Chapter 31 (Patreon)

1

Cecily screamed in outrage as she flogged one of the petty thieves harder and harder, shredding skin from bone until the white fat and cartilage was dangling off of his form. His wails had turned into blubbering. “Will you shut up!” she screamed as she grabbed one of the knives and held it in front of his eyes. “Whimper more, and I’m cutting another finger off.”

The man’s mouth bit down harder on the bridle as she tossed the flaying whip aside, striding over to a table as she pulled off the blood-stained gloves, and took a sip of the blueberry wine. Brad had escaped. Volio had escaped. She had no clue if they were working together, but she reasoned that Volio – obsessed with this ‘Lyn’ – would follow her orders to the absolute, final extreme. Not a coward anymore, are you? The sniveling, pathetic, coward who would always stare at the girls in class. Finally grew a pair, eh? She downed the wine and pulled the gloves back on. His not being affected by her mind external spell was a total shock to her. Never before had it been resisted – none could not resist the will of the Ruler hero. And yet he did.

There was only one reason she could think of, as she picked up a slim flensing knife, sharpening it on a leather strop until it was a scalpel-level edge. He is utterly devoted to her. His utter devotion to this person claiming to be Lyn was the only explanation. His mind had no room for serving another. Poor, mad bastard. She chuckled at that as she went to her victim. He whimpered slightly as she walked over. “Ah-Ah! I said I’d cut another one off if you whimpered.” She grabbed his chin and forced his eyes to look at hers, “Now, I have to take one.”

Schlick. She cut off the finger, the blood spurting over her torso and down her cleavage, leaving a red rivulet of warmth and ichor. The man took a moment to process the pain from the incredibly sharp blade, before he screamed against the bridle. She walked back to her chair and sat, gesturing as a servant refilled her wine glass.

Regardless, I can’t ignore the loss of Brad, or that Volio is serving whoever this person is. I wonder- her thoughts were interrupted by a pounding at the door. Who fucking dares! She pulled off the gloves, instructed her servant to throw a sound-suppressing cloth over the prisoner, and threw on a robe. Walking to the door, she opened it to see one of her war leaders holding a letter. “What is it?” she asked as she put on her regal voice once more.

“Your highness…We have some astounding news from Fort Watch. The gap leading into the Valley of the Volcano grew a fortification overnight. An enormous stone wall – bigger than anything that our men have seen, a hundred-feet wide, with anti-infantry measures. Across the whole of the gap!”

Cecily gripped the door until she could feel it begin to splinter under her grasp. Something strong enough to raise two-mile long fortification…there’s no way it’s Lyn. Not even Misty can do that in one go. It must have been an inscription with dozens – no, hundreds – of peasants pouring their mana into it. Yes. That explains it. She nodded curtly, “Send reinforcements to Fort Watch.” She contemplated the letter that King Kristoph had sent. A political marriage to unite the two kingdoms? Perhaps I need to seriously entertain that. “And send a letter to King Kristoph. Tell him that if he sends me or brings me the head of the Paragon hero, I will wed him and unite our kingdoms.”

The war leader bowed, “Your will be done,” before he bowed and walked away.

Cecily smiled and let the robes drop as she closed the door. Turning to her servant, she gestured for the cover to be removed. The man was in pain – good. Her inscription required fear and gore. She set to her bloody task with pleasure, reveling in the act. His mana core was weak, but when a person was pushed to their limits – body and mind – they would experience a surge of mana before death. A defense mechanism of sorts. And Cecily knew that if she consumed the mana core at the height of his panic and pain…she would gain even more power.

This was why she enjoyed her pastime so much. She was not just punishing the unjust and getting off while doing it, she was empowering herself. I am far stronger than James could ever dream of being, she thought as she grinned. Stronger than any fake Lyn, or resurrected Destroyer, or whatever fuck Volio is worshipping. She giggled as she grabbed the bottle from her servant and poured it into her mouth and over her body. She smashed the bottle against the side of the chair and began to stab her prisoner in the ribs with it.

