The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop

Chapter 75: Revolution

Like that, a month passed.

Time had the tendency to fly by quickly when one was enjoying themselves. And Orodan did have quite the fondness for hard work and training.

His magical training with Destartes advanced by leaps and bounds. He added the basic spells of every standard element to his repertoire. The new spells were basic, but with Orodan’s capacity for power, could genuinely cause some utter mayhem. And while he hadn’t acquired the corresponding mastery skill for all of them, the process of learning all these elemental spells had been fun.

Now though, came something he’d been struggling with all this time. A task he felt would pay off today.

It wasn’t just any sword in front of him. But his own; the basic blade provided by the county militia, the one he’d wielded all throughout the loops. Alth0ugh it was a mere Apprentice-level blade, it was his precious battle-companion; Orodan was quite attached.

Failure and any harm befalling it was not an option.

[Flash Freeze 23 → Flash Freeze 24]

His blade froze. But… it wasn’t enough.

As he’d come to learn a month ago and over the course of it, temperature was merely the motion of the particles composing something. The hotter something was, the more energetic its particles were. The colder something was, the less motion there was. Yet, Orodan’s Flash Freeze, which if he desires could envelop a town in ice, just wasn’t cold enough to completely stop the motion altogether.

He’d not bothered with the elemental ice crystals, not since learning this particular spell from the school of cryomancy. Yet, it still wasn’t enough.

But that was alright.

Because temperature, much like many of the other things he’d targeted with his Celestial skill in the past… was nothing more than a concept which could be cleansed out of something. And finally, Orodan understood that the complete absence of any motion within even the smallest particles… was the complete absence of heat itself.

[Domain of Perfect Cleaning 142 → Domain of Perfect Cleaning 143]

[Reality Alteration 54 → Reality Alteration 55]

The brush between his fingers hit the blade, a mere swipe across the frozen metal.

And suddenly, any and all particulate motion within it was eradicated entirely.

Absolute stillness. Not just of the metal, but the surrounding air too, which became utterly frozen solid, forming frost. And the air particles within the room which weren’t frozen solid? They too were completely and utterly still.

“An interesting manner of replicating ice magic. Will you now go about cleansing the temperature from the bodies of your enemies?” Zaessythra asked.

If the situation warranted it, and it wasn’t an easy way out, then perhaps.

However, the work on his precious sword yet remained. He picked up the hammer, ready to pound on the blade, only to reconsider shortly after.

Temperature was motion. Hitting the blade with his hammer, even delicately, would still generate heat and cause the perfectly still state of all the particles to be lost. In fact, Orodan himself remained perfectly still, not wanting to disturb the very air around him either.

Yet, despite his best efforts it was extremely difficult. His cells constantly had soul energy flowing through them, and they were full of life. Even if he didn’t move, his cells had some movement within them, and this movement in turn caused some minor disturbance within the air particles around him. And he couldn’t just stop it either; his body, altered as it was via Absolute Body Composition, still needed some internal motion to function.

Though, Orodan considered that it could be an interesting form of training for a later time.

Thankfully, the minute motions of each individual cell weren’t enough to disturb the perfect stillness of the utterly frozen blade before him. The frost, which was frozen air, formed a shield around it, and any minor motion generated from Orodan’s disturbance of the air simply bled off upon hitting the shield of frost which had naturally formed around his sword.

It was time to work upon his sword.

Upon each and every individual particle.

Affecting just a singular particle with his Celestial skill was a trying task, even for him. Furthermore, he would have to nudge it into the perfect spot without letting it bump into and create any motion for the other particles. An impossible endeavor for anyone else, but Orodan strongly believed that if anyone could do it, it would be him. He had yet to meet anyone in the cosmos who was better than him at Cleaning.

And so began one of the most intricate and detail-oriented crafts Orodan had ever performed.

His blade was in a state of absolute stillness. Vision of Purity could clearly see that each and every particle was utterly motionless.

Which meant it was the perfect environment to perfectly arrange each and every particle within it without error.

He couldn’t directly touch the blade with hand or tool lest he disturb the state of absolute stillness. However, what he could do, was utilize the Whirlpool Whirlwind aspect of his Domain of Perfect Cleaning.

Absolute Body Composition meant that each cell of his body could think, see, hear and feel. And this ability was stretched to its limits as Orodan forced every single cell to act as a mind of its own, putting immense pressure on his soul.

So extreme was the strain that each usage of the Whirlpool Whirlwind aspect of his Celestial skill caused blood to erupt from all over. Multiple cells died and reformed under the pressure.

Massive feats of scale were easy, especially with his power. But what about feats of utter intricacy and concentration? Working on each particle, one at a time was the definition of insanity. It was a truly extreme form of training, even for a Transcendent like him.

Yet, it came with benefits.

[Body Tempering 68 → Body Tempering 69]

His body was forged stronger, under this baptism of incredible pressure. Each cell was forced to act as a singular being, observing, thinking, concentrating and above all else, channelling power.

Of course, working on each particle meant that Orodan would never get done in time. Hence his soul energy was poured into chronomancy, and an overpowered Time Compression took hold of him, speeding up his own actions many times over.

Chronomancy, alongside spatiomancy and Dimensionalism was one of the chief targets he and Destartes worked upon over the course of the month when they weren’t doing elemental magic training. And it was this field of magic which now helped as Orodan’s Time Compression allowed him to fit multiple casts into the same instant of time.

Of course, his already strained body was put under even more pressure as a result, and large portions of his body began disintegrating with each cast now. Survivable, but intense; though nobody got anywhere in life without a bit of blood and sweat.

The first hour passed, and Orodan slowly but surely managed to structurally arrange the particles of his sword such that the edge was perfect on one side.

The second hour passed, and he finished the other side.

The fourth hour passed, and he made a gain.

[Body Tempering 69 → Body Tempering 70]

Though he felt he’d exhausted the potential gains in Body Tempering using this method.

At the sixth hour’s passing, the blade was done, but the hilt and cross guard remained incomplete.

And finally, after eight hours of uninterrupted work where his mind and soul felt as though they were on fire, Orodan finally nudged the last particle of the sword into perfect position.

When the last particle slid into place, the structure of his sword was perfect and utterly aligned. And suddenly, in a surreal event, the threat estimate he had of the weapon in his mind jumped by multiple tiers.

Domain of Perfect Cleaning was immediately used, not to change anything further, but to apply the Incorruptible Being aspect of his Celestial skill, that his sword would remain in this state for the remainder of the loop.

[Domain of Perfect Cleaning 143 → Domain of Perfect Cleaning 144]

Immediately, he used Identify.

[Name: Perfect Steel Sword

Description: A steel sword whose arrangement is perfect and incorruptible.

Tier: Master]

His eyes widened.

“Three entire tiers…” Zaessythra muttered.

And the item name had changed too. Was this in fact a perfect sword now?

His humble sword that he started each loop with was forged by a contracted blacksmith in Scarmorrow. It was at the Apprentice-level, and when he’d received it the biggest selling point was that it didn’t have any flaws or structural weaknesses. As deep as his fondness for it was, even Orodan could admit it wasn’t anything special.

At least, until now.

Now, he held a weapon, that within the right hands and amplified by enough supporting skills, could jump a tier or two to hurt even him. A Grandmaster wielding this weapon, if they hit hard enough and made sure the weapon was reinforced, could inflict a scratch on him.

It didn’t sound like much, but when factoring in that Orodan had made an Apprentice-tier sword work to kill Transcendents via simple soul empowerment of the blade… what could he do now? Previously, he’d only ever strengthened his sword’s durability out of fear that any mana empowerment or fancy spellcraft involving it might damage or destroy it.

But now…

“You can think about fighting like a spellblade after all.”

Orodan wouldn’t say he was fond of the label, but denying the effectiveness of adding elemental power to his sword was ignorant hubris.

The sword in his hands positively gleamed in the light of the chamber. He idly moved it, and it practically split the very air apart even with a casual movement. Frankly, the blade was now so sharp that even in the hands of an untrained child it could kill Masters and wound even a Grandmaster if they were caught unawares.

The frost and frozen air was sheared apart, with no soul empowerment or strength necessary on Orodan’s end. And a simple press against the reinforced walls had the stone parting like cheap paper too.

One more step forward on the path to furthering his crafts. Another gain on his path to strength and the realization of his grand ambition.

Though, the poor department head whose workspace Orodan had vandalized didn’t seem happy about it at all.

#

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting to receive an impolitely worded letter from the head of Artificing research,” Destartes said. “I’m fairly certain your activities over the past month have shortened her lifespan.”

“She has a penchant for dramatics. I reversed time and brought the department back to the state it was in before I even arrived in Anthus,” Orodan clarified.

“Yes, but that was her chief complaint. She complained that she was starting to get used to the general state of disarray and the smell of destruction and wants it back,” the old wizard said with a smile.

“I’m happy to tear the place apart again if she would like,” Orodan replied with a chuckle. “An eccentric woman, but then again, genius rarely comes unaccompanied by some manner of quirk. I suppose that holds true for all the people who serve here.”

After all, who in their right minds would want to come serve in a city under constant siege by monsters? Not any normal and well-adjusted folks.

“And those people have come to grow quite fond of you, Mister Wainwright. They’ll be sad to see you go, whether they know of it or not,” Destartes remarked. “Our troops have come to grow reliant on your ability to resurrect casualties no matter how long ago their death was. And the Sixth Company in particular has begun to grow used to your training sessions in their yard.”

“They’re good soldiers. They fought and won before I got here, and they’ll continue to fight on and win even after,” Orodan praised. “Besides, who’s to say I don’t return in a future loop?”

“I suppose you have a point, Mister Wainwright. But I’d advise you not forget that your own death, while trivial to you, might not be so easily accepted by those close to you who remain unaware of the loops,” Destartes said.

And wasn’t that the truth? Zaessythra herself had felt the same when Orodan had engaged in death after death when she wasn’t part of the time loops.

“Now then, shall we begin?” Orodan asked. “One last test of my elemental abilities.”

“Despite the unique regimen I’ve put you through over the past month, I can’t say you’ve quite gotten around to thinking like a mage, but I suppose your straightforward mentality has its advantages,” Destartes said. “That you consider using a versatile array of spellcraft at all is a miracle.”

“I can’t promise I’ll be using Candleflame or Galewind in the midst of battle,” Orodan said. Well, not the regular way anyhow. “But I’ll keep the repertoire of spells I’ve been taught in mind.”

The old wizard nodded, and the final test commenced.

They were inside the library of Anthus’s central fort. And the first thing Destartes did was light a bookshelf on fire.

“While I can’t say I was fond of books growing up, I doubt Tegin will be happy to see his texts up in flame,” Orodan said, channelling mana into one of the new spells he’d learned. “Can’t use water either lest his books get wet and he throw a fit, and I suppose you’d consider chronomancy to be cheating.”

[Galewind 13 → Galewind 14]

If Candleflame was the basic spell taught to aspiring pyromancers, then Galewind was the equivalent for the school of wind magic. Though, unlike Candleflame, its mana cost was high enough that non-mages and nobles unschooled in magic couldn’t perform it easily.

“You assume correctly Mister Wainwright. Your unfair power with chronomancy would be cheating. As for the books, worry not, I’ll let Tegin know it was your fault,” Destartes spoke with a cheerful smile, and then his eyebrow quirked up. “Though, causing the bookshelf to topple over is also undesirable.”

The wind produced by Orodan’s spell was still unrefined; he didn’t have Wind Magic Mastery after all. But thanks to his endless reserves of power, it was as strong as he needed it to be. A wind mighty enough to douse flames needed to be sudden and violent lest he simply fuel them instead. And while the fire was successfully put out, this had the downside of causing the gigantic bookshelf to wobble precariously.

Even Destartes conjured a minor mana shield in preparation for it falling upon him…

…only for Orodan to steady the ten-ton article of furniture with a finger.

“There, the fire’s gone now.”

“I hoped it was implied that your high-level Physical Fitness is also not to be used. This is a magic test after all,” Destartes remarked, unimpressed. In recompense, the wizard then conjured a raincloud directly within the room, near the ceiling. “Make sure the floor doesn’t get wet.”

In response, a gigantic draconic fireball appeared in Orodan’s hand, nearly the size of the room itself, causing Destartes’ eyes to widen as a hasty mana shield was conjured.

The old man needn’t have; Fire Magic Mastery meant that Orodan’s control over fire was far better than any other element. The heat near the edges and bottom of the fireball was non-existent. The top though, was blazing hot, and as the raindrops fell into it, they became steam.

[Galewind 14 → Galewind 15]

Orodan’s charged Galewind erupted out from his other hand, and the wizard’s raincloud was blown right out the window and outside.

“Hmm, a bit excessive but the floor isn’t wet and you got rid of the cloud too. Though I could’ve done without the scare,” Destartes remarked, and then conjured an earthen chair beneath himself with a goblet in hand, held expectantly. “I’m quite parched and could use a sip after that fright.”

[Waterstream 9 → Waterstream 10]

Orodan’s Mana Manipulation wasn’t the issue; he directed exactly as much mana as the spell called for. The problem was his control over the water itself, which erupted from his hand and sloppily splattered into the goblet, spilling quite a few droplets everywhere.

“Damn… I suppose the water magic still needs work,” Orodan said.

“And you got the floor wet, so I’ll be counting the previous test as a fail,” the wizard said while sipping the water. “Tastes potable enough, I won’t be catching any diseases from this water.”

Orodan could only blame himself for that one.

The earthen chair that Destartes was sat upon then suddenly fell apart. The rocks crumbled, and the man looked to be falling down. The implication being that Orodan should stop it.

Chronomancy aside, his reflexes and speed of thought were quick enough that Orodan could leisurely compose poems to himself and still solve this test. In that regard, this particular test was unfairly stacked in his favor.

[Earthen Construct 8 → Earthen Construct 9]

A large slab of rock appeared right beneath Destartes, practically annihilating the remnants of the wizard’s construct before it even finished falling apart. And the Grandmaster fell onto Orodan’s conjured rock with a thud.

“I suppose a test of spellcasting speed is rather unfairly in your favor,” the wizard said while standing up. “Three out of four, a score of seventy-five percent. You missed out on the opportunity to get bonus marks by making my landing comfortable and my drink tasty.”

“Is it too late to add lemons to your water then?” Orodan asked.

