim and determined. Angry, even. But if I was honest with myself, I felt anticipation. It was as if every nerve in my body hummed with a subtle note of excitement—like I was standing at the edge of a new horizon and everything ahead of me glittered with potential and awe.
Lyria sat at my side, her hair wet and skin smelling of soaps since she came back from her personal space. I still thought of her magical heated bathtub with some envy, and may have to ask if I could go into her personal space and borrow it soon.
Circa sat across from me, her strangely youthful face serious—blue eyes beneath dark brows and nearly white hair she had braided down her back.
“A phoenix class, huh…” I said thoughtfully. “That's incredible, Circa. We need to find a way to get you to Iron Rank. Imagine how strong you'll be when you're back to Silver with a class like that.”
The words lit yet another fire within me. I didn't only want to push my own advancement. These allies I'd gathered could all benefit from what I'd learned and the powers I'd gained. How much more could we accomplish if I helped lift all of them up? If I could somehow raise the rank and levels of the entire group?
We would quickly turn from a group of misfits fleeing Thraskian officials after the tournament's end to something far more. We'd be a real army. Not of mongrels, but of warriors.
“Just get to Iron Rank?” she huffed a laugh. “Easier said than done. And it's as I've said, the lich is relentless. She will overrun this place before long. I can't risk spending my one rebirth each day searching for Ascension Tokens. I die every night facing her hordes, now. It would be too great a risk.”
“So what does it take to get one?” I asked. “Two Wood Ascension tokens, right? One for you. One for Lyria? Can I buy them somewhere? Or is there an accomplishment I can earn? If it's not too difficult, I could start gathering them for the rest of the guild, too.”
“Brynn…” Lyria said softly. “They cost a fortune to buy outright. Hundreds of gold. Even the Wood Ranked ones. And the only accomplishments I know of are extremely dangerous.”
“Yeah, for a Wood, maybe,” I said, though I felt my optimism dimming at her tone.
“Even so,” Circa said. “Most who reach Iron do so from a family inheritance—an Ascension Token passed down for the event that one of their heirs may eventually make use of it. Or they belong to noble houses with vast fortunes. Or individuals who stumble upon accomplishment rewards and aren't quick to share what they did.”
I let out a breath. “Alright. Fine. So we can't count on getting enough tokens, but advancement can be taught, right? My accomplishments for advancing came with… an implication that it's rare to do without a master's guidance. That means it's not rare if a master is guiding you, right?”
Lyria and Circa exchanged a look.
“Would you consider yourself a master?” Circa asked.
“I mean,” I said, scratching at the tattoo on my neck, which still tingled slightly. “It felt relatively simple as far as I could tell. It was like opening a vessel with my mind. Using threads of mana like fingers. I think I could walk you both through it. The others, too.”
Circa leaned closer. “I fear it won't be so simple for those of us without the inherited mana manipulation of a god, Brynn.”
“You'll have the next best thing, then. A god as a mentor. We'll find a way.”
She sat back, then eyed the rest of the room, thoughts clearly shifting. “What will you do with these people, exactly? Will you tell them the truth of who you are? Who you were,” she added.
“No,” Lyria said. “We don't know them well enough to trust all of them yet.”
“None of them know?” Circa asked.
Lyria hesitated.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Circa oathbound you. I didn't think you could tell them, even if you wanted to?”
“The effect ended when she died,” Lyria said, then seemed to realize how strange a statement that was next to a woman who clearly wasn't dead. “Or whatever it was she did.”
“I have lost the ability with my rank,” Circa said. “It's possible I'll regain it if I ever reach Silver Rank again. But yes, it makes sense that Lyria would no longer be bound.”
“Anyway,” Lyria said. “I didn't tell anyone. Zahra said she recognized you from a statue in her homeland. But she also said she would keep it a secret, even from Ramzi. So yeah. Almost none of them know. But Zahra was convinced, even though I didn't confirm her suspicions.”
I shot a look across the guild hall to Zahra, who sat with Ramzi, who was humming deeply and filling the room with pleasant warmth. She noticed me looking and waved.
I tipped my head to her and focused back on Circa and Lyria.
