Chapter 165 - Duty And Determination (Patreon)

Oliviala Le’Cruex

Ardon’s steely blue gaze pinned Olive in place, “You have a strategy to stop twenty million graymin with the forces we have available?” The doubt in his voice was clear. The tier nines behind him frowned at her, the pressure from their looks alone causing Cameron and Vironia to sweat.

Olive remained steadfast. She opened her mouth to retort, then snapped her teeth together to bury the heated remark she desperately wished to unleash at their collective doubt. She took a deep breath, bringing her spiraling thoughts into order.

Even if we could gather every single soldier in the empire, we would still be outnumbered ten to one. Typically, it’s assumed that five soldiers are needed to kill each graymin of the equivalent tier. With only three hundred thousand soldiers in the city, the prospect of halting twenty million obviously seems impossible. Not only that, the bulk of the soldiers are tier three, less than half should be tier four, and only a few hundred tier five and six.

If we’re going to stand a chance, we have to increase the efficiency of each soldier by a factor of three hundred. It’s no wonder they’re looking at me like I’m crazy. But there are things I know, that they don’t. It’s not impossible! I refuse to give up.

Determination flashed within Olive’s eyes as she squared her shoulders, “I don’t have a strategy to stop so many, no. But I’m going to make them pay dearly for every step they take onto our soil.”

Ardon sighed, “If you don’t know how to stop them, then why did you get in my way? It matters not, you can think about it while you’re completing your mission. Honestly, I would prefer you not return here afterward,” Ardon held up his hand, forestalling her, “Yes, yes. I know that’s not what you desire. Can you blame me for wanting to protect you until the very end?”

Olive scowled at him, “I was going to say that I have no intention of completing my mission.”

“What?! You dare shirk your duty after demanding that very duty fall upon your shoulders?” Ardon growled, his demeanor instantly shifting to indignant rage.

The ground rumbled from the emotions washing through his aura. Olive formed a layer of aura beneath her feet and standing steady, she met his anger head-on, “Cameron and Vironia are more than capable of delivering your message. Three of us going is a complete waste of resources. If we lower-tiers hope to have any chance of halting the horde, we must begin preparations immediately. Eldest, with your permission, I would like to oversee those preparations. I may not have a complete strategy to succeed, but I do have several ideas that will drastically increase the strength of our forces.”

“Now you’re asking me to oust General Reifvus? Oliviala, I know how strong you are but to the soldiers, you’re an unproven child on the eve of the worst invasion in known history. Do you have any idea what that will do to morale? No, this is a waste of time. I’m disappointed in you. Go, now, and complete your mission,” Ardon’s voice was iron, his will the unwavering solidity of a man who had clawed his way up the ladder of ascension to the top of the empire.

Olive narrowed her eyes, defying his overwhelming power, “No.”

Ardon flexed his aura and it slammed down on everyone in the tent. The air and ground trembled in a kilometer-wide radius. Vironia and her guards immediately fell to their knees, completely unable to resist the pressure of a ruler. Even Ardon’s companions buckled at the knee. For a brief moment, shock crossed Ardon’s features as both Olive and Cameron remained standing; neither showed even a hint of discomfort at what should have been overwhelming power.

Olive crossed the two steps between them in a flash. Her aura long since pulled into her skin to activate Oneness. She directed her entire being toward the single goal of punching Ardon in the face. Her fist connected, the bones within her hand snapping as they met the indestructible skin of a tier nine powerhouse.

Despite the complete lack of damage, Ardon and the other tier nines gasped in absolute shock. Vironia and her guards were no different, their jaws dropping in disbelief at what they had just witnessed. Ardon recovered first, reaching out to gently grasp her hand that was still pressed against his cheek, “Impossible, you’re only tier five, how did you move faster than a tier six while under the pressure of my aura?” The smallest droplet of his mana sunk into her skin, repairing her bones and flesh.

Olive lifted her chin, meeting the much taller man’s confusion with her own steely resolve that refused to be bottled up a moment longer, “Fighting up a tier is no longer a tale told to children. If General Reifvus wishes to contest my leadership, then let him confront me in the Roulondus. As per the rights granted by my lineage, I hereby demand authority over the forces gathered to defend our walls. I will not let the enemy through, and I will not let you, nor anyone else stop me.”

She turned to look over her shoulder, roughly pulling her hand free of her brother’s grip, “Vironia, please report to Empress Mesalay. Cameron, deliver the report to Emperor Dominus and then go to The People’s Cavern and await his return. We’re not going to stand a chance without him.”

Cameron’s grin split his face as his fist smashed into his chest, filling the tent with the sound of metal clanging on metal. He moved at the same speed Olive had earlier, causing the tier nine’s and Vironia’s eyes to bug out even further, “Alor! Stay safe, cousin. I will return with him, and we will claim victory together.” They nodded, eyes moist with overflowing camaraderie. Cameron walked out of the tent without another word and Vironia’s gaze followed his every move.

When the struck princess turned back, Olive’s deadly-serious expression caused her to swallow nervously, “Vironia!” Olive snapped, causing the pretty girl to jerk upright and climb to her feet.