2

Volio got to the edges of Cecilaria – the capital of Valagonia – and that’s when Brad’s potion or brew faded. He tumbled out of Volio’s pocket before growing in size. He let out a chuckle that broke into a boisterous laugh before he hugged Volio. “You magnificent bastard! Fucking legend!”

Volio nodded, “Thanks...” He pulled out a handful of Gold Eagles and put them into Brad’s palm. “Can you get to the Valley of the Volcano?”

The Alchemist hero nodded with his wide grin. “There’s a lot of farms in between here and there. I’m sure I’ll find a down-on-their-luck family willing to part with a mount.” He separated from Volio and the smile faded. “But what are you going to do?”

Volio pointed North, “I’ve…got more packages to deliver. Ben and Trisha…Misty…Thomas.”

Brad nodded, “Right. So, what can you tell me about this person claiming to be Lyn?”

His eyes narrowed, “It is Lyn. I told you the story.”

“Yes, well…Look, man, you’ve been obsessing over her for years. I really do hope, for both our sakes, that it is her. But…is there any way you can be one hundred percent sure of anything in a place with fucking magic?”

“I…” Brad made a great point. Magic could do all kinds of shit. As soon as that thought hit, it was washed away by those blue eyes, licking with flames within. No. It’s her. The way she treated me. We have a connection. I’d know if she was a fake. “She’s real,” he stated. “It’s her.” He was sure. “She’s mine.” And I’m hers.

Brad sighed, “Alright. I’ll go meet this person and see what’s up.” He waved goodbye, “Take care of yourself,” and began walking towards one of the villages in the distance.

Volio shook his head and drew his bow. I want to get there fast. He pulled out a special arrow – one that ignored air resistance and would travel an enormous distance. He only had two of them and saved them for emergencies. I need to be with her. He aimed North and let loose as it arced far into the distance. One…two…three…

3

The next morning came, and Lyn felt the restlessness stir in her. She turned over and traced one of her wickedly sharp claws along Gael’s back, eliciting a small moan from the man as she giggled in delight. But her mana core did something unexpected; it gusted. She sat upright, stock-still. That was what her Scout core felt like. It was…overriding the Destroyer core? Just to be sure, she focused on pulling up mana, and felt the gusting inside her torso cease, the cool, calm breeze within replaced by the roiling bubble of lava. No, the Destroyer core was still there and prominent. But her Scout core only did that when she had to move. I need to travel.

She knew the consequences of ignoring the Scout core’s desire to travel. It would eat away at her, and she would feel anxious, nervous, and irritable. And she hated those feelings. Anxiety especially. If it went on long enough, then she would enter a fugue state, and would come to in God-knows where. That had happened twice before. I can’t ignore this.

She rolled out of bed and drew a bath. Washing up, she dried off in a flash of blue as she let the Destoyer’s searing-hot mana surge through her channels. She summoned her armor and slapped Gael on the rump to wake him. “Hey, get up.”

He looked at her with groggy eyes for a moment, “Good morning, Lyn.”

“Morning sleepy head. Come on, I want to fuck-”

“Right now?” he asked with a wolfish grin.

Lyn chuckled and shook her head, “No. I want to fucking find a diviner.”

“The Newen shamans sometimes have that spell type.”

“Good! Take a bath, you can use mine.”

Gael’s eyes went wide, “My Lord…are you sure?”

“Yes. And remember, if its just us or Vael, just Lyn.”

He smiled and threw the covers off, “As you command.”

Lyn flipped him off with a smile before exiting the chamber. It was nice having some camaraderie where she didn’t have to maintain distance and portray herself as something she wasn’t. Vael was standing outside and saluted her as the two left the Conclave, entering the fortress. Over the prior day and the night, the Newen leadership had taken residence in the chambers, and after asking around, they were introduced to a female Newen whose skin had gone grey with age, losing all of its snake-like, lustrous coloration. “Hail,” she said in Arinol.

The woman bowed deeply, “Lord Rivers, the Destroyer. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“What is your name?” Lyn asked.

“I am called Dran.”

“You are a diviner, from what I was told. I need you to divine the location of the nearest dungeon.”

