Chapter 99 (Book 3 Chapter 27) (Patreon)

Rob's right arm tensed as he put his full effort into forcing it to move. The results were...mixed. Everything from his wrist upward felt adequate – more or less – but his fingers refused to do anything more than tremble like they were stifled by performance anxiety. After a minute of trying and failing to compel deadened nerves to obey his commands, Rob let out a sigh and collapsed backwards into his chair. "Getting there," he mumbled.

"That's wonderful news," Vythe proclaimed, aiming a wide smile at him that came across as mildly disturbing when combined with her pitch-black eyes. "This much progress in thirteen short days is remarkable, truly. Your arm should be completely rejuvenated within the next week."

Rob arched an eyebrow at the Fiend. "I guess I can't complain, considering you're managing to succeed where Regrow Limb couldn't, but didn't you guys say that fixing my arm would take two weeks, tops?"

Vythe and Zordred, the Physicians who'd been working on curing his Soul-Burnt arm for the past thirteen days, exchanged glances. "Yes..." Zordred began, taking a moment to clear his throat. "We may have...exaggerated the procedure's speed at that time." He shifted uncomfortably. "Not to worry, though! We didn't exaggerate its efficacy. Rest assured that, despite the slightly longer recovery period, your limb will be fully functional at the end of your treatment."

"In a week."

He gulped. "In a week. I apologize for-"

"Yeah, yeah," Rob said, with a dismissive wave of his left hand. "I was a scary Human with a scary soul so you didn't want to piss me off. It's fine, I don't care as long as you keep doing your thing." He grinned. "Honestly, can't thank you enough. Soon I'll be able to flip off people with both hands again."

Suddenly, their carriage hit a road bump, cutting off Zordred's reply as everyone was shaken in their seats. Rob's glass of water threatened to tip over, and in a panic, he instinctively reached out with his limp right hand to grab it. An instant later, he realized his error and reached out with his left hand while trying to pull back his right. This resulted in him twisting awkwardly, bumping an elbow on the corner of the table, and knocking over the glass – which had already settled and was no longer in any danger of falling.

The occupants of their carriage – Rob, Keira, Malika, Orn'tol, Vythe, and Zordred – looked down at the shattered glass now lying pitifully in a puddle on the floor. Rob tried to facepalm with his right hand and just ended up mashing the twitching appendage into his forehead like he was slapping himself with a large noodle. "A week, you said?"

"And not a second longer."

"Sounds good." Rob turned to the side, pointedly ignoring Keira's poorly-suppressed snorts of laughter, and peered out the carriage's tinted windows. It's like riding a car, he mused, as buildings and civilians quickly passed by his vision. Currently, Riardin's Rangers and their escorts were in the middle of being ferried through another major Fiendland city. They were making good time; by Rob's estimation, the carriage was traveling at a clip of around 30 miles-per-hour.

Down a populated area. With no apparent sidewalks. The Fiends didn't seem to care, casually stepping out of the way shortly before his carriage would have barreled over them. Traffic safety regulations were still a distant dream of the future.

'Traffic safety regulations', Rob mused. Now there's a nostalgic blast from the past. When's the last time I was able to move long distances without needing to walk a single step?

<Keira has carried you on several occasions,> Diplomacy chimed in. <Usually for a thoroughly embarrassing reason. For example->

Shush, you, I'm getting wistful. Out of the many material things he missed from Earth – mostly the Internet and ketchup – public transportation was also high up on the list. When compared to cars or trains, Elatra possessed few alternatives to getting around outside of moving your own two feet. Horses existed, but they were rare to the point where Rob had barely seen any since arriving. Rather than being beasts of burden, they were generally relegated to the role of luxury pets for rich bored people. People in Elatra didn't travel as much as people on Earth, and when they did, they would hire Combat Class users with high-Strength and Endurance to carry supplies for them. Those voluntary pack 'mules' were less likely than horses to bolt off at the first sign of a monster, and they could defend themselves if necessary. Automatic transportation might have been able to fill the niche that horses couldn't, but Elatra's level of technology simply wasn't there yet. And while Teleportation Crystals existed, they were rare, expensive, and limited in usage.

Rob had assumed that Fiendland would've been the same, and that his Party's plan to explore major cities for Loci of Power was going to involve lots of walking and packed lunches. To his very pleasant surprise, the Grand Overseers – citing reasons of expediency – had provided several carriages that would be transporting him and the rest of his entourage. A carriage could follow pre-established routes to move them quickly around crowded cities, and the chances of Rob being discovered by the general populace was far lesser than if he was wandering around out in the open.

