The World's First Monk (OCs, Isekai, LitRPG, Fantasy)

[Sahqoreyth]

Prologue: Arcadian Genesis

Here we go. This is the Prologue to the following story, essentially an exposition dump, from the perspective of our story's Gods. Why Arcadia is the way it is, and the outlining of certain world-defining events that make things the way they are by the time our protag shows up.

For ease of reading and coherency, I'll be splitting this up into several sections, so take this as your warning: the chapters are long, longer by far than the Prologue.

I advise getting comfy before reading. I will endeavor to keep you all entertained throughout the length of the tale to come.

As always, I hope you enjoy my attempt at a 'proper isekai'.​

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The Age of Creation ​

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In the silent starry void there was only Laurelin.

A being mere mortals would classify as a Goddess, she had blonde hair that was, somehow, also silver and sparkled like the void through which she traveled. Her garment, such as it was, also blended well with her surroundings, deep blue and cascading with stars, it was a gift she wore to protect her from the cold darkness of the void, on her long journey. She sought something new, in the vastness of space untouched by other Divine hands or darker powers. Something she could call her own. Something far from any other disturbances in the cluttered Multiverse. Something...unique.

Time has little meaning to a being like her, but it still passes, and much of it flowed past as the Multiverse continued to turn and churn beyond her sight, but she did not look back. She had a promise to keep. Eventually, in that massive black void of swirling stars, not far from the expanding edges of the known Multiverse, she came upon a sphere of black stone and earth, alone, listless in the vast empty vacuum. A planetoid of considerable size, far flung from whatever star system it had formed from uncountable millennia in the past, it was vast, cold, ancient, and empty. Laurelin's beauteous visage finally turned up in a smile.

It was free real estate.

"Galdurath."

She spoke but a single word, a single sound that should not have been able to exist in the vacuum of space, let alone travel through it, and yet, it did so. For there was one dear to her who had now waited quite a long time to hear her voice.

He appeared as a Wizard stereotype made manifest in a flash of divine magical power, with arcane prowess few Gods could claim to match or equal. Where her skin was glowing golden and pale, his was shifting shades of blue. Where her garment was simple and flowing, his own was a leftover of his mortal beginnings, an Artifact enhanced by his own hand, possessing great and useful magic, which manifested as finely tailored blue robes with golden trim and shifting arcane patterns imbued into the now divinely enhanced weave. Their communication with one another had long transcended words, and thus she understood just how long she had taken. How much he had missed her presence, and how sorry she was for taking so very long. Time had little meaning to them, but it had still passed, and now finally the long wait was over. They embraced in the void above their chosen planet in the middle of nowhere, and took a moment to simply enjoy each other's presence. In mortal measures of time, Laurelin held onto her husband for days, but being what they were, and where they were, time might as well have not existed.

Before things could turn lewd or romantic, they descended to the mass of rock and stone she had discovered, and Galdurath found it to be suitable for their plans. Into the long-frozen core of the ancient planet, he placed the relic he had spent much of their time apart crafting, though he had long since perfected it. Mortal minds might have dubbed it a Genesis Engine, but Godly minds worked differently. They did not seek to constantly assign names to things, the relic was simply a tool, a device which reignited the planetary core, and began filling it with Magic.

Like a master weaver with a loom, Galdurath began to shine with bright blue aura as he wove lines of magic power around their new home. Divine magical energy which he had long since pumped into the device was now spent in creating an atmosphere, and beyond that, a magical shield that would protect their burgeoning world from the random ravages of space, powered forever by the relic that would continue to function, so long as they were both present. Being classifiable as Gods, eternity was theirs to do with as they pleased, and here, on this nameless chunk of rock and dirt catapulted into the far reaches of the cosmos from the dawn of Everything, they would make their permanent home. Far from any who would interfere, or so they believed. No meteors would impact their home, no alien species on star treks would find them, their world would be safe, hidden, and sequestered in solitude, free to grow and develop with their guidance as it kept its trajectory away from the central Multiverse and its many inhabitants.

Laurelin watched her husband work, utterly enamored by the display. He was very much showing off for her, but she found him quite attractive when he wielded magic on this scale. The shifting lines of magic blended beautifully with the stars, wrapping their world in their arcane embrace as Galdurath irrevocably tied them to the planet's core, and once the atmosphere formed, she began her own work. Where Laurelin walked, life began its gentle stir: forests broke free from the dark dirt and stone, seas of salt-filled water poured from her hands and soon glimmered with the light of the stars and the lines of magic above. She shaped the continents randomly, but preferred a series of super-continents, as opposed to a world with many landmasses, or a truly unique geographical profile. Life would someday flourish here, and she preferred for it to flourish together, in the harmony she would promote.



When the pair again met at the crown of the world, Galdurath finally spoke, an easier feat now that there was air which could carry waves of sound. "What name shall we bestow upon our new home, my Love?"

The Goddess paused in her creation of cooling caps of ice upon the planet, and began to ponder a name for their creation. Knowing he had time, Galdurath imbued his magical shield with the life-sustaining light of a Sun, a light which would never fade, and which would, for the sake of his sanity, run on a standard twenty four hour cycle, equally splitting the day hours, and the night, with the appropriate lighting gradually shifting forever between each.

Amused by his continued creation, Laurelin finally said, after several shifts between day and night, "Arcadia."

Galdurath made a face at her, as he paused in the creation of what would become their own dwelling. Massive white stone towers rose to caress the sky, forming a bastion that bespoke the power of its inhabitants, that would also serve as a nexus for the energies now surging across the planet. "Not exactly original, but if you desire it to be so, so shall it be." He then shifted his head to look at the planetary core, and uttered the name with the power and purpose of a God.

"We dub thee...Arcadia."