“You didn't think that would be good for me to know?” I asked Lyria.
“Your head is big enough already. I didn't think you needed to know the beautiful sekmeti practically worships you.”
I shook my head, but decided it wasn't worth arguing about. Zahra must have kept her word about not talking if the others hadn't mentioned it by now. “I don't see the point in telling the others. Who I was doesn't really matter, anyway. All I have is this. There's no destiny or fate protecting me. I have the powers I've been granted and nothing more. So… no. I don't want them seeing me differently. If they're going to follow us, I want it to be because they agree with the way we're operating, not because they think I'm… that.”
“Well,” Circa said. “It seems as if you're managing to lead them just fine, so I see no reason to disagree. Though I would say you are more than you seem to think. A mere man couldn't overcome what you've overcome already. And I dare say even more extraordinary things are in your future.”
Something passed over her face at the last words, and for a moment, I almost thought she was speaking as if she'd seen those things and didn't simply suspect them. “And you?” I asked, changing topics. “What are you going to do once we kill this lich?”
Circa laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Your confidence is refreshing, but also implies you lack a complete grasp of what we're up against.”
“Maybe. But I'm curious if you'll stick with us once the lich is dead. Or are you going to go back to whatever it was you were doing before—bounty hunting Forsaken?”
“Hardly,” Circa said. “I was trying to use the powers I'd been given to make this world a better place. Eliminating Forsaken was often the most impactful thing I could do. If we kill this lich, I dare say I can't imagine a more impactful course of action than helping a reborn god reclaim his former power.” She whispered the last, but not without a small smile.
“So what's next?” Lyria asked. “We're all here now. If anyone in Thrask realizes we didn't actually die when they called in that thing, they'll be looking for us. And their airship.”
I shook my head. “Whatever magic they used to watch us was dark when the beast came. They will just think we're dead. Most likely,” I added, because I knew I couldn't be sure. “If Vitus followed through with his end of the bargain, he'll have claimed credit for killing the beast. And he'll also report that we all died and the airship was destroyed.”
“And this assumes nobody witnessed your flight from the tournament grounds to Riverwell?” Circa asked. “An airship is not a common sight in these parts.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “They may realize we're alive eventually. But if the Black Wood is as dangerous as you say, anyone in this area who wants to send word would have to get through there to deliver it. And we took a wide path around Thrask on the way back, staying as high as the airship could. I think we have time, and the lich will be our most pressing threat.”
“Alright,” Lyria said with a shrug. “And what's your plan to deal with the lich? Because I assume you have one.”
“I do. With the guild tier increased, we'll be able to summon up to Iron level phantasms in the training room now. That means Circa and Rock can already summon copies of what we're facing in the night raids, I assume?”
Circa seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. “They were all Wood Rank for a while, but some Irons are present now as well. No Silvers.”
“Good,” I said. “Then we can practice safely and learn the attack patterns and behaviors of what we're up against. Everyone in here will use the nightly raids to grind levels. And once they hit level 50, I'll work with them every morning on advancing without a token. During the day, I'll go solo in the Black Wood. I need everyone in here strong enough to help fight off the lich's minions when the time for battle comes. And me? I'm going to hit Gold Rank.”
“Oh… by the cosmos!” Hoot groaned.
I turned my head toward the main entrance to the guild hall and saw a procession of grommets entering. Perch had been waiting outside to let non-members in, and he was holding the door open for a long row of hairy grommets and even two of the “big pigs” known as grubbins the Coil grommets rode in the tournament.
They were filing happily into the guildhall, and they were carrying a miniaturized version of something I recognized instantly. “Is that…?” I whispered, a smile already forming on my mouth.
Chapter 4
Grimbo and the grommets had arrived, and they had a pint-sized version of the furnisher's box I'd used to claim my personal space upgrades back in Thrask. In the tunnels beneath Thrask, the furnisher's box had been the size of a semi-truck's cargo container. This one was the size of a twelve pack of soda cans, but it looked like several grommets were having to work together to support its weight.