He shuddered at the notion of getting caught in public by the Fiend citizenry. Either a crowd would form with pitchforks in hand, or a crowd would form to ask for an interview, and he wasn't sure which prospect terrified him more. There was already a stage play in production about the Elven 'invaders' heralded by a hideous soul-eating Human who could somehow speak Fiendish – including eyewitness accounts from those who witnessed the dreaded creature up close and personal! Was he friend, or foe???? Reserve your tickets now to discover the mysteries behind this anomaly of anomalies!

Rob smirked as his carriage passed by another banner advertising the play's opening debut in a few weeks. He was already planning to negotiate for royalties if it became a hit, and when he asked if Diplomacy would like to be his contract lawyer, the Skill started salivating on the spot. But that was for later, when being the talk of the town would be a help rather than a hindrance. There were plenty of reasons to err on the side of secrecy for now. It kept the trip from being delayed by curious civilians, it cut down on the number of extremists trying to ambush them, and it prevented Rob from having to inform the Fiendish masses about what he was doing.

What he was trying to do, anyway. If his plan to cure Corruption worked, then he would become a national hero overnight, and all would be well. But if it failed, then he would prefer to fail quietly. The alternative was being torn to shreds by an angry mob fueled with betrayed expectations.

"What's that?" Malika asked, interrupting the quiet. She pointed forward at the beast of burden dutifully pulling their carriage. Her voice was awestruck, and her eyes shimmered with the telltale usage of Sense Mana.

"That's a zamult," Orn'tol answered, patiently. "They explained it to us at the start of our journey, remember?"

Malika shook her head a fraction of an inch as she kept her eyes focused intensely on the creature. Admittedly, zamults did look pretty weird. The one pulling their carriage was like the unholy love-child of an elephant and an alligator, possessing a rotund, scaled body complete with a long trunk and elongated jaws – and for good measure, its skin was colored purple. If he hadn't been told by the Fiends that the zamult was docile and loved being scratched behind the ears when it was a good boy, Rob would have assumed that it was some sort of Blightspawn or Infected.

"Monster?" Malika asked, in an undertone.

"No," Orn'tol answered, in a tone that was still patient, but more worried. "Simply an animal."

Malika's eyes brightened further as her pupils dilated. She looked left, right, up, and down, swiveling her gaze around in a way that made Rob's head spin just to look at. "Same mana," she whispered, before falling silent.

"What-"

"Shh!" Malika hissed, putting a vertical finger to her lips. "Busy."

Defeated, Orn'tol leaned back and sank into contemplative thought. Rob wasn't sure what to do for him. Malika had been acting like this ever since laying eyes on the Fiends' cities; something about the mana being different, and untold revelations just out of reach, and other worrying lines that sounded dangerously close to the ramblings of a delusional Archmage. She was lost deep in her own little world, and whenever they tried to snap her out of it, she pushed them away – sometimes literally. None of the Deserters, the mages included, knew what she was experiencing or seeing. Her Level of Sense Mana had surpassed theirs long ago.

Bereft of better ideas, Rob gave Orn'tol a knowing, commiserative look. The boy seemed to derived some relief from that, which was good, because Rob didn't know what the fuck that look was supposed to imply and was banking on Orn'tol filling in the blanks. Maybe he'd inferred some implicit understanding about little sisters? Rob was an only child, so he was flying blind here. His knowledge base regarding younger siblings came entirely from Hollywood movies and fond complaints from some of his peers. The rest, he'd have to figure out on his own.
Teenage girls go through phases, right? he thought. Yeah, that's how this works. Earth girls get into metrosexual pop artists, while Elatran Archmage girls get into...this. He glanced at Malika, who was whispering to herself with fevered excitement. It'll pass. Probably.

"Is your sister well?" Vythe asked, directing her question to Orn'tol. "Should we examine her?"

The boy flinched, unused to hearing intelligible words coming out of Fiends' mouths. "Thank you," he replied, in unsure Fiendish. "But I believe she will be fine. This is a matter for her to resolve on her own." He paused, and then continued speaking in a hesitant tone. "If...I may ask," the young boy started. "Is there anything peculiar about a zamult that would draw a mage's curiosity? Some unique brand of mana, perhaps?"

Vythe shook her head. "Not that I am aware of. The noble zamult has scarcely changed since we successfully domesticated the creature some 5000 or so years ago."

"5000?" Orn'tol parroted, his brow furrowing. "That can't be right. The Fiends arrived in Elatra 2000 years ago."