With the basics set into motion, the seas, the skies, the mountains, the two Gods finally took their ease, and on that northernmost point, finally ended their long time apart in all the ways that mattered. The footsteps of a God leave a mark on such a world, therefor it follows that coitus does much the same. Galdurath had plenty of centuries with which to plan their reunion, and his Laurelin was quite receptive to his efforts. Thus did Arcadia bloom, a paradise nurtured by the touch of the Gods as the spark of life quite literally rolled across the entire planetary sphere, several times, before they finally, truly rested.

The Era of Awakening ​

For years beyond mortal reckoning, Arcadia knew only that gentle embrace, the genuine love of two beings on a level of power not often seen, alone and undisturbed. But it could not last, nor did they intend it to.

With time, somewhat familiar creatures began to roam freely across the grasslands and clustered in the deep glens of the world's forests. Those who began their existence as minor cells began to grow exponentially. Some, nurtured themselves on the remnants of Laurelin's passing tread. Others, nurtured themselves on the beings who preferred eating her flora. Green kingdoms flourished across each of the continents of the world, and a natural cycle of flora and fauna was established.

In the centuries that followed Arcadia's initial flourishing, the planet teemed with new beginnings, yet both Gods sensed that something greater awaited. Their partnership had created an entire realm, but in their hearts, they craved an heir, another who would share in their joys and burdens, an echo of their bond to guide Arcadia forward.

So it was that Laurelin felt within herself a stirring unlike any other; the spark of a third Divine presence. In time, she bore a son whose birth shook the very world with his cries. Though no mortals walked the land yet, the creatures that roamed the forests and skies paused in silent reverence as the usually invisible weave of leylines crossing the world became visible from that moment forward, a chorus of cosmic energies that celebrated his son's arrival. Galdurath, joy shining in his azure eyes, held the newborn deity in his arms while Laurelin gazed upon him with wonder.



They named him Dagorion, a name woven from threads of possibility, carrying a hint of conflict yet unkindled. From the moment he opened his eyes, a curious gleam lit his golden gaze, as if he already beheld the boundless potential lurking beneath Arcadia's tranquil surface.

While Dagorion slumbered in infancy and Laurelin and Galdurath focused their attention on their beloved son, in time, sentient mortal races, free-willed beings with the intelligence and awareness to appreciate the beauties of Arcadia and add their own sparks of creativity began to come forth from flora and fauna both. Their biological patterns drew purposeful inspiration from countless other worlds across the Multiverse, copying certain archetypes which Laurelin had woven into the world's creation herself. This had also been done for the fauna of their new world, every Phylum, from the lowliest worms to the mightiest land mammals, was of her design, and though she could not and did not take credit for their original formation, she did endow every single one with the same potential to one day achieve sentience. Not all would do so, but those species that did desire attributes suited for sentience, namely large, complex brains, would find their path easier than on any other world in the Multiverse. She had not discriminated either; species from all across the known realms had, and would, come to populate Arcadia. Large cats, canids, equines, even the somewhat iconic horsebirds commonly known in countless realms as Chocobos, there were few biological patterns she had not bothered learning and copying for this endeavor.

Laurelin's first and dearest creation however, were the elves, the first race to emerge with full sentience, and the ones most closely bound to her life-giving essence. They formed from living trees in Arcadia's oldest groves, giving them slender bodies, sharp senses, and a deep attunement to natural magic, and the source of it. Laurelin sensed them immediately, and the gentle beings quickly became her favorites forever more. Some elves preferred the bright sunlight and open fields, developing lighter complexions and an affinity for tending the natural world. Others gravitated to caves and deep delves within the earth, their skin darker and their arts more focused on the forging of metals by means of magic. These 'dark elves' as they would come to be known, became fast followers of Galdurath, but though they possessed skill and ingenuity, they were not his favorites, for there was another template of sentience he himself had woven into the fauna of the world, with the hope that one day, they would grow into what he knew they could become.



From the quick-witted primates that flourished in Arcadia's canopied jungles, Galdurath encouraged the growth of a race that valued curiosity and adaptability. Humans, as he called them, possessed slightly shorter (in Godly measurement) lifespans than elves but compensated with bold ambition and an eagerness to push the boundaries of possibility. Galdurath hoped these mortals would learn from the mistakes of other worlds the human race occupied, evolving beyond any flaws their genetic ancestors might have known. He had made them smarter, but more predisposed to compassion and ingenuity than violence, insatiable greed, and a near-constant lust for reproduction. Despite his alterations, humanity was and always would be by far the most fecund race on Arcadia.

Though elves and humans were first, they were by no means the last. Feline folk both slender and mighty, bipedal lupine tribes who hunted their large prey in packs, rabbit-eared and near-human looking beings who became fast allies and friends of the elves, humanoid ursine warriors who preferred to hunt and live in the cold climates of Arcadia's mountains, and feathery avian folk with wings and hands both soared or stalked Arcadia's wilderness as time passed.

Each subgroup evolved from the template of land, sea, and air bound creatures Laurelin had encouraged to grow, typically walking upright, and speaking with a single common tongue taught to them by an often disguised Galdurath, multitudes of new sentient species soon joined the growing global community established by humans and elves. These races inherited both bestial instincts like hunting, tunneling, or swift flight, and the capacity for reason and culture. Over time, the so-called 'beast races' diversified even more, but with the guidance of their Gods, the humans and elves welcomed each without pride nor prejudice, overjoyed to welcome new members into what they saw as a global family focused on progressing their collective technology to make all of their lives comfortable, happy, and easy. It was, by every metric, a Golden Age.

