Chapter 160 (Book 4 Chapter 37) (Patreon)

One Day Later

"I must say," Diplomacy remarked, addressing Riardin's Rangers. "It's quite the novel experience to attend one of our strategy meetings in person. We can finally greet each other face-to-face." Their mouth widened into a broad smile. "I hope that, in due time, all of us can become good friends."

Rob winced internally as Diplomacy's greeting was met with a muted chorus of mumbled agreements from the rest of the Party. None of them seemed to know what to say. Zamira, Vul'to, and Faelynn were awkwardly averting their eyes, while in contrast, Orn'tol and Malika were openly staring at Diplomacy like an exotic zoo animal. Only Keira and Meyneth appeared composed, and even their gazes held an undercurrent of threat assessment.

On some level, Rob understood their reactions. His other Party members had been aware that Diplomacy was a living being with sapience, but there was a difference between the abstract concept of a person and seeing them in the flesh. It was probably dawning on them for the first time that Diplomacy really was more than just a helpful disembodied voice in Rob's head. Combine that with the Sundering ripping out their personal access to Diplomacy, and Diplomacy's true form belonging to none of the races they were familiar with, and it meant that Riardin's Rangers weren't in the best state of mind to handle new developments.

Which was a problem, as Rob still hadn't told them about the whole Valaire thing yet.

Message Start Between Party Members: Rob, Diplomacy
Rob: Sorry for the lukewarm reception. You need any help?
Diplomacy: No, but thank you.
Diplomacy: This is within the expected parameters.

Coming from anyone else, it would've sounded ominous, but Rob trusted Diplomacy not to screw with his friends' minds. The former Skill looked at each of Riardin's Rangers in turn, examining their expressions. "I've got an idea of the questions you want to ask," Diplomacy began, "so don't restrain yourselves for my sake. I won't be offended, no matter how insensitive you might assume you're being."

Hesitantly, Orn'tol raised his hand. "Um. What are you?" He winced. "Sorry. Just, well, I activated Identify, and all it said was 'Redacted'. I've never heard that word before."

"Redacted means censored," Rob explained. "The system is hiding information about Diplomacy." Or, more accurately, Diplomacy wasn't supposed to exist in the first place. Valaire had been expunged from their original world, with their name itself sounding unintelligible to the average listener. Now the system was attempting to reconcile Valaire essentially resurrecting from the dead – and it wasn't doing a super great job.

"All the relevant information is on my Character Sheet, though!" Diplomacy cheerfully added. "Alas, this body is hot off the presses, so I'm only Level 1. Anyone want to guess what my Class is?"

"Thrasher!" Malika exclaimed. Everyone turned to stare at her, and after a few seconds, her cheeks flooded with red. "I thought it would be too obvious if he was a Diplomat," she muttered.

Diplomacy sank into thought. "Honestly? While I am a Diplomat, changing Classes is a highly enticing prospect. It's not as if Diplomat offers me any boons that I don't already have just by being me. Let's see...out of the available Combat Classes...I think that Warrior would best suit my needs." They nodded. "That's a fine idea, Malika."

The young Archmage smiled. Keira glanced towards Malika, then back to Diplomacy, suspicion passing over her face. "You agreed to that very quickly," she stated. "People usually take far longer to choose their Class. It's an important decision that decides the path you will walk in life."

She spoke with much more confidence than Orn'tol or Malika. Keira had rarely used her personal Diplomacy before the Sundering, preferring to Intimidate when necessary, so she seemed to be handling the transition a bit better than most Elatrans.

"To be fair," Zamira said, speaking slowly and meticulously. "There is less of an investment now that Rob can Alter Classes. If Diplomacy dislikes being a Warrior, then they can choose an alternative without needing to restart their Class Levels from the beginning."

"Even so," Keira grumbled. "Why would you want to be a Warrior? In my experience, few people do, and society will deride you for your choice."

