The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop

Chapter 74: The Anthus Conspiracy II

“Alright greenhorns! This’ll be your first fight in the line of duty!” a sergeant barked, before him, a line of fresh-faced recruits holding various weapons. “Whatever silly soldiering they taught you in boot camp, forget most of that frilly pomp! Here, your life dances on the edge of a razor blade! Fighting a few wolves and slimes during training ain’t worth the dirt under my boots in Anthus!”

Given that Anthus’s last casualty on defense duty was a few months ago, Orodan doubted the veracity of that statement. Furthermore, these new recruits, as part of their initiation and travel into the city, had been ordered to stand and defend their inbound convoy alongside the escorting veterans. The tough and valorous ones among them who’d stepped up then, had already seen combat and been noticed for it too.

Then again, senior troops trying to rankle the nervous new blood was a tradition as old as civilization. And this display was meant to coax and identify those recruits who’d shied away or hid behind the veterans during the numerous fights the inbound convoy had faced.

“Now then… let’s give you lot a taste of the sorts of monsters braying for our blood outside the walls of Anthus!” the sergeant declared. “Let a giant spiderling up!”

“One giant spiderling coming up sergeant!” the overseer for that section’s defensive ballistae replied.

[Lightning Bolt 15 → Lightning Bolt 17]

[Surprise Attack 45 → Surprise Attack 46]

A loud boom. Though, masked over the sound of the various artillery pieces already firing.

“Corporal! Where is my giant spiderling?”

[Lightning Bolt 17 → Lightning Bolt 19]

[Tool Mastery 73 → Tool Mastery 74]

“…corporal. How difficult can it be… to let a singular giant spiderling up the walls?!”

“S-sir…! They’re all getting killed!”

Only now did the unfortunate sergeant turn and notice Orodan blasting away, Destartes behind him, watching with glee.

“Sergeant, I apologize for the intrusion, but the recruits are best trained on the north wall today,” Destartes said and then turned to Orodan. “Good! Good! Keep letting the lightning flow! Let me know when you acquire Lightning Magic Mastery!”

“Urk! Yes, my lord!” the man choked out, red-faced at having just noticed the old Grandmaster.

As for Orodan himself. His skills were at war.

Tool Mastery waged war to insist that the hand he was casting with was as much a tool as any other. Its benefits would be applied. Surprise Attack too ordered that he train it by focusing on the particular monsters at the back of the horde who hadn’t really noticed him, that he might hit the unaware foes just a bit harder. Mana Manipulation was a constant in the din of this battle, commanding the most efficient of actions. And of all the skills, Enchanting demanded he force the lightning bolts to flow along specific pre-arranged patterns.

It made no sense whatsoever, even to Orodan.

But as he finally managed to cast a lightning bolt in the perfect shape of an inscription of explosion in the Imperial-enchanting language…

[Lightning Bolt 19 → Lightning Bolt 20]

[Mana Manipulation 60 → Mana Manipulation 62]

[Enchanting 86 → Enchanting 87]

Orodan had intentionally kept the strength of his lightning bolts low thus far, so as to keep the fight fair. But this one was more than a little different.

The ground in front of the city cratered inwards, and a significant portion of the swarm assaulting the west wall was instantly eradicated in a thunderous explosion which sent arcs of lightning and secondary lightning bolts flying outwards like magical shrapnel. The bolt could have taken out a castle, despite Orodan having fed it only enough power to take down a shed.

“What on Alastaia was that?” Destartes asked, mouth agape. “I didn’t even sense that much power going into it.”

“You’re asking me? I’m as surprised as you are…” Orodan muttered. “But, I think I understand what happened. The lightning bolt, I cast it perfectly in the shape of an enchantment. Specifically, the same inscription one might write to make something explode.”

“I did see that bolt take a shape quite similar to a written language. It was too fast for me to read however,” Destartes said. “How has your control over lightning improved so much that you can create enchantments using it? You did tell me you don’t possess any mastery skills for lightning, right?”

“I don’t… but I think my Combat Mastery is forcing all these separate skills to work together in order to produce such absurd outcomes,” Orodan explained. “My control over the element is nowhere near consistent enough to do that again. Not on demand.”

In fact, it wasn’t just the act of creating a lightning bolt in the shape of an inscription. Mana Manipulation was a secondary factor, and critical for guiding the mana which needed to flow through the pathways of Orodan’s temporarily created enchantment. Both skills had managed to produce a result which Orodan otherwise had a one-in-a-thousand chance of performing with his current skillset.

And to make certain of that, the next lightning bolt he tried predictably failed to form in the shape of that enchantment once again.

“You needn’t be so surprised. The connection to that System of yours is turned off now, isn’t it?” Zaessythra asked and Orodan mentally affirmed it. “Much as the System imposes consistency and a certain measure of quality, it also stifles innovation. Occasionally, you can achieve a one-in-a-thousand result when luck and chance are allowed to operate.”

He saw where she was coming from. The only question then, was how to replicate the feat consistently? For that, practice was still required.

“Hmm… I must admit, I’ve never had a student of mine be so unpredictable in what they can do,” Destartes mused. “But if we pushed your abilities in wild and unpredictable directions, who knows what we could achieve? Keep going Mister Wainwright, there are plenty more monsters to practice on.”

He wasn’t sure if the swarm assailing the west wall would see it that way. The morale of the horde was already flagging thanks to Orodan’s lightning bolts, and it had turned from a fair contest of assaulting the walls into a game of shooting fish in a barrel. Though, he couldn’t feel too bad given that they were choosing to attack a fortified city out of greed.

For the next fifteen minutes, Orodan continually kept casting Lightning Bolts, receiving several gains in the skill. But also unexpected ones in some others.

Orodan had initially begun casting with just his index finger. Endless Blitz though, demanded he unleash a barrage of lightning bolts, one finger after the other. Time Compression was a monstrous amplifier, and it ordered he use it that he might cast many more lightning bolts in the same span of time. All while Flash Strike most weirdly managed to make the bolt itself skip a portion of its travel path altogether, making it reach the targets far faster. Orodan made a mental note to experiment with that combination further as the days went by.

“Despite your claims at being a warrior, Mister Wainwright, one could also say you’re a mage of a most frightening sort,” Destartes remarked. “While I might have more skill and finesse in the magical arts than you, I doubt any mage upon Alastaia could best you in a duel of pure spellfire.”

“I’m hardly a proper spellcaster. But I suppose raw power has its strengths.”

“Quite so. But even if you lack a certain kind of… mindset when casting spells, none can deny the effectiveness of yours.”

“Mindset? Explain.”

“If I were to give an analogy, Mister Wainwright, it would be akin to giving a javelineer a choice of rocks and telling them to break a window and then giving you the same choice. The javelineer might pick a rock most suited to the task which synergizes with their aims. You, however, would just pick the largest boulder around and hurl it at the target,” Destartes explained.

“Huh? Is that such a bad thing? Simple problems require simple solutions,” Orodan defended.

The old Grandmaster laughed.

“Far from it my student. It’s a more than adequate mentality to have. However, most mages have an entire repertoire of spells suited for different situations. If they see a troll, they consider pulling out fire or lightning spells to combat the creature’s natural regeneration. A magically animated construct? A dispelling spell will do. To most mages, spells are tools, and choosing the one best-suited to the situation is integral. Tell me, Mister Wainwright. Do you have any spells for camping, lighting, travel or scouting?”

