Book 6: Chapter 44: Rest and Reflections
As his vision faded and Victor suddenly felt himself in his own body again, he snapped his eyes open, only to be bombarded with System messages. He inhaled deeply and blinked his eyes a few times, trying to push past the strange disorientation he felt, lying on the floor, looking up to see, beyond the obscuring, opaque System windows, a cloud of something like smoke or steam. Figuring he’d reorient in a few seconds, he turned his attention to the messages:
***Congratulations! You have refined your bloodline to the epic stages! As a result, for all species-related considerations, you are effectively Quinametzin. You stand as the embodiment of your ancient progenitors and will continue to inherit their talents and further reflect their nature as you delve into the secrets buried in your ancestry. Stand tall, Quinametzin, for you are a titan!***
***Congratulations! You have gained a new Bloodline Feat: Epic Quinametzin.***
***Epic Quinametzin: As a result of breaking through to the epic levels of your bloodline, all of your attributes have permanently increased by 50 points.***
***Congratulations! Your Feat, Titanic Constitution, has been refined to Greater Titanic Constitution.***
***Greater Titanic Constitution: Your titanic bloodline has enriched and fortified the microscopic structures of your body, from your blood to your bones to the hairs on your head. Your body is capable of sustaining legendary levels of Energy, with the potential for tremendous physical attributes. Henceforth, you’ll automatically receive 5 bonus points in vitality each time you gain a level. Moreover, your battles against invasive Energies and infections have fortified you, making your resistance to such incursions unrivaled in the natural world.***
“Holy shit.” Victor had to blink his eyes several times and reread the description of his new Feats before it really sank in. He’d just gained nearly ten levels’ worth of attribute points. Were Quinametzin really so much more robust than a human? His prideful instinct was to say, “Of course!” Still, he had to remember that he’d apparently reached the epic level on his racial advancement stat; an “epic” human might receive a similar boost. He chuckled and shook his head, somehow doubting it. Before he could become distracted by anything else, he looked at his status page for the first time in a while:
Name:
Victor Sandoval
Race:
Quinametzin Bloodline - Epic 1
Class:
Battlemaster - Epic
Level:
56
Breath Core:
Elder Class - Base 5
Core:
Spirit Class - Advanced 8
Breath Core Affinity:
Magma - 9
Breath Core Energy:
500/500
Energy Affinity:
Fear 9.4, Rage 9.1, Glory 8.6, Inspiration 7.4, Unattuned 3.1
Energy:
21412/21412
Strength:
330
Vitality:
439 (483)
Dexterity:
174
Agility:
197
Intelligence:
160
Will:
541
Points Available:
0
Titles & Feats:
Titanic Rage, Ancestral Bond, Flame-Touched, Greater Titanic Constitution, Titanic Presence, Desperate Grace, Challenger, Elder Magic, Born of Terror, Battlefield Awareness, Battlefield Presence, Aura of Command, Epic Quinametzin
“Holy shit!” he said again, this time more vehemently. His Energy levels had massively increased with the fifty points added to his intelligence and will. Aside from that, his other attributes looked much healthier to his eye. Six months ago, he would have been overjoyed to see his secondary physical attributes so high; they were on par with what his strength and vitality had been back then. He almost lost track of himself lying there, daydreaming about his next sparring match with Kethelket, wondering how much quicker he’d be.
Victor let his eyes drift over the various line items he’d taken for granted in the past, and something stood out to him. His race was listed as “Quinametzin Bloodline.” There was no mention of “human.” “Que interesante,” he muttered, again thinking of himself six months ago and chuckling. He would have been freaked out by that fact, but now he didn’t care. He was Quinametzin. Surely, they were plenty compatible with humans, or else he wouldn’t exist.
One other thing got him thinking as he looked over his status sheet—his Breath Core Energy was clearly influenced by his Breath Core level, but not by his intelligence and will as his normal Energy stat was. Did no attribute affect his Breath Core? Was he missing some other stat that creatures born with such an ability had? It would be something he’d have to investigate, but he knew he wouldn’t find answers to that question on Fanwath. Putting the thoughts aside, Victor sat up and regarded his surroundings.