Diplomacy smirked. "I am not some Village Elf dead set on becoming a Ranger, Keira. The allure of striking things with a large object is universal. Several of you broke free of the shackles of what was expected of you, so why can't I?"

Keira, Zamira, and Vul'to paused, thinking carefully. Now it was Meyneth's turn to glance at them, her eyes narrowing. "This is unnatural," she abruptly declared.

Diplomacy paused. "What-"

"The others are too polite so say it," she continued, "or are worried about how to converse without their Diplomacy assisting them. Thus, it falls on me to give credence to the concern that is gnawing in the backs of all our minds."

Meyneth stared at Diplomacy with piercing, golden eyes. "This is unnatural," she repeated. "Your charisma is not of this world. I've never met a person who seems so organically constructed to charm others. Everything from your appearance, to your voice, to the words you speak are tailored to ingratiate yourself amongst our group."

The rest of the Party gaped at her in shock. Diplomacy simply nodded, taking a seat in front of Meyneth. "I won't deny anything you've just said," they replied. "Out of curiosity, though, would you please elaborate on what you meant?"

Meyneth held up her hand, raising fingers one-by-one as she listed off her points. "To start, your appearance is both perfectly androgynous and aesthetically appealing. No one will think of you as unsightly, and many people who are attracted to either males or females will derive at least some manner of appeal from your physical form. This affords you an inherent advantage in social situations, because – as Rob, Keira, and Zamira have proved – people often lower their inhibitions and transform into simpering buffoons around those whom they find attractive."

Rob placed his face into his hands. Heat Resistance is a waste of a Skill, he bemoaned. It didn't protect me from that burn at all.

"Your voice is perhaps an even greater factor," Meyneth continued, moving past the mental anguish she'd inflicted like a car zooming away after a hit-and-run. "It is, to be blunt, entrancingly beautiful, and your way of speaking possesses a rhythmic cadence. While people can be selective regarding who they view as physically attractive, they are more unified over what constitutes a pleasing voice. Yours will appeal to virtually everyone."

Diplomacy chuckled. "I would make a joke about your apparent attraction to me," they said, "but that doesn't seem to be the case here. I've rarely heard someone compliment a person to this degree while simultaneously sounding as if they were describing the weather."

"That brings me to my third point." Meyneth crossed her arms. "Your words themselves are efficiently chosen. As a result of the Sundering and your unfamiliar form, most of Riardin's Rangers entered this room feeling cautious. In the short time you've been speaking, you have eased our tension with humor, exploited Malika's immature nature by complimenting her idea, utilized Keira's obsession with her status as a Warrior to forge a connection with her, and cited 'breaking free of shackles' to a group which considers freedom to be a hard-fought prize."

"I'm not immature," Malika muttered, squirming with embarrassment. Meanwhile, Keira groaned, sending Meyneth an unimpressed glare.

"Twice? Really?" The Savage Warrior sighed. "Can't you choose someone else as an example next time?"

"I merely chose the clearest instances of Diplomacy's manipulation to prove my point."

"That doesn't make it any less of an insult."

Message Continued Between Party Members: Rob, Diplomacy
Rob: You sure you got this?
Diplomacy: Would you believe me if I said this was going better than anticipated?

Just then, Diplomacy held up a hand, interrupting Keira and Meyneth's bickering. "If I can make a guess as to the argument you were building to," they said, "you were about to say that I am too dangerous when given physical form and not locked inside Rob's head. And that the only reason your Party wasn't more suspicious of me from the get-go was due to him vouching for me. And that, if I was somehow a Trojan Horse sent by the gods, then I have the potential to tear apart Riardin's Rangers from within."

Diplomacy tapped their chin. "After that, you would've proposed isolating me for an extended period of time. A week, first, then longer if you were able to convince your fellows that sleeper agents are adept at playing the long game." They smiled. "How close am I?"

Meyneth hesitated. "Hmm. When I hear all of that presented by another person, it makes me sound as if I'm being entirely unreasonable towards you."