“Camping? I don’t really need to do that nowadays, but back in the militia days, we’d just pitch a tent in the woods, set up watch and get a fire started. To be honest, we didn’t do much camping outside of basic training. Wasn’t aware spells were necessary,” Orodan said. “And while I have Teleportation and Dimensional Step now, I didn’t always. I just ran.”

“If you were a mage at Bluefire, they’d insist you learn a basic set of spells to cover all possibilities. Conventional magic education of the Imperial-tradition emphasizes a wide repertoire of magic, with the student then specializing in a field or two that they’re truly proficient in,” Destartes explained.

“Seems like a…” Orodan wanted to say it was a waste of time. He really did. “…unique form of education.”

Even if he held his own biases, looking down on things was something he’d grown past.

“Hah! You need not hide your true thoughts from me Mister Wainwright! I’ve taught warriors aplenty, I know how your sort feels about the mage mentality, and that’s okay. If anything, warriors bring a rather welcome mindset of direct simplicity to magic which allows for the reaching of greater heights at times. Rather, if fewer aspiring wizards pondered what spell to pull from their repertoire in a bad situation and more focused on honing a singular spell to be capable of handling all their problems, they’d be better off for it.”

Admittedly, Orodan could see now in hindsight how mages thought differently. Even in his first battle against wizards at Eversong Plaza, they focused on solving the problem that he presented. He fought warriors in melee and the mages sought to suppress him in tandem with spellfire. And when that failed, they sought to launch coordinated assaults in tandem with more of their kind. Frankly, almost every mage - save the hybrid sorts - that Orodan had fought, was keen on staying away from him in melee.

He didn’t really see how it was a ‘mage mentality’ much as it was the logical course of playing to their strengths while minimizing his. But if Destartes said so, he supposed he’d take the old man’s word for it.

He continued casting lightning bolts, until at last, the message came once he’d fully grasped the nature of lightning and comprehended all that could be done with it.

[Lightning Bolt 23 → Lightning Bolt 24]

[New Skill → Lightning Magic Mastery 3]

And with it, his lightning bolts began hitting just that little bit harder, and his control over the element itself, when fuelled by mana, became noticeably better.

“Lightning Magic Mastery, I finally have it,” Orodan professed.

“In a single session… less than thirty minutes too. Monstrous,” Destartes muttered.

“I doubt my ability to do the same with other elements will be as quick. I studied lightning quite intimately when inscribing enchantments related to it using an absurd enchanting language.,” Orodan answered. “I’d have to replicate the feat with other elements via enchanting first.”

He’d inscribed an enchantment for lightning bolts using chicken scratch. Needless to say, the act of doing such a difficult and convoluted thing meant he was more than a bit intimately familiar with lightning in comparison to the other elements. Having Lightning Resistance, whose acquisition involved many shocking ends to his loops, also aided his understanding of the element.

“All of which can be arranged. Now then, let’s move onto fire.”

Orodan complied and immediately began channelling a Draconic Fireball in the palm of his hand.

“Wait, wait, put that out. That’s dragon magic, isn’t it?” Destartes asked and he nodded. “Entirely excessive. We must focus on the basics, something subtler and more rudimentary is called for.”

‘Alright, how about this?”

A Flare was cast in his hands and held there.

[Flare 63 → Flare 64]

“Uagh! My eyes!”

“Brighter than the sun!”

An unfortunate minotaur that had been allowed up the wall also scaled it just in time to be blinded, and it fell right off.

“Something with a little less collateral damage to the troops’ eyesight perhaps?” Destartes asked, a mana shield in front of his own eyes.

And that… was when Orodan understood the difference between himself and a conventionally educated mage.

“It appears… I have no other fire spells.”

“Probably a good thing for the environment and any wooden houses,” Zaessythra jibed.

“Truly? Didn’t you say you studied at Bluefire?” Destartes asked.

“Yes, but my education primarily consisted of learning martial skills and crafts the first time around. And when I was in Novarria I had private tutors focusing more upon grand spells which could alter battlefield conditions on a large scale,” Orodan explained. Such as dragging the Eldritch Avatar down to Novar’s Peak instead of its usual landing in Guzuhar.

“I see… shame on them, for not instilling the correct foundations in a young man with such drive and potential,” Destartes said. “This shall be amended. Here, take this tome, read it and try to get a grasp on the spell within.”

It was a thin thing that Destartes had handed him. Barely a few pages and Orodan skimmed through it and understood the concept quite easily.

Of course, being the first time he channelled mana through the instructed pathways, he’d not realized how the spell wasn’t meant to be powered by one possessed of so much mana. For a tiny instant, a regular candleflame appeared in his hand.

It then roared to life, becoming a blazing inferno that Orodan managed to turn skyward in time. The gigantic flame soared a half-mile upward before stabilizing, and Orodan quickly put it out before it correspondingly widened and engulfed half of the entire west wall.

[New Skill → Candleflame 16]

He focused and re-cast the spell, making sure to put only the necessary amount of mana into it this time.

[Candleflame 16 → Candleflame 17]

Candleflame. The quintessential pyromancy spell. Not just mages, but many nobles and those with a basic education at certain academies also knew the spell. Even a rudimentary control over one’s own mana pool allowed one to cast it; in tandem with the low cost, it was a popular spell for non-magicians to dabble in.

Orodan continued honing this skill as Destartes put him to work lighting up the fuses for certain war machines, igniting the arrows and bolts of archers and crossbowmen and lighting torches along the walls. It was manual and menial work, but it was exactly what the skill was meant for.

He gained four more levels in Candleflame. His existing Fire Magic Mastery and his insights in the ways of fire from Draconic Fireball and Flare helping him make quick gains.

“Now that I’m not at risk of burning the city down, I must admit, it’s not a bad spell. I could slay an Elite with a powered cast perhaps.”

Destartes simply sighed.

“Mister Wainwright, Candleflame is meant to illuminate a room that one might read past sundown, or light a campfire. Slaying Elites with the spell while it’s merely at the Initiate-level is something reserved for the likes of Gods… or yourself. During your time with me, I intend to have you thinking more like a mage; utilizing the right tool for the job at hand.”

“Weren’t you disparaging the mage mentality just a while ago yourself?” Orodan asked.

“I was. Yet, I could go on about how your warrior mentality is harmful as well. At times too straightforward; simple to the detriment of creativity,” Destartes explained. “Any mindset can have its downsides. However, to limit yourself to thinking only like a charging bull is to hinder your growth. You already have the ethos of hard work and a willingness to embrace pain and monotony. Now, it’s time to expand your mind and think more analytically. You already do so when it comes to making things, but applying it to everything else will only benefit you.”

“You intend to teach me the basic spells for all elemental schools then?” Orodan asked. “I suppose I can get behind that.”

“Indeed. You’re already a warrior possessed of some terrifying might no doubt. But what if you could amplify that potential?” Destartes asked. “Imagine a swing of your sword, backed by not just might, but scorching flames? Or a blow from your fist erupting with lightning itself?”

Now that was an interesting thought. He knew pyromancy, and recently he’d picked up how to work with lightning magic. But what if Orodan further expanded his repertoire? And what if he could weave elements into his regular combat style? He wasn’t much for slinging spells, but imbuing his fist with fire or his blade with lightning during battle didn’t seem like a bad idea in the slightest.

Thanks to his array of high-rarity skills, Orodan could fight well above his level. The addition of elements to his melee combat would only amplify this potential of his. His enemies were unfathomably powerful; beings who could shatter a galaxy. The Administrators were the cream of the crop within the System. Five beings who’d ascended to the heights of power under it and were rewarded with a form of stewardship over it all.