Born of melding bloodlines between elves, men, and the more beast like races, centaur folk soon appeared as well with combined torsos of elves and men, but with powerful equine, leonine, or otherwise bestial lower halves, blending speed and strength with eloquent speech. These genetic mixes ended up preferring to roam Arcadia's vast plains in nomadic caravans, believing that freedom of movement was life's greatest gift.

Along Arcadia's coasts and coral reefs, sentients formed from the fauna of the oceans thrived as guardians of the seas. Some were like humanoid whales or dolphins while, with time, others again blending the ever abundant elves and humans with seafolk traits became colloquially known as merfolk. They formed underwater cities from living reefs and possessed an innate gift for controlling water magic. Some merfolk embraced more adventurous lifestyles, venturing onto land in search of trade or alliances while others remained in the depths, content to reign in the watery deeps, but always they kept the peace, unwilling to be the first of the races to sow discord. In this first age of Arcadia, things were, at least for a time, genuinely and truly peaceful. There wasn't a complete lack of conflict, but by and large the sentient peoples got along, wary of their Gods and unwilling to even contemplate what their loving creator's wrath might look like. Wrath, was the furthest thing from their Divine minds, as their young son and bountiful world brought them unmatched joy.

The Empyrean Age ​

When the young Dagorion finally was introduced to the flourishing community of the sentient races, he found himself surrounded by a kaleidoscope of various mortals, each forging small communities near fresh rivers or deep within forests. Though many worshiped Laurelin, giving thanks for her abundant life and nourishment, just as many turned to Galdurath in search of arcane knowledge, or grateful for the knowledge he had imparted upon them to make their lives and survival among the elements easier. All of them, regardless of species, did not know what to make of Dagorion, for while he was an honored child of their beloved Gods, his domain was not yet defined, for he himself had not yet found something that called to his very core, and melded with his powers and personality.

As the years passed in the northern realm of the Gods, Dagorion grew into his divine gifts. He walked among mortals in various guises, observing how they lived and thrived. At first, he admired the ways they competed: wrestling for sport, racing across fields, honing archery skills, even staging friendly tests of physical strength. While some basic weapons had arisen to combat the more violent and predatory creatures of the natural world, the sentient races had yet to turn them on each other, though Galdurath knew that day would, inevitably, come. Laurelin chose to believe otherwise, unwilling to give up her faith in their beautiful creations. She could not conceive of a world where their creations, those she saw also as their children, in a sense, turned on each other in violence. Here in this hidden corner of the Multiverse, she argued, things would finally be different. Galdurath let her win that argument, but he also knew well the nature of mortals. He knew time would prove him right, but he promised his beloved that he would never lose faith in them, even if they did inevitably fall to violence, corruption, and wanton slaughter as so very many Universes had before them.

Galdurath was not idle, and thus in this age of unity and peace, he founded, in the world capital of Primus upon the equator, the Galdurian Academy of Magic, where he reigned as headmaster for the duration of what would one day be called the Empyrean Age. His efforts bore fruit. The sentient races of Arcadia advanced at a pace so rapid, it almost frightened their creators. With the molding and nurturing of the best and brightest the world had to offer, regardless of species or place of origin, the mysteries of Magic as a concept, and a power source, were unraveled. Runes once known only to the Lord of Magic became commonplace. Those who could conjure, control, and form magic into patterns to do their bidding, or cause a specific effect began appearing in great numbers, and Galdurath made a point of ensuring that these 'spell casters' adhered to his morals, as well as Laurelin's.



With magic as a source of power, society advanced rapidly in terms of technology, and though the wisest scholars of Arcadia slowly plied the natural forces of existence, they had a tendency to find a single method that worked, using magic, and not innovate further. Galdurath, in his eagerness to raise up multiple generations of brilliant minds, did not see this for the stagnation it would one day cause. As life became easier thanks to the advent of advanced magitech devices, typically powered by natural crystals refined into geometric shapes suited to guide and store magic, the culture of the people also boomed.

Everything, from waste disposal to the simple act of reading, was powered by magic, and slowly, a hierarchy began to form as it became clear that those with an affinity for drawing and shaping Arcadia's energies were being held in higher regard than their peers, who simply lacked their potential. The invention of currency, further established this hierarchy, as those with magical skill became better suited to earning larger quantities of their world's coins, colloquially known as Gil. This was done entirely on purpose, and would be historically regarded as a bad decision. Laurelin was openly against the use of currency from the beginning, but it was an argument that she lost to Galdurath, and the growing needs of a world-spanning society that required large amounts of trade to function and progress.

Naturally, with the rise of a hierarchy and experimenting with things like adding magic to axes or swords, their culture developed a needlessly gaudy but challenging tradition, of having duels between the highest level of spell casters. Like everything else on Arcadia, self defense had also become powered by magic. Dagorion reveled in these contests of skill, as they made his blood ignite in a manner he had never experienced, and could never get enough of. In them he saw the spark of true progress, mortals pushing themselves beyond their limits to new heights of strength and skill with a ferocity that called to him on a instinctual level. The simple honor in a fair, even contest of strength had a deep appeal.



Meanwhile, his parents remained enraptured in their own blossoming paradise. Laurelin continued to sow new seeds of life, as the flora of Arcadia grew ever taller, and its many cities became even more connected. Despite the progress of society, nature was not ignored, and their pollution was simply teleported elsewhere. Galdurath obsessively tested the boundaries of his own magic, refining Arcadia's leylines and weaving more advanced protective wards around the planet. His knowledge of the Multiverse and its many denizens, and variations of denizens, had instilled him with perhaps not entirely unwarranted paranoia. Their love for each other, and for the world they had built, was so profound that Dagorion's budding discontent and obsession with combat went unnoticed for far too long.