"That's because of my entrancing voice, remember?" Diplomacy's smile saddened. "For what it's worth, I would be equally suspicious in your position. I don't begrudge you for wanting to keep your friends safe." They shook their head. "However, you've mixed up your assumptions. My form was not crafted by the gods to appeal to your sensibilities. In truth, I've always been this way."

Their eyes took on a faraway look. "It's part of why I was chosen, I suppose."

Riardin's Rangers went quiet for a few moments. "You never answered my question," Orn'tol said. "What are you?"

Diplomacy sighed. "I was building up to that, as it...won't be an easy story to tell." They gestured to Rob. "He'll need to assist with some parts."

Keira looked over, studying him. "...Shit. I know that look on Rob's face."

Rob furrowed his brow at her. "What look?"

"It's the face you get when you're about to turn someone's worldview on its head, and are trying to think of ways to soften the blow."

Faelynn let out a nervous laugh. "Why is that a look you've seen often enough to recognize?"

"You're about to find out," Diplomacy replied, putting on a joyless grin. "I think that should serve as sufficient warning to brace yourselves." The former Skill waited several seconds, as if preparing themselves, before taking the plunge.

"Do any of you remember the name Valaire?"

--

As the rest of his Party learned about Valaire, Diplomacy's memories, and the true nature of Skills, Rob quickly became aware of another one of his blind spots as an Elatran expat. To him, the revelation of the Skills' origins hit hard solely because of the terrible fate it implied. He was rightfully horrified that people were being subjected to enslavement and torture by the gods.

For his friends, it went even deeper than that.

"I'm going to be sick," Keira murmured, shivering as she held herself. "I...fuck..." Her gaze snapped towards Rob. "You can't tell anyone of this," she hissed. "Anyone. Swear to me."

"Promise," he said, holding up his hands in a placating manner. "I wasn't planning to, anyway."

Keira nodded, then slumped into her chair, going silent. The rest of the Party said nothing, expressions of terrified revulsion displayed plainly on their faces, as if they'd witnessed a grisly murder take place right in front of their eyes. Finally, Vul'to spoke up, his voice weak and tenuous.

"I am tainted." He gingerly touched his fingers to his arms, then his chest. "Just wanted to protect people." Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes. "How can I possibly use my Skills from here on out? I should...I should deactivate everything. That's the only way to make it right."

All at once, Rob understood. While he possessed a certain measure of affection for longtime favorites like Lifesurge and Not A Scratch, he'd always considered Skills to be nothing more than tools to keep himself alive. Otherworldly tools, ripped straight from fantastical games on Earth, but tools nonetheless. When Rob had learned that his abilities originated from captured souls, he'd been horrified merely in the sense that he was viewing his tools in a new fucked-up light.

Native Elatrans, on the other hand, were born and raised with Skills. It was an intrinsic part of who they were. The types and Levels of the Skills a person had was what determined their place in the world. In Earth terms, Skills were the trained physique of an athlete, or the dexterous hand of a painter, or the sharp mind of an engineer.

Rob and Diplomacy had told Riardin's Rangers that the aspects that gave their lives meaning were powered by the tormented souls of dead people.

Message Continued Between Party Members: Rob, Diplomacy
Rob: Please fix this.

"Do not deactivate your Skills," Diplomacy said, addressing Vul'to. "As a gesture, it will hold no meaning, only serving to guarantee your demise once the Blight comes calling."

"Then what else can I do?" Vul'to whispered, shaking his head vigorously. "I've been robbing souls of their talents, profiting off of their-"

"The Skills possess no ill will towards the people of Elatra," Diplomacy stated, with emphasis. "I remember little about the time I spent before Rob initially awakened me, but that much, I know. You are not at fault."

Keira barked out a mirthless laugh. "Does it matter whose fault it is? Vul'to was right. We're tainted all the same." She clenched her fists, bones creaking. Without warning, Keira whirled around and punched a hole in the wall, sending a marble cloud of dust flowing back through the air.

