Tier 3+ - Accidental Champion (Book 3) - Chapter 36 - A Flesh Wound (Patreon)

Xavier stood at the top of a wide set of steps just outside of the fortress he’d left. He’d travelled through one of the invaders’ portals, coming to an alien world somewhere else in his sector.

Not long ago, he’d asked Adranial what he would need to do to make sure the entire sector knew that Earth was off-limits—that invading it simply wasn’t worth their time. She’d told him that he would need to make a statement.

That he would need to announce to the sector exactly what he was, then give them proof of that.

So here he was, standing in the middle of a military base, ready to do just that.

Thousands of soldiers sparred in a large field. There were other buildings, fortresses almost identical to the one he’d just left. As he’d walked through the halls he couldn’t help but notice that the fortress had many gates that could be locked. That the dungeon where he’d stepped out of the portal had been massive, but only had a narrow, spiral set of stairs as its exit.

It took him until he stepped outside of the building to really realise why the fortress had been designed that way. It had been designed that way not to protect whatever was inside the fortress, but rather whatever was outside of it.

That dungeon had been a kill zone. If enemies came through from the other side of the portal, a small group of soldiers would be enough to keep them at bay until the portal was either closed, or the enemies stopped coming.

Each of those fortresses… do they have portals in their basements? Portals to Earth, or other worlds?

This wasn’t just a military base… it was a staging area for an invasion force, and as all the soldiers he saw before him were at least E Grade, then they must be invading worlds that hadn’t just been newly integrated as well.

Xavier couldn’t help but notice a small knot of soldiers gathering around near the edge of the fields where everyone was sparring. Though these soldiers weren’t wearing uniforms that he knew how to identify—they all had  their own armour, robes or weapons that suited their individual classes—he got the feeling that these soldiers might be the ones who were in charge.

They each had worried looks on their faces. Two of them were holding Communication Stones in their hands. A third had their arms crossed and was shaking her head.

Looks like someone’s figured out their communications are down.

One of those soldiers spotted the dozen men and women that Xavier had under his control standing at the top of the steps of the fortress he’d just exited. The man frowned, then teleported straight in front of them. “What is the meaning of this? Why aren’t any of you at your posts?”

None of them responded, because Xavier didn’t want any of them to respond. Instead, they parted. Six stepping smoothly to the left, six stepping smoothly to the right, making way for Xavier to walk down the middle. The soldier looked him up and down, his forehead deeply creased in a frown.

His eyes glazed over momentarily, clearly scanning him. The item Xavier had prevented him from being scanned. The man took a step back when he realised this.

“Who are you?” Suspicion leaked through his voice, but with it came fear. He’d already seen what Xavier was capable of—controlling these dozen soldiers—and he was afraid.

He should be afraid.

“You’re in a restricted area. Identify yourself!” The man summoned a weapon into his hands. It was odd. A warhammer with a six-foot long haft. Xavier hadn’t seen a weapon like that before. “Release these soldiers!”

Xavier smiled. “My name is Xavier Collins. I am a True Progenitor from the planet Earth. And I’m here to tell you that my world is now off-limits.”

He sent a mental command to the soldiers he controlled to attack the one that had teleported over. Xavier couldn’t help but notice that he’d gained the attention of more people. The knot of soldiers—or officers, he supposed—who had noticed that communication was down weren’t the only ones watching him.

Hundreds of soldiers had stopped their sparring and were staring up at the commotion. At the officer who’d just shouted.

The officer’s eyes widened as his own people began to attack him. He didn’t strike back. Instead, he hesitated, blocking a strike from the first, dodging a strike from the second, then he teleported away, down to the bottom of the steps.

Xavier tilted his head to the side. The man had moved with tremendous ease. He hadn’t seen anything like that in a while.

{Human – Level 199}

­Strong, Xavier thought. Almost D Grade.

But not strong enough to be anything he needed to worry about.

Xavier looked out at the thousands of soldiers in the field, wondering if he truly wanted to make an enemy of whoever commanded these people. Adranial had told him that people feared True Progenitors. That they became some of the most powerful entities in the Greater Universe.

That if they were smart, they would never risk pissing one off on the off-chance they became one of those powerful entities.

So… maybe it didn’t matter if he created enemies. All Xavier had to do was prove exactly who he was.