They were mighty…

…but the gap between he and they wasn’t so insurmountable. Not when he had quality of his own. He could already fight foes far stronger than him. Something he planned on pushing further with the addition of the elements to his combat style.

“Then, I humble myself and seek to learn, teacher,” Orodan said, giving Destartes a respectful nod. “Though I did have another subject I wanted to discuss.”

“Of course. What would it be?”

“True soul creation.”

Destartes looked confused for a split second.

“True soul creation? As in, the creation of a soul from nothing?” the Grandmaster asked and Orodan nodded. “Such a thing, I’ve never heard of it. Throughout my long years I haven’t even heard of any honest attempts at it being made. I cannot help you with such a thing I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright. I expected as much,” Orodan said. If not even an Administrator like the Prophet knew of a way to salvage Zaessythra’s soul, then attempting to find direct answers on Alastaia was a fruitless endeavor. Though, a particularly secretive and paranoid being in another galaxy might have an inkling. Particularly when this individual had an Administrator’s Mantle in their possession and seemed most knowledgeable and skilled in magic. “My chief aim in learning magic from you… is to become capable of stealthily entering another galaxy without alerting its inhabitants that I’ve done so.”

“That sounds like a set of very complicated circumstances. Why the necessity for stealth?”

“The individual I seek to consult on the matter is a bit excessive in their paranoia. And threatening people for the sake of being granted an audience is a dishonorable move I have no intent of resorting to.”

“Well, given your work ethic, I think we can manage something in the month we have. Though you’ll be studying that alongside all the elemental magic training I’ll put you to work on,” Destartes said. “The workload will be a heavy one alongside everything else you intend on doing.”

“A heavy workload? Why that’s just the first day of the week for me,” Orodan replied with a smile. “The more the better actually.”

Here he was, a Transcendent, seeking instruction from a Grandmaster. But what did that matter? Knowledge could come from anywhere. And Orodan, who’d started from the lowest of beginnings, wasn’t above humbling himself to learn from any teacher. Particularly one that understood the nuances intricacies and theory of magic better than him in many regards.

And with Destartes’ tutelage, came the opportunity to amplify his battle power through utilization of the elements and the replication of that exceedingly rare and difficult cross-application of elemental magic and enchanting.

#

Feet steady, eyes focused.

The shield in his left hand stood ready, and the sword in his right lashed out.

It was the most basic thrust one could perform with a sword; underhand and either beneath or around the shield. During basic training for the militia, particularly during formations training where the recruits were instructed to lock shields, stand side-by-side and clash against an opposing shield line, this thrust was the most common one used.

“A rather basic motion for a warrior of your caliber. I would’ve expected you to devote yourself to the perfect slash or something more… ostentatious,” Zaessythra said, more curious than judgemental.

“There’s a reason the thrust comes so intuitively to us with a sword or knife in hand. There is violence in the thrust, aggression.”

While a thrust could be made flowery and elegant, Orodan’s was anything but.

Point A to point B. Brutal and violent. There was no elegant or fancy motion to it. Yet, there were so many intricacies to the basic and humble thrust. Sword Mastery as a whole encompassed slashing, grappling and even bashing with the hilt or flat… but integral to a sword, in Orodan’s opinion, was the thrust. It was the difference between Sword Mastery and Saber Mastery, and though there was some overlap where mildly curved swords could still thrust, the majority of them just weren’t as effective for it.

Orodan’s sword arm lashed out in a thrust once more. A thrust, much like a punch delivered from the fists, was a motion that had so many mechanical intricacies to it. For maximal efficiency, one couldn’t just thrust with the arm, they had to utilize the shoulders and rest of the body too. Rotational force starting from the legs travelled through the core and added to its strength, and the rigidity of one’s grip upon the sword at the point of impact was equally important, which was why sword-users made sure to train wrist and grip strength too.

Receive a blow on the shield, and return with a quick and vicious underhand thrust of the sword. These were the root basics of combat taught in the county militia. Before even getting to swing their blades, militia troops were taught the thrust.

He made sure to moderate his pace lest he generate air pressure and shockwaves which would cause mass destruction, but even then, Orodan thrusted at as quick a pace as he could safely manage. From under the shield, from around, and even at times the shield was pulled down so he could thrust from over it. Akin to how a masterful unarmed fighter could pepper a foe with lightning-quick jabs at the peak of their range, so too did Orodan let loose hundreds of thrusts.

The form was incredibly basic. Any recruit going through military boot camp or militia basic training would perform the same motions. But…

…basic was good.

And Orodan had a knack for taking what was ‘basic’ and evolving it beyond what should be possible.

Even though he’d moderated his pace, the sheer number of thrusts and his power in general meant that gale force winds were sweeping through the training yard. And many of the soldiers working on their own skills or going through drill certainly noticed.

“Beladrius! You’re having trouble staying on your feet! Might I ask, why is that?” a training sergeant asked, glaring at a new recruit closest to Orodan. Both the recruit and the sergeant knew exactly why, but the poor greenhorn wouldn’t dare voice it.

“Just a stiff breeze ma’am!”

The recruit looked rather light of weight and not too tall of stature. Physical Fitness as a skill gave power to the body and allowed one to push the muscles further, but it didn’t increase mass. Consequently, without any supplementary skills, a warrior of lighter weight was still subject to getting thrown about by attacks or the environment.

Just a stiff breeze eh?

The thrusts increased in frequency. Orodan’s right arm becoming a blazing cannon of motion as the air around him began to heat. With the crutch of the old System, his thrusts would’ve been skilled and blazingly fast, but still guided along a certain path. But without it… he could bring his own style of fighting to bear.

Aggression. Pure, untamed and unbridled ferocity.

Violence.

That was the essence of Orodan’s style of melee combat. While a normal sword-and-shield wielding warrior would perhaps attempt to maintain stance and balance offense and defense… Orodan instead acted aggressively and furiously in everything he did. Each thrust was shot forward like a cannon and the return and re-chambering just as brutal, all so he could deliver the next. One thrust was delivered, only for the next to come right after. Even his shield began blending into this utterly aggressive style of combat.

“Keep your feet beneath you greenhorns! Lower your weight and attempt to ground yourselves! Consider this training for foes which use wind magic!” the sergeant yelled even as she was struggling to remain standing.

“S-sergeant! I can’t hold on!”

Orodan had fond memories of his drill instructors during basic training in the county militia. He’d often gotten singled out and smoked for his headstrong and conflict-seeking nature, but he’d considered those to be more opportunities for training. That being said, he wasn’t above messing with a training sergeant for his own amusement as a practical joke.

In any case, his mind focused on what mattered. The thrust, the sword, and its place in his style of fighting. Not only did Orodan thrust, but as each one retracted his shield began violently ramming forwards as well. Overly offensive styles of combat were oft vulnerable to counterattacks or had gaps which could be exploited. Orodan instead believed in making his style so utterly aggressive and offensive, that the gaps would simply be covered by more attacks.

An ordinary martial specialist would perhaps remain wary of engaging fierce and horrifying monsters in melee, and if they did it would be through technique, skill and a balanced approach of arms. Orodan instead fought them too-to-toe because he was as much a ravenous beast of rage, violence and aggression as the worst of them were. The Demonic Berserker he’d died against thousands of times had tempered his style of combat, and he’d decided to roll with the natural zeal it’d taught him.

“Hold on greenhorns! Hold on and watch closely that we might learn something from this display!” the sergeant bellowed, causing her formation of recruits to try and stubbornly hold on. Even the woman herself appeared intent on learning what she could from observing Orodan’s techniques.