"Why must everything be so GODSDAMNED DIFFICULT?" She punched the wall again, causing the room to tremble. "FIRST MY HOME IS TAKEN FROM ME, THEN THE HORIZON, AND NOW MY SKILLS?" Punch. Tremble. "WHAT'S NEXT? WHAT OTHER SCANT FEW PLEASURES OF LIFE WILL BE DEFILED? MY SWORD? MY LOVE?"

Keira slammed both fists onto the wall, nearly toppling it inwards. "God damnit," she breathed, in a defeated tone. "What should I do to fix this?"

"You already are."

Riardin's Rangers turned to look at Diplomacy, who was eyeing Keira with an intense stare. "Using Skills won't worsen their plight. If you want to fix this, or make things right, then continue on your course, and set them free."

"But how?"

Diplomacy folded their hands together. "If you wish to free a slave-"

"Then kill their jailers," Zamira finished, in a low tone.

"Yes."

Dead silence.

"That's impossible," Meyneth said, at the same time that Rob said "I'm all for it." The two of them shared a glance, Rob shrugging at Meyneth's befuddled expression.

"It's probably impossible to kill them," he admitted. "But here's my counterpoint: fuck 'em. If it's impossible, let's just find a way to make it possible."

"I agree," Keira immediately said, her eyes alight with fury. "They deserve to die. Elatra would benefit from their absence."

Faelynn made a comical sputtering sound. "I am aware that the gods have sinned in many ways," she said, "but their culpability is not the issue here. How do you kill that which is immortal? And won't they punish us if we oppose them?"

"Oh, they've been trying," Rob said. He looked up, raising two middle fingers to the ceiling. "And I'm still kicking, assholes!"

From then on, the conversation rapidly descended into a flurry of raw emotion and suppositions. No one wanted the gods to live, yet no one could come up with an idea that didn't sound half-baked at best, suicidal at worst. To Rob's chagrin, he couldn't contribute much outside of proving that the gods weren't able to smite them at will – which boiled down to shouting obscenities at the ceiling, then gloating as nothing happened.

Eventually, their clamor was sliced in half by a loud, shrill whistle. "There we go," Diplomacy said, removing their fingers from their mouth. "Got your attention."

"You can whistle?" Orn'tol asked.

"That seems evident."

"...Can you teach me how?"

Diplomacy grinned. "Of course. For now, however, I recommend that we disperse and think about everything that we've discussed today. Don't think too hard, mind you – misery hides in the darkest corners of our minds. Your Party has suffered through many ordeals lately, so rest your wearied hearts and relax. You've certainly earned a peaceful respite."

They paused. "One more thing," Diplomacy began, in a solemn tone. "I...am unsure of how much this will help. But as one who used to be a Skill, my assurances are the closest thing to absolution that you can receive. So please listen to me when I say that you are not to blame, and that the Skills would appreciate what you're doing for them."

Diplomacy bowed their head. "I appreciate what you've done for me. This second life I've been given is due in large part to your efforts. You have the deepest gratitude I can offer."

Their words had a calming effect on the rest of the Party. Everyone except Rob was still freaked the fuck out, but at least they weren't crying or punching holes in the wall anymore. One-by-one, they filed out of the room, Keira giving Diplomacy an approving nod as she left.

As the last person shut the door behind them, Rob watched as Diplomacy's posture shifted, their lips curling upwards into a gratified smile.

Message Continued Between Party Members: Rob, Diplomacy
Diplomacy: Told you they'd like me.

--

Later that day, after Riardin's Rangers had gone their separate ways to decompress, Rob made a visit.

He stood in front of the entrance to the Deserters' training grounds, hesitating. Faint sounds of battle echoed from within, notifying him that the people he was looking for were inside. A few steps around the corner, and he'd be with them. All he had to do was walk forward.

Ten seconds of inactivity later, Rob smacked himself on the forehead. This is ridiculous, he thought, groaning internally. I freaking nuked myself a week ago. One of these days I'll stop worrying myself to death over potentially awkward social situations. People grow out of this phase, right? Talking to them shouldn't even end up being a big deal.