Over time, a restlessness took hold in his heart. Winning a contest of magical strength or an archery tournament only satisfied him briefly, for his skill was God tier and soon the clever mortals began to easily see through his disguises once his skills and reputation were recognized. Obviously, no Arcadian alive in that era would've ever dared to even accidentally injure the young God. In the face of these rigged contests. Dagorion began to crave something deeper, more visceral, a challenge that would raise the stakes, quicken the pulse, and truly ignite the soul to heights his father couldn't imagine. He wandered the outskirts of mortal lands, whispering to the more predatory beastkin and stoking their ancient instincts to hunt and battle for territory. He desperately sought one among the mighty beastial warriors who might rival his power, and yet, he always proved superior.

A flicker of unsettling darkness accompanied him on his travels to the far corners of the world. Laurelin was not blind to her son, for he tried stoking discontent among the elves and humans as well, albeit with less success. From distant eons of cosmic wandering, she finally recognized his growing darkness as a vestige of the evil that had dominated one of the oldest and largest parts of the Multiverse, one from which she had taken her own name, now forever lost in the evil shadow of its Dark Lord.

Even on Arcadia, this darkness, one might even call it the oldest, first, or original evil, had managed to seep past all of Galdurath's wards.

The Age of Murder


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Dagorion, enthralled by the adrenaline of battle, eventually crossed that line between contest and slaughter, and in his rage, committed the world's first murder.

As the blood stained his hands and the visceral shock of seeing someone cut down filled his darkening eyes, he embraced his savagery, finally eagerly believing he had found his purpose. He and those who followed him, mostly members of the beast races, but no small amount of humans as well, also engaged in the act of murdering those who were weaker than they, simply because they could. The power, the excitement, the depraved sense of superiority it gave them opened them to the cosmos's natural darkness, which had been all too eager to flood the peaceful world for ages now.

Mortals who embraced Dagorion's teachings and methods found themselves physically and spiritually twisted by darkness, losing the gentle shape Laurelin had blessed them with. Their forms grew monstrous, reflecting the violence within, and soon other, darker, and all too familiar patterns associated across the Multiverse with monsters began to form as well. Orcs, goblins, trolls, and other warped races began appearing in Arcadia's dark corners, reveling in pillaging, bloodshed, and murder. They established primitive war-camps in remote places, devouring those they conquered in body and mind, heedless of how sick and depraved such things were to those with morals instilled by the Gods.

Upon discovering the atrocities arising in her beloved realm, Laurelin was horrified. Galdurath, equally dismayed by the sheer number of departed souls arriving in their northern abode at the peak of the world to reincarnate. They came in states of terror or despair, and he finally confronted Dagorion. Yet, once he did so, he found his once curious son was barely recognizable. Renouncing his old name with a scornful, mocking, laugh, he claimed a new name.

Dagorath, the God of War, a new identity fully aligned with chaos and bloodshed. In a final act of defiance, Dagorath empowered his monstrous champions to a new level of power.

They would come to be known by the decent, life-loving races as the Demon Lords, commanders endowed with slivers of Dagorath's divine power, who set entire civilizations ablaze in their war paths.

Realizing the existential threat posed by these Demon Lords, Galdurath formed an elite cadre of spell casters known as the Arc Wardens. These chosen mages, warriors, and scholars stood at the forefront of Arcadia's defense. Under Galdurath's guidance, they tracked each Demon Lord's rise and unified the mortal races to purge the abominations, with great success. Each conflict saw the Arc Warden's skills grow, and their methods of killing Dagorath's abominations became more practiced and methodical. Under the threat of death, their technology, powered by Galdurath's will and his follower's ingenuity, advanced even further, as weapons of war gave the Wardens an inherent understanding of how to create other new and wondrous things. Artifacts of war, yes, but also magical energy grids, sturdier building materials, and devices that could send spells to ranges far beyond those that mortals could reach on their own power.

Despite these advances, too many people continued to fall before the Demon Lords. Laurelin was inconsolable, and Galdurath was forced to get creative. His son wanted to empower his followers? The God of Magic could do the same. Thus was the concept of Status Magic given to Arcadia's people, and on the eve of his retirement from the newly renamed Galdurian Arc Warden Academy, he described the concept of classes, advanced classes, and divinely granted access to intense concentrations of magic that were known simply as skills.

Though he explained much, Galdurath also, quite purposefully, left much of the system unexplained, which helped encourage more advanced minds to test its limits, and in so doing, expand them. The part that infuriated Dagorath most, was that it was now the planet's natural power, and the power of the Warden's own natural abilities, that elevated them to potential that could rival his Demon Lords. His father wasted not a drop of his power constantly fueling his Wardens, nor did he have to wait for that power to recoup.

Heroic adventurers, those with skills in certain types of magic or weapons, began to answer the Arc Wardens' call from across the world, forging permanent alliances between elves, humans, beastfolk, and merfolk to vanquish the infernal armies of the God of War. Though many lives were lost, the Arc Wardens managed to destroy each Demon Lord within a few years of their rise, restoring a fragile peace for a time. Yet every victory left scars on Arcadia's surface, the hearts of its people, and their weeping Goddess. With each new Demon Lord her despair grew, and for a long time, no one, not even her husband, could rouse her from her sorrow. Each soul who passed through her divine abode after dying to her son's abominations only reinforced her despair, and stoked Galdurath's anger.

The Age of Wardenfire ​

Unable to bear the ongoing carnage twisting her most cherished creations directly caused by her beloved baby boy, Laurelin withdrew in a deep depression to the far northern pole, into the ethereal complex that mortals revered as the Divine Fortress of Eldarheim. Enclosed by glacial peaks and hidden behind swirling magical auroras, it became a sanctuary where she could grieve and reflect. Her presence in the mortal realm grew all but nonexistent.

