“So Zedart, boy have I got an offer for you.”

The [Swordsman] looked up at the scheming [Rogue]. While Ryan hadn’t quite managed to portray just how evil the Manager was, the [Swordsman] was quite willing to listen and accepted that he had a deeper purpose to his actions. It did startle Ryan just how much Zedart looked like he could pierce into your soul.

While this next offer was genuine, it was clear Zedart could tell there were purely selfish motives for this one.

It wouldn’t matter because the deal was just too good.

Ryan thumped his own chest. “You are now looking at the foremost expert at skill development across both worlds. I can help you learn your skills and guide you on the path you want to take. All I ask for this privilege is thirty million—thirty-thousand realmcoins.”

He was still getting used to thinking of money in realmcoins over dollars. It felt weird saying thirty thousand instead of thirty million. Like he was worth less because the numbers were smaller. Still, if Ryan understood his own value well, he was worth way more. Thirty thousand coins was practically a steal.

Zedart however, was uninterested. “I’ve learned all my skills.”

Ryan’s grubby smile slipped.

“Even your Epic?”

Zedart nodded.

Ryan was doubtful. “I haven’t learned a single one of my Trial Epics yet. You’re realmbound. You can’t even return to Earth and feel the difference, how could you activate your skill on your own already?”

It wasn’t even like there was that much of a benefit from activating a skill on your own. The benefits normally came in more granular control of cooldowns and how much energy you could put through the skill. None of which Zedart even struggled with.

The [Swordsman] just shrugged. 

“I have been focusing on my Epic after seeing what Valee could do with hers. You have multiple to practice with, which I assume makes it more difficult.”

Zedart was trying to make him feel better for his lack of talent. Gamielle laughed at the twitching expression on Ryan’s face. He cleared his throat, and did his best impression of what he assumed was a good salesman.

“Well—I can do something nobody else can, I can help you resonate with your class, only fifty thousand realmcoin—”

“I believe I can do it on my own.”

“Dragonshit.” 

Zedart hesitated for a moment.

“Can’t do it, huh? Don’t worry most people can’t resonate with their classes on command. I’ve heard it’s a performance thing.”

The taunting was enough for the [Swordsman] to make up his mind. Zedart stood up and closed his eyes. He held up his sword with warped enchantments and focused. 

Ryan’s taunting smile fell off his face, his class activating [Conceptual Meditation] on its own.

The Swordsman was pursuing greater heights to hone his edge. Perfection had merely been the first step. The step he was on now was to absorb everything he could and incorporate that into his sword.

That ephemeral step beyond mastery.

Ryan blinked at the clarity of class resonance that was echoing out from Zedart. It was equivalent to any class he’d witnessed so far… if not the weight of the concepts, but the sheer level by which Zedart resonated with his class.

Unbeknownst to him, Gamielle was watching Ryan, realizing he could see other people’s concepts, and not just his own.

Ryan was still entranced, the context of Zedart’s charge through the monster horde had changed. The way he willingly threw his sword and then parried an attack with his bare hands… the way he used the boar’s charge to launch himself forward.

That had been a move a [Rogue] would do. Not a [Warrior] or a [Swordsman].

And then the willful and conscious resonance…

“You’re not a [Swordsman] you’re [The Swordsman], aren’t you?”

Zedart nodded again, completely unsurprised Ryan could see through his class resonance so easily.

Ryan just huffed in annoyance. “That’s so dragonshit. If I had half your talent with the sword I’d be ruling The Realm already.”

It wasn’t the first time Ryan had been jealous of Zedart. As much as he had expanded his breadth of abilities, swordcraft would always have a special place in his heart. Quite a large part of him wanted what [The Swordsman] had.

Zedart was still making strides, learning and absorbing, growing. Once again, Ryan felt a pressure from someone that was below him.

If I don’t keep growing, Zedart will surpass me in the future.

Gamielle rolled her eyes and shook her head.

…

Of course, all good things had to come to an end. Gamielle gave them a warning that another adventuring group was coming and they had to send Zedart on his way.

Cerul, Ryan and Gamielle watched [The Swordsman] head off, Rax’s glove in hand, carrying the future of an entire species along the way. One sword with warped enchantments on his back.

