Chapter 24 (Patreon)

1

Kory charged the group of soldiers from the Khrelardian military, making sure to yell a war-cry in Shereldian, to make the one survivor he planned to leave maimed but alive think that Valagonia’s soldiers were attacking. Sliding his palm up the artifact hammer, he poured mana into it and electricity crackled. Spinning in a circle, he launched it at the formation of fifty men. The man who was hit was obliterated into a bloody, pulpy mess. The shockwave and sonic boom from the impact shattered their defensive line, and the electricity that arced out from the shockwave friend men in their metal armor.

Pouring mana into the incredibly thin and hard to see wire connecting his gauntlet to the hammer, he pulled it back before charging down the remaining foes. His men stood behind, well clear of the ‘splash zone’, as Kory had taken to calling the area in front of him mid-combat.

“Please!” one man shouted as Kory ran up. But he showed no mercy, bringing the hammer down onto his skull.

One soldier – brave but foolish – stood on shaking legs as he squared off against Kory. He was wearing leather armor – hence his lack of being affected by the electrical surge. But he was no older than fifteen. A fresh recruit. Kory almost felt bad for the kid. But then the young man charged him, trying to slash across his torso. Kory simply stepped back, twisted his hammer, and broke the lad’s wrist. He screamed and fell to his knees.

Kory crouched next to the boy and switched to Khrelardian. “You’re lucky. I’m going to let you live. Just stay here, don’t move, and when we leave…you go and tell your King, your High-Lord, whoever the fuck you want…Cecily Valagonia sends her regards.” He stood and stepped past the young man, but felt a stabbing pain in his calf.

Kory wheeled about in a rage, but his ankle gave out. The fucker cut my Achilles Tendon?! He hadn’t bothered using any internal spells to protect himself – this was meant to be a quick strike run, not a full-on plundering raid. Kory growled, and the young adult stood on shaky feet as he began to run off. “Get him!” Kory yelled at his men, who rode the young man down before spearing him through the chest.

One of his mercenaries rode over, “Sir! Are you okay? Do you need healing?”

“Of course I fucking need healing!” Kory shouted. “Get Jacobson over here!” His underling rode to the second force across town, and Kory had to sit, simmering in his anger. That was fucking dumb. He had been cocky. Relying on fear and intimidation. Forgetting that he was still a Human and could die just as easily as any of the fuckers in his company. Unless he was fueling his internal spells, he was just a big man with a hammer. He slammed the ground with the weapon, venting his frustration into a crater in the ground.

He hadn’t felt this helpless since he first arrived on Ghomar. After they had received their hero cores, they were set to training in the yard under the then-High Lord of Khrelardia. “Raise that hammer, boy!” the man had shouted at Kory. But his body was weak. He could run, throw, catch, lift…but swinging a weapon over and over for hours at a time was something Kory never prepared for. He fell, exhausted, and barely able to move. The High-Lord had walked over him, pulled his blade, and held it to Kory’s throat. “If you want to be a terror on the battlefield, you will need stamina. Or else you will be just as helpless as you are now. One thrust, and I could kill you.”

Kory relished the memory of crushing that man’s head between his palms. The man who had made his life a living hell for the first three months of his arrival. Seeing the High-Lord’s eyes bulge mid-battle-rage was the closest Kory had to a revenge kill in his time on Ghomar.

He didn’t linger on the past. Doing that would irreparably fuck his mind up. Instead, he washed the atrocities of the past away with the violence of the present. And when he couldn’t fight, he would fuck. The best way of dealing with it was avoiding it.

Jacobson rode over with the other mercenary. The middle-aged man dismounted and looked at Kory’s leg. “Got stabbed good.”

“Shut up and heal me,” Kory muttered.

Jacobson looked at the other mercenary, before looking back to Kory. “Boss, this is something I don’t think I can fix. Whoever cut you got deep, they severed the tendon and muscle. It’s retracted up inside you.”

Kory slammed his hammer into the ground. “Fuck! Then get me a horse! We’re going to Trisk!”

Jacobson nodded and sent off the mercenary. Soon enough, Kory’s group was saddled up and ready to travel. He sent all but Jacobson off to Fort Watch.

Turning the mount North, he used his one good foot to goad the steed forward. Trisha owed him for being at that fucking Fort and patrolling so she could live her happy life. If anyone could heal this type of injury, it was the Healer hero.

2

Gael and Vael roused from their pain-induced unconsciousness and looked around. Lyn watched them with a little concern. “Welcome back,” she stated bluntly.

“What happened? I remember a flash, and then pain, and then blackness,” Vael replied.

“You both cooled my lava, and the creature charged the obsidian shell with mana before causing it to explode.” She tapped her armor, “This protected me from the worst of it. But you two…well, hopefully there’s a means of healing you two in the next room.”

Gael looked over his sister, and then himself, before looking at Lyn. “Forgive us for being weak.”

Lyn shook her head, “These dungeons are difficult to handle. That Titan Spider was able to injure me despite the black adamantine armor, and my internal spells, and my body hardening.” Her gaze went towards the hallway leading to the reward chamber. “This should be something amazing.”

Vael stood up, wincing as she did so. “My lor-”

“Just Lyn when its us three.”

“Right. Lyn…I hate to ask this. Could you carry the supplies?”

Gael looked at his sister with wide eyes, “Vael, you can’t ask the Destroyer to be a pack mule!”