"I see that southern schooling of our kind is lax," Zordred remarked. "We might be newcomers to Elatra in relative terms, at least when compared to other races, but this very city holds libraries with records more than 10,000 years old. There are numerous, well-preserved tomes that describe when we first set foot on the land that was to be our home." He folded his arms. "In fact, our arrival predates that of the Humans by over a millennia. Were it not for the language barrier, I imagine that the relations between Fiendish and Elvish societies would have played out in quite a different fashion."

Orn'tol's brow furrowed even more, forming deep lines in his face. He seemed about to say something when Rob shot up out of his chair, slamming his head on the carriage's ceiling. "It's here," he gasped. "Straight ahead. Middle of the street. A block or two away."

Beads of sweat started to form on the back of his neck as he giggled. "Haha. Oh geez. I hear it calling for me. Forgot how hard this was to ignore. Anyone got a pillow?"

The next few minutes flew by in a blur. Vythe ran to inform the other carriages in the procession, the street was cleared and blocked off by the Grand Overseers' lackeys, and most importantly of all, Rob got comfy.

"Fluffy," he said, poking the pillow that Keira had so graciously bequeathed to him. "Think this one has actual feathers in it. Guess I'm a big shot if I'm getting this kind of treatment."

"Stay calm," Keira stated, in a tone of voice that was anything but. "Your most recent level of Attunement grants you 100% damage reduction during the Attunement process, correct? So there should be no issues on this occasion, correct?"

"Correct." Rob scratched his cheek. "Unless something strange and unforeseen happens. But hey, what are the odds of that?"

Keira stared at him, blinking repeatedly. "Was that purposeful?"

"I don't even know anymore."

She looked upwards and seemed about ready to mutter a prayer before remembering that that wasn't going to help much. "Right." Keira muttered. "You've overcome this obstacle several times prior. This should be no different."

"Why are you so worried?" Rob couldn't help but ask. "While I genuinely appreciate the care, I also figured you'd be used to seeing me take risks by now. This isn't even in the Top 5 most dangerous things I've had to do this week."

A soft, sad smile broke across her face. "I once knew a man who I thought was invincible," she said, in an airy tone. "Strong. Brave. Skilled. Lucky. And most of all, determined. If you'd told me to choose one person in the world who I imagined would outrun the specter of death until old age finally caught them, I would have picked him in a heartbeat."

Keira fixed her eyes on Rob's. "That man's name was Riardin."

A deafening silence spread through the carriage. Orn'tol looked away, and Malika's hushed mutterings ceased.

Rob, for his part, couldn't help but gulp. "And just how is that reminder supposed to help me?"

"It means don't go strangling any gods this time," Keira stated, in a pointed undertone. She reached over and flicked the tip of his nose. "Someone needs to remind you that you're not invincible. As it stands, Diplomacy's efforts in that regard have proven insubstantial."

<Hey! I try!>

"To be fair, they do try," Rob explained.

<Thank you.>

Anytime-

An ephemeral bell rang in the distance, resonating within his soul.

Whispers of blue wriggled into his ears.

A void opened, waiting.

It called.

"Carriage is practically on top of it," Rob wheezed. "Can't wait any longer. Be back soon."

Keira forced a smile onto her face. "Promise me again?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." When he saw her eyes widening, Rob shook his head quickly. "No, see, it's an Earth sayi--"

It called.

--

For one brief instant, Rob found himself struck by a bout of debilitating panic. Instead of the indescribable sensations he'd come to expect from Attuning to a Locus of Power, inevitably resulting in a trip to some unknowable and otherworldly plane, he'd been instantaneously transported into a room without any break in consciousness. And it wasn't a room of white light or a room with an almighty god residing within; just a normal room with normal furnishings.

Earth furnishings.

Terror gripped Rob's heart as he remembered the last time his mind had been forcefully transplanted into a location with Earth design sensibilities. Then he realized that the second Dungeon's Dreamthieves were long dead, and that this situation was just a result of Locus fuckery – which, despite its weirdness, was highly preferable to another go-around in Dreamthief hell. No poor imitations of his lost friends and family. No cruel mockeries of his uncertain feelings. He was safe.

Relatively speaking.

Rob let out a ragged breath and wiped his brow of nonexistent sweat. Much like his last two trips on Mr. Locus' Wild Ride, he didn't possess a physical form, a fact that barely fazed him. Even absurd, fantastical experiences became mundane once someone got used to them. He swept his eyes across the room, taking a closer look at his surroundings, and discerned that he was probably inside an Elatran building. There weren't any electronics or plastic-made objects around, and metal-made appliances seemed few in number. The knot in his chest uncoiled further; if he was going to be stuck in a place that reminded him of home, he'd rather it be the Coke Zero version instead of the genuine article.