“You jest, but such practical and solution-oriented tests are as important to a mage’s development as combat examinations are. At Bluefire, this would’ve been the mid-year practical examination for the first years. You’d have surpassed standards, but not been considered exceptional or recommended for higher-year classes early,” Destartes explained. “Though, with our society’s focus on flashy magic and the constant hunt for mages who can blow enemy armies to smithereens, I suppose they’d have taken you aside on combat assessments alone.”

“Mid-year practical for the first years? What are the fourth year practicals like then?” Orodan asked.

“Decently complex, with plenty of restrictions on what elements you can or can’t use and what things you must do. Though, the modern curriculum unfortunately emphasizes combat power over such creative thinking, which is a true shame,” Destartes said. “In any case, these tests force one to think beyond just the size or power of their favored spell.”

Over the past month, Orodan had practiced his elemental spells through mundane tasks, such as assisting the fort’s civilian laborers, working alongside the war machine crews on the walls and even working in the kitchens and helping serve and set the tables for command staff at meal times. To them it had been a surreal scene, watching someone who in their eyes was Destartes’ equal engage in such tasks. But to Orodan such an experience was invaluable. It had forced him to consider the numerous applications for magic, and even got his mind to think about how to apply his other skills in novel manners.

“I admit, these tests do force me to think of applying my skills more creatively,” Orodan remarked. “Though, if you’re testing me in the standard format, no combat examination?”

“And what on Alastaia can stand before you? Even if I insisted you fight with spellfire alone, it’d be little more than an exercise in target practice,” Destartes said. “Your reflexes and combat instincts aren’t in question, and I’m not qualified to instruct you when it comes to those. But what I hope for you to take away from this, is the creative application of not just your spells but your skills and abilities overall.”

And Orodan certainly knew now how important it was, to maintain a flexible and adaptive mind. And if he wanted to beat the Administrators at their own game in toe-to-toe combat, then he would have to start learning to think as they did. The Prophet and the Mage would be fearsome opponents indeed.

“I see… thank you, for your lessons. In honing my craftsmanship I’ve come to have this reinforced as well.”

“Ah yes, and how do those mad projects of yours go?” Destartes asked.

“Have a look,” Orodan said, handing his sword over. “It’s quite sharp, so be careful.”

“Your sword? It’s an Apprentice-level blade, no? From the look of it… it is… what is this?” The wizard looked more than a little stupefied as he asked the question. Destartes’ eyes frantically took in all the details, as though beholding something new. “I have seen Master-level swords before, Mister Wainwright, but they’re made from rarer metals and enchanted. By all accounts this is just a steel sword, and yet… it feels as though a misstep with this blade could end my life.”

Destartes began testing the blade, putting it against some mana barriers he conjured. And to his astonishment, Orodan’s sword managed to halfway cut into the standard ones.

“As you can see, even if a child were wielding it, this could harm a Grandmaster under the right circumstances,” Orodan said. “I forged it with ice instead of fire.”

Destartes seemed to know exactly what Orodan meant too.

“I too theorized once, that under conditions of a perfect and absolute cold, an item could be manipulated and altered in a way that standard heat forging cannot achieve,” Destartes said. “But how have you managed to have it retain this perfect structure? Why… this blade splits the very air which it’s in contact with!”

Even while completely idle, Orodan’s sword made a low whistling noise as the air itself was sliced apart as the particles touched it.

“My Celestial skill, one of its aspects is the ability to make something incorruptible. I simply applied this concept to the structure of the sword itself, that it might never fall out of shape,” Orodan said.

“Right… I forget how unfairly powerful these Celestial skills are,” Destartes said. “How about your other experiments? Your efforts to enchant the air itself? And that strange rifle you wished to make?”

“Having succeeded in improving my sword, I’m confident I can enchant the air too, but it will take more time than we have remaining,” Orodan said, recalling that the day of action was today. “As for the rifle… that’ll definitely take more time.”

“That you’re confident in succeeding at all gives me hope for the limits of magic and innovation. Your elemental training aside, let us conduct the last test, and the chief reason why you approached me in the first place,” Destartes declared, and then had a serious look on his face. “Teleport into Novar’s Peak without setting off the wards.”

An incredibly difficult task. But one Orodan had been working towards becoming capable of over the past month.

Not only was it the culminating test to see how far his spatiomancy had come over the course of the month, but also a tactical decision to start off their coup. The commotion that Orodan’s actions would cause in Novarria would doubtlessly be noticed by the Republic and its intelligence network. This in turn would cause many of the military outposts and forts on the Novarrian border to ramp up troop movements and activities. Which was a distraction that worked in the conspiracy’s favor.

Still, it was a tall order. Anti-spatiomancy wards were no joke, and only Destartes and perhaps three other space magic specialists the man knew were capable of bypassing them.

Orodan crossed his legs and sat down, closing his eyes. This would take all of his concentration.

How did one beat anti-spatiomancy wards?

The first and most obvious method, which Orodan had done enough times in the loops, was to overpower them. It required one to have energy reserves large enough that even a city’s battery couldn’t keep up. Of course, the shattering of the wards would cause immediate alarm, and Orodan hadn’t come to Anthus to simply do more of the same. Not when entering Lonvoron without causing a ruckus was one of his goals.

The second method, which Orodan had seen Destartes do once, was to open a microscopic entry-point to the batteries which powered the wards. The anti-spatiomancy wards of Novar’s Peak were a cut above the rest, though this consequently meant they were costlier to keep running. And the connection between wards and the energy source powering them was possible, if incredibly difficult.

The only problem with the method was that the city had multiple reserve batteries which were closely guarded at all times. Destartes bypassing the anti-spatiomancy wards for Jerestir was in no way comparable to the prospect of doing the same for Novar’s Peak. Any tampering with one battery would see the alarms raised almost immediately.

Which left only the third method, something of Orodan’s choosing. The nigh-impossible task of out-finessing the wards and somehow getting past them.

Orodan’s Space Mastery was now at the Master-level, and most importantly… he could selectively turn his own System’s guidance on or off. When the guidance and access to the store of knowledge was present, it was reassuring and allowed him to comfortably perform grand scale feats, perhaps even those he might not normally be able to do without the System.

But when the central glyph of his System was sealed, yes, he was neutered in many aspects, but also liberated in many others. Over the course of the month, Orodan had trained spatiomancy exclusively without the System. And now it was time to unleash the benefits of this regimen.

A small amount of power was channelled, and Orodan used freeform spatiomancy, unguided by the System, to open a singular rift in space leading from Anthus to roughly twenty-five miles outside the walls of Novar’s Peak. Teleportation normally brought the caster to the target destination immediately, but the benefit of training without the System over the course of the month was Orodan’s ability to re-purpose the spell and use the mechanics behind it to open spatial rifts. Instead of stepping through, he simply watched.

“As you warned, the wards are particularly sensitive,” Orodan said, still in the library of Anthus as he looked through the rift at Novar’s Peak.

“Of course, it’s the oldest human city on the continent. The first emperor takes care to ensure that city is well-defended,” Destartes replied.

The wards of Novar’s Peak were so advanced that not only did they detect any attempts at spatiomancy and prevent them, but they would also detect any spatiomancers or mages using skills such as Spatial Sense or Mana Sense. These skills potentially allowed a caster to map out and get a ‘feel’ for wards, their energy flows and the patterns behind them.

Thankfully, the one thing Orodan had which the wards couldn’t account for, was Vision of Purity, which scanned not for mana or space, but the purity of anything he saw.

Using the incredibly small rift, Orodan closely watched and took his time getting to understand the wards of Novar’s Peak. It was an uphill battle, primarily because the wards were quite well-designed and didn’t have too many impurities within them, and because the ritual array meant to drain the Eldritch Avatar was also picked up by his senses, and he had to parse one from the other alongside the many other lesser wards throughout the city.

Frankly, who knew if he’d get anywhere at this rate. Which was why he decided to go with something more familiar to himself.

What was cleaning? It was the act of purging the unclean. But, as Orodan had come to understand, his Celestial skill deemed clean and unclean based upon what he saw things as. A dirty swamp full of muck and decomposition could be seen as dirty with one lens, but with another, could be seen as a thriving ecosystem of its own.

And if his Celestial skill could change functionality based off of what he saw as unclean, then there was no reason why Vision of Purity couldn’t do the same.

Hence, Orodan took one look at it all, the wards, the energy they were made of and the source empowering them, and declared one thing…

“All mana… is dirty.”

Utter lunacy.

His mind fought against him every step of the way. It wanted to explode, to rip itself apart at the insanity he was forcing it to accept. But, his time in working with chicken scratch and forcing his mind to adopt seemingly incorrect and contradictory positions helped him here.

He wrestled with his own mind, and eventually, he won.

He accepted madness.

[Vision of Purity 65 → Vision of Purity 68]

And instantly, every single cell in his body was under strain as he forced them all to concentrate, to observe all the impurity. It wasn’t just through the rift and into Novar’s Peak, but all around him on his side of the rift. Within Anthus, in the fort, down to the very library he sat within. Destartes was especially filthy, so much mana flowing through the man. And most horrifyingly of all…

…Orodan was full of the vile plague that was mana. He used it to fuel his spells, to power certain enchantments, and for so many things.

Filth was all around him.

And while he could’ve perhaps made the mental organization easier by organizing the impurities into patterns and gradients, lightening the load upon his mind. That wasn’t Orodan’s way.

[Vision of Purity 68 → Vision of Purity 69]

Every cell being used for observation bled, and many of them died only to reform over and over. Orodan stubbornly refused to make the job easier and focus upon what he needed to. Vision of Purity’s range was roughly thirty miles now. And he bullheadedly insisted on taking in and processing all of what he saw within these thirty miles.

The time he’d forcibly taken in the System’s store of knowledge had given him a taste of agonizing mental loads, but this task was still difficult. Each and every particle of mana within thirty miles, both on the Novar’s Peak side, and on the Anthus side, was painstakingly accounted for.

And with his eyes open, Orodan finally began to see.

[Vision of Purity 69 → Vision of Purity 70]

It was a core skill of his, intrinsic to Orodan, thus the threshold crossing didn’t give him any benefit as this was one of the few skills he surpassed the System in.

Interesting. Considering all mana as impure meant he was able to see the entirety of the wards now. How the energy shifted and roiled, and the patterns. And immediately Orodan noticed that any attempts at circumventing the anti-spatiomancy wards of Novar’s Peak would’ve been impossible for anyone else.

“There are in fact three separate anti-spatiomancy wards layered over one another,” Orodan explained, his tone calm and inquisitive even as his own blood spilt over the floor from the exertion. “Getting past one would simply mean running into the other two. A well-crafted defense.”

“I see your profuse bleeding has borne us some fruit. I wasn’t aware of that detail about the wards… I cannot see how even I would bypass them then…” Destartes muttered. “Might take a few more loops till you succeed in the attempt.”

“No. I’m confident I can do it here and now,” Orodan replied. “No wards are perfect. Well-made as these are… there are still holes.”

In fact, Orodan’s training in Dimensionalism had given him experience in crossing the dimensional boundary via its shifting pores. This experience was quite relevant and valuable now that he was attempting to bypass an anti-spatiomancy ward. Why? Because each ward, much like the dimensional boundary he crossed with Dimensional Step, was also a shifting blanket meant to prevent any spatiomancy and travel.

But even the best crafted blankets had holes, no matter how minute.

No other mage could have succeeded. Even if Spatial Sense or Mana Sense weren’t detectable by the wards, the sheer amount of information they’d have to process all at once would be beyond their minds. Orodan though, stubbornly chose to account for every particle of mana within thirty miles, and this was what now allowed him to see all three shifting anti-spatiomancy wards in their entirety at once.

And as all three shifted, each one had the most minute of gaps at certain points. However, what Orodan was waiting for… was the perfect path where an opening would simultaneously line up for all three. And after two minutes of patient observation, it appeared.

He began his teleport.

At the very cusp, the problem he’d encountered when Dimensional Stepping into Anthus presented itself. An ancillary ward was set to detect any sudden additions of space.

But that was alright, because Orodan had been conceptualizing a method of putting a stop to that as well.

What was space?

Orodan felt that much like a toy puzzle picture consisting of many pieces which formed a whole, space too consisted of multiple objects which composed the whole canvas. The addition of a new piece would doubtlessly be noticed, even if nothing directly saw it.

But… what if the canvas itself was stretched? Space itself shifted so that it appeared the new piece was there all along?

[New Skill (Exquisite) → Spatial Shift 13]

Spatial Shift, which Orodan had come upon during his studies with Destartes, wasn’t novel magic by any means. It was an advanced spell used by stealth specialist spatiomancers, particularly in laying ambushes or performing silent entry. Spatially shifting a small room, or even themselves in such a manner that it tricked an observer into not noticing. It had some combat applications too, but it was mainly designed to fool Spatial Sense in a small area and there were documented incidents of criminals using it to break into vaults.

Of course, anyone with a decently sized Spatial Sense would notice. Mainly because, if someone within a cage suddenly had the cage expanded without any notice, the comparison to the outside area and the difference would still be apparent. And nobody had enough power to affect a larger area.

But… if one had enough raw energy, what if not just the cage, but the entire surroundings were shifted?

That was what occurred with Novar’s Peak as Orodan channelled power into the spell. Spatial Shift, meant to alter one’s own position or shift a small room at most… was now enlarged to affect the entirety of Novar’s Peak and the surrounding fifty miles.

The ancillary ward meant to detect any sudden additions of objects, and even the spatiomancers of the city who possessed high levels of Spatial Sense… all failed to notice a thing as their detection didn’t extend that far.

And Orodan thus finished his teleport.

[Teleportation 75 → Teleportation 76]

[Space Mastery 91 → Space Mastery 92]

The perfectly timed Teleportation brought him into the citadel of Novar’s Peak. Specifically, beneath it…

…and before a very alarmed Balastion Novar on the precipice of unleashing violence upon the intruder.

However it was too late for the first emperor of Novarria, as Orodan’s hand was already touching the man’s eldritch crown.

“You’re welcome,” Orodan simply said.

A flash of power, and the crown suddenly became inert as Orodan kept his promise to a broken man he’d spoken to many loops ago.

And before Balastion could react, another Teleportation took Orodan out.

Thankfully the anti-spatiomancy wards were much easier to bypass through egress.

A wide-eyed Destartes was present in the room as Orodan returned.

“Is it done?”