Well, if they had held on so desperately despite the winds his strikes were causing… then they were deserving of a lesson at least.

Combat Transcendence activated, and Orodan began drilling his moves not just against the air… but against imaginary foes in his mind’s eye. The rim of his shield tore forward, smashing against and splitting the imagined arrow from a House Argon archer. The one who’d slain him in Scarmorrow. The overhand thrust of his blade, from over the top of the shield, reached the heart of the Demonic Berserker, a foe he’d died against countless times. The underhand stab from below the shield rammed through the gut of Agathor. And his synchronized strike of both sword and shield met the Prophet’s beam of light in what he felt was its weakest point.

For now, death was the end result. In his mind at least.

But Orodan would not stop. He drilled against foes both past and present. Against enemies he’d already bested and those he still strived to defeat.

Everything about Orodan’s style was offensive. The thrusts of his sword flew for the foe’s hearts. The blocks with his shield were both a defensive and offensive motion in one. And even the few times he swiftly moved to evade were aggressive in nature as he shoulder checked, tackled or headbutted the imaginary enemies he fought while moving out of the line of their attacks.

Yes, he wielded a sword and shield, but at core, he oft fought like a rabid animal. Elegant and fanciful movements had their place, but in a toe-to-toe battle, what mattered was the willingness and ability to inflict violence upon the foe.

[Combat Mastery 105 → Combat Mastery 106]

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

[Sword Mastery 94 → Sword Mastery 95]

[Shield Mastery 97 → Shield Mastery 98]

His training halted for a moment as a brave pair of feet approached him, despite the apparent difficulty the man had.

“My lord… I have never seen such a display of martial talent. Your manner of wielding that sword and shield is akin to a raging deity… no, a berserk monster from the depths,” the captain said.

“If one is to fight horrifying and fierce things toe-to-toe, one must strive to also become a terrifying and violent force themselves,” Orodan explained. “I hope I did not interrupt the recruits’ training overly much.”

This was the training yard of the Sixth Company. The Lieutenant-General of Anthus greatly favored these troops as they were an honor guard and strike force of his. Naturally, this meant the Sixth Company received the largest and most expansive training yard of all the barracks. Orodan had thought this would cause less disruption, but his training had gotten slightly out of hand it seemed.

Well, not his fault that he saw a drill sergeant and felt like giving them a run for their gold.

“Not at all sir. The recruits and their drill sergeant saw what heights they can aspire to; an experience more valuable than some drill,” the man said. “But… how do you balance offense with defense when fighting in such a manner? Why, I don’t think I saw you pause once to defend or regain distance.”

“My offense is my defense. An attack comes for me? My own attacks meet it. A slippery foe positioning for a counterattack? They’ll be afforded no time for positioning when they’re too busy surviving my onslaught. Anything which directly hits me? I’ll extract a heavy price for it,” Orodan explained as the captain paid rapt attention. “Balance is not a rigid ideal or state to strive for, but a concept. There are many ways to make this concept a reality.”

“Then… is aggression the key?” the captain asked. “Is that how one attains true balance?”

“The key… is taking your own path to the peak, and making it work despite the odds,” Orodan said. “If you shell up and fight like a turtle, strive to become the most ferocious turtle in existence. If you fight in a slippery manner, aim to become nimble enough that even light cannot touch you. You’ll find that the heights of martial mastery all begin to converge at a high enough level. A true master of defense can somehow also be a terrifying threat during the attack.”

[Teaching 49 → Teaching 50]

[New Title → Teaching Adept]

Right. He’d forgotten that he could, if he wanted, function as a halfway decent teacher. Although if his students in past loops had anything to say about it, one who was quite brutal and demanding.

“I see… I think I understand my lord-”

“Just Orodan will do,” he corrected. “Or if you truly insist, sir works as well.”

“Yes sir! If it’s not too much trouble… might we watch you train? I feel as though my own understanding has grown through simply spectating.”

“Long as you can hold onto the ground, I don’t mind,” Orodan said with a smile.

“It’ll only be training for when we face enemy wind magic sir.”

Orodan accepted that answer. And so, he resumed.

He trained not only his martial abilities, but a plethora of things. As he did with Destartes, he used spatiomancy to compress his cells and form miniature space bubbles around each one. And while this was ongoing, he continued his drills.

And as he worked and trained, he also pondered and meditated.

The enemies in his way were powerful. A smarter looper would have taken their sweet time, prepared themselves to the utter limit and perhaps then dared challenge such cosmic foes. Orodan though, had no interest in delays. Most of the battles he’d been in, he’d punched above his weight class. He had a feeling that he’d be ready to face the Administrators before reaching the peak of the System’s levelling scheme.

But in order to do that, Orodan would need to focus on the advantages that allowed him to fight uphill battles against stronger foes. His soul energy was the key, however to utilize it, he needed to stay alive. There was no other way about the matter; his body needed to become capable of handling greater amounts of soul energy.

But how? While honing Body Tempering was well and good, it wouldn’t give him what he needed by itself. Mainly because he had a second problem to consider.

Blessings.

Or rather, the severe lack of them that he would be causing within the Republic. Orodan’s hatred for three of the Prime Five burned hot, but his loathing hadn’t blinded him to the fact that good and innocent folk were still reliant upon their Blessings. Even if the three vermin weren’t deserving of worship, to strip their Blessings away would mean negatively impacting the lives of these folk. Furthermore, Gods like Malzim and Ozgaric had helped him, as had Halor and his Chosen Alcianne Rockwood.

Not all Gods were evil. And even Blessings granted by wicked Gods could enrich the lives of those using them.

And that brought up the question of how exactly Blessings were granted in the first place. It couldn’t have been soul energy; Orodan tried manipulating the souls of others before, and they typically spent themselves in their instinctual efforts to resist him.

Souls, like anti-spatiomancy wards, could innately detect when something was directing energy towards them.

How then, did the Gods grant Blessings? Orodan was absolutely certain that his own skill in the arts of soul manipulation was beyond that of the Prime Five. It couldn’t have been their own finesse, not when Orodan himself didn’t yet know how to make a soul accept his power without noticing.

It must have been the System. Orodan was almost certain of this. The divine dimension was a strange and ethereal realm, yes. But it also looked to very much be part of the System’s functioning. The veins of System energy and the Eldritch corruption spreading throughout the deeper parts supported this theory. It seemed to be some manner of filtration area where the Boundless One’s power would be converted into System energy. How? Orodan wasn’t sure of the specifics yet. But the System was involved all the same.

How then, did the System grant Blessings without a soul having any say in the matter? He knew divine energy was involved, but it had to be guided by the System.

“If anti-spatiomancy wards can be fooled by Dimensionalism… why can’t souls?” Zaessythra posed.

That must have been it. Divine energy flowed through the dimensional boundary to reach people, and souls then must have been unable to detect it. Was Dimensionalism the key? Perhaps sneaking energy or power through a dimensional boundary and to a soul was the way. Was that how the Prophet had suddenly corrupted all those soldiers of the Conclave in that past long loop?

He only had questions and not enough answers. In any case, providing someone a tangible Blessing would take time, and he’d have to study Blessed people first. But if anyone could do it, it would be him.

His sword continued flashing, the swings and thrusts quite simple yet exceedingly violent and brutal.

And of course, yet another person decided to interrupt him by most bravely walking forwards, weathering the gale force winds he was causing.

“You know, the winds aren’t some hidden test to find a worthy disciple… I really am just training and would prefer to be left alone,” Orodan said. “Though, I wasn’t expecting a daughter of House Argon to approach me.”