Meanwhile, Galdurath took more direct responsibility for Arcadia's future. He reasoned that by continuously advancing magic and technology, mortals could better protect themselves from Dagorath's twisted outbursts, and once a Demon Lord could rise and be felled within a day, he hoped that his son would see the foolish futility of his actions, and renounce this senseless bloodshed. With this goal in mind, he encouraged the Arc Wardens to refine their spellcraft, build grand cities brimming with arcane marvels, and improve their capacity to fight monsters. The power of flight was soon achieved, as advanced classes were discovered and unlocked. Magically powered ships began soaring the skies, and regularly rained down spells and martially skilled adventurers who were unrivaled in combat onto wandering hordes of monsters.

Though she had retreated in despair, Laurelin could not entirely ignore the mortal's cries for help. Driven by compassion from the genuine pleas of her favored races, she gifted certain priests and chosen adventurers with healing miracles and enhancement magic, blessings that empowered heroes to stand against monsters and other terrors when the darkness seemed all-consuming. Knowing she would find herself eventually, Galdurath had, naturally, incorporated classes who could give life as well as take it, and thus more natural oriented classes also began appearing in the groups that formed to put down Dagorath's spawn. It was the Warden's bravery that eventually drew her from her malaise, and she raised several of those heroic souls to the status of Divine Paragon, immortal and divinely blessed Champions who managed to reach beyond the System's level cap of two hundred. She kept these powerufl warrior's souls sequestered and hidden in the far northern pole of the planet. A plan was slowly forming in her mind, and for it to work in conjunction with Galdurath's efforts, she knew each mortal race would require a Champion.



Over the course of many wars, heroic adventurers, often times aided by Laurelin's holy spells from one of her sages, druids, and clerics, drove back each successive Demon Lord. Over time, adventuring became both profession and entertainment, with the Arc Wardens codifying official ranks and bestowing ever more grandiose insignias within their hierarchy. There were, after all, numerous foul monsters in the world now, and the strongest of warriors should not be wasted wiping out tiny goblin nests, when fresher adventurers could do it as well, and gain more experience as a result.

There were also higher levels of monster, as Dagorath made use of the planet's System as well. Like adventurer, monsters also gained classes, it just took them much longer. The worst of these, were the dragons. Trained and grown by Dagorath himself, the winged monstrosities were his attempt at mirroring his mother, and her kind of magic. His success managed to forever darken a large swath of her precious planet, and that more than anything, made her determined to stop her son. Permanently.

One way or another, he would atone for what he had become. The Goddess of Life began sharing her own skills with her most devoted followers, and almost overnight, adventurers became much harder to kill.



To better organize the constant flow of would-be heroes, the Arc Wardens established the global organization known simply as the Adventurer's Guild. With Galdurath's aid (and amusement, for he had been one such adventurer himself before he was ever a God), they laid out six core tiers of advancement, each reflecting the adventurer's skill, magical aptitude, and overall contributions to Arcadia's defense. The lowest and first of these tiers was bronze, where fresh recruits were given simple tasks like gathering herbs and ores for potions and weapons, or wiping out nests of smaller monsters.

Next was steel, by far the largest rank, this was where those with average skills that were unlikely to ever really advance ended up. The majority of adventurers journeyed and formed parties at this rank, and often they formed guilds within the Adventurer's Guild of multiple steel ranked parties, with which they could handle larger forces. Above them were mithril ranked adventurers, those who had true potential and never stopped advancing. They had the drive and luck needed to survive dangerous quests, and they did not know fear, thus they delved ever deeper into monster hordes, sometimes perhaps a bit too heedless of the dangers they could discover.

Adamantine adventurers were considered the elite, and were often granted titles or lands under an Arc Warden's domain. They were largely tasked with training bronze parties into steel ranked ones, and with them leading said parties, kept their domains safe from the ever encroaching violence seeking monstrosities of the God of War. Above them were runic ranked adventurers, genuine heroes who were often blessed by one of the Gods in a particular skill or fighting style, fearless and well equipped with magical artifacts gained through lifetimes of questing and dungeon delving, their experiences hardened them into monster killing one-man armies. They tended not to form parties, and if they did, only did so with other runic or adamantine ranked adventurers, and usually not for very long. There were of course exceptions to that rule, as certain advanced classes, like knights, began forming orders to pass on their skills to the next generation in a manner that would survive eons. Luckily, the Status Magic also helped with this. As long as one was the same class as the skill they desired to learn, training and practice would eventually grant it.

Finally, at the top of he hierarchy, but still considered lesser than an Arc Warden, draconic ranked adventurers were the final ace up the sleeve of every domain. Only usually appearing when a calamity class monster showed up, they were considered living legends, and often, led entire branches of the Adventurer's Guild. Monsters on that level were almost always one of Dagorath's dragons, or a monstrosity on par with one. Once one reached that status, becoming inducted into the Arc Wardens was all but guaranteed, and Arc Wardens, or those with their level of magical potential, were considered draconic class adventurers by default, once they reached a certain level. Naturally, their offspring were also typically near or at the same level as their forebears, and with time, special academies formed in Arcadia's largest cities to train these ridiculously skilled children into the next generation of living legends, often expediting their rise through the Adventurer's Guild and its ranks and being granted top tier items and relics from the start of their journeys.

The Dungeon Era


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Once again, time passed, and over millennia, this hierarchy fostered a functional, if stratified, society. The magically supreme became Arc Wardens, while the rest of the people, namely those without incredible magical aptitude, were relegated to the menial, dangerous, and darker side of their society. With power, came corruption, and Arc Wardens went from being defenders of the planet, to people who could ruin a commoner's entire life if they felt like doing so.

