Chapter 292 - Choices (Patreon)

Before Zeke explored his skills, he decided to head back to the tower. After all, skill selection usually took a while, and he didn’t think doing so out in the open, where any monster could attack him, was a smart choice. Besides, he was covered in what was left of the abyssal maw after the earth mana-boosted version of [Weight of Two Worlds] had ripped it in two. So, he also intended to take a shower before settling down to explore his options.

With a groan, Zeke forced himself to his feet. Although [Metallurgical Repair] had healed his cracked bones and burst organs soon after the monster had died, the cost of those injuries still lingered in the form of a persistent, soul-deep soreness that permeated the entirety of his being. Whether it was in his mind, his actual spirit, or his body, he didn’t know, but he’d felt a similar, though far less pervasive, ache every time he’d killed one of the golems.

On the Mortal Realm, Zeke had often been forced to rely on a constant stream of healing from his [Leech Strike] and its more powerful evolution. However, until recently, he’d never subjected himself to such a rapid influx of healing, and it seemed that there might be some hidden and underlying cost to such a strategy. In any case, he would have to monitor the situation going forward.

With one last look at the pile of meat that had once been the abyssal maw, Zeke let out a sigh and returned the way he’d come. The little kobold ranger he’d been chasing was long gone, and he suspected that it would soon return with a few of its much bigger and far more powerful cousins. Zeke didn’t intend to be there when that happened, so he set off at a light jog – which, with his stats, was closer in speed to an all-out sprint – as he made his way back to where he’d left the tower summoned.

After a couple of hours, Zeke arrived in familiar territory. Before Zeke’s one-man war against the living statues, the golems had jealously guarded their territory, and even though he’d killed every last one of them, the other denizens of the tunnels still treated the area like it was still occupied.

And in a way, it was.

Soon enough, Zeke’s path took him back to the ruined dwarven city, and as he crossed into the enormous cavern, he was beset by the familiar tingle that came with entering the tower’s aura. With the tower’s evolution, the aura had grown markedly stronger. That, along with the natives’ fear of the bronze golems, kept the area free of hostile creatures.

Or so Zeke hoped.

He was under no illusions about how flimsy his protections were, though. Sure, the tower itself could probably stand up to most attacks, but the aura was more of a deterrent than a barrier. As far as he’d been able to tell, it functioned much as Beacon’s aura had, weakening monsters and dissuading them from approaching. However, as the raptor amalgam had proven back in the desert outside Jariq, it wasn’t foolproof, and a truly determined monster could push through.

For now, though, Zeke hoped it would be enough to let him rest, clean up, and choose his skills in peace.

Crossing the ruins proved uneventful – after all, Zeke had worked for weeks to rid the area of the bronze golems – and soon enough, he’d crossed one of the numerous bridges to the inner city. All the while, the crimson tower loomed over everything, looking just as menacing as ever with its aggressive crown of sharp, upturned flanges and oppressive size. To Zeke, though, it was just home, and he didn’t relax until he stepped through the entryway.

With a sigh, he took in the lobby, focusing on the ninety-nine golems standing on their plinths. It was difficult to believe that he’d had to kill so many, especially after the first had given him multiple levels. To date, Zeke had yet to figure out how the Framework assigned experience. Sometimes, it had taken him thousands of kills to gain a single level, but other times, he’d managed to earn multiple levels with a lone kill. It was maddening, trying to make sense of it, so he’d long since decided not to even try.

Certainly, there were probably people out there who’d dedicated their lives to figuring out the most optimal way to level, but saying that that kind of minutia wasn’t Zeke’s forte was an absolute understatement. A grand thinker, he’d never been, and anyone who expected that to change was in for a rude awakening. Better to devote his limited focus to things that felt like they actually mattered.

Of course, he was well aware that if he optimized his leveling experience, it might make achieving his goals much easier, but it might also keep him from finding the sorts of opportunities that had, so far, set him apart. For instance, back in the Mortal Realm, there had been established practices when it came to leveling. Zeke had unintentionally skipped past most of those, and he’d gained a host of advantages for his trouble. By the time he’d ascended, no one on the sub-continent could stand up to him. That told Zeke that his way, difficult as it was, was likely better for his purposes.

It also meant that he often risked biting off more than he could chew, but he suspected that was why his rewards had been so impressive. It took risk, danger, determination, and hard work to impress the Framework. Finding clever loopholes in a flawed system might gain a person levels, but they would almost assuredly be hollow.

Or maybe Zeke was just trying to find a way to justify his own inadequacies. Either way, he wasn’t going to change his own philosophy, even when it was often proven to be sub-optimal.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Zeke headed to the center of the lobby, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the cavernous space. Not for the first time, he marveled at the magical effect on display. Not only was the area much larger than seemed possible from the outside, but the level of detail the tower had developed was incredibly impressive. After a couple hundred feet, Zeke reached his destination and stepped onto the dais at the center of the room.