His early impression that the room was clouded with a haze of fog hadn’t been a hallucination. A faint mist of blue-gray steam hung in the air, hot and moist in his nostrils as he breathed deeply. Victor had a hard time concentrating on the anomaly because he couldn’t get over the lightning-charged strength, vitality, and overall wellness that pervaded his body. He felt incredible. Holding his big, powerful hands in front of him, he stared as he squeezed them into fists, released the pressure, and squeezed again. It felt like he could crush rocks with those hands.
He stood up and found himself engulfed in the weird steam, and then his head bumped into the generous nine-foot ceiling. “Hah!” A wild chuckle escaped him as he considered his new stature. It wouldn’t do for the indoors, he decided, not until he’d built himself a home fit for a titan. He reached into his Core, teased out a bit of Energy, and cast Alter Self, reducing himself to something closer to what he’d once been—a tall, powerfully built human. The spell formed effortlessly, and his body absorbed the potent Energies much more easily than before. He felt he could have reduced himself a lot more if he wanted. Hadn’t Tes said something about his then-advanced bloodline allowing the spell to work? It seemed it worked even better now.
As his height lowered and he came out of the steam cloud lingering near the ceiling, Victor immediately noticed its source—Valla lay cocooned in writhing coils of the thick stuff. He couldn’t see her clearly, only occasionally catching a glimpse of her face or feet as the steam roiled. Is this what it was like when someone underwent a sizeable racial advancement? The apples must have been potent to give him three full ranks and take him into the epic tier. How greatly must they be affecting Valla? She’d only been in the improved ranks.
She didn’t seem to be suffering or in any kind of trouble; her body was still as the steam did whatever it was doing. Victor began to wonder how long he’d been out and how much longer Valla would be. He reached into his storage ring to pull out the Farscribe sheets he and Edeya had exchanged before the ninth cohort marched. Sure enough, he had several updates from her, each written a day apart. “So, assuming she’s writing an update each day, I was out of it for four.”
He skimmed through the messages, pleased to find that the Ninth had been having an uneventful march thus far. They’d been traveling at half-time, taking long rests between marches for drills and rest. The new troops were fitting in well, learning the tactics and camp procedures quickly. Edeya described them as fierce and eager to fight their former overlords. Most importantly, according to the last message, they weren’t yet halfway to the citadels that guarded the road up to the poison-shrouded mountain where Hector held his seat of power.
Victor looked again at Valla, wondering if he should do anything. Should he sit nearby, or could he venture out of the house to check on the keep and the soldiers standing guard? If the apple were affecting her anything like the racial advancement he’d consumed inside the dungeon near Greatbone Mine, she could be out for days or weeks. He was tempted to lean close, to wave away the steam surrounding her face, but he feared such interference might cause some sort of problem. No, he decided, best to leave her to the process. He’d go outside and check on her frequently.
With that decided, Victor put on his armor and picked up Lifedrinker, shrugging into her leather harness. He hurried out of the house, eager to stretch his legs, get a breath of fresh air, and bask in some sunlight. When he stepped out into the courtyard, he squinted into the bright sky, gauging the sun to be nearing its zenith but not there yet. “Morning still.” He smiled, turning his face upward, soaking in the heat. The sunlight was warm, but this close to the sea, the air had a bit of cool dampness to it, and he stretched his lungs, pulling in a prodigious breath. “Damn, that feels good.”
Some soldiers performing day-to-day chores, dumping feed out of a flatbed wagon the Ninth had left behind into a handcart, looked up at the sound of his voice. They dropped their shovels and snapped to attention. Victor smiled hugely and returned the salute. “Come here, men.” His voice boomed out, echoing off the stone walls and cobbles, and the two hurried over. Victor saw more soldiers move into view on the parapets, responding to the sound of his unintentional hollering. “Give me an update. How long was I out?”
“It’s the fourth day, sir!” The Ardeni had to crane his blue face and bright green eyes upward to look Victor in the face.
“Mmhmm, good. That’s what I thought. Well, what’s the update? How’s the keep?”