Vironia glanced at Ardon, who nodded subtly to her unspoken question. Vironia’s fist came to her chest in salute, “Very well. I will return with all haste. If he will be here, then so will I. It would not do for a wife to fail to stand by her husband's side in such dire times,” She smirked at Olive’s exasperated expression before walking out of the tent with her guards in tow.

“Wife? I thought Mesalay abhorred arranged marriages? Never mind, I doubt I want to know,” Ardon sighed, his previous anger nowhere to be found. He gave Olive a quizzical expression like he wasn’t sure who he was talking to, “I won’t stand in your way if you wish to call upon that ancient law. I hope you're not underestimating General Reifvus. He’s been at the peak of tier six for twenty years and has earned respect for good reason. The powerful lead and the weak follow so we all may thrive.”

Olive pointed toward the tent flap, eyeing each of her brother's companions in turn, “The only one here being underestimated is me. If you’ll excuse me, I need to change into my armor. Then, I’m going to kick a pompous old man’s ass across the desert and win a war.”

Jiran of Madra

Jiran released a shaky breath, his limbs trembling with an irrepressible desire to dive deeper into the fog in search of his next prey. The sensations from his most recent absorption of challenger density refused to fade as they usually did. Two kills ago he had tapped into his Remalonian Constitution in full, attempting to blunt his emotions away to nothing. Now, he was a ragged mess. Euphoric heat rushed through his head in thrumming waves. His tongue felt swollen and his vision swam, fading in and out.

He blinked, suddenly finding himself several steps closer to the next beast. He stopped, barely restraining himself for several long seconds and refusing to let his eyes close again.

Looks like twenty-six is my limit. It’s been about three hours, I should… head back and check on everyone. Need to… release these emotions. My aura is pretty drained too. And there’s no sense letting this excess mana go to waste.

Enthralling Touch pulled the beast-mana from his most recent kill into the filters in his suits chestplate. Moments later, his mana was topped off as well as the formations in his suit. He pulled his aura completely inside his skin and shoved the remaining energy through his tap and into the space before his soulwall. As the mana was greedily absorbed and converted, he felt the bounds of his aura expanding and thickening all at once.

Suddenly, Jiran tilted his head to the side after sensing an unfamiliar vibration on his skin. Since he was wearing his suit, it couldn’t be the wind. He focused, quickly realized it was subtle impressions being carried through the framework that rippled across his compressed manabody, using it as a bridge to transition into regular reality and touch his skin.

Huh, interesting. Did my aura just pass some kind of threshold and grow more sensitive, or is it a combination of my increased attributes?

Jiran closed one eye to check his status, unwilling to black out again in the Land of the Lost.

Mana Omnis: + 1

Enthralling Touch: + 2

Identify: + 1

Mana Confluence and Elemental Castigation haven’t budged even though I use them more than any of my other skills. They sure are stubborn. I’ll probably need to sit down and thoroughly experiment before they have another breakthrough. That’s fine though, it wouldn't be any fun if it was too easy.

STRENGTH: + 17.7

AGILITY: + 24.1

ENDURANCE : + 14.5

DURABILITY: + 16.6

WISDOM: + 15

INTELLIGENCE: + 19.5

Challenger timer reset: + 104 hours

NAME: Jiran of Madra

RACE: Remalon

AGE: 0

WEIGHT: 3299 kg > 3489 kg

ACCLAMATIONS: Remalonian Constitution / Scion of Mana

TIMER: 231:55:12

TIER: 4

EXP: 200/200

GROWTH: 7.8 % > 21.3 %

Jiran clicked his tongue in annoyance when he saw he was not quite an eighth of the way to the next tier. He quickly scanned through the changes in his attributes and skills, almost growing frustrated before realizing his speed of advancement was actually insane for only three hours of killing.

MANA: 54

CONCENTRATION: 18

STRENGTH: 200.3 > 218

AGILITY: 199.9 > 224

ENDURANCE: 200.5 > 215

DURABILITY: 200.4 > 217

WISDOM: 201 > 216

INTELLIGENCE: 200.5 > 220

CHARISMA: 72 > 78

SKILLS:

Mana Confluence: 78

Elemental Castigation: 47

Mana Omnis: 21 > 22

Enthralling Touch: 30 > 32

Identify: 18 > 19

OTHER:

Adaptive Translator

Affinity System

Designation: Keynote Prime

Interface Map

Intermediary User Interface

Party System

Sanctuary Command Authorization

UNIQUE: Foresight

For anyone else, pushing through a quarter of a tier in a single morning would be mind-blowing. I guess it’s true that the lens of perspective is a force capable of warping all reality. At first glance, the attribute growth might not seem like much, but each point of concentration is a direct multiplier of my attributes. So if I multiply the attribute gains by eighteen, then I’ve gained nearly two thousand points… Damn, okay, yeah, that’s crazy.