The now-familiar teleportation prompt appeared before his eyes, and he chose the Lord’s Manor. A second later, he stepped off the matching dais and was crossing the grounds towards the mansion that was his home. As he did so, he barely noticed the well-manicured lawns, ancient oak trees, and sculpted masterpieces that dotted the landscape. Soon enough, he found his way to the manor itself and went inside.

As he had each time he’d entered the tower – and subsequently, the manor that was his home – he found himself lamenting the surrounding emptiness. As impressive as everything was, Zeke wished he didn’t have to experience it all alone. Of course, that led to thoughts about Pudge, Talia, and Tucker.

Where were they, now? What marvels had they seen? Zeke’s narrow experiences in the Immortal Realm were enough to suggest that it was one of magic and wonder. Certainly, it was dangerous, but that danger came with its share of impossible spectacle. Despite its crumbling nature, even the ruined city surrounding the tower was impressive. As was the dwarven city above, with its crystalline bridges and sprawling nature. It didn’t take a vivid imagination to expect the rest of the world to follow suit. Indeed, Zeke suspected that the dwarves were on the low end of the spectrum when it came to progress, suggesting that he’d only seen a small sliver of what was possible.

Through [Mark of Companionship], he knew Talia was alive, though beyond that, her status was uncertain. His impression of Pudge was stronger, and though Zeke could tell that his bear companion’s path hadn’t been completely free of conflict, Pudge was alive, well, and as happy as he could be when they were apart.

Of Tucker, Zeke knew nothing, and as he’d done more than once, he cursed his own oversight that had kept him from using [Mark of Companionship] on the alchemist. Without it, he had no idea where the man was or even if he was still alive. However, Zeke knew that Tucker was a survivor, so he suspected that the big man was just fine. And he had every intention of finding his lost companion.

As those thoughts flowed through Zeke’s mind, he headed to the bathroom, where he stripped down and took a long, hot shower. If there was one thing he appreciated about the tower more than anything else, it was the ability to take a relaxing shower. Odd, that with all its facilities – from the still-unexplored Hunting Grounds to the Craftsman’s Terrace – he would covet a simple shower more than anything else.

But Zeke was a simple man. While he appreciated the potential of the other floors, they didn’t offer any immediate rewards. Perhaps that would change as he moved forward, but for now, he hadn’t really taken advantage of the tower’s newest features.

Once he was clean and relaxed, Zeke went downstairs to the fully equipped kitchen, summoned some ingredients from his spatial storage, and prepared himself a simple stew from the mountain of monster meat he’d managed to accumulate back in the Mortal Realm. Thankfully, his looting ability meant that he wasn’t forced into butchering the creatures; instead, a simple touch awarded him with the edible pieces – along with anything else of value.

After eating, Zeke headed up to the bedroom he’d claimed as his own and flopped down on the bed. For a moment, he considered putting off the exploration of his new skill choices until after he’d slept, but he pushed those thoughts away and focused on the task at hand. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t enjoy earning new skills. He did. Rather, he just hated the process of picking them, mostly because there was always more than one viable option. More than once, he’d wished that the Framework would simply assign the skills as it saw fit. That way, he wouldn’t have to think about all the options he’d refused and wonder if he’d made the right choices.

Of course, every skill had its strengths and weaknesses. Even though Zeke knew that he’d picked a couple of skills for the wrong reasons – namely, his desire to directly protect his companions – he was aware that even those mistakes had proven valuable. At least he had the option of adjusting any skills he chose, should they fail to live up to his expectations.

It would require a significant time investment, but he’d proven more than once that he could do it. He’d just have to avoid trying to rewrite the runes in the heat of battle, like he had with [Armor of the Colossus], and he could avoid repeating the same mistakes he’d made with that skill.

Thinking of adjusting skills led his mind to one of his side projects. His class, {Arcane Colossus}, wasn’t like other classes in that he was expected to build half of his skills from scratch. It was a powerful feature, and one that may allow him to create extremely powerful, perfectly suitable skills; however, it was also extraordinarily difficult to take advantage of that opportunity, and he’d yet to make significant headway in what he had planned for his level thirty skill slot.

But if he managed it, it could change everything.

That was an issue for another day, though. For now, he needed to investigate the new skill options he’d earned by gaining level thirty-five and make a choice. To that end, he went to the appropriate menu and looked at what was on offer. In the past, he’d had five skill options every fifth level. But now, he only had three. He looked at the first one:

[Blade of the Colossus] (E) – You walk the path of the colossus and must be armed thus. Conjure an arcing blade, sending it forth to decimate your enemies. Upgradeable.