Grommets from Thrask were only a few feet tall with mud brown hair and wide saucer eyes partially hidden behind the hair sprouting from their heads. Glimpses of their flat rocky white teeth were sometimes visible through the hair, and they moved with a penguin-like waddle. Despite their thick and squat bodies, they all had long, noodly pink-skinned arms that were unusually great for digging. Usually, they kept their arms hidden within their hairs, though.
Scarbo and another of his grommet allies from the Coil gromville were helping carry the miniaturized furnisher box. Coil grommets looked similar, but were a few inches taller on average, a bit wider, and often missing teeth or other various injuries. They also had a lighter, sandier color to their hair.
Behind me, all my allies had stood and were staring at the approaching grommets. Conversations died down almost instantly, leaving us in the relative silence of the guild hall. Silent, except for the scuffle of hairy pink feet, grunts from the straining grommets, and the dismayed sounds of Hoot watching the dirt they were trailing in.
“We are… bringing… A… surprise…” Grimbo breathed heavily.
Timbo was with them, but he trailed behind, apparently using his status as a grommet hero to get out of heavy lifting duty. His white hair was partially hidden beneath the hood of his ivory robe trimmed in red. He carried his infamous “staff,” too, which he and the other grommets saw as a miraculous healing tool. In reality, he just liked to hit injured people on the head with the thing.
I moved from the table to help them with the box. It was heavy, but I was able to handle the weight once the grommets gratefully passed it to me. “What is this?” I asked.
Grimbo leaned forward, hands sprouting from his hair to rest on his hips as he gasped for breaths. “Is furnisher box. We are bringing it here for looting. You have tokens, yes?”
I lifted the thing to eye level, squinting. “It seems a little small.”
Grimbo straightened and flashed a devious smile. “Mmm… yes. It is only needing tickled to grow.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Beside me, Lyria covered her mouth, laughing under her breath.
“Hah!” Bloody Steve roared. “I bet you—” But his words were cut short because Kass had slid behind him and clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Easy there, Stevie. The grommets are practically kids. They're too innocent for your mind.”
“Kids?” Grimbo asked, smiling. “This one is… fifty of your years. Timbo is three hundred.”
“Four,” Timbo croaked indignantly.
“Oh… yes,” Grimbo laughed awkwardly.
“Anyway…” I said, looking for an open place to set the furnisher's box. “So you're saying I just tickle this thing and it'll grow?”
Even more grommets were letting themselves in through the main door while Perch continued to stand there with his back pressed to the door because every other grommet was bouncing into him and leaving smears of dirt and filth on his leather armor.
I set the furnisher box down with a heavy thunk and knelt down beside it. “So I just…”
I gave it a kind of scratch with my finger, or “tickled” it as Grimbo would say.
The box began to jump, jerk, and vibrate. I stepped back and saw the others had already gathered around. It was quite the group now that nearly a hundred grommets had joined the room. Two of the fat caterpillar mounts with bulging eyes were gnawing on a wood pillar together and Hoot looked like he was about to die of stress at any moment.
But I had an Epic Personal Space Upgrade Token and a Legendary Tournament Master's Personal Space Upgrade to claim, after all.
The box made a sound of groaning metal and began to unfold. Metal panels fell from the sides to lay flat, then stood up again at twice their height like optical illusions. It all happened in seconds as the crunching groan of metal began to sound more like the flipping of cards.
The box kept expanding, unfolding, and growing.
And then it was huge again, taking up a sizable space in one corner of the guild hall. It also looked hilariously out of place. I was almost certain it was the same machine from before. There was a curtain on one end of the rectangular box and a smaller, square opening covered by a curtain for inserting the reward tokens.
“I can use this inside my personal space?” I asked, halfway looking over my shoulder at Grimbo.
“Ohhh… no, no, no. You can use in guild hall. We think. Personal space is different.” Grimbo said.
A few of the other grommets nodded, while some of them took a few more steps backward.
“You think?” I repeated.
“Is upgrading your personal space, yes? Not guild hall?” Grimbo asked. “This is feeling… safe!”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. Circa looked thoughtful, but she wasn't debating his logic.
“Hoot?” I asked. “Any insights?”