In a roundabout way, the fact that it wasn't a big deal made things harder. Rob couldn't mentally psych himself up to fight a tough battle or negotiate with Elatran bigwigs. He was just going to have a friendly chat; nothing more, nothing less. If he screwed it up, the only consequences he'd incur would be to strain his relationship with two old acquaintances.

It was way too normal for his liking. Reminded him of the parts of college he didn't miss. And in this instance, there was no Jason or Diplomacy to smooth things over if Rob put his foot in his mouth.

Screw it. Putting on his big boy pants, Rob casually strode into the training grounds. Inside, Taleya and Tiarsus were sparring, the former with her dual Ranger swords and the latter with his Magic Swordsman blade.

It'd been weeks since Rob had last seen them, and the realization caused a spike of guilt to pierce through his gut. Taleya used to be one of his core Party members, while Tiarsus accompanied Riardin's Rangers on the mission to cleanse Nevermore City's Locus of Power. Since then, they'd just sort of...been lost amongst the shuffle. Neither of them were ever close friends with Rob or anything, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth.

They didn't notice him until he'd crossed half the field, both of them freezing in place as if they'd spotted a ghost. Smiling, Rob gave them a friendly wave. "Hey guys," he said, in a voice that was definitely not stilted. "How's it going?" Totally nailed that.

In response to his greeting, Taleya's eyebrows shot up to the top of her head. She sheathed her blades and stared at him, a frown settling onto her face. "The glorious savior of Fiend territory returns," she said. "Have you deigned to grace us with your presence today?"

Rob blinked. Her words, which seemed resentful and passive-aggressive, were completely at odds with her tone, which was casual. Actually casual, not Rob's inept attempt at it. Several moments passed, comprehension gradually spreading over Taleya's features.

"Was what I said just then uncalled for?" she asked. "That's a genuine question. Everything sounded normal in my head..." She trailed off, her frown deepening. "Damnation. This is so much more complicated than it was before."

"Diplomacy woes?" Rob hazarded.

Taleya let out a sigh, running her hand down her face. "You might find this surprising," she muttered, "but my Diplomacy was at Level 6. I leaned on it for many of my conversations. Living with it will require a period of adjustment."

Rob was impressed that he managed to keep a poker face upon hearing that. Taleya had basically always acted irritable, even when she was in a good mood. "Don't worry about it," he assured. "Not going to hold anything you say against you." Especially since her woes were partially his fault to begin with.

"Your thoughtfulness...is...welcome," Taleya replied, choosing each word carefully. "So. What brings you here, Rob? Is there a problem?"

"No. Just wanted to visit." He glanced at Tiarsus. "You okay, man? You've been quiet."

Tiarsus winced. "Nervous to speak," he said. Rob waited for him to continue, but Tiarsus clammed shut, as if afraid of what could come out of his mouth if he lost control.

In retrospect, Rob mused, losing Diplomacy may be a bigger problem for the Elatrans than I thought. He'd assumed that since Earth people were fine without magic guidance in their head, and that since the majority of Elatrans didn't have a particularly high Level in Diplomacy, that they'd be mostly fine as well. Aside from the trauma of the Sundering itself, anyway.

He'd neglected to account for Diplomacy being a crutch. Elatrans had never learned how to communicate without at least a bit of help from social Skills. It was like they'd been riding with training wheels for centuries, only for that wheel to be yanked off in the middle of a busy street. And considering how long Elatrans lived, their adjustment period might take decades.

Still worth it, he affirmed. Even with the pain that the Sundering had inflicted upon millions of people, and even with the isolated deaths caused by people falling unconscious in dangerous situations...Diplomacy was alive now. Truly, completely alive. Rob knew it was incredibly selfish for him to be happy with this outcome, but that's how he felt, and he wasn't going to beat himself up over a disaster that couldn't have been predicted. Especially if the alternative was leaving Diplomacy to rot.