When Zeke first read the name, he’d been a little disappointed, mostly because he expected that it would give him the ability to summon a sword with which to fight. A useful skill for most, but Zeke had no interest in changing weapons. Voromir had been with him since the very beginning, and fighting with any other weapon would have just felt wrong.

However, upon reading the description, Zeke discovered that he’d been wrong about the skill’s purpose. It didn’t conjure a sword; rather, it summoned a blade that would shoot forward towards his enemies, giving him a mid-range attack similar to [Life Scythe]. Of course, [Blade of the Colossus] would assuredly do far more damage, if only because it seemed to have only one purpose – cutting his enemies.

It was a very potent option, and one he would have to seriously consider. Zeke moved on to the next choice:

[Event Horizon] (E) – Bearing the weight of two worlds on your shoulders, you have adapted to the crushing force of gravity. Use one of the fundamental forces of the universe to establish yourself as the center of gravity. Upgradeable.

This one seemed a little more esoteric. Fortunately, each skill’s description came with a sense of what it would do. If he’d had to rely solely on the Framework’s description, he never even would have considered something like [Event Horizon] – even with its overbearing name. However, because of that sense – or rather, the information that came with it – Zeke knew he couldn’t discard the skill.

Despite its overbearing name, the skill seemed simple enough; it would allow him to pull his enemies – or objects, perhaps – to him. That wasn’t exactly accurate, though. Instead, he got the sense that the skill would change the direction of gravity, with him at the center. Perhaps sometimes in the future, he could upgrade it to establish the gravity somewhere else. Or maybe it would become something like the [Black Hole] used by the demoness who’d barred his way to the Portal of Ascension. Zeke hadn’t forgotten just how powerful that skill had been, so [Event Horizon] needed to remain in contention.

After giving it a little more thought, Zeke turned his attention to the final choice:

[Earthen Bulwark] (E) – You are a creature of the earth, and it responds to your will. Conjure an edifice of hardened stone. Upgradeable.

At first, the skill seemed far simpler than the others, but it only took a few seconds for Zeke to realize that it was just as powerful. The skill would allow him to almost instantly form a thick wall of earth and the attuned mana, and it didn’t take Zeke long to recognize the potential, both immediate and in the future.

For one, being able to conjure a wall would give him some much needed defensive options, at least until he completed his quest and gained the [Colossus] skill. After that, it would likely prove less useful – at least until he considered the possibility that it would upgrade into a general ability to manipulate earth.

Or maybe it wouldn’t.

The Framework only gave Zeke a vague sense of what the future might hold for the trio of skills, and even that was limited by his own imagination. To truly understand them, he would have to use them, and he couldn’t do that until he chose.

If Zeke disregarded the future evolutions of the skills, the decision came down to a simple choice between three distinct directions. [Earthen Bulwark] offered more defense. [Event Horizon] would give him more utility. And [Blade of the Colossus] would augment his offensive potential.

Whatever decision he made, Zeke had no doubts that new skill would be both powerful and useful. The choice came down to filling a hole in his toolkit.

As interesting as the future evolutions might be, [Earthen Bulwark] neither fit Zeke’s style nor filled a gap in his abilities. Because of his class and the tier of his endurance, he was already incredibly durable – at least for his level – and that advantage would only grow more powerful as he leveled and completed the quest for [Colossus]. Assuming that the skill turned out how he expected it to, at least. So, [Earthen Bulwark] was out.

Next, he considered the offensive option, [Blade of the Colossus]. It would be powerful, and it would fill a hole in his suite of abilities. Aside from [Unleash Momentum] – and to a lesser extent, [Weight of Two Worlds] – he had no offensive skills. That alone made [Blade of Colossus] an attractive choice.

But so was [Event Horizon]. He was very familiar how devastating gravity could be, and if his recent pursuit of the kobold ranger was any indication, there was a gaping hole in his skill set. After all, if he couldn’t chase down a simple kobold ranger, then how was he going to catch other agility-focused enemies. The worst case scenario was if someone like that had potent ranged attacks; if Zeke ever found himself in that kind of situation, it wouldn’t matter how strong or durable he was. They’d just continued to chip away at him until he had nothing left.

Of course, [Blade of the Colossus] could mitigate that disadvantage, too, but Zeke’s instincts told him that it was a mid-range attack, where [Event Horizon]’s only limitation seemed to be line of sight.

Thinking back to how frustrated he’d been spending hours chasing that kobold ranger through the tunnels provided the necessary push needed to tip the decision in favor of [Event Horizon]. After all, that frustration had led him to sloppiness, which in turn had almost ended with him getting eaten by the abyssal maw. Sure, Zeke could vow to be more diligent going forward, but he knew himself well enough to recognize that, at some point in the future, he’d find himself in a similar situation. And unless he could head it off before it became a problem, it would probably bear similar results.

So, Zeke chose [Event Horizon].