His 'ears' perked up when muffled voices started to echo outwards from an empty spot at the other end of the room. Rob focused his senses, eyes locked onto the supposed source – an austere desk covered in messy stacks of paper. Bit by bit, indistinct figures began to form out of the ether, slowly taking shape. There were four of them; one sitting at the desk, two standing in front, and one...kneeling? His guess was proven right when the forms solidified, revealing humanoid people engaging in conversation.

"Hello?" Rob called out. "Can you hear me? Or am I basically a...ghost..."

His voice died in his throat as he walked closer, getting a better look at the humanoids.

No, not the humanoids.

The Humans.

It said something about his recent life experiences that being transported to a separate plane of existence without a body felt like no big deal, while seeing Humans in the proverbial flesh took his breath away. Rob practically tripped as he ran forward, stopping inches away from one of the Humans as he stuck his face close to theirs. At that moment, he didn't give a flying fuck about personal space or whether they could see him, because Humans were there. Humans. Rounded ears. No scales. Average height. He wasn't daydreaming, he wasn't looking into a mirror; he was staring directly at real, bonafide Humans.

Painful nostalgia swept through him like bitter medicine. Rob was so caught-off guard by the sight that it took him too long to realize that he was missing the Humans' conversation. He took a few shameful steps and forced himself to tune in to what they were saying. If the Locus had decided to drop him off here, then it'd probably done so for a reason.

"-tolerate lies," the Human sitting at the desk said. He was middle-aged, dressed in statelier attire than the other three, and held himself with a confident bearing, marking him as the big man in charge. As he spoke, he kept his tone carefully neutral, but his expression was filled with barely-constrained rage. "Numerous eyewitness reports name you and your compatriots as those who committed the deed." He tapped a sheet of paper on his desk. "And even without those reports, news of your actions have spread to every corner of Elatra like an uncontrolled pestilence. Perhaps containing that pestilence may have been possible if we caught wind of it early, but by now the damage is done and irreversible."

The Human kneeling on the floor stared upwards with deadened eyes. "I suppose you're right," he droned. "We killed them. What of it?"

The two Humans at either side of the kneeling man peered down at him with gazes of pure disgust, while the Human ostensibly in charge grit his teeth so tightly that it was a wonder his molars didn't shatter. "Is that all you have to say for yourself?" he asked. "This isn't an unfortunate mistake that can be blamed on an instance of Leveling High gone wrong. The consequences are...you've witnessed the mounds of charred corpses. And yet you sit there, uncaring? Do you truly feel no guilt whatsoever? Not even the slightest hint of recrimination?"

"What crime have we committed?" the Kneeling Man stated. "They were enemy combatants."

"They were the Dragon Queen's family!" The Human Leader slammed a fist down onto his desk, cracking it in half. "One of the first and foremost rules of war is to choose your targets wisely. Before a person swings their sword, they need to consider the ramifications of what happens after their strike draws blood. Killing a member of the Dragon Queen's family in the heat of battle is one thing – I would never ask any man or woman under my command to toss away their life for the sake of politics. But this was not the heat of battle, and you didn't kill just one member of her family. You killed all three."

The Kneeling Man said nothing. He merely gazed up with vacant eyes, unmoving except for slow blinks that made him appear like he was about to fall asleep. The Human Leader, determined to wait him out, fixed the Kneeling Man with an intense glare until the latter finally gave in.

"How were we supposed to know that she would undergo a Class Awakening?" He asked, in a listless tone. "No one could have predicted that."

The Human Leader barked out a harsh laugh. "Would our fortunes be any different if she hadn't?" He replied. "She is massacring our people, true, but she would be doing so with or without her Awakening. Her family is gone. We were already losing this war, and by removing the earthly tethers of a battle-hungry Dragonkin monarch, your deeds have sentenced us to outright slaughter."

His shoulders slumped by half an inch. "She is beyond reason, and she is dragging the rest of her allies along her chosen path. Civilians are dying. Cities are burning. Humanity's execution is nigh, and we can do naught to stop it."

A heavy silence settled over the room. The Kneeling Man stayed silent for a good twenty seconds, blinked once more, and then replied. "Every member of my battalion has lost comrades and loved ones to the Dragonkin," he began, as if commenting on the weather. "And some to the royal family themselves. Those comrades...those loved ones...should we have forgotten them, I wonder? Buried their sacrifices under the ravages of history? Pretended that their smiles never once brightened our days, and that their voices never once caressed our ears?"