“Yes, the eldritch crown of Balastion Novar is now defunct… and Novarria will soon be in uproar.”

And he finally let go of the silly notion that all mana was dirty too. Though, it certainly gave him ideas on what else he might consider impure.

#

Frost surrounded him as Orodan sat in a meditative position. To the outside observer it would look as though he was encased in ice. The entire room was practically frozen solid too.

“This is the most nervous I’ve seen you, my student,” Destartes said, though not to Orodan.

An anxious halfling was pacing around the room, arms folded behind his back as he imperiously walked back and forth.

“How can I not be master? Novarria is in uproar, the Republic’s ‘inspection’ will be coming soon, and everything’s coming to a head,” Tegin Carrotfoot said. “All while Mister Wainwright is casually training upon the eve of it!”

The noise from the Lieutenant-General’s words didn’t actually reach Orodan. He was encased in ice, the frozen air around him at a temperature of absolute stillness. There was no motion in the particles at all.

And it was an interesting form of ancillary training, to parse the words they were saying by detecting the vibrations in the air via Vision of Purity.

“Can you begrudge him that? The only reason he approached us in the first place was to train himself,” Destares defended. “Calm your mind Tegin, you’ve laid out strategies and contingencies for years in preparation. Your mind has never failed us before.”

“I… you are right master. But, might I ask what Mister Wainwright is even attempting?” Tegin asked. “Canthula has yet again sent me a strongly worded letter about the vandalization of her department.”

“We’ll have to ask her to bear with it then, for this attempt, if successful might allow us to retain much goodwill despite our coup.”

“Will it? What exactly is he doing?” the halfling asked. “My assistant is waiting outside as he requested, as is the lady Argon. But I know as much about this as they do.”

“You recall all those Blessed he asked you to bring for examination?”

The halfling’s eyes widened, and now the commander of Anthus understood.

What was Orodan doing?

When forging his sword, he’d discovered the state of zero temperature, an absolute stillness. However, the issue was that this temperature could still be ruined by even the most minute of things. If Orodan were to open his mouth and speak, the air coming out would hit the frost around him and disturb its state of utter stillness.

But even without moving at all, while maintaining complete and utter control over his body, his cells still had the most insignificant of movements. These movements unfortunately disturbed the state of perfect stillness too.

Hence, Orodan was encased in frost, training by trying to force his cells to move as little as possible. That they might achieve the same result with less. Every time a cell twitched more than necessary, Orodan slammed his will down unto it. His mind went to war, Combat Transcendence activated, and his skills were a battleground as they attempted to solve the issue.

Space Mastery bullishly insisted it was the key to the task. Then Time Mastery stepped in and locked horns with it, bellowing that simply altering time would work. Throughout this all, the domineering giant, Incipience of Infinity, quietly maintained its proud presence. It was the reason for much of the movement of his cells as it provided soul energy which roiled through them.

[Body Tempering 70 → Body Tempering 71]

Body Tempering made its voice known, reminding the arguing pair that it was one of the foundational skills which controlled his body and cells. Squeezing more out of what Orodan had was its domain, as was the reforging of his body to make it better and provide less activity for more output.

Shield Intent tried suggesting the creation of miniature shield light barriers around all of his cells, to prevent any motion from leaking outwards, but Orodan himself stepped in and shot the idea down. He filed it away as an excellent idea for later, but it would be but a stopgap solution now.

Flash Freeze was on the verge of stepping in and suggesting he freeze all of himself to absolute zero, but then Logistics came in with a fury and stomped it down. It was small, almost insignificant… but it was angered at the fruitless arguing.

[Logistics 18 → Logistics 20]

It beckoned the proud giant, Domain of Perfect Cleaning, for help, and it listened. Domain of Perfect Cleaning, under guidance of Logistics it began cleaning the unnecessary movement right out of Orodan’s cells, trimming it down significantly. It then guided Dimensional Resistance and Dimensionalism to work together, and forced Absolute Body Composition to complete the final touches.

[Dimensionalism 67 → 69]

[Absolute Body Composition 5 → Absolute Body Composition 10]

[Dimensional Resistance 10 → Dimensional Resistance 20]

With Absolute Body Composition providing the final touch to improve himself, Orodan’s body in which each cell was partially dimensional to provide Dimensional Resistance… now formed a thin dimensional boundary of its own. It improved his Dimensional Resistance too.

It could have been a skill combination, but both he and little Logistics seemed to agree that it could be handled freeform. That was one advantage of Orodan’s new System, that he could perform many functions without forcing a skill combination. After all, he had an inkling that Absolute Body Composition was meant for greater things down the road.

Most importantly though. It was time to attempt something he’d previously thought impossible.

The ice around him shattered as Orodan got to his feet and began walking out the room.

“M-mister Wainwright?” Tegin asked, startled by the sudden movement, but following after him.

He made a beeline for the one man he sought first. The man who’d helped him since he was a delinquent young idiot who picked fights with people he had no chance against.

Old Man Hannegan was more than a bit surprised to see Orodan power walking towards him. Next to him was Surena Argon, but he ignored her for now.

“Orodan? Is everything alright? I haven’t seen you in-”

“Old man, this should be painless, just hold still,” Orodan said, focusing.

“What are you-”

A hand was laid upon the old man’s head, and a modified ouroboros, the symbol of infinity, shot out from Orodan’s hand, headed straight for Old Man Hannegan’s soul.

Orodan had been studying Blessings for the past month. Captured zealots of the Cathedral, imprisoned priests and diviners who were guilty of espionage and other crimes, Orodan had studied the souls of them all. Blessings weren’t difficult as a concept. It was essentially a System glyph slotted directly into the soul, similar to how Orodan had made his own. It confirmed his suspicion that the Prime Five who were weak Gods shouldn’t have been capable of making them. The System assisted them in granting Blessings.

Granting a Blessing then, should have been impossible for anyone besides a God. Because it required intimate knowledge of enchanting and how to replicate the language of the System. Too bad for them then, that Orodan knew how to do just that; after all he’d made his own System.

And the final roadblock stifling him before had been the fact that souls resisted any foreign energy or manipulation. Souls as a defense mechanism, functioned much like anti-spatiomancy wards in that they could detect tampering. At least… coming from the same plane of space as them.

Gods circumvented this by passing their divine energy and Blessings through the dimensional boundary. And now Orodan, whose cells had a complete dimensional boundary, would attempt the same.

The glyph of his own making successfully entered, encountering no resistance, and it slotted into where a Blessing normally would…

…and immediately there were problems.

Orodan’s hand roiled with power, ready to enact a Time Reversal, adamant that no harm would come to Old Man Hannegan, when he realized that the man wasn’t being harmed at all. Rather, the interaction between his own glyph, which was composed of the weave from his own soul, interacted poorly with the natural Eldritch nature of the old man’s soul.

All beings born under the System had a hidden and natural Eldritch component to their souls. Orodan had luckily had this purged thanks to the sadistic Boundless One who’d destroyed his old System. Old Man Hannegan however still had it, and the Eldritch did not like anything else of a foreign nature nestling in there.

It didn’t harm the old man, but it did send out a pulse of System energy as warning… somewhere deep past the dimensional boundary of the material plane.

Orodan immediately rounded on Old Man Hannegan.

“What do you see?”

“I… what is this? It says… ‘Vein of the Incipience’… what is this, Orodan? Which God has given me this?” the old man asked.

“No God gave you that Blessing.”

“Then who?”

“You’re looking at him,” Orodan answered with a smile.

“This… how? How can this be? Are you… are you a God?” the old man warily asked.

“Absolutely not. I’d rather die,” Orodan contemptuously said.

“Good, good. Praying to you would cause a crisis of faith in me,” the old man remarked with a wry smirk. “But this Blessing… I feel so lively… as though I can do anything at all right now.”

“What does it say?” Orodan asked, though he already knew what it said as he’d designed it.

“Vein of the Incipience. ‘Whenever you will it, power fills you.’ What does this do?” Old Man Hannegan asked.

“I can teach you a basic spell and then we can te-”

Orodan was cut off as the old man conjured a Candleflame upon the tip of his finger.

How embarrassing. Yes, it was a basic spell known by many non-mages but Orodan never knew that the old man was capable of magic, even if it was incredibly basic.

Less than a minute passed before Old Man Hannegan’s mana pool ran dry, he wasn’t a mage after all. And then, Orodan felt it…

…the pull along the thread of connection between the two of them.

“Incredible, it’s still going!” the old man exclaimed, enjoying the sight of the Candleflame upon his finger. “I can make it larger too!”

The Candleflame grew to become the size of a large ball, and yet the caster seemed entirely unconcerned with the mana cost.

It was only when it grew to become the size of half his torso that Old Man Hannegan began to tremble, and Orodan could see that the man’s body was unable to handle all the power flowing through it.

“Best to keep a limit based upon how much power the recipient’s body can handle,” Zaessythra advised.

Orodan more than agreed with that. He stopped the flow of power himself, preventing the old man from getting hurt.

“You have to be careful old man, drawing upon too much will kill you,” Orodan cautioned. “Endlessly drawing upon the power isn’t a problem. Drawing upon more than your body can handle at once is.”

In other words, those he Blessed wouldn’t be razing nations. Not unless they had the ability to do so already.

But for now, Orodan had done it. He’d defied the natural order of things once more by granting someone a Blessing. Only Gods should have been capable of it, and even then through the aid of the System.

Of course, he wasn’t so short-sighted as to think that there would be no consequences.

“Orodan, I received one more message,” Old Man Hannegan said. “It says… ‘System Interference detected: Administrator notified.”

Of course. Likely what the pulse was. Orodan would have to take care to block or destroy the pulse anytime he granted a Blessing moving forward. As it stood, this loop was now due for a forced ending at the hands of the Prophet or the Reject. Which suited him just fine as he was spoiling for a good fight.

He then looked to the other person who’d been watching.

“Well? You want a Blessing too?” Orodan asked her.

“If you don’t mind, Mister Wainwright,” Surena answered. “I wish to test the limits of this strange power for myself.”

And so Orodan did. The modified glyph, a Blessing of his own making shot out towards the woman and neatly slotted into her soul as well. Though, unlike last time he made sure to hastily capture and destroy the automatic warning pulse sent by her System.

“I feel invincible… as though I can do anything!” she exclaimed. Orodan felt her pulling generous amounts of power through the tether.

“You can still be killed in combat, so don’t go getting complacent,” Orodan warned. He’d acquired Eternal Soul Reactor early on but had still been killed often enough.

“This… ‘Vein of the Incipience’, are there any limits to how much power I can draw upon?”

“No. None that you’ll reach before killing yourself with the deluge of power,” Orodan clarified.

“Then, if you do not mind, Mister Wainwright… let me put that to the test.”

Two gigantic fireballs were conjured in her hands, and immediately Vision of Purity told Orodan that the fire was quite costly. As she’d explained, she hadn’t fully inherited the Bloodline of House Argon. With his Blessing though… who knew what she could achieve?

She held the flames for a few minutes, and when they showed no signs of abating, a manic grin came upon her face.

“As I said, there really is no limit to how much power you can draw. Even millions of Surena Argons would put no strain upon me,” Orodan explained. “Just remember to moderate yourself lest you overdo it and your loved ones blame me for your death.”

She nodded enthusiastically, practically running off to finally practice her family’s famed pyromancy no doubt. Orodan initially had an illogical dislike of her due to the similarity to her father. But… she wasn’t such a bad woman. And he’d learned from watching the thrust of her rapier.

But if his Blessing could do this much for the old man and Surena Argon…

…then what about somebody stronger?

Orodan looked at Destartes.

“Do not look at me Mister Wainwright. Not only do I harbor much distrust of Gods and their Blessings, I also would hesitate to find myself so indebted to you.”

“I am not a God,” Orodan reminded. “And this would simply be me repaying you for all you’ve taught me.”

“That… you are not. Which puts me in the unique bind of having to consider this offer.”

“You are hesitant,” Orodan observed. “We need not do this if you don’t want to.”

“And there’s the problem, Mister Wainwright… I very much do want to. I am merely hesitating at the fact that I’ll be receiving a Blessing willingly when for so many centuries of my long life I’ve actively fought to prevent this scenario,” Destartes said. “This amulet I wear, it’s a detector of the divine, and I have a slew of other enchanted items and spells I keep running for the purpose of preventing any Blessings being laid upon me. I don’t know the exact mechanics behind a Blessing, but if you ever wondered why in your past loops I managed to live so long without being Blessed, there’s your answer.”

“I see… this is a momentous occasion for you then,” Orodan said. “It will not hurt, if you are wondering. Nor will this in any way make you beholden to me as the thread can simply be cut from your end with no strings attached.”

“Over the course of the last month and having gotten to know you, I didn’t think you the type to act in a wicked manner anyhow,” Destartes said. “Now then, let us dispense with the chatter. All my life I’ve despised the Gods, but if I’m to receive a Blessing from anyone, let it be the man who stands against their tyranny and slays them.”

Orodan refused to disrespect the gravity of the situation. It clearly meant a lot to Destartes. He could’ve simply thrown the Blessing outwards, but did not. Instead, he respectfully placed a hand upon Destartes’ shoulder and closed his own eyes. Better to give the man some privacy and deference in such a moment.

And then… the Blessing was granted.

“And so it is done…” Destartes said softly. “A Blessing infects old Destartes at last. Though, I suppose this doesn’t feel all too bad. Now then… let’s stretch these old bones once more.”

Orodan immediately felt large amounts of power being drawn through the tether.

Destartes began glowing as dozens of active and passive spells began layering themselves on top of the old wizard. Elemental spells, chronomantic spells, dimensional and spatiomancy spells. They were varied and had differing levels of upkeep and effectiveness. But at the end of it, he looked almost resplendent.

“I don’t recognize even a tenth of all these spells,” Orodan remarked.

“Hah! Train under me for long enough, and I shall teach you each and every one of them,” the old wizard said. “But this… this is certainly a new feeling. Every single passive spell and magical defense I learned throughout my life… they’re all active now. A feat I could never have dreamt of before. Imagine being lauded as the greatest wizard born in many millennia, only to be told your mana pool is pathetic. No matter how hard I worked, how many spells I learned… I could never surmount the wall that was my mana. I even tried dabbling in the soul arts like you, but even that could only be pushed so far.”