Ryan had all the confidence in the world that Zedart would make it back safely.

——

By the time the immunity period of the portal was up, only one other adventuring team had approached him. They had quickly fled after seeing what was waiting with wide open arms.

…it was a bit disappointing if Ryan were to be honest.

Yes, adventurers knew when to run, but still, where were the standouts? Where were the adventurers that saw a monster needing to be put down and risked their lives to do it?

He had only been in the fifth realm for a month now and his base stats weren’t that much better than a sixth realm [Warrior]. In addition, there were no monsters to siphon fear from and this was an open battlefield.

It should have been the perfect setup for a proper raiding party. 

Maybe that was a little harsh. Evolved adventurers made up the backbone of the Adventurer’s Guild and they were probably all busy helping out with the mass evacuations.

Perhaps what the arrogant adventurer did not quite understand yet was the sheer amount of suppression he was having on anyone at his realm level. While others might not be able to detect concepts, one did not have to be a [Conceptual Metamorph] to feel the presence of multiple fully realized Epic rarity classes stacked on top of one person.

When you added the titles, the shattersword soaked in aura and the mink robes designed for a Sect Leader by the Witch Tyrant herself… well then you had someone whose sheer presence alone was approaching that of a dragonslayer.

As Ryan stood, disappointed and ignorant, a notification appeared.

The Immunity period has ended. You must now defend the inter-realm portal if you wish to retain access to its teleportation capabilities.

Now the system portal was back up for anyone else to grab. Without something to cover the beam of light, the call of the system portal started to shine one the land once more.

This time Cerul did not wait nor ask for permission and dove straight in.

The portal changed color to a bright blue. A moment later, a keening cry echoing out over the lands as a silhouette of a massive bird shone through the pillar light. Unlike in Lazhen, Cerul did not fly upwards in fear immediately.

It stood presenting proudly, beak tilted at the air, wings spread out wide and puffed out chest.

Cerul was at least half a size bigger than it was previously, an enormous size differential from just a single portal considering the cerulean crow had been more than big enough for Ryan to comfortably stand on its back.

Now, Ryan might be able to do his sword routine on Cerul’s back.

Though size wasn’t the only thing that caught the eye. Previously, all of its feathers had a metallic sheen and were all the same color unless Cerul pumped mana through them.

Now the feathers had gotten a makeover. Throughout its wings, its back and wrapping around its eyes, were large artful light blue swirls. It was as if a painter had taken a massive brush and made perfectly symmetrical swirls that pulsed with mana.

Ryan’s [Spellweave Perception] was telling him that each swirl could work independently or as one enormous spell matrix. Siphoning ambient mana at unprecedented speeds—not that Cerul necessarily needed to.

Unlike when Shara had first taken a system portal, Cerul’s entire body pulsed with perfect control over the system enhancements.

“Whoa. That’s almost dangerous.”

Even Ryan couldn’t help but be impressed. 

Gamielle nodded in appreciation at the preening crow.

“Cerulean Crows were one of the apex species in the Burning Lands. Tyrannical rulers of the sky that bullied everything around them that was weaker than they were. Which was everyone.”

Cerul puffed its chest out at the comment. 

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, he doesn’t seem that strong for a twelfth realm bird that just took two system portals. Is Cerul a runt?”

Instead of screeching at him, Cerul raised its beak even higher in the air and looked down on him, as if to say ‘I’m above your petty insults now. Look at how small you are.’

Ryan narrowed his eyes as Cerul tensed as well. Both of them were gauging the distance. If it was before, then Ryan could easily catch Cerul before he took flight… Now…

Neither were sure who was faster.

Gamielle rolled her eyes at the standoff.

“That’s because Cerul is still an adolescent. Even this big I think they’re considered teenagers in their flock.”

Cerul squawked loudly in disagreement and started hopping around Gamielle. Showing off its patterns in the front, back and face, as if saying it was an adult because of its patterns.

Gamielle smacked Cerul when it went too far.

“Get your tailfeathers out of my face!”

Ryan then saw it for what it was. A teenager trying to impress a girl by being loud and obnoxious. All the excitement for a fight went out of him.

“If Cerul is just a teen, how big are the elders?”