Dran bowed, “As you wish, your mightiness.” She closed her eyes, "En ethiel an le / thalion min / an adhano na nin ir / a senno nin ind / na i ennas / en-iath / aníron / i garan / nestad." Her body went limp in her chair for several seconds before she sat up once more. “My Lord…there is one located inside Shiverburn Summit. At the center of the caldera.”

Lyn nodded, “Excellent. I name you as my Seer. Seek out Chancellor Vehenna, and report to her.” She turned to Vael, “Looks like I will not need your assistance on this one, guard Vael. Take Dran to see Vehenna.”

Vael nodded and saluted, “Yes my Lord…be careful.”

Lyn cracked a small grin before willing her armor to cover her whole body. She left the fortress and saw that several of the buildings had been erected from the day prior. Lynhold was steadily becoming a town. Not just a single, imposing fortress. Remora ran up and saluted her, “My Lord. We have sent the two thousand Newen to the new fortification and will be rotating the other two thousand as a relief force on a two-day rotation. Additionally, we have several squadrons who are present. Lastly, we have fortified and placed traps at the hidden entrance.”

Lyn patted her on the shoulder, “Good. Keep up the excellent work.”

“My Lord,” Remora stated, shuffling her feet slightly. “I apologize for asking this…but are the rumors true? That you sleep with your Bodyguards?”

Lyn nodded, “Yes. I will sleep with whom I see fit.”

Remora blushed slightly, “My Lord…if you see me fit…”

Lyn laughed. “If time allots, I do not mind seeing how well you fare in my chamber.” She turned away and gestured for Remora to leave. “Now, I have a dungeon to defeat, and rewards to claim.”

“Yes, my Lord!” Remora shouted as Lyn began climbing up the mountain. The long, stone stairs that led to the summit.

4

Thomas gasped as he sat up. He coughed as his parched throat demanded water. Looking around, he saw that he was in a chamber. A small chamber. Almost like a cell – no lock on the door, but austere like a monk’s chamber. There was a small chamber pot nearby, as well as a basin of stale water. He tried to move his arm to it, and the limb responded…but was weak. Atrophy. How long was I out? He was able to dip his fingers into the water and bring them to his mouth to suck the liquid off them. The water instantly awoke the rest of his senses, and his groggy body came to once more. What happened?

Then it all hit him once more. Destroying the statue of Aelor, being killed by James, waking up in some place with Misty. Being told about Hect-

He felt the tears well up and cried, laying back and wailing at the loss of his best friend. The only good thing he had in this world. “Why?” he whispered through the tears as his voice cracked. “Why would you kill him?” James could have just let Hector go. He could have…He…

What’s the point to it? Thomas asked himself amidst the misery. His Knowledge hero core was gone. His new body might be young again, and reinforced with inscriptions to increase his longevity, fight disease, and resist spells…but he was weak. Weak and powerless. Friendless. Misty had more than paid off her debt to him. He had nothing except his intelligence. None of his inscribed items, and far, far from his item stashes in the Ruins of Elent. What can I do?

The door to the chamber opened, and a robed figure entered. From her voice, he could tell she was young. She pulled her hood back and smiled. A Vharthon, a young woman with deep, red fur and olive-green eyes. “You’re awake! That’s unexpected.” She walked over to him and grabbed his wrist, putting a finger on his vein as if feeling his pulse. He could feel the warmth from her grip. She tapped her foot, and he just numbly let her man-handle him. “Yup, still alive. And conscious? Professor Misery will want to hear about this.”

That brought a small smile to Thomas’ face. So, she changed her last name. Misty was always the moody art kid. She just sat in the corner of class and worked on her various art pieces. She only got along with Lyn, and through Lyn, met Thomas. Those two girls were inseparable. She always said she would have a dreary last name in case she ever wanted to give being an evil sorceress a try.

The woman smiled, “Good. You can hear, too. No permanent damage. I’ll be back with the Professor.”

“Wait!” Thomas croaked. “What’s your name?” he coughed as his dry mouth prevented further conversation.

She produced a small cup from a bag on her hip, dipped it into the basin, and slowly dripped it into his mouth. “I’m Stellas.”

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