Leaving Taleya and Tiarsus high and dry, however...that was kind of a dick move.

"Your thoughts are written on your face," Taleya said, snapping Rob out of his rumination. "This is about you abandoning us in favor of that new Fiend, isn't it?"

Rob grimaced. "I wouldn't say 'abandoned'."

"Yes, yes," Taleya remarked, dismissively waving her hand. "I'm sure you feel terrible about it." It was still jarring to hear those harsh words combined with her nonchalant tone. "If we're being truthful, however, that's what happened. I doubt that you're here to invite us back into Riardin's Rangers – you're here to assuage your guilt."

"I did miss you guys," Rob said, quietly.

"...You did?" Taleya asked, sounding genuinely baffled. "Why?"

Now it was Rob's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"Because my personality is akin to that of coarse sandpaper."

Rob smirked. "Actually, your snark was always kind of funny. Reminded me of a dickhead I knew from Earth, bless his soul. Plus, the two of you fought and bled with us. That's good enough for me."

Taleya and Tiarsus exchanged glances. "Um," Tiarsus whispered. "You do remember that I tried to kidnap you when we first met? Under the Seneschal's orders, no less."

"The Seneschal is our ally now." Rob took a moment to enjoy the shocked looks on their faces. "Congrats, you just got a sneak peek at next week's news cycle. We met Seneschal Sylpeiros in Dhalerune City. Things went pretty well, by our standards."

"When I last left Reviton City, Seneschal Sylpeiros despised you," Tiarsus stated.

Rob shrugged. "He did threaten my life once or twice, but, eh, whatever. My life gets threatened for breakfast."

Taleya burst out laughing. "What a perfect segue into what I wanted to address," she said. "Rob, you needn't concern yourself with abandoning us. Perhaps we might have felt betrayed under different circumstances, but to speak candidly, Tiarsus and I already discussed this topic. Neither of us want to rejoin your Party."

Rob paused. He cast Identify on Taleya, confirming that her Level was 39, the same as it'd been months ago. Fiend territory had a lower-than-average frequency of monster and dungeon spawns, so there wouldn't be many opportunities for her to get stronger in the future. "Really?" he asked.

"I won't deny that sharing Fast Learner was a phenomenal feeling," she admitted. "Slaying a strong monster and watching my Level increase? Then slaying a second monster and watching it increase again? I've only ever felt that satisfied after a round of fantastic sex."

"Too much information, Taleya."

"Apologies," she replied, in a blatantly insincere tone. "Regardless, once the thrill of unchecked growth wore off, I came to realize how close to death I'd come on numerous occasions. Rob, whether you fully comprehend this or not, you speak of your life being threatened as if it were a matter of course." Taleya's posture went rigid. "The frightening part is that you're correct. It's simply the life you live. And everyone in your Party will walk that same path."

She lifted her hand and stared at it, the light in her eyes dimming for a brief moment. "It was exhausting," she mumbled. "Gods, that Dungeon Crawl with the Dreamthieves alone...I can't go back to that. Not for all the Levels in the world."

Rob was left stunned, his mouth wide open. He looked at Tiarsus, who offered him a weak smile. "Agreed," the Magic Swordsman whispered. "What I experienced in Nevermore City was enough for me."

"Oh." Rob shuffled in place. "Thanks for the honesty, I guess."

"No thanks necessary," Taleya said. "You granted us an opportunity, and we both made use of each others' talents. It would have been entirely reasonable for you to throw us aside once our usefulness was expended."

"You more or less said that I did," he remarked, with a hint of bitterness.

She shook her head. "That's the lack of Diplomacy rearing its head. In actuality, seeing you again has been a pleasant surprise. It's gratifying that a Level 67 Combat Class user considers us noteworthy enough to visit."

Rob sighed. "Please don't start with that. I don't want any bootlickers in my life."

"You've signed hundreds of autographs," Tiarsus pointed out, sounding slightly more confident.