He let out a contemplative hum. "I suppose that would have been prudent, yes. Perhaps you are correct in that we did not need to kill the royal family. When we discovered just who happened to be protecting their supply convoy, we could have burned it from afar and escaped into the night, leaving the Dragon Queen's husband and children mostly unharmed. It was a conscious, intentional choice for my soldiers to stake their lives on a suicide assault, complete with spells empowered by Soul Burn. That, I will admit."

Rob flinched as a spark of passion flared within the Kneeling Man's eyes. "But blood begets blood," he proclaimed. "Why should their lives be considered sacrosanct? Why should I bite my tongue and stay my blade when my daughter's killers were right there in front of me? Because they're important?" His face twisted into a rictus of rage. "Piss on that. I regret nothing, and I know that my soldiers regret nothing. Our only mistake was letting Dragonkin survivors slip away to tell the tale."

The Human Leader stared at the Kneeling Man with a cold, pitiless gaze. "Very well," he intoned. "Then there is nothing more left to say. As punishment, you shall be marked with a traitor's brand and be sent to join those on the front lines who are attempting to deter the Dragon Queen's wrath."

"That is appropriate," the Kneeling Man replied, the energy gone from his voice once more. "I will make sure to savor the expression of sorrow on her face before I die."

Rob watched, frozen still as stone, as the two guards led the Kneeling Man outside. When they'd exited the room and closed the door behind them, the Human Leader immediately whirled around, his hand glowing with a red aura, and punched a deep hole in the solid stone wall. "Fuck," he hissed, shards flying around his face. "Fuck. Fuck." Legs trembling, the Human Leader trudged over to his chair, looking like a man defeated, and collapsed with his head in his hands.

Everything blurred, and the scene shifted like a TV channel being switched. When the transition finished, Rob found that he was still inside the same room, but with a few changes. The Human Leader was sitting at his desk again – well, his replacement desk – and a middle-aged woman dressed in similar finery was standing in front of him.

"Only one option remains," she stated, in a tone that brooked no argument. Dark circles were stamped below her eyes, and her face was etched with lines of worry. "You know this as well as I do, Reynold. It's high time we implemented Project Socius."

Human Leader – apparently named Reynold – laced his fingers together, sinking into thought. "Can we?" He muttered. "Will it work? Do we want it to work? It goes against all that we know."

She offered him a sour grin. "All that we know has already been turned on its head. Madness reigns, cities burn, and molten ash falls from the sky. In the face of imminent annihilation, what's one more scrap of insanity added to the pile?"

Reynold's face tightened as he silently locked eyes with the woman. She returned his piercing gaze without hesitation, the two of them trading nonverbal blows. Reynold ended up breaking first, eyes shadowing over as he turned his head to look at the wall – no, at a place far beyond it.

"Are we to commit sacrilege, then?" He muttered. "Immerse ourselves in sin?"

"For our people," the woman stated, resolute. "So that they may yet live."

Reynold hesitated. Slowly, like pushing a rusted lever, his head nodded. "...For our people."

--

Rob woke up with a jolt. It took him a moment to grasp his bearings before realizing that he wasn't within Reynold's room anymore. One second he was watching a scene from the past play out, and the next he was in the waking world, having been sent back as abruptly as he'd came. I guess this is better than getting subjected to another kaleidoscope hell, he thought, sighing internally. But a bit of warning would've been nice.

<'Sup,> Diplomacy said, in a lazy tone. <How'd it go?>

Rob waved a mental greeting. Pretty good. Less panic on your end this time around?

<Your brain wasn't eating itself, so we figured you were doing okay.> They leaned closer. <So? Anything new? Give me the deets.>

You have definitely been spending way too long in my head. Rob paused, taking stock of everything he'd just learned. There's...a lot to unpack. Let's just focus on the here and now.

Moment of truth. Rob opened his message list.

Your degree of Attunement has been empowered!

Name: Attunement
Prerequisite: Attune to a Locus of Power
Description: Grants you the ability to Attune to Loci of Power. Each Attunement will advance this Skill to greater heights. Attune to a sufficient number of Loci, and you may be able to (*#(!)@)#$&#)!
1 Attunement: Take 50% less damage when Attuning to a Locus of Power.
2 Attunements: Take an additional 50% less damage when Attuning to a Locus of Power, totaling 100%. Can sense nearby Corruption.
3 Attunements: Corruption sense refined. Can sense Loci of Power from twice as far away.
4 Attunements: ???

Rob sat up straight, drawing the startled attention of everyone watching over his prone form. He cut off their deluge of questions with a clenched fist and a gratified smile.

"I think we're on the right track."

--

Thanks for reading, and Happy New Year!