“I have to admit, your power and the sense of danger I’m getting from you have almost quadrupled,” Orodan said. “You might be able to fight the Eldritch Avatar yourself at this rate…”

Frankly, it went to show just how drastic the effects of Orodan’s Blessing could be. Giving a warrior an endless source of energy was nice, and would benefit them immensely, but that was within expectations. But… what if the same Blessing was granted to someone widely hailed as being the greatest human wizard on the continent? A man who knew dozens upon dozens of spells? A man whose body was far more capable of handling large amounts of mana and soul energy than Old Man Hannegan and Surena Argon.

The result, was Destartes. A wizard with an array of spells so diverse that he’d never get the chance to use them all fully. When given endless power, with such a repertoire… the results were astonishing.

With Orodan’s Blessing, this man was now a monstrous combatant. Dozens of passive and sustained spells layered the man, and even if he didn’t win, Orodan predicted that Destartes could give the Eldritch Avatar a good fight in a one-on-one.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

In seeing the old wizard… Orodan himself began to get ideas for how to grow his own power. If anything, he’d been criminally underusing the fact that he had endless energy.

“Perhaps, but I face the same risk of corruption that everyone else does. No, I feel it’s a task best left to you,” the old wizard said and then closely scrutinized Orodan. “Though, I still find it ludicrous that you feel no drain from all the power I borrow. Such a Blessing would change the face of Alastaian power relations forever if you granted it carelessly.”

Orodan wasn’t ignorant of the fact that his Blessing was well beyond what any other God could provide. The Prime Five or even the Elven three, could perhaps grant Blessings which increased one’s talent or gave them unique abilities. But these Blessings had limits. Powerful enough opponents could overpower a Blessing, and at the Transcendent-level and beyond, Blessings ceased being effective due to the titanic energy costs involved in combat.

“Indeed, Mister Wainwright. Although your unique circumstances allow you to make mistakes without as much concern as the rest of us, I must urge you be careful with who this power is granted to,” Tegin Carrotfoot said. “Though, we are grateful that you’ve chosen my master for such a thing.”

“I can grant it to you, and anyone else you want too,” Orodan offered. “The only condition would be not acting in a wicked manner and defending Alastaia against any interlopers.”

“You could truly handle empowering so many people?” Destartes asked and then shook his head. “Well I suppose doubting you after all this would be short-sighted. You’ve proven yourself enough times now.”

“Then, the soldiers of the Sixth Company, and my units of Elites could-”

A horn bellowed, rumbling through the fort. The Lieutenant-General’s communications amulet glowed as well.

Anthus was being paid a visit by a high-ranking General of the Republic. The time had come.

#

The walls of Anthus were fifty-metres tall, and from atop them one could see a large military force waiting outside.

The approaching army had slaughtered every monster attempting to attack the walls, and the leaders of the monster swarms had wisely pulled away, granting Anthus a rare reprieve from the attacks of the horde. Though, from all the siege weaponry and mages present… it looked as though Anthus would face a different sort of horde today.

The General commanding the force looked arrogant, sitting atop a golden-feathered griffin, and Orodan sensed the woman was at the Master-level. She was nothing but the nominal commander though.

The real commander of the force however, was Heredin Aeronsul, Ilyatana’s Chosen within the Republic. A triple-Grandmaster who Orodan had slain enough times by now. His presence meant that this force was a loyalist one, cronies of the Cathedral.

The general on the griffin wasn’t stupid. The tensions in the air were apparent and neither she nor her army got too close to the walls.

“They’re rather standoffish,” Orodan remarked.

“Understandably so given that I’ve ignored the last five letters with direct orders to facilitate the transfer of Surena Argon to Karilsgard,” Tegin Carrotfoot said. “Of course, both myself and the soldiers have been ignoring all official correspondence ordering me to step down as well.”

“A tense situation then. I assume you planned this and their arrival out?” Orodan asked.

“Of course, I’m no amateur. In fact, I’m a little offended that they brought so few soldiers. I suppose my reputation has been forgotten a little of late.”

Given that the army from Karilsgard outnumbered the defenders of Anthus by nearly a factor of ten, Orodan supposed the halfling’s reputation as a commander must have been fearsome indeed. Twenty-thousand soldiers in the loyalist army, versus a mere three-thousand troops stationed in Anthus.

Orodan had been asked to intercede only if things went poorly. And given the plans Tegin laid out, he doubted they would. His role would come later.

A magical voice amplification spell was cast by the general from Karilsgard, and she spoke.

“Tegin Carrotfoot! You are hereby ordered to step down and peacefully surrender yourself to a hearing before the Council!” she bellowed. “Soldiers of Anthus, as per your oaths of allegiance, you are called upon to facilitate the transfer of Tegin Carrotfoot and Surena Argon!”

Utter silence was the only thing which greeted her for a moment, until the halfling stepped forward.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible General,” the Lieutenant-General of Anthus said, voice calm. “On the other hand, I see you’ve brought twenty-thousand soldiers to the gates of Anthus. What for? Do these troops know that you intend to slaughter their kin? With Novarria in a state of heightened military activity… is this truly the time for us Adenians to be spilling our own blood?”

“Spare me your diatribes! There was an ‘incident’ nearly a month ago in Volarbury County, and you’ve failed to comply with any orders to aid the investigation. And recently an intruder somehow breached Novar’s Peak and caused an unknown incident of great severity which has the Empire scrambling for answers. While we know not what occurred, there’s little doubt that Anthus and its operatives under your command have an inkling about the matter,” the General barked. “This war host is prepared to maintain peace and stability on behalf of the Republic. Once we’re done here, we’ll be adding the troops from Anthus to our force and marching to the border for security purposes.”

“Kressida… we both know that a force of twenty-thousand soldiers and mages armed with siege weaponry aren’t merely marching to ensure security. Have your masters in the Cathedral decided to take advantage of Novarria’s moment of weakness to grab territory?” Tegin asked, causing many of the troops in the Karilsgard army to mutter among themselves. “Has Ilyatana put you up to this?”

“That is-”

“Enough.”

Heredin Aeronsul’s eyes were glowing, signifying the descent of the Goddess of Fate in Avatar form.

“Destartes. Show yourself lest I smite this arrogant halfling where he stands.”

When no answer came, the Avatar of Ilyatana sailed through the air, a golden bolt of lightning heading towards Tegin Carrotfoot.

Brave as the General was, he was but a Master and naturally alarmed at seeing an Avatar charging for him.

Which was when the Avatar crashed into multiple layers of mana shields.

The first two broke, but the third held.

And then a flurry of elemental magic descended upon it, causing the Avatar to be smashed into the ground in front of the walls.

“Destartes! You dare?” Ilyatana questioned, tranquil fury apparent. “Before the divine, man should be humble. You shall not strike such a lucky blow again.”

The old wizard was positively shimmering with power, and Orodan felt the constant stream of energy flowing down the tether from him to Destartes. Ilyatana might’ve thought otherwise, but to Orodan, there was nothing lucky about that clash. Just pure skill at spellfire and magecraft, capable of overpowering an Avatar.

Avatar and wizard clashed mid-air for twenty more seconds, causing terrifying shockwaves to erupt.

Ilyatana was unskilled, Orodan knew this from all the times he fought her Avatars and the Goddess herself in the divine dimension. It came as no surprise then, that Destartes managed to outmaneuver her with wily spellfire and smart positioning. If someone knew a handful of spells, Orodan’s Blessing, while strong, was just that. But when a wizard like Destartes who knew dozens came along, it was a different matter. A style of fighting that the old Grandmaster could keep up for brief moments previously, was now brought to the fore with full power.

Divine lances of energy were re-directed into spatial rifts and sent right back. Charges which threatened the wizard in melee were avoided as Destartes used chronomancy to reverse his physical position. And attacks were made with multiple elements at once, with a strange spatial spell which seemed to suck the energy out of Ilyatana like a vacuum whenever it neared her.

Upon realizing that she was on the losing end, the Avatar immediately backed away.

“You would dare solicit the assistance of a foreign God? Who empowers you with these unnatural abilities? The mighty Destartes, brought low enough that he would beg for divine aid after all!” Ilyatana maniacally declared. “Your magical prowess is great. This Chosen of mine cannot hope to compete… but my army outnumbers yours by a wide margin. You and your forces will be ground down.”

“Will we? You will find, tyrant, that my supposed reliance upon the divine is the first of many things you’ve assumed incorrectly today. As is the margin of number between our forces,” Destartes said, and then looked to Orodan. “Mister Wainwright, if you would.”

Orodan nodded and his eyes glowed with power.

[Time Reversal 84 → Time Reversal 85]

Anthus wasn’t just a city built around an energy well. A hundred-and-twenty years ago, it was the site for a fierce battle between the Novarrian Empire and the Republic during the Liberation War. It was a famed battle in which General Tegin Carrotfoot had held off and inflicted serious casualties upon the main Novarrian army and forced them to turn around.

At least fifteen-thousand Novarrian soldiers had died that day. But over three-thousand Adenians had also fallen. It was a heavy blow for the General, they were loyal men and women who’d died for him, and Tegin Carrotfoot thought of them, grief in his heart every day.

Thoughts which no longer needed to be of a grieving nature, as Orodan reversed time. The walls and ground of Anthus were bloody, and it was these bloody memories, ancient remnants and corpses that Orodan used to grasp each individual timestream.

Tegin Carrotfoot, Destartes and even the Avatar of Ilyatana watched on in utter awe as a feat not even a God could hope to perform took place before their eyes. Three-thousand corpses, raised from the ground, a feat which would make even the mightiest necromancer quake in astonishment. Except, these weren’t corpses…

…but living soldiers.

Using the small bits of matter in the ground, their old weapons, and the memories of those who thought of them… Orodan traced them and their current positions in the soul nexus. He even had to give up on a handful that had reincarnated lest he disrespect their current lives. And throughout the entire process, as time was reversed and the lives of these soldiers were played out… the soul nexus resisted him heavily. But he overpowered its hold all the same.

He’d reversed time for an entire planet-sized continent before; this was nothing.

And as the deed neared completion, Orodan made sure to bring the fallen back with their weapons and armor, standing at attention in formation… right in front of the walls of Anthus.

Three-thousand fallen, returned to life.

The resurrected were incredibly confused upon their return, but their weapons were held strongly all the same.

“What… what are you? The others must know… you do not belong on this world,” Ilyatana said, gazing the Goddess shaken. “Destartes… you who would consort with such unnatural power, are beyond hope! All of Alastaia will stand against you!”

Orodan felt she was being a bit dramatic, but he supposed anyone in her position would be panicked after seeing someone resurrect three-thousand soldiers from an ancient battle.

Tegin Carrotfoot, who had tears in his eyes, walked out the now open front gates.

“General? Where… where are we sir?”

“Sir… I don’t remember much of what happened… I think I got wounded?”

“Soldiers of Anthus!” the halfling bellowed, losing composure for once. “You find yourselves returned, after having fallen honorably in battle!”

“So it’s true… I did die…”

“I still remember the sword that slew me…”

“You are honorable men and women all! You paid the ultimate price fighting under my banner. In light of that I… I cannot ask you to fight for me once more. But all the same, your General shall stand here today and fight in defense of our Republic. And if you wish it… I shall be proud to have you beside me once more.”

The halfling’s speech was an impassioned one, aided by the other soldiers of Anthus who came out the gates to stand alongside him. It was a silly tactic, abandoning the walls to stand before a superior foe. A display meant to do no more than boost morale.

Which was exactly why Orodan liked it and also walked out to join them.

“Your forces are still outnumbered! You stand no chance!” Ilyatana roared and then looked skyward as a blazing bolt of dark light approached. “And behold! The God of Death comes to aid us! Your transgressions in touching the soul nexus have doubtlessly earned his ire!”

She wasn’t wrong. The very first time Orodan had resurrected someone who’d been dead for long enough that their soul moved on, Malzim’s Avatar angrily approached. He could appreciate that the God of Death actually tried to serve his role by protecting the dead.

And it looked to be the same yet again.

“Who dares defile the sanctity of the dead! No necromancer shall dare… what is this?”

“No necromancy here. Just resurrections,” Orodan declared. “If you’re concerned about me defiling the sanctity of any souls, you needn’t worry Malzim.”

“They are resurrected… how? Who are you stranger?”

“Orodan Wainwright. And I owe you a great debt,” Orodan answered. “Once I deal with this wicked Goddess, we might speak further.”

“Malzim! This creature is an affront to the natural order! It has no soul, and it corrupts the spirits of the fallen! Stand with me!” Ilyatana roared.

“I sense no corruption upon any of these souls, Ilyatana. This… being, speaks true. Soulless as he may be, this is… a true resurrection,” Malzim declared. “I never thought I would see one performed after a soul reaches the nexus. And for three-thousand to be brought back…”

“Tch… coward. It matters not, even without the God of Death our army will-”

It was then, that Tegin Carrotfoot’s allies arrived. Orodan sensed them from a distance away, but their wingbeats caused the winds to change and there was no ignoring that. The skies soon darkened, as a dozen dragons blotted out the sun with their approach.

“Soldiers of the Republic. You need not operate under the tyrannical orders of Gods who do not care for us,” Tegin Carrotfoot declared. “Join us! Join us and fight to overthrow these divine tyrants, that we, the people of the Republic might control our destinies once more! And if you do not wish to join… then stand aside and surrender. There is no need for Adenians to fight their brothers and sisters. We wish for no bloodshed today!”

An army might be capable of fighting a few dragons, although with heavy casualties. But to face a dozen? Alongside a wizard who could fight an Avatar evenly and an army of six-thousand?

The argument was a persuasive one, and many of the soldiers from Karilsgard began stepping away and laying down their arms. After all, they weren’t surrendering to Novarrians or a foreign foe, but their own countrymen. The odds of being treated better were significantly higher than if they’d surrendered to some unknown enemy who was out for their blood.

Orodan’s broom purging the Avatar of Ilyatana and all her Blessings from the field also helped cement the decision.

#

“Malzim truly just left?” Destartes asked. “What were you two even talking about?”

“We simply spoke of the time loops and the debt I owe him,” Orodan said. “With assurances that he and his followers would be fine, he saw no point in resisting. The Prime Five aren’t as unified in their loyalties as you would think.”

Loyalties aside, Malzim also wasn’t much of a fighter. Some called the God of Death a coward, but Orodan disliked this insult. Would one call a farmer a coward for running away from battle? Not everyone needed to be a fighter. Orodan would fight on Malzim’s behalf if necessary.