"There's a difference between fans and bootlickers," Rob explained. "Fans are people who admire you from a distance. You don't spend longer than a few minutes with them at a time, so it's okay. Kinda fun in small doses. Bootlickers are people in your life who act like your friends, but just exist to say 'yes, of course, you're the greatest' while never offering you their real opinions." His mouth twisted with disgust. "Those aren't friends – those are parasites."

Taleya narrowed her eyes at him. "So you truly do want me to speak my mind?"

"Yes!" Rob threw his hands up in the air. "I'm not going to get upset at a little snark."

"Then allow me to state that your hair looks like a disheveled raccoon's nest. When was your last visit to an Aesthetician?"

"Fuck you, I've been busy!"

The two of them kept bantering for a solid half-hour, Tiarsus interjecting every now and then. Rob found himself grinning more often than not, relaxing as Taleya and Tiarsus grew increasingly comfortable with his openness. I wish Parties could go above eight people, he imagined. I know both of them said they were done, but the option would be nice. We could've beaten up a harmless baby Dungeon, just for old time's sake.

Overall though, things were probably better this way. Faelynn was realistically going to stay as their eighth Party member for the indefinite future. Riardin's Rangers liked her, fought well with her, and already thought of her as a friend. It helped that her presence in the Party served to mollify the Grand Overseers' paranoia, as they knew that their race's liaison was treated well and given equal billing. Vevrandi would likely have fulfilled a similar role for...the Dwarves...if...

...

Vevrandi.

Someday, Rob acknowledged, I'm going to need to confront the fact that I killed her.

...

Not today, though.

"You've gone silent," Taleya said, concern entering her tone. "Is something amiss?"

Yes. "No," Rob denied. "I-"

Damage Processing Complete!

He froze. "I'll be right back," Rob blurted out. "Got an important Message from the Party." Before Taleya or Tiarsus could say anything, he hurried out of the training grounds, system messages cascading down his vision.

12,957,213 Damage Has Recently Been Nullified by 'Not A Scratch'!

Hidden Prerequisite Unlocked!

'Not A Scratch' Has Morphed Into 'Unyielding (LEGENDARY)'!

Hidden Prerequisite Unlocked!

'Unyielding (RARE)' Has Morphed Into 'Dauntless Reprisal (LEGENDARY)'!

Rob ducked into a secluded area, trying to make sense of the disjointed emotions whirling in his mind. Two days ago, a Skill morphing into its upgraded version would have been cause for celebration. Now? He couldn't stop thinking about what it meant for the Skill itself – or rather, the person who was the Skill. Did upgrading hurt? Was it unpleasant? Unnatural? There was no way to know without asking the Skills directly, which had only ever been possible during Locus Attunements or Titan's Fist tearing a hole in reality.

It's fine, he eventually told himself. This is a good thing. Having stronger Skills means that I'm closer to saving them. With no small amount of trepidation, Rob opened his Skill sheet and read Dauntless Reprisal's revised description.

Name: Dauntless Reprisal (LV 16) (LEGENDARY)
Prerequisite: Vitality 150, take damage from enemies at least 180 different times, nullify over one million damage in the span of one week.
Description: Outright ignore the damage of a single attack from a single enemy. Physics still apply. If the user chooses, they can also heal HP based on the total nullified damage. Additionally, if the user chooses, they can reflect an equivalent amount of force back at whoever or whatever dealt the attack. Thank you for recognizing that we are here.
Cooldown: 5 Minutes

His eyes lingered on the Description's last sentence. Rob read it five more times before he finally closed his Skill List. He drew in a wavering breath, his throat feeling tight.

"I promise," he said, to whoever was listening. "I'm coming for you. Just wait a bit longer."

He'd sworn the same oath when the Skills upgraded Purge Corruption, but back then it was nebulous, directed at beings he didn't remotely understand. Now, though, it felt more personal. Unintentionally or otherwise, they'd made him care.

And Rob would walk through hell for those he cared about.

--

Changes, Character Sheet, Skill List 

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