Surena Argon. The typical raven black hair of House Argon was prominent. And much like her father Baron Viglas, she had an angular face and eyebrows which gave off the impression that she was perpetually frowning. Though, Orodan supposed her expressions appeared more genuine than her father’s at least. He’d never quite liked the slimy Baron whose shady dealings kept Ogdenborough mired in poverty.

The girl was struggling to remain standing, but she defiantly approached all the same.

“I… refuse to quit!” she angrily declared.

“An admirable mentality, but there are better ways to train Impact Resistance than weathering turbulent gales,” Orodan remarked as he continued training. “What do you want?”

“A duel, fight me!”

Orodan’s sword stopped mid-thrust. A happy grin split his face as he pointed the blade at Surena.

“By all means, let’s fight! Do you prefer to the death? First blood? First to surrender?”

“Do stop bullying the poor girl. I don’t think she realizes you’re jesting.”

“T-to the death?” she asked, trying to sound strong but her voice cracking.

“If you want. Alternately, we could just spar,” Orodan said. “Approaching someone so directly and asking for a duel can have consequences.”

“I see… I apologize. I’ve been trying to curb my tendency to challenge random people to duels as a method of getting to know them,” Surena replied.

“Why on Alastaia would you curb it? That sounds like an excellent habit,” Orodan said with a smile, at least until Zaessythra gave him a mental cuff over the head. “Well, unless you challenge the wrong person and get killed. The mentality is respectable though.”

“I’m just surprised you accepted so easily…” she muttered.

“Why would I not?” Orodan asked. “Oh, I see. I suppose you’re used to ancient masters who act mysterious and aloof, perhaps a denial of your challenge with a vague excuse of you not being ready? Well, I have no time for such nonsense. Now then, draw your weapon and let’s fight.”

To her credit, the girl didn’t need to be told twice. She produced a rapier with a blade nearly the length of a short spear and levelled it towards him. With a flash of mana, she rapidly covered ground, moving towards him.

“Flash Strike? Huh… how odd seeing it from the receiving end for once,” Orodan muttered as he lowered his speed and strength to match hers, catching the thrust of her rapier upon the flat of his sword.

Only then did Orodan pause to take in what he sensed. He frowned.

It was after a Power Strike came his way and he felt another pulse of mana that it was confirmed.

“You’re using mana to fuel martial abilities,” Orodan stated factually. “An interesting strategy.”

It wasn’t revolutionary, and Orodan wasn’t a bumpkin without an education who didn’t know about it. Using mana to fuel abilities not conventionally associated with it was possible. In fact, it could serve as an amplifier for the strike, which was how Orodan came to learn the All-Strike, which was the pouring of all his energies into an attack. That being said, most people often didn’t use it this way. Mainly because martial specialists who used physical skills typically had a small mana pool, and using mana to amplify a martial skill necessitated a decent level of Mana Manipulation.

“Of course I am, how else will I train my Mana Manipulation?” the Argon said.

That was… a surprisingly good idea. Why hadn’t he ever thought of that?

His easy access to soul energy - which was the root and superior form of energy which mana and vitality derived from - had made him short-sighted. If he honed his control over mana, which was the derivative energy… what insights could he acquire about soul energy itself?

If he eventually planned to dabble in the arts of the cultivators, what could he gain if his mastery of mana and vitality was incredibly high? The Qi many of them used was after all a combination of mana and vitality. And what if he then extended this to other things which normally relied on the body’s stamina?

How far could Orodan go if he truly mastered the basics and learned how to manipulate each energy source?

Surena’s rapier flashed for his throat, and the tip of Orodan’s own sword met it, a picture-perfect collision where the two stalemated as Orodan kept his strength in check to match hers.

“With a rapier that long, why not just pick up a spear instead?” Orodan asked.

“Doesn’t feel the same in my hands.”

The rapier was an interesting weapon. It had its own mastery skill and was a weapon used quite rarely upon Inuan. It was rather ill-suited to any cutting, hence those favoring the sword naturally disdained it. However, the one thing it did, it did very well.

And that was thrusting. Matter of fact, just watching this girl attempt to pepper him with thrusts gave Orodan an idea or two for his own training.

Then, once he watched and took note of what he could learn… he began fighting back.

Even with strength and speed matched evenly, Orodan was like a natural disaster given the shape of a man. Attacks flowed into one another, any openings were immediately covered with monstrous aggression and even his dodges, parries and blocks were meant to harm.

Within a second her own attack fell apart under the sheer pressure, her attention purely on survival.

Within two seconds six attacks slipped past her guard, and it was fortunate that Orodan had chosen to employ his fists and knees for those rather than his blade.

And after three seconds she finally hit the ground with a muffled gasp. The weapon deadlock they were in led to a headbutt crunching her nose, a whipping elbow to clobber her head, and a shield bash to send her sprawling.

“That was an embarrassing display, I-”

“You did quite well,” Orodan interrupted. “Not bad at all, though you could polish your unarmed skills a bit more for when someone aggressively enters your guard. A long weapon like that’s rather vulnerable for when an opponent gets close. That being said… your thrusting techniques are quite excellent. At sword point, I have a hard time seeing any sword-wielding warrior of equivalent level besting you. They’d have to pay a heavy price to land any blows.”

Indeed, while Orodan had no problems dismantling her, that was primarily due to the sheer gap in combat experience between the two of them. She was at the Elite-level but could jump a tier to fight at the Master-level. Quite talented.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Orodan will do.”

“Thank you, sir Orodan,” she replied. “I’ve wielded the rapier all my life, ever since my days at Bluefire. It won me the Inter-Academy Tournament in my third year too.”

Orodan did vaguely recall seeing an Argon listed as one of the winners of a past competition during his time at Bluefire. Must’ve been her.

“Well, if you keep working at it, not even the sky’s the limit. That being said… why use so much mana to empower your martial skills?” he asked.

“That is… not a matter I speak of often, but seeing as we’ve crossed blades and spoken the language of warriors beforehand, I feel comfortable saying it,” she said, hesitation in her voice. “The Argon Bloodline… I didn’t inherit it. Not fully.”

“The Argon Bloodline? You can’t mean the tendency to be an evil and remorseless cutthroat? It can only be a good thing if you haven’t inherited that.”

She stuttered in outrage for a moment but recovered quickly enough.

“The Bloodline of fire? Our famed pyromancy which contributed greatly on the front lines of the Republic’s victory in the Liberation War?” she asked. “You don’t know about it, do you?”

Oh… was that why both Aeglos and Viglas Argon loved casting fire spells? Orodan did recall getting burnt to complete ash hundreds of times while attempting to assault Eversong Plaza in his very early days in the loops. He supposed a Bloodline which made fire magic easier might be the reason for that.

“I’m only learning about it just now. So, you can’t conjure flames like your family can?” Orodan asked, and she shook her head, the resentment evident. “You seem to be quite the warrior though. I’m almost certain you could best your brother in a duel.”

“My father cares not. That I cannot channel the famed fire of Argon has ever been a stain upon my house’s reputation. However… I still inherited the generous mana pool that comes with the Bloodline. In battle, I see no reason not to take advantage of this.”

Orodan thought it exceedingly stupid that Baron Viglas Argon wouldn’t recognize his daughter’s talent. She was an Elite who could jump a tier. Frankly, Orodan suspected she could even beat her father under the right conditions with a surprise assault. Then again, old grudges borne of past grievances died hard. Orodan knew that well enough himself.