“I see… I suppose you would know them more intimately than I, given your time in the loops,” Destartes said as the two rounded a corner to reach the war room of Fort Redvane.

After the surrender of the army from Karilsgard, a good portion had joined Tegin’s forces, though were assigned to non-sensitive positions for the time being. Tegin’s force had then marched to Fort Redvane, the nearest military installation a hundred miles away. Though it was possessed of few defenders and they’d easily opened the gates and surrendered to the Lieutenant-General upon assurance of no harm befalling them.

And within the war room, was Tegin Carrotfoot, catching up with a recently raised soldier.

“Why Kastavian… I ensured your family were cared for after your death. Your granddaughter is an alchemist in the capital in fact!” the halfling spoke warmly.

“Tegin…! It is… it’s good to be under your command once more,” the man tearfully replied.

“And it is good to have you back!” the halfling said, and then noticed the two of them. He dismissed the soldier. “Excuse me.”

The halfling hit the ground, kneeling before Orodan.

“Lord Wainwright, I will forever be in your debt. If there is anything you need, I am at your service, from now till-”

Orodan gently helped the commander of Anthus to his feet.

“None of that. If anything, I don’t go around resurrecting people as often as I should. Though, I suppose keeping a tally of the dead and reuniting people with their fallen comrades and loved ones can come after I’m done these time loops,” Orodan said. “You owe me nothing. Consider it repayment for the vandalism of your research departments.”

“I cannot abide by this… you’ve returned to me comrades, battle-brothers and sisters-in-arms who I began fighting alongside when I was a fresh-faced recruit who was constantly belittled for being a halfling in the military,” Tegin said, tears in his eyes. “When these men and women fell during the Liberation War, a part of me went with them. Thank you, thank you. You’re a better God than any of the charlatans among the Prime Five could hope to be.”

“Your words honor me, but I’m no God. Just a warrior on a journey to bring the ails plaguing this System to heel,” Orodan said. “And… someone looking for a few good fights along the way.”

“I see… then I suppose the cosmos can count itself lucky, that a warrior of such compassion and benevolence fights for it.”

Compassion and benevolence? Orodan wasn’t sure if those words fit him. The darker side of him, the orphan raised on the streets of Ogdenborough, knew naught but violence and bloodshed. He had killed many and ended far more lives than he’d saved.

Violence was how the time loops began. And bloodshed was how they ended every time.

“You judge yourself too harshly,” Zaessythra reminded.

“I’m no self-pitying milksop who bemoans his fate. I judge myself not harshly, but honestly. None can deny that my life began on that fateful day when my mother and father were slain and all in that caravan besides me were butchered. In that regard, my life both began and ended with bloodshed.”

The life of Orodan Wainwright had irrevocably changed when both his parents were violently killed. And it ended the same way when he too was slain by a Guzuharan when the time loops began.

Orodan wasn’t a cold monster devoid of feelings. He cared for Zaessythra, Old Man Hannegan and quite a few others. But his outlook on morality was still one grounded in the harsh reality of violence. Had he learned what some might consider benevolence and compassion along the way? Yes. But these things were the byproduct of a stubborn sense of honor and fairness. He wasn’t sure if he had compassion and empathy the same way a child raised in a loving home did.

But… he supposed whatever compassion and care he did have, was different and more grounded in reality than someone of a more idealistic bent.

And his goal of becoming the pillar which dreams could become reality upon would not be achieved through moralistic rhetoric alone.

For that, hard work, grit and sacrifice alone were the answer.

“Lord Wainwright?” Tegin asked.

“I believe you’ve caused him to reflect on things, my student,” Destartes remarked. “One shouldn’t be interrupted when they’re in the midst of such introspective ponderings.”

Orodan gave Destartes an unimpressed look.

“And I’m not a Lord.”

“Of course, apologies sir,” Tegin said with a smile. “Now then, with Fort Redvane under our control, the capital isn’t too far off.”

“And the Cathedral’s forces? Have any secondary armies been raised?” Destartes asked.

“Ilyatana and Agathor attempted to muster forces from the Eastern Kingdoms, but by all accounts our honored allies in the Sapphire Gale dragon flight put a quick end to that,” Tegin answered. “The ancient Balaji Vedharna and the noble World Guardian Sarastuga also interceded to prevent the Gods from mobilizing.”

“Wasn’t aware that old man and his pet cat were on your side,” Orodan muttered.

“I wouldn’t be so bold as to call that lion a ‘pet cat’, but yes, they’ve had disagreements with Agathor as well,” Destartes replied. “That tyrant War God has offended people beyond just the Republic.”

“Agathor has made many enemies. Chief among them one he does not even know of,” Tegin said, looking at Orodan. “In a few hours, we march to Karilsgard. I doubt I even need to ask, but are you prepared to purge the divine from our Republic?”

Purging the divine from the Republic?

Orodan had plans on doing more than just that.

#

The force they marched with was exceptionally small, consisting of only fifteen-hundred troops. Destartes and Tegin Carrotfoot were leading the force, but by all observations it was a paltry one.

Mainly because the bulk of the coup’s manpower alongside the Time Wind dragon flight were off pacifying and ensuring the surrender of loyalist holdouts in other parts of the Republic even as this small force made for Karilsgard.

“So I can’t just march in and slay Agathor?”

“No, Mister Wainwright. We would greatly prefer you didn’t do such a thing,” Tegin answered. “The purging of the divine is not only something our agents are spreading word and disseminating propaganda about, but it’s also a display that must be performed in the open. Agathor is known to be hot-headed, let him dig his own grave in front of the people, that they might see the Gods for who they really are.”

“I too have half a mind to charge in and pummel old Arvayne, but we must remain patient for now. Our contacts and that individual you referred us to have been of great assistance in controlling the public narrative,” Destartes said.

“Yes, this Esgarius from Trumbetton has proven to be quite the resource. One mention of gold and he’s bending over backwards for us, who knew the man had access to local information networks of such depth and coverage?” Tegin remarked.

“Long as you’re paying him more than your enemies can offer, I’m certain he’ll remain loyal,” Orodan said. Though, that industrious merchant would remain loyal to the gold first, and his employer second.

“Ah yes, loyalty can be a fickle thing. The majority of the foes we face will not hold any particularly strong sentiments about defending the Cathedral’s reign over the government, but a few staunch defenders will obstruct us all the same,” Tegin said. “You’re certain that House Firesword will not intervene?”

“Once their elder, Arvayne Firesword is dealt with, Burgher Ignatius has no reason to oppose us. Provided the dealings are non-lethal and end amicably enough,” Orodan clarified. “House Simarji though… do not touch any of them. I shall deal with them myself.”

“The Simarjis? They are hardline loyalists then?” the commander of the coup asked.

“Far from it, old Adeltaj has no particular love for the Gods,” Orodan explained. “That does not mean the man won’t try to play hero however.”

“Hero?”

“The obstinate sort who is naturally predisposed to giving his life for the sake of others. Bad for his lifespan and even worse for those who must watch him die on their behalf.”

Nobody would die for Orodan’s sake ever again.

Their force passed through Exerston County, and was now nearing the capital. There had been no assaults or ambushes along the way either, and the county militia patrols he’d seen had simply given them way. However, the lack of any Republic military meant they were likely holed up somewhere.

That somewhere being Karilsgard.

The first time Orodan had seen Karilsgard, he was certain the city could fight off an attacking Avatar through its defenses alone. These defenses had now been ramped up to the maximum. War machines, defensive weaponry, mages, archers and javelineers of various levels all lined the walls. And the entire city was heavily warded, with certain wards now present that Orodan hadn’t seen in use during regular operations.

“The invaders! The invaders have come!” a civilian outside the wall barked.

“Shut your gob, boy! Those are soldiers of the Republic! What are they going to invade with that few soldiers?” an old man scolded. “I heard they’re here to root out the corruption in our government.”

“Truly? I did hear there were some crooks in that Cathedral…”

The Lieutenant-General’s propaganda efforts were paying off it seemed.

“They’ve dug in and prepared for a siege,” Tegin said. “How many defenders do you see, Mister Wainwright?”

The wards of Karilsgard were actively blocking and scrambling more standard detection spells such as Mana Sense, Spatial Sense and even Wind Sense. Vision of Purity wasn’t something they could account for though.

“Seven-thousand and fifty-three. Not as much as I expected,” Orodan remarked, giving the accurate count. “Karilsgard is normally supposed to have a standing force of ten-thousand minimum, including the capital guard. The army you routed at Anthus must’ve drawn from here quite significantly.”

“Quite so. And the Council must at least be wise enough to realize that recalling troops from the border would be a poor idea when Novarria’s on the warpath,” Tegin added.

The force marched up to just outside weapons range of the war machines on the walls, however only Tegin Carrotfoot, Destartes and Orodan walked up to the gates.

“Halt! General Tegin… even if it’s you, I cannot allow you entry into Karilsgard!” the gate commander, a familiar man, declared. “The Council of Karilsgard has ordered the city be closed off. Any attempts at entry will be met with force!”

“Has the Council ordered it… or was it the Cathedral? Come now, Arendethar, you’ve always been an observant man,” Tegin said. “The departure of your companion Ulrusdun did not convince you?”

“It is not a matter of what I’m convinced by, it’s a matter of following orders, I’m a career soldier, much like you General. Under orders from the Council, who have benevolently offered to keep our families sheltered within the Cathedral for a possible siege, we must defend our city.”

Tegin quirked his eyebrow at Orodan. He could read between the lines just fine.

“He doesn’t lie, I sense hundreds of non-combatants in there.”

A devious method of getting soldiers to remain loyal. Pathetic.

“That will be enough! Stand down Arendethar!” yelled an old woman with an angry scowl on her face. A Grandmaster. “Destartes, what do you and your upstart band hope to achieve by coming here? A mere fifteen-hundred troops isn’t enough to launch a siege, and we’ve prepared many anti-dragon countermeasures, though I see none of them here.”

“Varna, we came not for a siege but to pass through the gates uncontested. House Altamari may be in league with the Cathedral but not all of these men and women are. Your captivity of their families in the name of safety is disgraceful,” Destartes chided. “Stand down and we may avoid bloodshed.”

“What bloodshed? You have a paltry force fit only for raiding villages, do not overestimate yourselves,” Varna Altamari rebuked. “Though… reports on a chronomancer of alarming prowess have reached our ears. I see he stands with you now.”

All eyes turned towards Orodan.

“Speak to them, not me. I’m not much for these pre-battle negotiations,” Orodan declared.

“I concur, let us forgo the useless chatter. Coming before the gates was a mistake, you’re too dangerous to let live,” Varna hissed.

Perhaps Destartes was the only other one who noticed, but the faint pulse of mana from a well-crafted amulet around her neck was the only signal the old woman gave.

Every single soldier, mage and magical war machine upon the walls of Karilsgard suddenly aimed at the three of them.

“Treachery! Protect the General!” roared a soldier from behind, but the army was simply too far away to reach them in time.

Destartes was prepared to receive the salvo which could slay an Avatar, but Orodan took action first.

If they thought he was some monstrous chronomancer, then he might as well confirm the rumors.

His soul energy was channelled into Time Reversal, and immediately the salvo returned from whence it came.

“Chronomancers! Stop him! Break his grasp over the time stream!” Varna ordered.

A corps of time mages upon the walls immediately set about countering him, but it was an entirely hopeless attempt. For one, Orodan had broken and overpowered far stronger Transcendent-level chronomancers attempting to stifle him during his battles across the cosmos. And for another, a good third of the chronomancers were intentionally performing sub-optimally. Fighting for a force which held one’s family hostage was no guarantor of true loyalty.

Taken in tandem, their attempts at battling with him for control over time were utterly pointless. An ant would have had more success lifting a mountain.

“Commander! We cannot counter him!”

And then, his Time Reversal went a step further….

…as the very walls and wards of Karilsgard began to tremble.

“Spatiomancers! Send him away! Stop him at all costs!” Varna roared.

“My lady our energy batteries will run dry before we can shift him in space!”

“Someone deal with him! He’s but a single man!”

Enemy space mages tried creating rifts to send him farther away, enemy chronomancers tried fighting with him for control, yet it was to no avail. The walls of Karilsgard, the wards layered over them, the fancy war machines upon them, it all began reverting in time. Even the very weapons wielded by the defending army began to unravel.

Magical focusing cannons which mages used to greatly amplify their spells turned to raw ore and crystals. Wards began dispersing into raw mana which harmlessly dissipated into the air, and the weapons of the soldiers began turning into saplings, ore and slag. It was all reverted through time.

“My sword! My shield!” a soldier cried in shock.

“My bow!”

The defending soldiers began losing their ability to fight as their weapons were rendered useless. And soon…

…even the stones composing the walls began to come undone.

“Hold! Brace for a fall!”

A chorus of yelps and cries rang out as the east wall of Karilsgard began transitioning back into boulders and large rocks, and the defenders fell to the now bare ground.

The troops behind Orodan were in complete and utter awe. These were veterans from Anthus who’d seen him resurrect their fallen brethren, yet witnessing time go backwards in such a selective manner left them dumbstruck.

“Incredible… I haven’t seen the outer wall unbuilt since I was a young lad…” Destartes muttered.

“Looks a little strange without the gigantic section of wall, doesn’t it?” Orodan asked as he walked forward. “Now then, lay down your arms and no further bloodshed needs to occur. I’m not even a chronomancer by trade.”

“N-not a chronomancer…? What are you?” Varna said in shock, and then sagged as Orodan approached, putting his sword to her throat. A look behind him at the battle-hungry force of fifteen-hundred reinforced her decision. That and the lack of walls between them. “We… we surrender.”

“A wise decision,” Orodan said. “Tegin, shall we press on?”

“I-indeed! Soldiers! Take these defenders captive but ensure they are well-treated!” the Lieutenant-General ordered. “You have my word that your families will be freed from the clutches of the tyrannical Cathedral!”

Those words were all it took, and more than half of the defenders standing where the outer wall formerly was now began walking towards Tegin’s forces, hands raised in surrender. In truth, the fifteen-hundred had mainly been brought along to manage prisoners, run messages and ensure logistics and the transition of government occurred smoothly.

The rest soon followed, and it was a surreal scene, seeing five-thousand troops surrender to fifteen-hundred.

Still, more remained, particularly surrounding the Cathedral.