Remarkably, after a particularly nasty Demon Lord who'd reigned for forty years of darkness was slain by a party of draconic ranked adventurers led by the most powerful Arc Warden of the Age of Wardenfire, Arcadia entered an extended era of calm. No monstrous armies emerged to threaten the capitals, and the dreaded southern polar regions where Dagorath's corrupt creatures once marched forth from, lay quiet. The world at large turned its attention to commerce, art, and technological progress under Galdurath's guiding hand.

Human blacksmiths invented new metal alloys, elves honed magical horticulture that could feed entire cities, and adventurers safeguarded roads from lingering monsters. Draconic tier heroes faded into legend. Some believed the threat of war had truly ended, as the peaceful era lasted for centuries.



Yet this peace brought unintended consequences. With no great battles to unify them and only small groups of monsters popping up more and more infrequently, the mortal races gradually sank into complacency. The Arc Wardens, flush with wealth and privilege, grew preoccupied with maintaining their lofty status. Taxes rose, magical artifacts remained locked behind bureaucratic charters, and corruption festered in the guildhalls. Without epic quests to sponsor, local leaders hoarded resources for their own comfort.

In an effort to stymie this stagnation, Galdurath used his magic and the world-spanning leylines to occasionally spawn Dungeons, full of magic ore, rare herbs, and of course, high tier loot created by the randomness of the arcane. These dungeons, powered by the core of the world itself, naturally, and by design, attracted Dagorath's minions, splitting his armies of monsters up across the world, and beyond even his reach from his seat of power on the South Pole, the dread fortress of Golgorrath. In time, the monsters within the numerous Dungeons ended up forming their own kingdoms, separate from Dagorath, though they still universally worshiped him as their God, and he would, sometimes, begrudgingly empower them, mostly out of irritation, so that his father's precious adventurers delving greedly for loot would find only despair and ruin waiting in those dark labyrinths.

As the centuries rolled on, despite the success of Dungeons keeping the adventurers sharp and questing, a mounting disparity crystalized. Those born with considerable magic or resource connections enjoyed the privileges of advanced artifacts, easy access to healing, and comfortable city homes. Meanwhile, commoners, especially those with scant magical talent, scraped by in cramped urban districts or rural settlements far from the Guild's protection.

Arcadia had once championed unity in the face of Demon Lords, but now wealth and status were concentrated among the Arc Wardens and high-ranking adventurers who turned wealthy off of their Dungeon delving, leaving the majority of mortals without large magical reserves vulnerable to exploitation, and surges of low level monsters capable of leaving Dungeons. The gilded white towers of Arcadia's glorious cities that had once symbolized hope became monuments to inequality.

Laurelin witnessed this slow rot from the solitude of her northern fortress. Her tears once more fell upon its white stone ramparts as she recalled the dream she and Galdurath had once shared. Had they truly condemned their children to a life of hierarchical oppression?

She saw no easy solution. If she swept down and revoked the Arc Wardens' power, what new chaos might fill that vacuum in this age of unchecked greed?



Arcadia stood on the brink of another pivotal chapter in its history, one shaped not by Demon Lords or monstrous invasions, but by the moral decay of a stagnating society. Even Galdurath, ever the optimist, sensed that Arcadia's magic-laden brilliance was becoming dull, when so many of the just over two billion inhabitants of the modern era remained excluded from its fruits.

Laurelin, unwilling to see her creation slip further into cruelty, contemplated a drastic measure. She recalled her and Galdurath's wanderings in the broader Multiverse, where lost civilizations sometimes found salvation in an unexpected traveler or a revolutionary concept from beyond their world. Perhaps an outside influence could jolt Arcadia awake, reminding them of their original ideals and bridging the gulf between the powerless majority and the privileged few.

With that final resolution, the Goddess of Life stirred from her hidden domain, a glimmer of resolve shining in her sorrowful eyes. Her divine mind drifted across the far reaches of space and time, calling forth a champion unsullied by Arcadia's rigid hierarchy, a brave, kind soul who might inspire hope rather than merely enforce order, and change their decaying society for the better. Yet, in her deepest heart, she hoped they would not just shake the foundations of this new, and to her perspective, modern Arcadia. She also hoped for a soul that would bring redemption, atonement, and balance to her long lost baby boy, and with that wish in her heart, her divinely guided gaze settled upon the Sol system, and third rock floating around its Sun.

---

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 1: Truck-kun Doesn't Brake For Heroes

I tried going first person for this one, because isekai, and I'd say it went well. The perspective will be mostly third person from Chapter 2 onward.​

---

"So what are your plans for this weekend? Anything fun?"

"Ehh. Sleep. Video games. Weed. The usual." I replied to my boss. She was an older woman with decades of experience as the one who coordinated us trainers, and helped our puppers get adopted for the animal shelter we worked at. She was a bit hard for most people to get along with, apparently, but I'd never had a problem. Mostly because my work ethic wasn't garbage. She was older in her years, so 'twenty six' instead of the usual twenty five I defaulted to for women's ages in the name of survival, which meant that if heavy shit needed to be lifted, I lifted it. If there was menial data entry to do, I did it. Mucking out the kennels was a shared job, but I didn't complain, and all the animals tended to like me, even if at first some of the skittish rescues saw my thick six foot two frame and quailed in terror. After some food, pets, and belly rubs, in that order, they typically warmed up to me and my magic fingers.

My boss gave me a look. "Weed and video games huh? Y'know most men stop doing that when they're almost thirty."

I smirked back at her, knowingly. "You would think that, but actually, no. Most modern guys default to exactly that, especially when they're single and their love life is D.O.A." One of our coworkers clapped out the series of fast claps from the theme song of Friends, as she apparently heard me. My boss and I chuckled. "At least, the ones that I know do, anyway. Besides, you know me. All about that work/life balance and keeping that stuff in control. Just enough weed to take the edge off, just enough video games to recharge my brain after hearing Miss Barksalot for six hours." Miss Barksalot had an actual name, but nobody ever heard it, because she never shut the fuck up when she saw new humans, and her high pitched bark could, and had, driven people to the edge of madness. It would take her months before she acclimated to a new person's presence.