“An ignorant mentality, but I suppose whatever bad blood exists between the two of you is not so easily washed away, even with the merit of your current achievements. Now then, you didn’t approach me without reason.”

“Was I that obvious? Very well, I’ll speak plainly. You said during our first meeting that my father and brother are traitors,” she spoke directly. “What did you mean by that?”

“That your father and brother are traitors. They conspired to betray the Republic by siding with Novarria,” Orodan said quite bluntly.

“Sir Orodan… I have respect for you, but you speak on matters you know little of! The Republic has time and time again denied House Argon its due for our contributions! Tell me, is it fair that we receive a mere barony when houses with far fewer contributions received entire counties? How are we meant to react when we’re discriminated against for our Novarrian origins?”

She was passionate about the topic, and it showed in how red her face was as she angrily spat her words.

Although the Republic was considered a part of Novarria before the Liberation War, that didn’t mean there weren’t cultural differences between the two even before the schism. For starters, the Republic of Aden was on the northern part of Inuan, its entire northern coast bordering the Sea of Uxamar. This meant that the peoples and territories of the Republic, even before independence, were subject to constant threat and attack by raiding Guzuharans.

Novarria’s continual tensions with Eldiron and their devotion of resources to that shadow war meant that the peoples of the Republic were often poorly supported when it came to dealing with raids. And while the true movers who caused the Liberation War were the opposing dragon flights whose conflict bled over to the humans… the tensions between Novarria and the Republic were evident beforehand.

There was a very real sense of ‘us’ versus ‘them’. Seafaring was a staple of life for the majority of Adenians living outside of the cities. All of the Republic’s noble houses were seafarers who had a hand in naval trade. But House Argon was the exception, being defectors from Novarria whose original domain lay south of Mount Castarian.

Orodan thought it incredibly stupid that the Republic would shun a noble house who had sacrificed their prior holdings just to join them. Though, he wondered if they’d truly been shunned, or if the rulers of the Republic had seen fit to amply reward the core houses first and foremost. In any case, House Argon rightfully felt slighted.

“Traitors they may be, but that part I won’t judge. Hells, they might well be justified in turning against the Republic,” Orodan said. “What I do judge, is how your father and brother planned on unleashing a weapon unto Volarbury County, destroying it and killing most of its citizenry. Murderous, and utterly disregarding of uninvolved innocents.”

“I was… not aware of that,” she quietly admitted. “The relationship between my father and I has ever been strained. Last I saw him was a year ago. To think he would do such a thing…”

“My hometown is among those he planned to destroy. As you can imagine, my opinion of him is understandably low.”

“Forgive me, sir Orodan. I cannot hold your dislike against you then… I only hope that you do not judge the rest of House Argon as harshly for the sins of my father and brother,” Surena said.

Orodan grew up a street rat, and the sense of morality which espoused the value of life hadn’t been as stringently reinforced to him. And even though it was self-defense, he’d still taken a life even before the time loops. Consequently, the young Orodan Wainwright, in the early loops, had been far more bloodthirsty and happy to kill. Guards and enforcers of House Argon watered the ground with their blood wherever he went.

His time in the loops, the lessons he’d learned and the education he’d received had changed him however. With power came a sense of restraint and the understanding that these lackeys of a noble house weren’t all responsible for the atrocities committed by their master. Not everyone within House Argon was evil, and this also extended to Surena Argon.

“Well, you can hardly be blamed for the actions of someone you haven’t seen in a year,” Orodan said. “Surprised you’re still remaining in Anthus despite such revelatory news.”

“Not by choice…” she grumbled. “Due to the sensitive nature of the information I overheard, the Lieutenant-General is insisting I remain a ‘guest’ within his city for an entire month. And outside of Anthus, now that House Argon have been branded traitors, I cannot travel freely lest I suffer imprisonment.”

“And that’s what happens when you can’t shut your big mouth,” Zaessythra derided. “If you hadn’t said anything to her, she wouldn’t have had to remain a political prisoner.”

“How was I to know her father and brother were involved with a grand conspiracy to orchestrate a coup within the Republic? She would’ve been imprisoned one way or another by association with her house.”

“In any case, remaining here for a month, while inconvenient for many of my other ventures… presents the unique opportunity to learn,” Surena said, a gleam in her eye. “Particularly from a warrior of your caliber.”

Why not? He could always stand to gain more levels in Teaching, and Surena seemed talented and hard working enough. Plus, from watching and sparring against a rapier, Orodan could improve his own insights into the sword.

He never neglected to hone his martial abilities after all.

#

“L-lord Wainwright!”

“I’m not a noble.”

“Sir Wainwright then!”

“Yes?”

“What on Alastaia have you done to my workshop?!” the department head cried, the noise sounding halfway between a strangled squeal and a dying groan. “This is a mess!”

“Well, I need it to be frigid. How else will I practice ice forging?”

As he said this, a clump from an elemental ice crystal attached to the ceiling above fell off and landed on his head. Shattering upon his skull.

“Well deserved. A shame your head is so hard that the hit can’t improve your intelligence.”

He gave Zaessythra the mental equivalent of a smack upon the head and continued working.

The center for research and development beneath Anthus had been promised to him as long as he made weapons for the military. It was a generous agreement, mainly for the Lieutenant-General who received Orodan’s weaponry in exchange for barely anything at all. Orodan though, was more than happy with what he was getting in turn.

An area and the materials to experiment and hone his crafts.

Of course, ice forging necessitated the room be quite cold. Which meant that elemental ice crystals sourced from the harsh environs of Guzuhar were thrown haphazardly all around the room turning it into a miniature tundra. The crystals were just laying about the department and Orodan decided to put them to good use. Each one was worth at least fifty gold pieces too!

Much to the displeasure of the poor woman whose department he’d invaded and repurposed.

“Ice forging? You mean to aid in tempering the metal?” the woman asked, putting her outrage aside for a moment.

“No. I mean to make it so cold that I can forge it,” Orodan clarified.

“You do not make any sense, sir Wainwright…”

And the woman had a point.

The sword in front of him was frozen. Surrounded by elemental ice crystals. The hammer wasn’t even necessary, for the moment Orodan’s hand touched it…

…it shattered.

He brought out another piece of metal, froze it under the crystals and looked closely at its structure.

What was temperature? All of his cells were capable of sight, and so he used every available one to observe closely. Temperature at the end of the day was the motion of the minute particles that made up matter. Heat really was just the motion of these particles, and cold was the lack of such movement.

And idly, Orodan wondered if temperature itself was something he could clean off of an item. That would certainly be an interesting method of replicating ice magic.

It was late evening, and he was wrapping up his mad experimentation for the time being. He had attempted to make a gun that could kill without using any bullets, and he’d tried enchanting the very air itself. Both experiments had failed in spectacular fashion as the rifle simply exploded when Orodan tried forcing too much of his will unto it via Reality Alteration, and the air erupted in a shockwave when he threw copious amounts of mana into it.

But the promise of success drove him forward all the same.

“You truly seek to forge weapons with ice? The metal will simply shatter. Do you have some skill which can prevent this?” the woman asked.

“No, I do not. But I covet success in spite of the odds arrayed against me.”

The woman seemed quite baffled by the answer and didn’t push any further; neither did Orodan want to waste any more of his time.

These were impossible endeavors. How he was meant to succeed was entirely unclear. When he’d enchanted using chicken scratch as a language, he’d at least had a high level in the Enchanting skill and been forced to understand quite intimately what enchanting was, and the nature of the enchantment he was trying to execute.