There was no resistance or ambushes as the army moved down the streets of the capital. Vision of Purity would’ve seen them clearly in any case. And Destartes too was prepared as dozens of preparatory spells were roiling about the old wizard.

Their walk down the streets continued, with soldiers informing the curious citizens that they were here to liberate the Republic of corruption, and that none would be harmed. Here again, the advance propaganda work paid off as many of the citizens had already heard of what was occurring.

Disagreements between soldiers and some rather devout citizens were peaceful, with logical pre-prepared arguments that the government of the Republic was officially meant to serve its people, and that they were beholden to the law, not the Prime Five. To many of the curious common folk, such arguments were heretical, which showed just how deep the Cathedral had sunk its claws. But to others… many citizens nodded along and found themselves agreeing.

People in general were more receptive to the famed General who’d achieved many successes during the Liberation War. That not a single drop of blood had been spilt only proved the halfling’s sincerity and desire to do good in their eyes.

Nobody stood in their way. The remaining two-thousand defenders of the city were spread out across various points, but they didn’t have enough localized numbers to dare stop them. Nor did they want to once the soldiers and commander leading them made their intentions of non-violence and rescuing their families clear.

However, at the foot of the Cathedral’s stairs, someone did stand in front of them.

“A lone man standing between a small army and their destination?” Orodan asked, a smile on his face. “I see Adeltaj Simarji’s reputation for acting recklessly still holds true.”

“You know of me, invader?” Adeltaj asked and then pointed his unfurled halberd at Orodan. “There are countless innocents in the Cathedral behind me. I cannot let you pass.”

“Your death would be a mere door stopper, old man. Do you truly intend to push your proclivity for heroics this far?” Orodan asked, borrowing a nearby soldier’s halberd and bracing it towards his opponent.

“When a warrior decides upon something with their heart, it’s no longer a matter of whether it shall be seen through… but what the price is,” Adeltaj said, frowning. “If I die, so be it.”

“Heh! I suppose there’s a reason you ended up being my first mentor.”

“What?” the Simarji asked, confused.

“I’ll explain after. For now, gird yourself. Going easy on you would be a disservice to the hero who gave his life for me, so I shall not,” Orodan said, blazing towards the man. “Bravado and rhetoric do not save lives, show me the difference between a hero and a fraud, Adeltaj Simarji!”

The old man’s halberd met the thrust of his own head-on, and the points of each collided perfectly, causing a shockwave to erupt. Destartes conjured shielding for the troops behind him while Tegin watched on with interest.

“Why do you defend the Cathedral so insistently?” Orodan asked, transitioning from the clash to a weapon deadlock where he moderated his might to match the old man. “Is it to protect the defenseless within?”

“Why else? If there is anything in life worth dying for, it’s the defense of the vulnerable… and the defense of the young who have so much more to give!”

“…is that why you died for me all that time ago?” Orodan asked, recalling the death. “Was it because I was young and stupid and had yet more to give?”

“I know not what you speak of!” Adeltaj said, pushing back with all his might but failing to budge Orodan. “Tch! Got some muscle, do you? Then try-”

A headbutt smashed into Adeltaj’s nose, an elbow snapped his head sideways with the impact, and knee drove the air from the man’s lungs. A simple shove with the haft of Orodan’s borrowed halberd then put the man on the ground.

“I don’t know what you saw in that hot-headed idiot, that caused you to give up your life for him. Not that it was even necessary. But… I wonder if you’d approve of who I ended up becoming,” Orodan remarked.

“Guh! If anyone I gave my life for enjoyed beating up senile old men to this extent, then I certainly don’t!”

“You’re only seven-hundred years old! I’m older than you by now!” Orodan retorted and jabbed at Adeltaj, forcing the man to return to his feet. “Anyhow, your movements are good, but your combat instincts could use some work. What do you fight for, Adeltaj Simarji? Will you allow me to get past you and have at the civilians beneath the Cathedral?”

The old man’s teeth gritted as he charged once more, zeal in his eyes, the same sort Orodan saw when he’d died the first time.

Subtly, Orodan saw System energy roiling around Adeltaj’s halberd.

[Teaching 52 → Teaching 53]

And he brutally smashed the strike backwards, hurling Adeltaj to the ground in the process.

“Phoenix Strike, merely Legendary. Pathetic,” Orodan coldly said. “Such a skill won’t allow you to live against a True Vampire.”

“Why would I face a True Vamp-”

“Again.”

Time Reversal took effect, and Orodan affected not just Adeltaj’s body, but his soul and the System within, reverting the man’s skill combination.

“What… I… how?” the old man asked, utterly astonished and in complete disbelief.

“Is a mere Phoenix Strike all you can aspire to? A hero cannot fail,” Orodan chided. “Moralistic preaching and plucky speeches will not protect those behind you. Come at me again.”

Adeltaj was angered, furious.

Good.

The following strike was harsh, far stronger, but still not up to par, and Orodan once more brutally threw it backwards. If Destartes wasn’t maintaining a mana barrier around the fight, half the city would’ve been destroyed.

“I sensed the flow of System energy. All you did was add one more skill to that combination, but it’s still Legendary, if slightly stronger,” Orodan lectured. “Is that all a hero has? Will you die with a rousing speech on your lips while those you leave behind suffer the consequences of your defeat?”

Orodan turned time back reverting the skill combination once more.

“Raargh! Who are you to speak to me about heroism!?”

“The boy you gave your life for!” Orodan roared back, shocking the old man into silence. “The man who gave his life for me was no coward, and he certainly didn’t lack for resolve! But neither of those things matter in this cold, unfeeling cosmos! If you wish to be a hero, then it’s time you started winning like one! Come and show me what a true hero is, Adeltaj Simarji!”

“What you say does not fit together in my mind… but… your words while harsh, are not incorrect,” Adeltaj said solemnly, and around his halberd, Orodan could feel a strange pattern of System energy roiling up. “You are right… heroism does not lie in speeches and noble sacrifices. But in achievement, in actually succeeding in one’s charge. With this, I shall go one last time.”

This time, the halberd came, and he felt a titanic surge of power gather. It didn’t come from just Adeltaj, but most surprisingly, from the civilians beneath the Cathedral. The people the old man was trying so desperately to protect.

And it was a mighty, mighty blow. One that caused the borrowed halberd in Orodan’s hands to utterly shatter as he hadn’t expected the strike to be so strong and consequently had held back on empowering it with too much soul energy. The strike carried on, ramming right into his sternum.

Where it was naturally stopped entirely, with nary a mark.

But in that strike, Orodan had felt the power of a quadruple-Grandmaster. If the old man had used this against the True Vampire, he might’ve stalemated it.

[Teaching 53 → Teaching 56]

On the old man’s end, Adeltaj was pale and trembling, and Orodan sensed his first mentor was almost entirely empty on power. It truly was a mighty strike, carrying so much power that the halberdier’s body had nearly been unable to handle it all.

“Duty of the Hero… Mythical…” he muttered.

“Hmmph… at minimum, my first teacher should be capable of at least this much,” Orodan said. “I suppose I’m feeling merciful today and won’t try and push you to acquire a Celestial skill.”

“C-celestial?” Adeltaj muttered and then desperately crawled in front of Orodan when he tried stepping past. “The… the people…”

“Will not be harmed at all,” Orodan revealed, genuinely.

“Truly?”

“Ask around for yourself to see if we’ve spilt a single drop of blood during our arrival,” Orodan said. “And did you never stop to consider why two Avatars would need a single Grandmaster to defend them? Open your eyes and think a bit, old man.”

Whatever the Simarji was concerned about must’ve been addressed, and the old man finally allowed himself to lose consciousness from the exhaustion.

“Ensure he is treated with haste and well taken care of,” Tegin immediately ordered, and Orodan nodded in gratitude.

“I shall have to trouble you for some training myself after this is done, Mister Wainwright,” Destartes remarked.

“I’m afraid, that might not be possible. Not this time at least,” Orodan said, reminding the old man of what came for him and what he had to do. “But I promise I will.”

“I see…” Destartes muttered with sorrow that wasn’t quite concealed. “To the Cathedral then.”

With Adeltaj dealt with, all that remained, was the Cathedral of the Prime Five.

“Two Avatars within, both drawing upon divine power freely,” Orodan revealed. “Agathor and Halor.”

“I see… Mister Wainwright, I know you have nothing but hatred towards the God of War, but I implore you… please let me deal with Arvayne Firesword,” Destartes said.

“Sounds personal. I won’t intervene unless I see you losing,” Orodan agreed. “And Halor?”

“Worry not about him.”

Cryptic, but there was no risk in any case.

The Cathedral of the Prime Five. It was the second largest structure in all the capital, dwarfed only by the High Spire of Karilsgard where the council sat and ruled from. Its size and the imposing statues of the five Gods of Inuan were symbolic of their dominion over humanity on Alastaia.

Dominion which would be shattered today.

As the trio and the troops accompanying them surmounted the final step just before the entrance, the gigantic double doors swung open from within.

Two Avatars, eyes glowing with divine power. Arvayne Firesword and Alcianne Rockwood. Possessed by Agathor and Halor respectively. And behind them, the High-Burgher Sarvaan Ilsuan Arslan, the High Oracle of the Cathedral, Lady Lakshiya and an assortment of Burghers who held seats on the council.

Scrying orbs flew from Tegin’s troops, covering the room. It seemed this dramatic confrontation would be recorded and potentially broadcast as proof to allay the people’s concerns and aid in a smoother transition of government.

“Welcome interlopers. Your covetous greed for power and authority have brought you to invade a city of innocents and defile a humble abode of worship.”

“Silence your tongue, cowardly prince of old Hasmathor,” Orodan venomously spat. “Your oppressive hold over these people will end soon.”

“You know more than you should strange one,” Agathor hissed. “You know of me, but I have heard whispers of you. You wear the skin of Orodan Wainwright well, but I doubt you are a mere militia man from Ogdenborough. Who are you? Which layer of the hells has such a powerful demon come from? And why would you possess such a lowly mortal to invade our world?”

Orodan was about to step forward, only for Destartes to extend a hand and bid him hold back.

“My patience wears thin old man. The more we allow this foul worm to speak, the greater the disrespect to Arvayne Firesword who is being controlled like a puppet,” Orodan gritted out. “If he is allowed to continue talking I can’t be held responsible for acting early.”

It wasn’t just that Agathor enraged Orodan, but also that the vile God of War wore his old mentor’s body like a meat suit. Every second of the possession was a grievous insult towards him.

“Peace, Mister Wainwright. That will come shortly,” Destartes assuaged and then looked to Agathor. “Let me speak to my friend whose body you commandeer.”

“Hah! I will allow it if only because it amuses me!”

The orange glow from the Avatar’s eyes lessened in intensity, and soon, the man behind them came to the fore.

“Destartes? What are… what are you doing here?” Arvayne asked, confused. “You should not have done what you did. Ilyatana will take a while to find a suitable Chosen after this interloper somehow purged Heredin.”

“Arvayne… come to your senses! I know you’ve been on an ever-downward spiral in search of power since Balastion Novar gave you an impossible task, and after our secession, out of worry for him awakening and deciding to harm us,” Destartes pleaded. “But no more! The crown of the first emperor has been rendered defunct! The sword which hung above our necks is present no longer! Our existence, with Balaji Vedharna and the Eastern Kingdoms behind us, is finally secure!”

“…truly? I see, so that is that what occurred in Novar’s Peak recently,” Arvayne muttered. “Is the first emperor finally de-clawed? Do his ambitions no longer threaten us?”

Destartes almost stepped forward.

“They do not. Come, join us, fight against Agathor’s hold,” Destartes implored. “Alcianne misses you, the real you. And I… despite our disagreements… fondly remember my closest friend. My brother-in-law.”

“Destartes I-” Arvayne’s voice seemingly broke. “How can you find it within you to forgive me? After all I’ve done… after I forced your sister to also become a Chosen in desperate pursuit of me.”

What?

“I am right here, Arvayne,” Alcianne Rockwood spoke, Halor seemingly allowing her to have control. “You need not speak of me as though I’m gone. I’ve always been here, waiting, for you to return. I took the power of Halor not because I wanted to, but because you followed Agathor into that hellish pit of power. But, ever have I held out hope that you would give it up and return.”

Orodan looked between Arvayne, Destartes and Alcianne.

“Then you’re… Destartes Rockwood?” Orodan asked.

“A long, long time ago. Cast out when the house renowned for producing the mightiest warriors of the Empire was stuck with a frail boy who enjoyed books more than rough play,” Destartes remarked, acceptance in his tone. “Before I became the most feared mage across Inuan, I was a weak child, bullied by everyone within my house. Particularly my own sister. Yet amidst it all, a renowned warrior of House Firesword found it in him to befriend me.”

And thus the friendship between them had started. Orodan forgot sometimes, that while he was off being a time looper gallivanting across worlds, that Grandmasters with centuries and milennia of life had their own stories long before he was born.

“Destartes… you shame me… but I cannot turn back now, it is too late. The horror from the stars descends in five months, I do not know how we can best it without the aid of the Gods,” Arvayne pleaded, sounding very much unlike the stoic man Orodan remembered.

“We can! Look behind me. This warrior has made all this possible. The feats of chronomancy you heard about? Performed by his hand!” Destartes exclaimed and then took another step forward, within arm’s reach of Arvayne. “We need not worry about the Eldritch Avatar or the first emperor. We’ve waited long enough. Come home, brother… please.”

The wizard’s arms wrapped around Arvayne Firesword.

And Orodan Wainwright’s fists clenched as he prepared to move.

Orodan hadn’t grown up hearing fanciful fairy tales and fables of love, and he most certainly hadn’t seen any. Such heartwarming scenes of familial love were something he’d never had. But, what he did have, was a life of pain, poverty and violence. He’d been forced to grow up all too fast. And he knew exactly what a dirty slime attempting to stab someone in the back looked like.

Not Arvayne Firesword, but Agathor, the God of War who had now resumed control.

And as the dagger in the Avatar’s hands flew for Destartes’ unprotected heart, Orodan reflected on the hate he felt for the Gods. Yes, he hated them, and he would continue to hate them. But… killing them over and over for that reason alone was no more than allowing himself to sink into a vortex of hatred.

But at the same time, Agathor was almost irredeemably evil. And slaying the wicked, not out of hatred, but necessity… was a far cry from sinking into the abyss of revenge.

After all, If his vision of becoming a pillar for others was to become reality…

…then killing vile scum like Agathor was an absolute necessity.