Then no one would dare mess with his world.

“That’s impossible,” the officer who’d teleported away said. “There hasn’t been a True Progenitor in this sector in a thousand years.­“

~

Captain Chrysanthos Galanis of the Tri-World Imperial Army’s Fourth Invasion Force stared up at the man who’d just announced himself as a True Progenitor. Chrysanthos eyes were wide, his heart pounding in his chest. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead, dripping down into his eyes.

It had been a while since he’d felt true fear.

The man he saw wore dark robes and held a vicious looking scythe and was somehow resistant to Chrysanthos’s Identify skill. There was no fear in the man. He didn’t look at all worried about the fact that he was standing before an army.

Whoever this Xavier Collins was, it was clear he was powerful. Whether he was a True Progenitor or not, however, remained to be seen.

A thousand scenarios ran through his head. This could be some kind of hoax. If he made the wrong move here—gave the wrong call—his superiors would have him court martialled for his stupidity. They might strip him of his levels, his attribute—of having access to the System at all. The contract he’d signed allowed such a thing to happen, after all.

Why did I have to sign that blasted thing?

Not that he’d been given much choice.

Of course, that was all assuming he survived…

If this man truly is what he claims, there are only two options—let him be, or kill him now while he’s still weak.

The problem with the second option was what would happen if they failed. If this man was the vengeful type—and True Progenitors, from what the stories he’d heard about them said—often were.

­He wasn’t liking his options. But what was he supposed to do? Just stand there and let this man command his fellow soldiers to attack him, without even striking back?

Once again, he tried contacting the base’s general—a D Grade mage—but he wasn’t able to. Communications were still down, and the general was currently miles away.

“Kill him!” Chrysanthos yelled, pointing his long warhammer toward the enemy at the top of the steps. The words had slipped from his mouth a split-second before he’d come to the decision, his emotions getting the better of him.

Thousands of battle cries met the air as the soldiers behind him were summoned into combat.

Chrysanthos didn’t move. Not right away. He held his warhammer, tightening and loosing his grip on the haft as he stared at the so-called True Progenitor, waiting for the man to waver. To fall to his knees at the sight of so many enemies. To give into the fear he surely must be feeling at trying to maintain this ruse.

His wishes, however, did not come true.

Xavier Collins looked relaxed. Like he was standing at the threshold of a tavern, about to step in from the cold and order some food and ale. Not like he was about to fight thousands of enemies at all.

The dark-robed man raised his scythe. A mix of expressions lit up his face, expressions Chrysanthos could only see because of his heightened Speed. First, the man’s forehead creased, his eyes darkening, almost as though he felt regret for what he was about to do. Then, his eyes lit up, and a smirk flickered onto his lips.

Chrysanthos’s whole body stiffened.

He’s about to drop an area of effect attack!

The captain did what he did best. He teleported, directly behind the man, his warhammer in full swing. The long haft of his warhammer offered an incredible amount of leverage to his attack, increasing his blunt damage.

Chrysanthos’s teleport attacks were fast. Deadly fast, He’d been known to take even D Grades off guard during sparring sessions—something he was immensely proud of.

His hammer sailed toward his enemy’s head with no resistance. The hammer head had a golden glow about it—his First Strike spell.

The dark-robed man did not turn around. He did not attempt to block the strike with magic, nor did he try to dodge it in any way.

He just stood there, raising his staff into the air, readying whatever spell he had in his arsenal.

Slaaaaaaaaaaam!

The hammer strike hit. It crashed into the man’s head with enough force to crush it.

A grin formed on Chrysanthos’s lips. Surely that would have been enough to interrupt the attack! Surely that would have been enough to knock this man out, if not kill him completely!

Xavier Collins took an almost imperceptible step forward. He touched the back of his head—it came away bloody. “Been a while since someone has managed anything like that,” the man muttered.

Chrysanthos’s eyes widened. He’d hurt the man, but barely. A little bit of blood. That was all he’d managed from his most powerful of strikes.

Chrysanthos did what any other self-respecting Denizen of the Tri-World Imperial Army would do.

He got the hell out of there. He eyed the place he wanted to teleport to, for his teleportation ability only worked if he could see his destination, and he snapped out of existence and reappeared at the far edge of the army base.

I need to get out of here. Warn the general. Get reinforcements.