“Shall I get Lieutenant ap’Fanin?”
“Is that who Sarl left in charge?”
“Aye, sir!”
“All right, get him. I’ll stretch my legs and walk out to look at the sea. Send him after me.” As the Ardeni and his silent partner hurried away, Victor strode for the courtyard gate. It was wide open, so he walked through and into the bailey, glancing to his left at the sound of clashing weapons and shields. A dozen soldiers were practicing under the shouted instruction of a sergeant Victor recognized but whose name he’d forgotten. He waved as he continued toward the curtain wall and the exterior gate. “This is a good keep.” He rested a hand on Lifedrinker’s haft as he spoke, and she immediately responded.
I’ve missed you! You feel different, stronger. Will you share your spirit with me? Your she-wolf said she cared not!
“Now?” Victor laughed, strolling into the corridor under the gatehouse. “Why not?” Victor pulled her from his harness and gathered up some glory-attuned Energy. He cast the spell, sending a portion of his prideful spirit into Lifedrinker. “See how you like that!” Her reaction was instantaneous. Her blade shimmered and sparkled, motes of golden, sizzling Energy dripping from her gleaming edge. A burst of emotion came through his grip on her haft—excitement, pleasure, and, of course, pride. Whether she was proud of him for sharing his spirit with him or proud of herself for convincing him, he had no clue. For all he knew, it was just his spirit bringing out her own cockiness.
The gate was closed, but a guard was stationed beside it. From the center of the trap-lined tunnel, Victor shouted, “Open up!” The guard yanked on a chain, causing a bell to ring up above, and moments later, the windlass began to turn, lifting the great bar holding the gates closed. “Thanks.” The guard snapped a fierce salute. Victor nodded, then stepped outside. He stood in the shade of the tall curtain wall and gazed down the rocky slope to the beach and the cresting, silvery waves of the sea. “Hell yeah. I like this keep.”
The ocean was loud, crashing and crashing as the wind-tossed waves hit the shore. He watched them, admiring their relentless power as he walked down the slope a short way. A rocky overhang made a direct approach to the keep impossible, forcing the gravel roadway to wend its way down to the beach like a snake. Victor didn’t want to go down, though, so he stood on the rocky ledge and, holding the buzzing Lifedrinker on his shoulder, stared out over the water, savoring the fresh air, the warm sun, and the glorious view. He felt more alive than he ever had, more ready for anything. He wanted to venture forth into that wild, wide world. He wanted to find new things and conquer new places. He wanted to . . .
“Ahem, excuse me, sir.”
Victor turned to see the young Ardeni Lieutenant ap’Fanin standing at attention behind him. “Relax. Thanks for coming out to speak with me. I wanted to see something other than stone walls.”
“My pleasure, sir. I, too, grow weary of the confines of yonder keep.”
“Mmhmm. So, tell me, how have the last few days gone?”
“Uneventfully, sir. We’ve spent our shifts keeping watch, cleaning, and drilling. So far, we’ve not laid eyes on anything more threatening than a flock of erebii, and they weren’t a problem for anyone save poor Delia, whom they shat upon as they flew past.”
“Erebii? Those are the big white and brown birds?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Heh, well, my condolences to Delia.” Victor smiled, gazing back at the keep, imagining the soldiers standing watch on the walls when the birds flew overhead, scurrying to escape their indiscriminate bombardment. “Well, I’m going to be here a while longer, I figure. Tribune Primus ap’Yensha isn’t yet ready to leave. Anything you all need help with? Could I help with some sparring? I think it would be good for the troops to practice teamwork against a larger opponent.”
“I think that would prove invaluable, sir.” The man spoke firmly and nodded to add weight to his words.
“What’s your first name, Lieutenant?”
“Rano, sir.”
“Care if I call you that?”
“I’d be honored!”
“Good! All right, Rano, how many troops are at the keep? A hundred?”
“One hundred and one, sir.”
“Okay, have you broken them into squads?”
“Aye, sir! We have ten squads.”