He could practically feel Zaessythra rolling her eyes at his newfound justification for killing Agathor anyways, but she held her tongue.

The dream of family and kinship between these three would not be shattered today.

For Orodan would be the pillar upon which such dreams could become reality.

The dagger rushing for the heart came to a sudden halt, its blade now tightly gripped in Orodan’s hand. A squeeze, and it shattered.

“You are quick interloper, and quite protective of this sentimental mage. If not for my Chosen vehemently resisting my control, I might have even succeeded,” Agathor said as he leapt back, gaining distance. Orodan didn’t think so, the Avatar’s movements appeared slow to him. “He shall be disciplined thoroughly once this affair concludes. And Halor will regret his refusal to aid me.”

“This all presumes I’m not going to kill you,” Orodan said, drawing his broom.

“You speak hastily. I admit, this Avatar cannot match you in combat… but can you save all the people I’ve Blessed beneath this Cathedral and throughout your little Republic?” Agathor asked, a cruel and vindictive lilt to the God’s voice. “Hahaha! That’s right, I’ve Blessed thousands with a simple boon, one which will cause the painful eradication of their bodies and the explosion of their souls. Ilyatana and Eximus have done the same, all across Inuan!”

“Tyrant! Was this your aim all along? To hold the lives of the innocent hostage if pressed into a corner?” Alcianne Rockwood asked angrily, her eyes wide. “We… we cannot push this matter lightly Destartes, what do we do?”

Destartes however seemed quite relaxed as he looked at Orodan.

As for Orodan himself, he could only say one thing.

“Idiot. As expected of the greatest coward of old Hasmathor, taking hostages simply to run from a fight,” Orodan derided. “You will die soon, craven prince of a fallen empire.”

“Your bluster does not goad me. Even if you accept the losses of these people and the many more across Inuan, we will simply continue Blessing more,” Agathor barked. “Now then. Leave. With the first emperor’s crown taken care of, we have little else to fear save the elven pantheon who shall be negotiated with. The northern Gods are numerous but weak. Leave now, or I begin taking the lives of the innocent one by-”

Orodan’s broom, head pointed downwards, touched the ground. Both hands were wrapped around the handle, and it almost looked as though he was a warrior solemnly holding a sword with his eyes closed, save that it was a broom.

This wouldn’t be difficult. He had cleansed three entire plague worlds before, corrupted completely and entirely by the Eldritch. And now, as his Celestial skill erupted outward, he had only one directive for it.

The Blessings of Agathor, Eximus and Ilyatana…

…were dirty.

[Domain of Perfect Cleaning 144 → Domain of Perfect Cleaning 145]

The white light of Orodan’s soul erupted outwards from the Cathedral, leaving the room they were in untouched, but starting with the captives trapped at the bottom. And it went on, past Ogdenborough…

…and it went on, past Novar’s Peak…

…and well past Arkwall and the under-mountain confederation of the dwarves.

It went east, past the Eastern Kingdoms.

And it went west past Ranmere’s Folly.

And it went north, past Millennium Roost where the dragons resided.

And it spread across all of Alastaia, purging every bit of divine influence inflicted by the wicked three. And forevermore fortifying all from their touch.

No more Blessings of Agathor, Eximus or Ilyatana would be laid upon this world.

“For this loop at least.”

Which suited him just fine, as doing this every time was simply further opportunity for training.

For three long seconds, silence reigned. It was possibly the loudest silence he’d heard in a while.

“Impossible… impossible! A being like you cannot exist!”

“You’ve seen nothing of the cosmos then,” Orodan said. “Now… I believe I promised your death, did I not?”

“You cannot reach me in the divine realm!”

With those parting words, Agathor immediately fled the body of Arvayne Firesword, and Orodan simultaneously purged his old mentor’s soul of all the Blessings of the War God, and any influences lingering in his mind too. Arvayne Firesword fell to the ground.

Chasing after Agathor would’ve been satisfying… but not yet.

“It is done then… yes, I feel it, the amulet I wear can sense the divine within a hundred miles and for the first time in millennia, it is silent,” Destartes muttered, kneeling next to Arvayne Firesword. “Orodan Wainwright… thank you…”

“Arvayne… Arvayne?” Alcianne called out, and slowly the eyes of the old Firesword fluttered open.

Orodan turned away out of respect and left the three to their privacy. It was a moment best shared between them alone. Tegin and the troops accompanying him followed, and the civilians beneath the Cathedral were evacuated.

For now, it was done.

And all that was left…

…was the offer and implementation of his own Blessing upon those who’d been purged.

And beyond that, the doubtlessly angry Administrator coming for him.

#

“I… I cannot allow this! Let us fortify the planet! We shall face this approaching tyrant together!”

Orodan smiled and shook his head.

“You have a good heart, and you’re a brave general. But certain things a warrior must face by himself,” Orodan replied. “I would not dare subject my home world and its people to a foe I’ve wrought upon myself. My mistakes and their price will begin and end with me.”

“Lord Wainwright…!” Tegin exclaimed, angry tears in his eyes and fists clenched.

“I’m not a noble remember?” Orodan reminded. “Despite that wizard’s best attempts at founding noble House Wainwright.”

And hadn’t that been a horrible thing? Orodan was all too happy to never relive actually being ‘Lord Wainwright’ again. Destartes thought it would’ve been a funny joke, but he’d shot it down quite insistently.

“That ‘wizard’ is right here, Mister Wainwright,” Destartes said, walking over. “Though, with what you’re about to do to me, having you branded a noble is the least I could do in recompense.”

“You mean the replacement of your System with my own?” Orodan asked. “You realize this is as likely to backfire and leave you a mangled husk as it is to grant you power? You have everything you wanted now, why covet more?”

“My sister has everything she ever wanted. And while her and my brother-in-law being happy is all well and good, need I remind you that Alcianne ruthlessly bullied me when I was younger?”

“It was that serious?” Orodan asked.

“Heh, no. But I like to remind her of it that she might squirm in guilt from time to time,” Destartes said with a smile. “Do you think you could ever remain content with being at peace?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll be happy to keep fighting forever,” Orodan said. “I love battle.”

“Then we are much the same, if not in our love for battle, then in our craving for advancement,” Destartes clarified. “ I too am of the constantly progressing sort who cannot remain satisfied with his current state. If this goes wrong, so be it. But I’m confident you’ll get it right one loop, and you seem unwilling to forget your debts, so I don’t fear you reneging on this.”

“I won’t. The study of that Quest-bearer from the Eastern Kingdoms helped quite a bit too,” Orodan said.

“Adeltaj was all too happy to bring the famed Khassen Alvatel along after what you helped him acquire. I’m glad you got some use out of it.”

Well, in a sense. It’d simply confirmed to Orodan that Quest Rewards granted by the System weren’t something he could meaningfully rely upon any longer. It had been a week since the battle of Karilsgard, and Orodan had spent it carefully studying his own System, the System everyone else used, and the Quest Reward which Khassen Alvatel bore.

For starters, it seemed those gigantic veins of System energy within the divine dimension weren’t just for the filtration of the Boundless One’s energy into System energy, but also for the granting and utilization of Quest Rewards. Quest Rewards used System energy to directly do some insane things, such as Orodan’s prior Action Increases.

And while the soul bore a portion of the burden in using the System energy… the veins of System energy within the divine dimension did too. Which meant, that at Orodan’s level where his soul was possibly the single most powerful one he knew, the bottleneck wouldn’t be him, but the System itself.

If he somehow regained access to his Action Increases, at his level of power he’d cause a mass rupturing of a countless number of System energy veins, which in turn would spread mass amounts of Eldritch within the divine dimension, which in turn would cause mass infection throughout the universe… which in turn would make the Prophet very happy.

And Orodan really didn’t like the Prophet, nor did he want to make that book-wielding mongrel happy. Of course, it would also cause the descent of some other Administrator upon his head, and cause the Action Increases to stop working altogether.

In other words, there would be no unfair usage of hundreds of Action Increases.

At least… not while relying upon the System.

Orodan had pondered a few ways of creating that ability entirely on his own.

“Is this truly your final day here, Mister Wainwright?” Tegin asked. “Why not stay, delay things?”

“That would not be my way,” Orodan answered. “Though… I never did get to ask you…”

“Yes?”

“Lucille Carrotfoot in Bluefire. How are you related to her?”

“Who now?” Tegin asked, genuinely. “Ah… I see! You must think all us Carrotfoots know one another! Frankly, halfling communities are quite large, and most of us dwell in our own villages or in the Eastern Kingdoms. A holdout from when the Empire treated us like second-class citizens.”

“I see… and here I thought there was some interesting backstory there,” Orodan remarked.

“Well, if you must know, I’ve never been on good terms with Clan Carrotfoot or the halfling association,” Tegin added. “If you thought a halfling had it bad from humans, then you’ll be shocked to see how unfairly we’re treated by our own kind. Humans in fact treated me with some level of fairness and the willingness to listen once I proved them wrong. My own people constantly belittled me for stepping out of line and making them look bad by being successful within the Republic’s military.”

Interesting. Orodan wouldn’t say he ever belonged to a community of people where an outgroup and ingroup were clearly defined, but Tegin had, and the halfling General clearly hadn’t gotten along well with those he grew up with.

“You could’ve chased even more success with what we did,” Orodan said. “I suppose I’m not used to someone obstinately refusing promotion or election.”

“And what would I do with that? I’ve served my country, done my duty and the Republic is better off than it was. The days of General Tegin Carrotfoot are behind him. Lieutenant-General is where I belong, ready to step up if needed,” the halfling answered. “The coup wasn’t meant to elevate me to a greater position, but to bring to heel those who committed injustice after injustice using the guise of their divine authority. Though… I suppose I’ve come to learn not all Gods are wicked.”

Orodan respected Tegin Carrotfoot. The halfling hadn’t so much as influenced a single election for any council seats whatsoever. He could’ve installed loyalists, arranged promotions for himself or made himself quite wealthy, yet the Lieutenant-General had simply ensured the process of elections ran fairly and without interference.

Which naturally meant that for the first time in the Republic’s history, two-thirds of the council seats were common folk. Which, going by what Orodan had seen, didn’t inspire much confidence when a third of them were utterly incompetent and simply knew how to sway the public rather than govern effectively. Still, some old houses had still won their seats once more, and among them, surprisingly, was Surena Argon, whose promises to build a new legacy for her house swayed the voters.

The fair elections also brought in a strong group of meritorious commoners who’d never gotten the chance to show their worth before. The lack of Cathedral and noble influence in government also meant that nepotism and corruption would decrease, which in turn meant more competent public servants and military personnel.

He had no mind for politics, but he supposed no governmental transitions were clean and easy. It was a mixed bag, but the Republic seemed better off overall, and most importantly, without the blight of the tyrant three.

Halor and Malzim had remained, but the Cathedral of the Prime Five had become the Cathedral of Life and Death, with less interference in government and more focus on aiding the people of Inuan and helping civilization thrive.

And Orodan’s Blessings had grown quite popular, though he’d had to cut off plenty who tried using it for wicked reasons. The burden upon his soul was negligible, and it was a good and constant workout for his soul and Incipience of Infinity.

“Well, aiding you should be my priority if I want a better Republic then,” Orodan said, making a mental note to involve the halfling General in the future whenever matters of politics were concerned.

“Anytime, Mister Wainwright, anytime,” Tegin said and shook his hand. “Now then, I am terrible at goodbyes and me remaining here would subject you to the ugly sight of an emotional halfling. Master, I bid you and Mister Wainwright farewell… and… until next loop.”

Tegin walked off, leaving just Orodan and Destartes.

“I will not become overly sentimental like my student, Mister Wainwright. All I will say is that it’s been an honor, and you should definitely keep up your magical training, and come see me whenever you require. A teacher can only pray to receive a student as driven as yourself,” Destartes said. “I don’t suppose you can stay for any longer, can you?”

“I’m afraid not. The notification that an Administrator descends is a serious matter, and I already feel I’ve tarried for too long,” Orodan said. “Whether this goes right or wrong, I shall depart Alastaia today.”

“Then, let us begin.”

And so Orodan did. His Celestial skill shot out, targeting the natural Eldritch within Destartes’ soul.

It might’ve been a difficult matter in the past, but Orodan was now a Transcendent, and Domain of Perfect Cleaning was his strongest Celestial skill. Eliminating the natural and hidden Eldritch from all corners of Destartes’ soul wasn’t the hard part.

Getting all the glyphs, symbols and System technicalities right, was.

Working on his own soul was far easier, mainly because he cared not about pain. Having to hear Destartes scream halfway through was more than a little difficult, but the wizard assured Orodan that it was fine. Hopefully in the future he’d find a painless method of doing this.

Still, through sending power via his cells, which had a dimensional boundary, he found the manipulation of Destartes’ soul to be far easier than if he’d tried directly manipulating it without Dimensionalism.

And as the last bits of Destartes’ System were annihilated, it sent an impossibly fast pulse out past the dimensional boundary, and Orodan knew this was the moment he needed to depart.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay to see how your new System feels,” Orodan said. “I’ll see you again.”

“Take care Mister Wainwright. Whatever you’ve earned the notice of, give it a good fight for me, will you?”

Orodan had grown stronger, enough that he could confidently best the old Orodan at the peak of his power when he had the original System. But he doubted he was still strong enough to give an Administrator a good fight.

[Dimensional Step 11 → Dimensional Step 12]

The step carried him through to the domain of a particular pest he’d made a promise to.

“Interloper!”

Agathor was immediately prepared. Perhaps the prior encounter a week ago had made the War God exceedingly paranoid, but his divine domain had multiple defenses set up and the God immediately tried attacking him.

Only for a sword to remove Agathor’s head from his shoulders.

One down.

Eximus and Ilyatana also died shortly after, and soon, the approaching Avraxas, the world-eating dragon who fiercely responded to any attacks within the Hegemony’s territory inside the divine realm approached.

But…

…Orodan had grown far stronger.

Previously, even if he’d won, he’d been the one getting battered around.

This time, as Combat Transcendence activated, that would no longer be the case.

Avraxas came at him, an oversized claw leading the way, and Orodan met it with an All-Strike, and everything behind it as his skills went to war to create the perfect attack.