Whoever this Xavier Collins was, True Progenitor or not, a bunch of E Grades clearly weren’t going to be enough to take him out.

Not these E Grades, anyway.

~

Xavier winced. He glanced at the notification that had appeared.

Physical Resistance has reached Rank 67!

A smirk slipped onto his lips. He’d been hoping that would happen. No point taking damage without a little bit of benefit. He’d seen the man’s attack coming—how could he not? The officer, or whatever he was, was a teleporter. Surprise attacks seemed as though they would be their speciality, and Xavier had wanted to see just how much damage someone on the cusp of being D Grade would be able to do to him.

He could have easily dodged the attack, or used Soul Block to nullify it, if he’d wished, but it had been so long since he’d upped his Physical Resistance skill, it felt as though it had been something he’d needed to do.

But now wasn’t the time for too many experiments. He’d let the man go, but mostly because he needed someone to tell the story of what happened here. He’d announced who he was and what he wanted. He hadn’t planned on decimating the soldiers, not unless he needed to, or was provoked.

And he figured this counted as provocation.

Xavier cast Soul Strike. Pure bolts of white lightning shot from Charon’s Scythe. Over two thousand strands of power spiderwebbed outward from him toward the amassed enemies charging his way.

He could see the looks on their faces. They weren’t all the same. Some faces were blank, as though they were going through the motions, doing something normal and routine. Others were locked in sheer determination, their foreheads creased in concentration.

Some of the faces were twisted in a rictus of rage, their mouths open as battle cries were released.

Spells and arrows were launched toward him. He’d given them all enough time to attack when he’d taken the strike from that teleporting Denizen’s long-handled warhammer.

Xavier wasn’t a fool. As much as he wished to rank up his Physical Resistance skill, he also didn’t want to, well, die, so he’d left a few souls in the tank when he’d cast that spell.

Soul Block!

At the same time that the pure bolts of white lightning shifted and formed into soul apparitions, other soul apparitions formed to block the attacks coming his way.

The looks on people’s faces changed. They were all much faster than the opponents Xavier had been facing lately—something he would need to remind himself, so he didn’t become complacent.

They were fast enough to see the attacks coming. Fast enough for their respective blank, determined, and rage-filled expressions to shift, for their eyes to widen, for beads of sweat to form on their foreheads.

Fast enough for fear to set in.

They raised shields, swords, magical barriers. Small groups hunkered down in Bulwark spells in hopes of defending themselves from the onslaught of apparitions.

Nothing worked.

Soul damage couldn’t be blocked by physical or magical means.

The soul apparitions—various different humanoid races that had been surrounding the Safe Zone city—floated through the defences with ease.

Xavier expected death to befall everyone the soul apparitions touched. He’d been able to kill several E Grades at once, back when he’d been fighting the waves of the Endless Horde, after all.

But those E Grades had been from a very, very weak sector. These E Grades were made from tougher stuff—well, not all of them.

More than half fell to his most powerful area of effect attack. He lowered Charon’s Scythe and gazed out at the carnage he’d inflicted.

He waited a beat. Waited to see how these people would react to his power. When they charged, they mustn’t have thought he would be capable of something like this. They were an army—why would they not be able to take out one man?

He raised his chin. “I do not need to kill you all for my statement to be made—Earth is off-limi—”

A tiny portal materialised to his right. Xavier blinked at it. It was as wide his open hand. He tilted his head.

“What the—”

An arrow soared from the portal and slammed straight into his side. An arrow with the power not only to pierce his Anointed Robes of Umbral, but to pierce through his incredibly tough skin.

Xavier frowned, looking down at the arrow, then up at the crowd. He could at all see where that attack had come from.

He glanced at the portal when it disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. There was a shift in the air, a slight breeze on the back of his neck.

Thunk!

Pain split his skin. An arrow had slammed straight into the back of his neck where he’d just felt that breeze. He winced, hissed through his teeth.

That attack had actually been painful!

He stumbled forward again. He harvested the souls of those that had died. The instant he felt another shift in the air—no doubt the sign of another of those small portals opening—he sent a Soul Block up in that direction to stop the attack.

Then a dozen portals opened all around him all at once, and a dozen arrows soared straight through.

He dodged some, Soul Blocked others, but most of the arrows got through.

What the hell is happening here?