Victor looked away from the keep, back to the ocean, wondering why there wasn’t a dock. Who built this keep, anyway? Judging by the old watchtower he’d used to escape the underground, it had been on these lands for a while. Were they remnants from an old world before the joining, as others suspected? Wouldn’t there have been a village by the sea? Had the sea come from one world, the keep, and these lands from another? The idea that the System had somehow squashed four worlds together to make Fanwath still boggled his mind. When Rano sniffed and moved his arm to push some hair out of his eyes, blown there by the breeze coming off the water, Victor turned back to him. “Right. Well, go make a schedule. I’ll work with two squads daily—one in the morning and one after lunch.”
“Right away, sir.” He saluted, and Victor copied the gesture, then watched him jog back to the keep.
“That’s a good idea, isn’t it, chica? Those guys might face a big bastard wampyr or something on the battlefield. They should get some practice fighting a guy like me.” The truth was, he itched to get some practice in, to cast Iron Berserk and let his Energy swell his frame. He wanted to do a lot more than spar, but he’d settle for that over nothing. With one last look at the water and a few more thoughts of adventure and exploration, he returned to the keep, resigning himself to finish what he’d started before he entertained thoughts like that. He had to get rid of these pinche undead, which meant he needed to stick around for a while longer.
The next few days fell into a relaxing routine for Victor. He spent the evenings and nights with Valla, watching her, marveling at the weird Energy-dense steam that seemed to perpetually issue from her, completely swathing her body like a billowy cocoon. She didn’t stir, or if she did, he couldn’t see it through the thick clouds. He slept on the floor, quite content on the rug, and when he woke in the mornings, seeing no change in her, he’d go outside and spar with one of the units, encouraging them to use their skills and abilities to gang up on him.
For the first hour of those practice sessions, he’d keep himself hobbled, sized-down the way he liked to be when indoors. After everyone was warmed up, he’d release his hold on his form, cast Iron Berserk, and let the soldiers go all out. He still held back, and Lifedrinker recognized that they were “playing,” in her words. She didn’t burst into flames, and it almost felt like she helped him to pull back or angle her edge away when he slipped someone’s guard too easily. Still, the soldiers were battered and tired at the end of each session, and Victor felt relaxed, his stress driven away by the good fun of helping others learn something. It didn’t hurt that he also cast Globe of Inspiration and Inspiration of the Quinametzin, and many soldiers reported skill gains at the end of each session.
At noon, he’d check on Valla, eat a hearty meal with the soldiers in the keep, then start a new session with a second unit. After that, Victor would spend time cultivating, trying to work on his outdated cultivation drill, incorporating the things Khul Bach had taught him. He knew his drill was pathetic for his power level, but he’d been cheating to improve his Core by eating hearts, an ability people like the Warlord would be and had been quite willing to murder and commit atrocities to learn.
He met with Khul Bach twice during those three days and had long conversations about the nature of titans, what Victor should be working on, and how he’d made good progress toward his goal of being strong enough to return to face the Warlord one day. Khul Bach, as usual, didn’t like to talk for long, acting as though every second Victor spent in there speaking to him was a second he could be out trying to improve himself. It was after the second meeting, on the third day, when the soldiers on the parapets raised an alarm. Victor was in his home at the time, so he didn’t hear it, but eventually, Rano dispatched one of his sergeants to pound on his door.
When Victor heard the pounding and hurried upstairs to open the door, the Shadeni woman, a soldier he recognized from an earlier sparring bout, spoke breathlessly, “An army approaches, sir! Hundreds of foot soldiers and half a dozen giants! We can’t see them clearly in the dark, but the giants have eyes that glow with red flames!”
“Hello, Ileya. Is your arm still sore?”
Her eyes widened when he spoke her name, and she answered him, anxiety thick in her voice, “My arm? Yes, sir, but I’ve put some salve on it. I’ll be fine. What of the army?”
“The army? Hmm. Seems like they think they’re going to score an easy win here, what with only a small force left behind to guard this big keep. I’m afraid they’ve made a big mistake, though.” Victor grinned, his chest swelling as his Quinametzin pride opened his pathways, letting his Energy seep into them, his will to hold his aura in check slipping just a bit. “Yeah, a big, fucking mistake.”
This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