“Yes,” Hoot said. “These creatures are filthy and they didn't even bring a tribute of food. I want them out of my guild hall!”
An extra small grommet near Hoot reached inside his hair and produced a half-eaten root, offering it up to the huge owlbear. Hoot huffed, folded his wings over his large belly, and looked to me. “But yes. His logic is surprisingly sound. It should be safe to claim your personal space upgrades here.”
With a shrug, I approached the machine, trying not to laugh as I heard the grommets begin to womp in anticipation. The little guys absolutely loved watching people claim loot. As eager as I was, I decided to give them some of the theater they wanted as I lifted my Epic Personal Space Upgrade Token high enough for them to see.
A chorus of womps erupted. Two grommets even fainted, falling over sideways into their neighbors. Behind them, the mongrel army and the rest of my allies watched with bemused expressions.
I stuck the token in the side window and waited. It was only moments before I felt the familiar strangeness of cold fingers brushing up my hand and plucking the token from my fingertips.
With a shiver, I stepped back and waited. The box rumbled, and then a small slip of paper slid out of the curtained opening. Last time I'd used this thing, beds had been pushed out of there. The paper was… new.
I walked over and knelt, picking it up. It was a note written in purple ink that sparkled and shimmered in the light.
[Personal Space Upgrade - Spare Bedroom (Epic)] The user's personal space will now contain a spacious spare bedroom. Guests staying in this room will feel a subtle sense of loyalty and respect toward the owner of the personal space. They will not know they are under this effect. It will last until they have left the user's personal space.
I cleared my throat and tucked the paper into my pocket. “Spare bedroom!” I announced.
There was some scattered clapping from the humans, sekmeti, and tomte and a lot of confused expressions. But the grommets were losing their shit. A few more fainted. Some were shaking each other like they were trying to knock loose change from their hair.
Grinning, I moved on to the last token. I held it high so they could all see the glowing orange of the legendary token.
The grommets went silent, eyes wide. Even my allies seemed a little more interested, now.
I stuck the token in the window again and couldn't help feeling like the cold fingers were more eager to take this one. Not for the first time, I really wanted to pull back the curtain and peek inside the box. But I remembered the warning of the old man in the first furnisher I'd ever used. Apparently, looking at the things within could drive a person mad or worse.
But still… I wanted to know what the hell was going on behind that curtain. Who were these things and how did they make these rewards? Did the tokens provide some kind of value to them?
Another slip of paper popped out the other side of the box. This time, the text was written in burnt orange ink. The letters seemed to glow, giving off sparkling light so bright I had to squint to read the note.
[Personal Space Upgrade - Personal Arcanery (Legendary)] The user's personal space will be outfitted with a personal arcanery with all the functionality of a traditional arcanery. May or may not require occasional naidu maintenance to retain full functionality.
My heart was pounding. A personal arcanery… it wasn't just convenient. It would be a fucking game changer.
I barely heard the grommets losing their minds or the murmuring of my allies after I'd read the details aloud.
With this, my guild recall stone would actually let me come back to the hall and use my personal space to claim accomplishments, no matter how deep in some god forsaken dungeon or tournament I was. I could finally start claiming loot shortly after earning it, assuming my guild recall stone was off cooldown.
I moved through the grommets who were dragging unconscious grommets to the side of the room for treatment by Timbo. Circa stopped me before I reached the door to my personal space.
“Brynn,” she said. “Night draws near. The undead will come soon. I suggest you don't delay much longer. We all need to prepare for the attack.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “If you and Rock were handling this alone, though, I think we're all more than capable of shutting it down tonight.”
Circa looked serious, though. “I would advise you not to underestimate what comes.”
Circa may have had a legendary phoenix class corestone now, but she was still only a Wood. Rock was Iron, but if the two of them were handling these raids with the help of the townspeople, I imagined I could probably take care of it solo if I wanted to.
But that wasn't my goal. I wanted my allies to grow stronger. My plan was to play backline support tonight. Heal those who needed it, shield them from potentially lethal damage, and let them train. Whether the lich realized it or not, she was sending us the perfect fodder for training.