Lyn laughed aloud, standing up and hefting the two bags of camp and travel supplies. “It’s alright. You both need to have less stress on your bodies.” She led the way down the hall, with her companions limping along behind her, using their spears as walking sticks. She raised her palm and put it onto the circular icon at the center of the large, granite door. It glowed deep brown – verifying she had defeated the dungeon’s challenges – and then opened inward with a grinding rumble.

Dappled sunlight flowed into the chamber from some unseen aperture above. It illuminated an altar with three items sitting upon it. One was a vibrant brown mana core that swirled with power. The dungeon core. Next to it were two items; a suit of armor made of brownish metal. Titansteel? It was rarer than black adamantine. Not due to its hardness, but rather due to its ability to prevent forced movement. A soldier wearing armor made of the stuff could stand, unmoved, in the middle of a tsunami.

Next to the armor was a shield made of the same substance. Lyn looked at her allies. “I will claim the dungeon core. You two decide – who gets to armor up?”

Vael and Gael looked at each other and some silent communication passed between them. Gael stepped forward and began to put on the armor. Vael took the shield.

Lyn walked towards the mana core. She placed her hand upon the orb and felt words in her mind that were not hers. Those of a gruff man, speaking in Elenthir. You have bested my dungeon. I, Markov Stranoff, Mountain-Maker, give you the ability to manipulate the element of earth. The mana core compressed into a small orb that her hand absorbed. It traveled up her mana channel, and she felt the furnace in her chest that was the Destroyer core consume it. Nice. The Mountain-Maker core. She raised her hand and channeled mana into her palm, creating a rock that she gripped tightly, crushing it into powder.

The twins looked at each other before looking to Lyn. “What now?” Vael asked.

Lyn smiled, “Now…we go home. I have a base of power to fortify.”

3

Brad worked feverishly in his laboratory. The proportions had to be perfect. He grabbed several herbs and ripped the stems out, crushing them as he infused a small amount of his mana to dry them out further until he could make a powder. That was added to a large flask with water, bubbling away over a burner. I can’t fuck this up, he thought. The pressure was intense. If he didn’t deliver exactly what Cecily wanted…then he’d be punished. That sent chills down his spine, and he once more felt the void of his missing manhood.

Brad was the class’s pothead. He never enjoyed school – except chemistry – and was constantly playing around with different strains of herbs to produce a cleaner and better high. He wanted to start up a business where the herb was legal, and grow strains meant to help fix all types of problems; like what he’d read about in articles. CBD oil and shit.

Here, he had the power to do just that. But Cecily’s iron grip was unrelenting. She refused any intoxicants in her kingdom. Alcohol was heavily regulated, drug use and sale to get high was forbidden. Clean, healthy living was promoted. Brad didn’t have a problem with that…but he missed getting high.

He picked up the flask with a pair of tongs and poured the liquid into several small pill molds. Letting it set to firm up, he sat down and took a sip of clean water with a lemon wedge. Looking around his workshop, he sighed. When the heroes had arrived, Brad did a single dungeon, said ‘fuck this nonsense’, and began building his dream. The kingdom of Shereld never had someone who could produce products like Brad could.

He gave people clean highs. Sure, they might be addicted – but it wasn’t because of what he was doing. It was because they wanted to feel the relaxation he provided. He also used his Alchemist hero core’s innate ability to identify various plant uses to create painkillers, antibiotics…all types of good shit. The first pharmaceutical company was more than he had dreamed of. He was rich, had several store fronts that earned quite the hefty amount of money, and he was respected. People loved his product; from healers, to drug addicts. None could compete with the quality goods he could produce.

That all changed after the Demonic Dragon was defeated. He was there with the rest of the heroes – reluctantly – ready to fight the entity. His potions and admixtures were useful, but they were outclassed. He was one of the first to run. When they returned and found it slain – and Lyn missing – he said what he thought was his last goodbye and went back to his business. Or so he thought he would.

Fuck her, he thought as he took another sip of his water. Cecily completed a coup and renamed the kingdom of Shereld to Valagonia. And he was caught up in the middle of it. His workshop, raided. His associates, taken to prison and broken. Brad wasn’t exempted from Cecily’s wrath, either. She…did things to him.

He shuddered and whimpered as his cup trembled in his hand, remembering the horrible things she had done to him. The lashing, whips, knives, candles…the naked blades touching his skin and carving away at his most sensitive areas. His heart kept racing and his pulse rose. The void of what he once had ached despite being healed over eight years ago. He was less than a man, now. His dream was ruined by that bitch – but he was powerless to her will. It took her only a year to break him, forcing him to detox cold turkey before the torture. Nine years of my goddamn life, working for her. It was shit luck that he had chosen to set up his businesses in the kingdom she took over.

Crack! A shatter brought him back to the present. “Damnit!” he shouted as he quickly removed the remains of an Erlenmeyer flask from a burner. He sighed and turned to the pill molds. Using some of his mana he knew he had succeeded. A combat stimulant drug like amphetamines, but one that carried no chance of addiction.

He looked at the molds and sighed deeply. I have to supply these to a whole army. This is going to take me weeks. Cecily had not freed his associates back to him – she had them sent to the corners of the kingdom, serving as local alchemists. And he hadn’t been given any new trainees. She wants to keep a tight lid on the pharmaceutical trade.

But he had to do what Cecily wanted. If he didn’t…he would lose even more than he had already. As she had told him, “You have more flesh I can carve away. And I will take more if you don’t do what I want.”

He put himself to work, preparing the combat stimulant to the best of his ability. He had to please her.

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