Some monsters had some enormous variations in size between adolescence and adults. Ryan was realizing he never heard much about Cerulean Crows in monster bestiaries before.

Gamielle looked up at the sky. “I only saw one of the elders from a distance, but their wingspan had to be miles long. When they start to cast magic… well, it was one of the few creatures to have ever made the Passive Tyrant use her Legend.”

Cerul stopped doing its mating dance at the mention of the Passive Tyrant. It lowered its proud head and turned its beak towards the distance.

As if remembering something.

Cerul had once spat on the Passive Tyrant’s statue. Ryan knew it had a grudge but not just how deep… he perhaps realized that Cerul had a bigger goal in mind than just getting stronger and courting Gamielle.

You had to remember that Cerul could have easily retired to an easy life in the leveled zone of Sector Three. It was almost expected of a coward like Cerul, yet it had stuck it out.

Ryan had been standing on top of Cerul when the Witch Tyrant’s curse had been barreling towards him. Cerul had been torn apart by Pinkie’s claws when she used both of them as a meatshield. Cerul had almost died after ingesting too much of the local noxweed.

Despite so many near deaths, the cowardly bird was moving forward, looking for system portals to gorge itself on.

Ryan looked at the bird and shook his head.

“You’re going to need a lot more system portals if you want to pick a fight with the Passive Tyrant.”

Cerul huffed and spat, as if telling him that it knew.

——

Decades ago…

Life was good as a Cerulean Crow. At least that was what the younger Cerul believed. Their flock dominated their mountain roost. They ate and pecked anything in the vicinity—and when something actually threatening came?

Like a certain large purple thingy that had hopped near Cerul’s nest and tried to eat his parents?

Then an ancient crow would peek its enormous head out from the clouds and glare at the purple thingy. The creature croaked in a panic as it leapt away into the distance, a single feather launched, larger than Cerul’s parents, chasing the purple hopping thingy across the horizon.

Thus, life was good with their protector.

Things changed when the world shook and great beams of light appeared.

They all heard it, the chiming of meaning and a pull towards the beams of light. All of them entranced by a promise to power. Thousands of crows across the mountain range snapped their heads towards the closest beam of light.

“CAW”

A single call from high above snapped every single crow out of it. They turned to their ancient protector—and something impossible happened.

For the first time in Cerul’s life, their ancient ancestor leapt from the mountain and nearly blotted out the sun, causing everything around to scream in a panic.

All of the Cerulean Crows watched in shock, wondering what had caused the change. Cerul’s parents looked worried. Though there hadn’t been a need.

When their ancient protector came back, no longer did their ancestor look… ancient. It was still larger than any other living creature in the world but its wings had regained its luster. A sparkling blue that outshone the sky.

Cerul realized then that their ancient protector had been slowly losing itself to age.

But now…

It crowed one loud caw that had the entire mountain range listening. They all heard it then, the call of the Trial System. It promised them that if they followed their ancestor into battle and towards the center land that everything would be theirs.

…

Despite the clear declaration and the boost in power, their ancient protector wasn’t reckless. It took its time to go to the other roosts, negotiate and sometimes simply swept away the the other roosts.

During that time, new alien creatures kept appearing. Particularly a group of tiny humanoid creatures that died to miasmic vents or to a stray attack from the adult crows.

They had been dismissed as threats.

They had assumed they were all merely at that level of strength.

They were wrong.

One day, when all of the strongest ancient protectors had gathered under a single mountain a loud voice disturbed them all.

“Finally! Why did all of you hide for so long if you wanted to take The Realm?”

Cerul remembered each noise, though it did not know what any of it meant until later. One of the adult crows threw a feather at the tiny thing that had appeared in their territory.

The small thing punched through it, shattering the feather like it was a stick, then it leapt high, high into the air—and punched the adult crow out of the sky.

That caught the attention of the gathering elders. The strongest ancient crow, Cerul’s ancestor, huffed and threw one of its feathers at the noisy tiny thing.

The tiny thing punched the feather and shattered their protector’s feather. 

That silenced the entirety of the gathered hundreds of thousands of Cerulean Crows. 