My boss gave me a different look then, amused as usual by my aloof answer, her tone turned more serious. "Is your leg still bothering you? You should really get that looked at."





My leg, broken in an incident I didn't like thinking about because how it had happened was depressingly embarrassing, had been repaired with modern science, screws, plates, and good ol' American eye bulging six digit hospital bills. Naturally, the insurance company refused to cover it. Somehow, multiple X rays, a 'bone fixator,' and a whole bunch of other ridiculously expensive treatments were deemed 'not medically necessary'. That left me holding the bag. Four times now I'd had to harass them through endless phone tag with their automated robots, trying to get them to cover what they'd promised to cover back when I'd been in the hospital. Back then, I'd had a feeling their words were utter BS, but I'd been drugged out of my mind and didn't think to get the rep's name or anything in writing. Their scam attempts, to this day, still continued, as every few months I'd get a brand new bill with the same charges all over again. This kind of refusal, claiming vital treatments weren't necessary, was a depressingly common scam by insurance companies all across America. Yet they acted surprised when one of their CEOs ended up shot, repeatedly, in the head, in broad daylight, right on the street.

Some people called the murderer a hero. Others called him a monster. Me, I saw him as somewhere in between. I understood his frustration; these rich corporate assholes desperately needed a wake up call. Maybe a less fatal one would have been better, but peaceful protests didn't seem to move the needle anymore, and corporate greed showed no signs of slowing down. They wanted to limit anesthesia next, or at least how much they paid for it, with limits that would hit mid-surgery. Literally robbing people on the operating table. I had a feeling more people were going to snap under the financial strain and that would lead to more deaths, especially in a country as gun filled as America. It was a recipe for bloodbath, but I wanted no part of that mess. No amount of medical debt was worth ending up in our even worse Prison system and, obviously, murder is bad, m'kay.

My leg still hurt, despite my best efforts to make it stronger. I'd done my rehab, rolled the joint through the alphabet so many times I became sick of letters, and made the best purchase of my life, a stationary exercise bike that also sometimes helped with my weight problem. And it still fucking hurt. All. The. Time. But Mary Jane dulled that edge, and gave me fun thoughts, so I saw the tradeoff as fair.

"I'm fine." I said, mostly meaning it. "Once my fat ass slims down, it'll get better. Probably."





"And if it doesn't, you should go see a Doctor." My boss admonished, but there was no way in Hell I'd go to a Doctor for anything less than a fatal injury at this point. When simple things like X Rays cost over half a grand, (or probably more, by now) it was simply not a feasible option. Not if I wanted to pay rent. And eat. "Go take Falkor for a walk. Then you can clock out, and start your bachelor's weekend." Her tone turned to gentle mockery at the end, but it was all in good fun. Even if it was depressingly accurate. There would very likely be no female presences in my immediate future, and I had long since come to terms with that.

Falkor, was an adorable Goldendoodle with what I liked to call 'Velociraptor-level Intelligence', namely, because the white furred floofy fucker could open doors, and had a habit of running off. Running, because of the aforementioned metal leg, was not my strong suit, but I could do it. Briefly. For a price I'd feel later. Despite his escape artistry, I loved that doodle. He was one of those old dogs who'd been at the shelter for years, and nobody wanted, but had gotten his name because of his ears and those sleepy, derpy eyes of his that looked like the Luckdragon from The NeverEnding Story. I liked him, he liked me, and we had an understanding.

There was wisdom in those old eyes, and I had a feeling he could tell my leg wasn't the best. So if he kept his shit in line, and his pace slow, he'd get treats after our daily walks, even though he much preferred running around. Age had not slowed him. I spoiled him rotten with milk bones, because he was one of our goodest boys, and deserved all three of them. He was also pretty old, and had had a rough life as a puppy, though apparently he'd had an easier life once he'd arrived at the shelter. His floofy white tail started wagging, thumping against the carpeted floor as I found him lounging in a sunbeam, one of the last puppers still out in our common room this late on a Friday, mostly because he didn't cause trouble and had a tendency to keep the troublemakers in line until we wrangled them.





"Heyyy, Falkor." I said, grinning at him, since apparently canines could interpret facial expressions. "Ready for a Walk!?" His floofy ears perked up at his second favorite word, but he rolled onto his back, tongue lolling, his tail still wagging and shaking his entire body as it did, his belly prominently and hopefully displayed for a nice rub.

I couldn't deny this boi, and gave him a solid sixty seconds of belly rubs, before I had to stand upright again. "Alright bud, let's go." He rolled onto his floofy feet, and sat, wiggling excitedly as I put his leash on.

New York City was as busy as ever, and Falkor had his mouth open and his tongue lolling. His sleepy, derpy eyes looked at everyone they passed with joy, but most New Yorkers didn't pay him any mind. His tail started wagging again, as we came upon probably his favorite human, outside the shelter. I, perhaps unwisely, gave him some lead on the automatic retracting leash, as I shouted at the old, overweight, Italian stereotype that ran the closest street hot dog vendor. "Yo! Tony! Incoming!"

"Falkor! Amico mio!" The old man started giving the old doodle some rough but affectionate scritches. Falkor preferred gentle touches, but there wasn't much he wouldn't do for Old Tony's 'nearly' expired hot dogs. "You again, cucciolone! Always begging. Here, take this, before it goes bad!"

I walked up behind Falkor, as the old doggo gnoshed on his meat. Tony grinned knowingly at me. "And how about you, amico? Hungry today?"