Here, just attempting to brute force Reality Alteration onto something resulted in a catastrophic explosion. Frankly, Orodan didn’t understand that skill very well. Orodan wasn’t yet capable of directly and specifically using Reality Alteration. He’d acquired and levelled it up each time incidentally when gaining a deep insight into another skill.

Reality Alteration seemingly only levelled up and was utilized properly when he had a deep understanding of something critical. Something fundamental to the nature of what he was trying to alter.

Then… did success in these impossible endeavors require further insights on what he was working with?

He looked closely at the ice and pondered on the fact that temperature was just the motion of the particles which made up something. But there was a discrepancy between the material plane and the metaphysical. Ice magic, and things which were extremely cold such as the elemental ice crystals he was working with, were interesting in that they affected only material things. Temperature as a whole didn’t affect mana, soul energy, dimensional boundaries or the soul itself. The sun otherwise might’ve caused dimensional damage through simply existing.

Fire didn’t cause souls to ignite, not regular fire at least. Ice didn’t freeze a soul. But… what was the concept tying it all together?

Was it the motion of the particles? Temperature?

What was motion?

The answer came to Orodan as power condensed in his hands.

[Time Reversal 82 → Time Reversal 83]

The entirety of the room reversed, the ice crystals going back into their storage spots, the items he created being unmade, and the very temperature of the room returning to normal.

Was temperature not just related to time?

He was close to an answer, he was certain of it.

Unfortunately, the subtle sensation he felt through Dimensionalism meant he would have to pause his endeavors for the moment.

At the start of most loops, Orodan typically helped Old Man Hannegan build the warehouse at 4 Ale Road in Ogdenborough. However, he wasn’t without consideration for the man. In longer loops, Orodan would make sure to assist and spruce up the warehouse only so much that it would potentially face robbery, but not any further scrutiny.

This loop however, he’d truly been extravagant. All manner of enchantments, a defense system outfitted with cannons, and most importantly… most of the enchantments he’d done were three-dimensional. And inscribed using the Imperial enchanting language.

A language which was normally two-dimensional.

Needless to say, it would cause a stir and draw great scrutiny upon the old man. Not an issue in the short loops Orodan had been engaging in prior. But now, as Dimensionalism gave him a warning that the necklace he’d enchanted was going off, Orodan knew people had come to question the old man.

[Dimensional Step 9 → Dimensional Step 10]

His passage through the porous dimensional boundary and into Ogdenborough was swift.

“Tell us what you know of the warehouse, or we’ll be forced to invade your mind next. I don’t want to do this, but you’re forcing my hand,” said one masked assailant, voice disguised through a spell making the gender unclear, but Orodan saw clearly enough with Vision of Purity.

The masked man’s fist was buried in Old Man Hannegan’s stomach.

“You’re too soft! Just invade his mind and be done with it! We can dispose of him after!” barked another, a masked woman.

His passage through dimensions was quiet. His footfall onto the creaky wood boards of the old man’s house… was anything but.

“I… should we cause such undue harm to an- who’s there?!”

Orodan was big, and it showed as his hand practically enveloped the man’s face, lifting him off the floor. A swift follow-up throw had the first assailant flying through the window and out onto the street with a crash. Bruised and with a broken bone or two, but the man would live.

“W-wait! We’re with the Republic’s Department of Intell-”

The woman would not live. Orodan’s hand snapping her neck was an end to that matter.

“W-who are you? Please, I mean you no harm!” the old man shouted.

Right, the lamps were out.

[Candleflame 21 → Candleflame 22]

While he could’ve cast a Flare and blinded the old man and burned Ogdenborough down, he’d gone with this smaller spell instead. The right tool for the right job. Perhaps he could learn to think like a mage yet.

“Take it easy old man, it’s me,” Orodan said, illuminating his face.

“Orodan…?” the old man asked, heaving a sigh of relief. His eyes then went to the corpse on the floor. “She’s dead?”

“I didn’t exactly give her a gentle squeeze.”

“You did what you had to,” the old man said, his face grim, but not unused to the sight of death or the necessity of it at times. Such was life in Ogdenborough, and Old Man Hannegan hadn’t gotten to his age by being sheltered. “Though, you could’ve spared my window.”

“You won’t be staying here anyways. Not after this,” Orodan said. “Where’s Vilia?”

“She should be at her home,” the old man said. “But, where will we go Orodan?”

“Anthus. You’ll be safe and provided for over there,” Orodan assuaged. “Now, show me where her house is so we can pick her up too.”

The first assailant who Orodan had manhandled was already gone. Backup would doubtlessly be arriving soon. Unlike the start of his loops it wasn’t midnight, but late evening, and a lot of Old Man Hannegan’s neighbors had stepped out to see what the commotion was about. The militia would likely be on their way too.

It wasn’t that Orodan was concerned about fighting. But that causing too much of a ruckus might derail the Lieutenant-General and Destartes’ plans. Frankly, Orodan had a mind to simply drag the old man and Vilia to Anthus in every loop besides the short ones from now on. At least if he was going to draw attention with the warehouse.

Vilia lived in Scarmorrow, traveling to Ogdenborough for work. Orodan thus dragged the old man along in a quick Teleportation, and soon after, they were in front of Vilia’s home.

And so were two other masked assailants upon a nearby roof, looking to be surveying her house.

“Stay here old man,” Orodan told him.

[Dimensional Step 10 → Dimensional Step 11]

He appeared behind the two infiltrators.

“Greetings. I’ve killed one of your fellows and hurled the other one through a window. It would be in your best interests to ensure I don’t do the same to you,” Orodan said. “Care to tell me who sent you?”

[Intimidation 25 → Intimidation 27]

Though they were at the Adept-level, these infiltrators weren’t fighters. Any combat-specialist Adept from a noble house or the militia could’ve beat either of these two in a fight. However, what they were, was decisive. Vision of Purity informed him that one of them had a poison pill in his mouth, and the man was a second from chomping down on it when Orodan’s hand tore through the mask, prying his jaw open.

A tooth and a poison pill were plucked out.

A necklace glowed, the tell-tale sign of an explosive enchantment.

Only for a casual usage of Time Reversal to revert the necklace to an unenchanted state.

“Chronomancer!” the other one shouted, attempting to end his life with both the poison pill and the necklace that Orodan might fail to interrogate him.

Both these attempts were squarely thwarted via Time Reversal yet again. The pill reverted to the plants used to make it, filling the man’s mouth with plant matter. And the necklace reverted to scraps of ore.

Two fists then struck each infiltrator, sending them to the ground.

“Speak. Who sent you?” Orodan asked.

“Goddess Ilyatana, I call upon your grace!” one shouted. And only then did Orodan realize that the Blessings each of them bore were a final method of ending their own lives. The man began glowing gold, skin cracking as divine power was channelled through him. It wasn’t the descent of a God, but the activation of a Blessing meant to kill the bearer. “Your chronomancy will avail you not!”

“Enough.”

A broom came forth and the man’s eyes widened in bafflement. As though he refused to believe a broom would somehow prevent the activation of a Blessing from the Goddess of Fate herself.

Unfortunately for the infiltrator… Orodan had cleansed Blessings more than enough times by now. He knew well how to rid the accursed plague that was the touch of divinity.

The broom needed not make contact, the simple waving of it caused the Blessings upon both masked intruders to utterly vanish, with no hope of re-application by any God ever again.

The first man, the one who’d activated the Blessing, continued roaring, still expecting the explosion to take place and bracing himself for the pain of his soul exploding. The second though, began trembling.