The little thing in the air had a look of absolute joy on its face as it stared at its lightly bleeding fist. It was the most disturbing thing Cerul had seen in its entire life.

“You are strong. I knew it. Now it’s my turn.”

Perhaps it had been too long since their ancestor had ever had a challenge, perhaps it was arrogance from the power of the system portal pumping through its veins, either way, it was clear that it lacked basic self preservation instincts.

The tiny creature took a step forward in the air and warped in front of the ancient crow, in the middle of their discussion, with five other ancient protectors—

And the Passive Tyrant punched Cerul’s ancestor in the beak.

That image would never leave Cerul’s mind ever again, the image of a tiny thing, knocking their ancestor clean off the mountain. The beak that Cerul had seen tear through literally everything and anything it touched—crack open by a tiny-tiny fist.

And the monster was overjoyed.

“Hah! You survived!—whoa.”

The ancient crows all took swipes at the tiny creature, leaping off the perch and ready to fight. Gone was the shock and dismissal, now they had to kill a threat in their midst. Cerul couldn’t see anything other than all five of the ancient crows surrounding the tiny thing and making everything else look small.

Then the apocalypse for the Cerulean Crows began.

Cerul could not see much, just flashes of blue and a torrential hailstorm of deadly feathers tearing up everything in the land. Occasionally, an enormous fist would imprint on the land, flattening everything that had been in the way.

Thousands of the flock died in that initial clash.

The ancient protectors could not hold back against this foe and the Passive Tyrant was having the time of her life.

It was all the adults could do to try to ferry the young ones out of the death zone. The adults of Cerul’s flock were flying in a circular formation, spinning around and creating a linked defensive barrier between them and the children.

Cerul remembered how his parents cried out in pain as the vibrations from the battle rattled their bones. Not once did they try to minimize the damage on themselves by tucking their wings in.

But it wasn’t enough, a stray feather from an ancestor could still pierce through the barrier. Cerul remembered how one by one, the adults and its friends started to die. Seemingly at random with no logic at all, just death.

In the distance was another flock, flying in formation. A stray pressure of what looked like a massive fist shattered the barrier and flattened all of the adults and children whole.

The Passive Tyrant grimaced, and tried to talke sense into the ancient crows.

“Hey! Timeout! Let’s take this somewhere else!”

But the ancient crows were not listening, nor did they understand. They themselves started to fly in formation. One of their ancient protectors had died, they had known each other for a long time and were both furious and mourning.

This was an enemy and they had to kill it. They could never be safe while it was alive.

The magical formation drew the miasma into the air, thick gouts of mutated mana that they had learned to master over time.

A magical spell formation that threatened to destroy everything.

For the murder of crows would never forgive, nor would they ever forget. 

The Passive Tyrant saw the thing in the air and smiled, no longer caring about collateral damage either.

The monster’s small right hand tore into the air, like she was trying to rip and grab at the heart of reality itself. The space around her hand began to warp and the air blurred as she readied her Legend. She might have had the capability to disrupt the spell in time, but she didn’t do that.

The Passive Tyrant bared her teeth, a sinister look that Cerul would later realize was a wide smile.

She was enjoying this, this moment of life and death. That uncertainty where you threw everything and you weren’t sure you were going to survive.

She lived for that thrill.

Cerul’s ancestor broke the formation of four circling crows and moved to the center of the formation. It took in the condensed red miasma and superimposed it on itself. An enormous terrifying red crow with a small blue center.

It blotted out the sun.

It gave one keening cry across all of the land, lifting its presence as the ruler of these lands. Condensing the form further.

The blue core of Cerul’s ancestor turned into purple surrounded by red miasma.

Absolute destruction.

The Passive Tyrant’s grin widened. At the moment of impact, she released her own Legend, her clawed hand moving up and—

[M A N T L E

R I P P E R]

All Cerul saw was a wall appear in the sky, its vision obscured by what might as well having been the land turned upside down. Which was close to what had actually happened. All the crows in the surrounding area were knocked out of their flight, some instantly killed by flying debris while others buried alive.

Cerul’s parents broke formation to cast one final spell. To throw Cerul as far as they could.

And then everything went dark.