Logistics, now used to guiding his other skills in an efficient manner, commanded All-Strike blast forward with a fury as the responding attack. Unassailable Fortress, meant for defense, was somehow used offensively. For just as offense could be the best defense, so could defense be the best offense. His All-Strike was thus empowered not just offensively as an attack, but its rigidity as a strike, its durability and resilience, all improved. Bulwark Physical Resistance, meant for use on his own body, was dragged and thrown into the fray by Logistics who demanded it apply the resistance to his attack as well. And finally… his mind identified that the substance the dragon’s claws were made of was just another material…

…and his sword the pick which would mine it.

[Logistics 20 → Logistics 22]

[All-Strike 92 → All-Strike 93]

[Unassailable Fortress 93 → Unassailable Fortress 94]

[Bulwark Physical Resistance 86 → Bulwark Physical Resistance 87]

[Mining 17 → Mining 21]

The claw of Avraxas met Orodan’s blow…

…and his sword, newly forged and far stronger, rived right through the bone, punching through.

The world-devourer’s eyes widened as Orodan’s blade shattered bone as though it were brittle glass, and then continued onward to punch a clean hole through the meat and bones of its claw.

Like a penetrative bullet fired from a high-power rifle, Orodan carried on, piercing through its gigantic body and buried himself right into its skull…

…where he unleashed the pent-up power of the All-Strike at last.

It wasn’t a gigantic area attack, but it still erupted within the dragon’s skull like a planet-destroying earthquake. His new body, stronger due to the improvements in Body Tempering, allowed him to hit harder and absorb more of the impact.

The mutated dragon twitched and spasmed erratically and its power was quickly diverted towards attempting healing, but it was too late. Orodan was already within its skull.

All-Strike after All-Strike was let loose within its head, at a pace that its healing could never keep up with. In prior battles it paid utmost heed to never allowing Orodan the chance to burrow inside of it. But now that he had, this battle was his.

Within five minutes, the dragon lay dead, a corpse floating amidst the void between divine domains. A most unnatural sight within the divine dimension.

Astalavar, the fifty-armed God of the Hegemony who was on route to reinforce the dragon, suddenly stopped and turned around, fleeing. It had perhaps realized victory was no longer possible by itself. And Agrimon, the leader of the Hegemony refused to even make an appearance.

Victory.

Or so Orodan thought.

The air felt heavy. Which made little sense as the divine dimension shouldn’t have had regular air. The surreal and impossible shapes all around, the veins of System energy, they all looked… scared?

That wasn’t right. How could the scenery look scared? As though it was bowing.

“I don’t think the Prophet’s coming this time…”

Orodan agreed. For some reason, he felt this was far worse.

Footsteps. How? There was no ground to tread upon here.

And yet, against all reason and logic, footsteps were audible, and in the extreme distance, Orodan saw a figure approaching. Its footsteps audible despite the distance of solar systems between him and it.

Each step covered titanic amounts of distance, and yet this figure was merely man-sized.

What was it?

Only as it approached did Orodan realize, he’d seen this Administrator before.

Tall, the man - if he could even be called that - surpassed fifteen feet. He had dark skin which no human could naturally possess, akin to obsidian. The man’s muscles rippled with sheer power and violence unending. And the heavy armor all around looked completely impregnable.

The greatsword this warrior wielded felt as though it could carve galaxies asunder.

This was a being who’d in the past saved him. This was an Administrator, but one he’d never fought against.

This was…

…the Warrior.

And every cell in Orodan’s body warned him that this being was an apex existence, designed for naught but war.

“A soul borne not of the Eldritch Boundless One… but outside of the System? What a strange existence… are you the one who caused that notification to appear?” the Administrator asked, almost politely.

“I am. I wiped the Eldritch from a man’s soul and provided him my own Blessing,” Orodan answered. “Why is the Prophet not here?”

“You are an invader then, the second such defilement in such a short span of time drew me here quicker. By accord, the Prophet does not respond to notifications for external enemies. That… is the domain of the mightiest among us,” the Administrator answered. “Slaying assaulters from outside the System is my duty.”

As he said the words, the Warrior gripped his greatsword tightly, and Orodan felt death approach with just that motion. He wasn’t at the level of power where he could accurately gauge how dangerous an Administrator was too accurately, yet there was a marked difference between this being and the Prophet.

Orodan had little doubt that this armored guardian would be one of his defining challenges throughout the time loops.

“I have assaulted no one save the tyrants who threatened my home world,” Orodan answered.

A part of him felt that if he simply opened his mouth and explained the time loop and what he was doing, what his aims were, that this being might actually listen. Each time he’d encountered this metal-bound giant, he’d been the most reasonable of all five Administrators. Almost protective of innocents even.

That logical part of him, that reasonable voice within…

…Orodan stomped it into oblivion as a manic grin appeared on his face.

“But, I suppose I’ve always wanted to fight you,” Orodan said, his teeth bared in joy. “How long has it been since I’ve fought someone who won’t use cheap tricks or simply blast me away.”

“You overestimate yourself invader. The defense of System space and all those souls within is my sacred charge. And to that end…”

“…I have honed myself in every waking moment.”

The greatsword came for him, but it wasn’t too fast, nor too strong.

No… it was… exactly matching Orodan’s speed and strength.

His shield clashed against it, and a furious melee erupted.

And Orodan realized that the Warrior was doing to him, what he did to all his foes who were weaker than him. Limiting his physical advantage to have a fair fight. How absurd!

He… he loved it! A true challenge fit for a warrior, at last.

Like a rabid beast, Orodan fought. Pure violence, rage and the desire to cause bloodshed evident in every move.

“I cannot recall the last time I fought such a rabid foe. I give such praise rarely… but your style of combat is adequate.”

Adequate?

Orodan doubled down and fought at maximal power, eyes blazing with soul energy as he pushed himself to his limits.

Yet, despite all that, he failed to land even a single blow. The Warrior, was simply too skilled, to an extent which defied reality.

The greatsword flashed outwards and intercepted every single attack of his. Hells, even the Administrator’s armor was a defensive implement, used to force blows off at angles and leave Orodan incredibly exposed. It was as though he was fighting multiple opponents at times.

His foe hadn’t even attacked yet!

Yet, Orodan refused to bow to this being. He too, was a warrior! He too had fought and bled and died!

Battle sang in his veins, and he activated all of his skills to their utmost, becoming a raging tornado of motion and aggression which had no gaps whatsoever. And most importantly…

…he began mixing his different styles of combat.

His shield bashed forward, his elbow followed, and then his shoulder rammed forward. And when all three of those attacks in a single continuous motion failed, he spun to deliver knees, kicks and even a jumping headbutt. And when a defensive maneuver was made by the Administrator, he actually latched on and attempted to grapple.

Only to be shucked off immediately and skillfully.

His mind split, Combat Transcendence activated, and Endless Blitz, Unassailable Fortress and All-Strike worked together to finally land a singular glancing blow against his foes inner calf.

It was then, that the Warrior paused.

“Who taught you how to fight?”

“Myself and the many teachers I’ve had along the way, whether they were my foes or my allies.”

“Hmm… whatever foul power sent you here threw away the life of a skilled warrior. A shame… none weaker than me have ever forced me to actually attack before.”

One moment he was upright, and the next, he was upside down, spinning head over heels as he was battered.

The strength and speed of it was no issue, but the skill of it was a different matter.

Punches, kicks and more struck him, and Orodan too accepted the challenge, throwing his weapons to the side to engage in a fair brawl.

“Is that… I see… to think to use a skill of my own making against me,” the Warrior said with a laugh. “Here, see how it feels when used at its height.”

He allowed Orodan one solid punch…

…and the twenty-fold return reduced him to a puddle of cells. Yet, still he reformed, and still he fought with fists and legs alone.

“Even now you would stubbornly try and fight fairly? What a strange warrior… I respect your sense of honor and fair play at the very least.”

Orodan had thought he was decent at fighting, but he was learning a lesson in humility. He often used a punch, elbow strike and a shoulder check in the same motion as a triple attack. But, the Warrior’s usage of each finger, each separate muscle of the forearm, the bicep and the triceps as a striking point before even getting to the shoulder was a reminder that there were levels to this.

Who knew one could even attack in such a manner?

[Unarmed Combat Mastery 96 → Unarmed Combat Mastery 97]

His attacks were met at every turn with supernatural efficiency. It looked absurd, for a warrior of that size to move so gracefully, but here the Warrior was, doing just that and leaving Orodan in the dust in a fight where speed and strength were equalized.

Yet, slowly…

…Orodan began to take after his opponent.

Forearm strikes where he used the muscles of such to strike, attacks with the bicep and tricep, and he even innovated beyond that, using Absolute Body Composition to make himself double-jointed at certain moments so he could deliver an extra attack, bending the elbow one way and then another to whip it around for another hit like a rubber band of bone and muscle.

And in a critical moment, he actually stalemated the Warrior in unarmed combat, for exactly a single exchange.

[Unarmed Combat Mastery 97 → Unarmed Combat Mastery 98]

It was the fastest two levels he’d ever gained in a martial skill past the nineties in such quick succession.

This…

…this was real training!

Immediately, the Administrator halted, frowning.

“You adapt far too quickly, what are you?” the Warrior asked.

“I’m just like you… a warrior,” Orodan replied, preparing to charge in once more.

“I can see that. You are weak, but your talent in fighting is exceptional. Truly, whichever foreign Boundless sent you has wasted you upon this ill-fated task,” the Warrior said. “Yet, before you grow any stronger, my duty mandates your death.”

“Come kill me then,” Orodan challenged.

It was entirely hopeless. The greatsword emitted a lethal aura of finality. As though the cosmos itself would crush him. What was Orodan Wainwright but a speck of dust before a galaxy?

The strength and speed of the attack were no different, but this was a truly powerful blow. The pinnacle of the Warrior’s skill, focused into a singular strike. Orodan felt it was at least Mythical, and this attack would kill him.

Out of honor or perhaps respect, this Administrator had never once outright overpowered Orodan through strength or speed. And even as the deathblow came, that sense of honor was retained. However, even with just skill, Orodan had been humbled and learned he had a ways to go before he could ever stand as this being’s equal.

Frankly, he felt closer to beating the Prophet and the Reject than he did this insurmountable wall of muscle and metal.

But, Orodan was bull-headed, he was stubborn.

Why should he accept the superiority of anyone else. If this Administrator wished to kill him, Orodan would force him to do so at full power.

Orodan would be damned if anyone beat him in a contest of arms with all but skill equalized.

In what appeared to be his final moment of the loop, his Combat Transcendence activated once more.

All-Strike? But it wasn’t enough. Flash Strike? Too weak. Power Strike? Lacking in both speed and a diverse array of fuel.

Then what was the key?

Logistics came up with the answer, refusing to let Orodan die without stubbornly showing something of his own.

Time.

Instead of a strike made regularly, what if it was all compressed into the smallest, most minute instant of time possible? All that power, forced to erupt not naturally, but over the single smallest instant conceivable? The power in such a thing would be monstrous.

And for once, he allowed Logistics to proceed with the skill combination.

The deliverance of something instantly… abruptly.

[Logistics 22 → Logistics 25]

[Skill Combination - All-Strike 93 + Flash Strike 86 + Power Strike 61 + Time Compression 54 → Smite of Abrupt Deliverance 73 (Mythical)]

The attack reached the Warrior’s descending thrust instantly, each particle of Orodan’s sword aligning perfectly with the edge of the oncoming attack. And in the final moments, he recalled how the rapier of Surena Argon would thrust, and added that motion to his own.

[Combat Mastery 106 → Combat Mastery 107]

And his loyal sword exploded outright. The attack, his own, simply had too much power. That in tandem with the monstrous inevitability of the Administrator’s strike caused it to shatter as Orodan would’ve died channelling the amount of soul energy necessary to keep the sword intact.

The Warrior’s blade was made of something impossible. Leaving even a scratch upon it seemed outside the realm of possibility.

And yet, the attack which would’ve been Orodan’s end halted…

…and the tiniest scratch was now visible upon the Administrator’s blade.

The Warrior’s eyes widened and the greatsword was raised once more, though this time, with power enough to shatter a galaxy.

“Your name, warrior?”

“Orodan Wainwright,” he replied, half his body gone, and in no rush to reform. He knew this was the end of the loop, but it had been a truly good battle for the brief while it’d lasted.

“Orodan Wainwright… I am Talasgan, the Warrior. And you…”

“…you were a good opponent.”

The greatsword descended, and this time Orodan had no hope of survival.

#

A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke him.

The smile on his face was positively giddy.

“You get one good fight and all of a sudden you’re happy again.”

Why would he not be? Orodan had just found his target.

The Prophet? Yes, Orodan planned on heading to him first among all the Administrators, but who did he strive to match?

Only one being came to mind. All fifteen-feet of him.

The Warrior, now and forevermore, would remain in Orodan’s mind as his ultimate martial challenge. Nobody had out skilled Orodan like that in a long, long time Not with strength and speed equalized and no tricks involved.

And he’d grown so much over the course of such a short battle! Orodan found himself thirsting for another duel against the Warrior already, but held himself in check at Zaessythra’s insistence.

He could end his loops that way, but for now, he still had work ahead of him.

He now knew a method of getting onto Lonvoron without raising alarm. But, his soul was still a point of contention.

And for that, he would need to treat with the Cathedral and its diviners, something which left a foul taste in his mouth. The problem remained however, that approaching any diviners would cause his immediate detection and the subsequent battle against the tyrant three.

And while working with the Lieutenant-General of Anthus was a possibility once more, perhaps it was time to visit someplace he hadn’t been to in a long time. Not since before the time loops.

A place that was connected to the Cathedral, but had no diviners. The most nefarious part of town too.

It was time to return to the Lady Sashwari Home for the Wayward.

The orphanage in which he’d grown up.

“And while you’re there, perhaps we can take a trip and prove your dumb outlook wrong,” Zaessythra said.

“What dumb outlook?”

“That your life began and ended with bloodshed.”

“What would you have me do to disprove that?” Orodan asked.

“You flip the timeline around like a pretentious cook scrambling eggs at a fair, yet you’ve never bothered to go back to where it really began.”

“You can’t possibly mean…”

“I do. Consider it me being curious; repayment for all the time I must spend trapped in here listening to your rock-headed ideas,” Zaessythra stated firmly. “I think, Orodan… it’s time to see your mother and father. If only so we can lay the matter to rest.”

He wasn’t sure how that would go.

Nor was he too certain if he would like what he saw.