Because Remalonian Constitution had absorbed the Augmented Cerebellum acclamation—which drastically increased the speed his body adapted to increased attributes—he had rapidly adapted to his upgraded attributes between each kill. To test the changes, he flexed every muscle in his body as he exhaled. His limbs trembled with the strain as the mana suffusing every centimeter of his body reacted, boiling with desire to be unleashed. Before he realized what was happening, the ground and air began to quake. The fog around him shifted slightly as if swept up in a gentle breeze, surprising him even more.

What the hell? I blasted this fog with my full power before and it didn’t react at all. Now it’s responding to me flexing my muscles and mana? Hmm, I wonder.

The previous times Jiran had tried to fly out of the fog, his foresight had blared a dire warning at him. Since then, he had walked out of the forest every time he finished a hunt, requiring him to spend a significant amount of time between each kill. He bent his knees and tilted his head back to squint at the unnaturally still fog above him. Mana gathered around his fist, the energy so thick and powerful that it began to warp light, distorting his image. He continued to condense the energy and add more until nearly five percent of his mana was gathered in his one fist.

With a shout, he leaped upward and punched. A blast of unaspected mana speared through the scraggly treetops and slammed against whatever barrier only allowed flight into the forest, and not out. The sound of cracking glass rang through the air before the barrier shattered and violet skies tinged with emerald greeted him. He soared out of the hole which rapidly repaired itself just like everything else that was damaged inside the creepy woods.

“Nice! That’s going to speed up my next hunt by a lot,” He chuckled to himself, the sound strange to his ears as it was tinged with far more emotion than normal. He took a deep, calming breath of the fresh air coming into his suit. “Now, I should find something to take out all these emotions on. Then I’ll head back to the valley.”

Dokkuun of the Gnashing Wound Clan

Dokkuun flapped his wings in irritation, his aura holding him steady as the winds gently caressed his gray feathers. He turned away from the haunting Land of the Lost beneath them, facing three of his oldest and most trusted allies. He was entirely unable to keep frustration from coloring his voice, “You saw the corpse, why are you still doubting the voracity of his claims?”

“Because Bahlicc is a scheming fig with greed as deep as the ocean,” Zoraakk snapped, “He would say or do anything to save his worthless hide. If not for the tier seven corpse, I would not be here at all. We must learn where it came from. However, if this Guardian of the Timberlings does not appear soon, I must assume we have been outmaneuvered by the Divine Faction and I will recall my forces.”

Zoraakk, Dokkuun’s oldest ally, spoke sagely while pinching his long beard, “Dokkuun, brother, you must admit that gathering the four of us here could easily mean doom for our Rising Sky Faction. Our enemies could descend en masse at any moment. All they need do is push us into the fog and our wings would be clipped.”

He’s not wrong, none have ever entered that fog and lived to speak of what they saw.

“The danger is great, but I agree with Dokkuun, it is worth the risk.” The last tier seven in their gathering nodded, a chorus of squawked ascent came from each of their guards as well. As per tradition, they had each brought only two tier sixes to accompany them.

Dokkuun grunted his response, “Hmph, so be it, half a dial and we leave to recall our forces.”

Fools, they must not have recognized the look in Bahlicc’s eyes. His defeat at the Timberling’s crater scarred him far beyond the loss of a leg. Bahlicc spoke of a true monster, an existence that must not be offended. Today, we will meet this mysterious monster and judge his strength.

If that corpse truly came from this forest—

A thunderous shattering preceded a beam of energy that shot out of the fog far below. A round of gasps sounded from their guards as a figure emerged from the deadly forest. Dokkuun’s skill, Eyes of the Sky zoomed in, bringing the figure into view as though he were standing a few meters away and not several kilometers.

“Have you ever seen armor like that?” Zoraakk questioned, still running his hand through his beard.

Frakkoa shook his head in exasperation, “Who cares about his armor?! He broke through the fog!”

“Prepare yourselves, brothers. We will face him together as planned, and force the answers from his throat. Do not kill him before we—”

Whatever Zoraakk was intending to say was cut off as a massive shockwave exploded behind the figure. Immense Waves of fiery death enveloped a third of the expansive forest, sending the armored figure hurtling toward them at incredible speeds.

Zoraakk finally released his beard, brandishing his spear with a manic grin, “Hah! He must be worried he wont die fast enough!”

Rhahakk began to back away from them, sweat sprouting across his skin, “I-isn’t he a little too fast?!”

They realized it far too late and before any of them could flee, space was sundered by his arrival before them. Gaping wounds were rent in the air, revealing the vastness of the great hollow, as the figure's aura tore at the fabric of reality in its attempt to slow him down. A small part of Dokkuun’s mind cataloged the phenomenon and his old bones quaked with fear. He knew that only if he put all of his mana and aura into it, he could replicate the same feat.

To exude that much power merely to slow down… Bahlicc was right.

The monster's aura billowed out and wrapped around them. The pressure it exuded was both the weight of a mountain and a blade sharpened by a master smith. He grunted with the effort of resisting but there was no hope; his aura was cut to ribbons and pressed against him, restricting his movements. The armored monster chuckled darkly and shivers ran up Dokkuun's spine. He immediately realized that from the moment they came here, there had never been a chance for their victory. Even escape was nothing more than a fleeting dream.