…

Cerul did not know how long it stayed in the dark. He wasn’t even sure if he was still alive. Then he felt the ground shift and started to screech out in helpless desperation.

“Hey! Found another one, aww poor birdy.”

Cerul’s veins went cold, it went silent but it had no ability to mask itself. When the dirt moved away and the first thing it saw was another one of the legged small things it squawked in fear.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. See? Let me fix your wing.”

There were a couple other young crows around her, none that Cerul recognized. This wasn’t the monster that had killed his flock, just a creature that was just like it.

Cerul tried to pierce her neck with its beak. It hurt its beak on a barrier instead.

“Hey! Don’t nip at me. It’s not my fault that auntie Ayla–the Passive Tyrant can be so reckless. Here let me help.”

Cerul screamed in alarm at the mana that touched its body.

“Damn, you’re sensitive. Fine, you know what? Take this.”

The similar bipedal creature with slightly pointy ears uncorked a bottle and rolled it on the ground, its contents being telekinetically raised into the air. Cerul could tell that something potent was in it but couldn’t resist. The red liquid settled on his body and  Cerul screamed in fear again but couldn’t fly away due to its broken wing. 

It blinked as it realized it started to mend.

The two legged creature looked up in the air.

“Shut up mom, I told you to stop swapping out my healing potions for regeneration ones. You think I didn’t notice? Well, this is what you get!”

Cerul had no idea what this crazy creature was saying.

With the rest of its shattered body healed he could finally fly, high, high above the ground. He fled from the creature before it decided to make Cerul its snack. The elation from being healed and flying in the sky disappearing just as quickly as it came.

Their roost was gone. The land was unrecognizable with a deep fissure splitting the entire mountain range. Cerul could not see the bottom of the miasma filled chasm.

Then it saw the dead ancestors. 

Three enormous ancient crows with miles of wingspan dead. The Passive Tyrant, satisfied, bleeding and sitting next to half of the biggest crow of them all. 

Cerul’s ancestor. The Passive Tyrant was roasting a part of the wing of the greatest Cerulean Crow to have ever flown.

And Cerul was flying alone in a sky that used to hold hundreds of its brethren at any time.

Everyone else that had survived had seen the scene and fled.

Too young, Cerul did not know what to think, or what to do. It just dropped to the ground, and idly started digging away, hoping that it could unearth more of its kind. 

Dig.

Dig. it felt something hard in the dirt.

Dig dig.

A broken beak. Attached to a shattered skull.

Dig dig.

Dig dig.

“Okay, that’s just kind of depressing. Get out of here shoo! Shoo!”

Cerul squawked in surprise and fear at the [Mage] that had appeared next to it. It tried to peck her—hurt its beak on her barrier again and then looked accusatorily at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. Damnit [Sympathetic Words].”

And suddenly Cerul understood the emotions behind the [Mage’s] words.

“Shoo-shoo, fly straight that way. This area isn’t going to be safe anymore, there’s too many carcasses that are going to attract scavengers once the Passive Tyrant leaves.”

Cerul understood more now, safety beyond, dangers here. The hatchling Cerulean Crow looked one last time back at the land that used to be good. The mountain was gone, the land was gone, the ancient crows were all gone. It stared hatefully at the monster that was feeding on their ancestor.

The monster lifted its head from feasting on the carcass and looked at the baby crow curiously, then dismissed it with a hand. Her voice echoing out.

“Come back and find me when you’re stronger.”

The [Mage] bonked Cerul on the head. The crow squawked in panic and betrayal until it realized it was a friendly nip like its parents used to do.

“If you want revenge, you’re going to have to do a lot of growing up. Steal some system portals, find how adventurers work and be stronger than your ancestor… even then…”

“Hey Gamielle! Sorry about the mess! Come over!”

The Passive Tyrant waved at the [Mage] and Cerul glared at her. As if she had somehow betrayed it by knowing the monster over there.

Gamielle sighed at the baby bird.

“I wouldn’t bother. Live a good life little crow, if you still want revenge then go find out how strong adventurers are, then remember this: The Passive Tyrant is stronger than them all put together.”

With those words, Cerul was thrown into the distance, remembering the weird alien that had devastated its home, nothing would be the same after that. It took a long journey traveling in a single direction, nearly dying multiple times.