Eventually, the yelling began simmering down and confusion started setting in as he looked down at his arms and chest, noticing clearly that the golden light had vanished and he wasn’t dead.

“Our lady’s grace is gone… gone! What are you?” the fearful one muttered, broken in spirit.

He looked down at the street, Vilia had woken up due to the commotion and Old Man Hannegan was with her.

“Someone who likes cleaning.”

#

“While we are grateful for your aid, I must say that it’s accompanied by much commotion and many headaches for me, Mister Wainwright.”

“I thought the captives would be a good opportunity to learn more,” Orodan said. “I suppose it’s too late to wrap a ribbon ‘round the two and mail them back?”

“I’m afraid that’s not a possibility,” the Lieutenant-General said with a chuckle. “That being said, even if we’ve had to pull some strings and call upon a hidden agent or two to have investigations re-directed… this is quite the opportunity you’ve brought us. We’ve never managed to capture any of the Cathedral’s fanatics alive before.”

“Fanatics?” Orodan asked. “I suppose they were a bit eager to end their lives. Are all agents of the Intelligence Department trained in such a way?”

“Even my agents are trained to end their lives if carrying sensitive intelligence and the risk of capture is deemed too high. But the Blessing which causes their bodies to flood with divine energy and the subsequent explosion of their souls isn’t standard training,” the halfling general said. “And the ones you dealt with aren’t with the Intelligence Department. An actual visit to a civilian by them would’ve been a more overt affair with agents simply knocking on the door and asking to have a chat. And even in a serious case where detention is required, protocol dictates the involvement of the army and subsequent transport to a military base. Not masked operatives planning to forcibly invade minds and dispose of civilians.”

“Then… these fanatics were with the Cathedral?” Orodan asked, and the halfling nodded. “I wasn’t aware their involvement in the Republic’s government and daily affairs went so deep.”

“Nominally these agents are loyal to the Cathedral, but in reality their loyalty is doubtlessly towards the Goddess of Fate,” Tegin said. “Deal with these masked interlopers often enough and you’ll come to see that all of them profess an undying fealty towards Ilyatana alone. I have yet to see any war-priests of Agathor acting as spies or blowing themselves up in destructive soul explosions.”

Orodan had a good idea of how she did this too. Memories of when the wicked Goddess had tried controlling his mind in his early loops came to the fore. If she’d tried doing it to him… then she had doubtlessly succeeded in doing so with many others.

All the more reason that she needed to be slain.

“I see… do your plans change with this knowledge?” Orodan asked.

“It was fortunate that you cleansed all the magic and enchantments off before bringing them here. However, the knowledge that their operatives are unaccounted for will naturally lead them to close off ranks. Which means when the time comes, some of their loyalist holdouts will be better prepared,” the Lieutenant-General said. “This does however, give us the opportunity to learn more about their organization.”

“Fair enough. I’m not one for scheming and interrogations, so I’ll leave that to you and your troops,” Orodan said. “How’s the old man and Vilia doing?”

“The girl’s doing well. A shame that her meagre background prevented her from getting a better education. Very fast learner that one,” the Lieutenant-General said, and then frowned. “As for this ‘Old Man Hannegan’ of yours…”

“What about him? He’s been treated well, yes?” Orodan asked, a slightly protective tone coming forth.

“Of course, that goes without question. Just… how do I put this? Are you sure he’s a mere foreman in Ogdenborough?” the halfling asked.

“Why not? What else would he be?”

“It’s simply improbable is all. Perhaps there’s something about that town which produces exceptional people?” Tegin muttered.

“What did he do?” Orodan asked.

“The better question is, what can’t he do? It’s been a day since he’s been here and every single job I put him to he manages to organize and improve the efficiency of by almost two-fold! I assigned him to advise and oversee a small section of the laborers in charge of the stores, and he had the place running smoother in an hour. I asked him to oversee a construction project near the south wall and he somehow whipped the crew into doing a day’s worth of work in four hours. And then I found myself pondering a tricky logistical issue with the building of a new trade outpost, and he somehow knew exactly what sorts of wood would be most cost-effective and how to prevent their decay during transportation and storage!” the Lieutenant-General exclaimed. “Thus far the man has refused any assignment to military positions, despite my vehement promises that he’ll see no combat. But at this rate… Mister Wainwright, I apologize, but I simply cannot allow Gregory Hannegan to return to Ogdenborough. I’ve assigned him to be my personal assistant, and somehow every little problem I have, the man has some strangely effective advice for.”

Anthus was a city built around an energy well. It was an open air one, and Orodan and the Lieutenant-General were stood at the top of the rim, looking down into it. It was deep, not quite as deep as the one Orodan had found in Jerestir, but then again, that one wasn’t open air and began deeper. Glowing ores, mystical plants and mushrooms and all sorts of unique materials and ingredients were abundant, with little danger of depletion either due to the sheer density of the world energy present.

And down on the scaffoldings, the two of them watched as Old Man Hannegan was directing multiple work crews to fortify and stabilize the defenses which sealed off the path leading deeper down into the deep depths.

“But of course he knows it all, he’s the old man. What do you expect?” Orodan asked, not seeing how this was even a question.

“We have plenty of old men in Anthus, yet none of them are as uniquely wise and handy with good, practical advice as he is. No matter what problem I pose, he’ll somehow give me advice relating to some simple concept or method I hadn’t thought of,” Tegin said. “I was muttering to myself about how I need parchment capable of withstanding a high-velocity trip through the air, and he somehow referred me to a town in Novarria where a merchant specialized in producing fire-resistant parchment, alongside an enchanter who was good at working with magical paper.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you. I never asked the old man too much about his younger days, but he’s been around and done a lot of things. Living in a rough town and doing whatever he did in his younger days forced him to pick up plenty of life skills no doubt. As for connections… those who live in poverty often have to rely on social connections to get by on a day to day basis.”

In truth, Orodan didn’t really view the old man as being out of the ordinary. Although, the man was admittedly the only one in that town who had a head on his shoulders. A lot of the advice about what to do in the loops, Orodan had received from Old Man Hannegan.

The man was indeed wise, and knew what to do in most situations.

“I shan’t question it any further then. That hometown of yours is an anomaly, to produce such an individual alongside yourself,” the halfling said. “Anyhow, I believe you wanted to see me for another discussion as well?”

“Yes. I believe the purging of all Blessings from the Republic is an overreaction.”

The Lieutenant-General frowned.

“Surely, you of all people can see what harm the Gods have done. The suffering they’ve caused.”

“I do, and I’ve been victim to their cruel whims often enough. But despite that, not all of them are wicked and capricious,” Orodan defended. “Halor and Malzim, we’ve agreed that they won’t be harmed, but I believe their followers should be offered the choice of keeping their Blessings instead of being instantly purged.”

“You are the one who will be doing this, Mister Wainwright, I can hardly order you around,” the Lieutenant-General said. “However, those with Blessings shall not be allowed to hold any position of authority within the Republic’s government.”

“But what if the Blessing comes not from a God, but a mortal?”

“I do not understand what you mean. Only Gods can grant Blessings…?”

“That… is open to being disproven,” Orodan said. “If we’re going to purge everyone of their Blessings, then it’s only fair that we make an honest effort at replacing them. For that, I might need your cooperation in securing some test subjects.”

Training, both martial and magical, the crafts and perhaps discovering how to make his own Blessings work. Orodan wasn’t certain if a singular month would be enough to make decent progress in all these things, but he wasn’t afraid to try.

And at the end of the month, a revolution and the expulsion of the divine.