Neither the sky nor the land was safe for a young crow.

It learned to be cowardly and hide. While hiding, it watched adventurers fighting other creatures, hunting them down for their hide and stuff.

On the occasion it got caught, it played cute and pitiful. Like a hatchling that had lost its parents. It worked more often than not.

Throughout its journey, Cerul learned two things.

It was the age of adventurers.

And the Passive Tyrant stood above them all.

Battered, destroyed, most of its feathers lost because he didn’t know how to use magical feather attacks and had to use his real ones. Cerul had long since given up on the idea of revenge. He was smart, he understood that even if Cerul took multiple portals the adventurers would form a raiding party and hunt you down.

It was better to just… live an easy life. Like Gamielle had said.

So it just did that, it found a leveled zone, and harassed the occasional adventurer. Then it bullied the monsters around it. It had been mostly fine living an ordinary life.

That was until one day, an obnoxious aura of fear disturbed its nest on a hill. 

And he met his [Mage] savior once again.

——

A few days after Cerul had taken his second System portal.

Pinkie was currently watching one of the most bizarre interactions she’d ever witnessed.

“Unhand me you vile cretin!”

“Oh come on, just take the portal, you know you want to. I’ll hold back, one arm only.”

“You promised that the last time. I will not fall for it like your other victim, you unsightly wretch.”

“It tried to kill me first!”

“Because you kept bothering it!”

“I’ll get you two more portals after this if we fight!”

The Passive Tyrant had dragged out one of the more powerful ‘Rogue Spirits’ from Sector Twelve and was trying to feed it a second system portal. A portal that had appeared from a corpse of another creature that she had dragged along and fed a system portal.

Then she accidentally killed it.

For someone that despised killing the weak… Pinkie noted that the Passive Tyrant seemed to do it quite often. 

At first Pinkie thought the lack of care and hypocrisy was part of being strong… now she had changed her mind. She knew the answer as to why the Passive Tyrant disliked killing those weaker than her. 

In fact, everything was ready.

The Passive Tyrant had even promised to make sure that the Witch Tyrant wouldn’t interfere with her transformation.

Then why was Pinkie waiting?

A twelve foot tall birdman made of stories and faith kicked at the Passive Tyrant, refusing to accept the portal. That was also something Pinkie had no idea could happen: a monster could refuse to take a portal, nobody could make you take one.

“You wormbrained Alzecoke of a fiend. You deceive yourself and use that to deceive others, did you think I would be a simpleton? I offer no challenge. Slay me if you must.”

Pinkie had no idea what an Alzecoke was, but she did know one thing. This powerful rogue spirit was smart. After being tricked and nearly punched to death the first time, it had quickly deduced the Passive Tyrant’s nature and had promptly found the best course of action to guarantee its survival.

Surrender.

The Passive Tyrant disliked killing opponents that provided no challenge.

She huffed and finally let the rogue spirit go. The weird half bird, half man thing hurrying in the opposite direction of Sector Thirteen. Likely in an attempt to find somewhere else where it could not be disturbed by the battle maniac.

Pinkie did note that the rogue spirit was going in the direction of Sector Eight. 

But that wasn’t her problem.

The Passive Tyrant crossed her arms in annoyance.

“Stupid Trial System, where are all the strong monsters?”

Every single rogue spirit and guardian deity were definitely strong enough to be considered a raidboss for dragonslayers. It was just that the Passive Tyrant had completely outpaced whatever the Trial System had readied as a challenge for realm thirteen Trialists.

And she was staring at the ground where Pinkie was hiding in her snake transformation.

“You’re ready, right?”

The Passive Tyrant’s instincts probably told her Pinkie was ready. It might have been why she was so forceful with the other monsters lately. The Passive Tyrant had changed her mind and was now expecting a good fight.

Pinkie just wasn’t sure she was going to survive the Passive Tyrant being so excited.

//////

5k words. Double chapter or something technically, hoping this made up for the delay.

Welp, I had Cerul’s interlude written at like chapter 70 and was planning on making it a separate chapter. I had to rewrite the whole thing again cause I couldn’t find it.

Anyway, this fits so much better into the story with what’s coming.