I shook my head. "I had a big lunch, Tony. Thank you, though."

The old man winked and tapped his nose. "I see you. Trying to keep the weight off, eh? Maybe land a woman?" He waggled his bushy salt and pepper eyebrow.

I chuckle snorted. "Women cost money, Tony. I don't have that kind of disposable income."

Tony nodded in agreement. Tony nodded in agreement. "I get it, amico. Hey, you're perspicace, eh? What do you think of il Presidente's tariffs? Mi nipote says he's a genius. Buys his...how do you say…'meem coin.' But I don't know... Starting fights with allies over trade, it's brutto affare. Nothing good ever comes from a war of wallets."

I nodded in agreement, as I expected 'il Presidente' to drive the country into an economic crater, like he'd done last time, in the middle of a plague, and like every Republican had before him. But that was what Americans wanted, apparently.

It was as I sighed my way through a halfhearted conversation about the imminent and probable collapse of the country that I noticed Falkor was quite far from me, in the middle of a rather busy street, tail wagging as he nosed up next to a young little kiddo, who was holding a fresh hot dog no doubt from Tony's cart. The sight was adorable, and low-key restored some of my faith in humanity. But it didn't last.

A loud and somehow ominous horn ripped through the air, and I got a sinking feeling in my chest. Tony said something in a tone of alarm, but I didn't register his words, I was already moving. The child froze as the horn ripped through the air, Falkor stayed by his side, ears and tail raised in response to the oncoming noise. Being large and slow though, I ended up in the middle of the road with them as the truck responsible for the loud horn somehow came hurtling around the nearest corner at a speed that should have tipped it over, but didn't. Falkor's tail stopped wagging as he turned toward me, eyes widening in something close to confusion. He barked once, short, sharp, and almost like a plea. The kiddo clung to Falkor's fur, his big brown eyes reflecting nothing but fear. He didn't cry. He just stood there, petrified, waiting for someone to do something.

That someone, I decided, had to be me.

I scooped them both up without thinking, the motion rough but necessary. Falkor yelped softly and immediately started trying to wriggle free, and the kid gasped as I cradled them awkwardly against my chest. I didn't even bother trying to run, as I knew I was too slow, and the truck was moving too fast. Time was against us, so, I leapt for it, desperate to at least get the pupper and the child to the curb.

My eyes widened as I heard an unpleasant and chillingly familiar snap, from my bad leg, under the weight of my fat ass, the child, and Falkor, and I lost my balance as I landed, my brave, heroic leap becoming more of an awkward, flailing stumble. Gritting my teeth through the intense pain rapidly rising through my ankle and leg, I used my stupidly long limbs to my advantage, and rougher than I meant to, but not enough to harm them, I tossed the little one onto the curb, with a hard landing on his tiny bottom. He seemed surprised, but unhurt. Falkor also yelped, not liking what I had to do, but as he whirled and looked at me, and my sad, knowing smile, he understood. I'd stumbled backwards, practically back to the middle of the road, and my ankle was turned at a bad angle. I could see it in his wise, derpy eyes. He knew I couldn't move in time.





But I didn't just sit there. Nerd that I was, I'd seen enough isekai to know how this went. I tried to get up, but my ankle was properly fucked, too fucked to even stand on, just like when I'd first broken it. I was not getting up again, and though I contemplated trying to roll away, truck-kun would not be denied. The last thing I saw was Falkor, bless his fluffy heart, barking frantically and running towards me, a loyal boy to the end, even though I knew it was too late. The truck was simply moving too fast, and my rational brain already knew the math. A truck that size and weight, with its considerable mass going well over the posted speed limit of thirty five. I was as fucked as my leg was. The blaring horn's roar became overpowering, and then, the world went white.

As the sound of truck-kun's horn faded into unnerving silence, a golden glow suffused the blank void I found myself in, bathing the space with warmth. It wasn't just light; it was a presence, one that I could somehow sense. It was powerful...but there was genuine kindness there. A 'good vibe' as the Zoomers would call it. Slowly, the glow coalesced into a humanoid shape, and before me stood a woman who could only be described as divinely beautiful.

She was impossibly perfect in terms of aesthetics, with long hair that shimmered like gold, yet also had a silver sheen to it as well, cascading in waves down her back. Her skin and eyes had a faint golden glow, and her eyes were large and expressive. Her flowing blue dress, adorned with intricate starry patterns, seemed alive, constantly shifting like the night sky.

"Welcome, Hero." She said, her voice melodic and soothing as if it bypassed my ears and spoke directly to my soul. "You may call me Laurelin."

I blinked, still trying to process where I was or, more accurately, the fact that I really had just been obliterated by a speeding truck. "Am I... dead?"

She gave a small, understanding smile and nodded gracefully. "In a sense, yes. Your mortal life on Earth has ended, but your story is far from over. You are the one that I sensed. The one that I Chose, this time. The one that will redeem my beloved world. Arcadia."

"Chose?" I echoed dumbly, still trying to make sense of everything. "Did...did your choice send that fucking truck my way!? Because that hurt! A lot!"

Her laugh was light, like wind through leaves. "Not...quite." Her expression sobered, as she continued to speak. "Your mortal coil was doomed to end soon...I simply...altered your ultimate Fate, a bit. Tested the strength of your character for myself. I must say, I am not disappointed. Your kind treatment of others in your life and jobs in society, and your decisions in your final moments, showed great courage and selflessness. You risked everything to save an innocent child and a loyal companion, knowing the likely cost and despite your injury slowing you. Such heroism is exactly what I had hoped for."





I blinked in disbelief. "Wai- wha- how- I was going to die soon!?"

Laurelin nodded, sadly. "I will not reveal the path of a Fate now avoided...but know that your end would have hurt far more than the truck. It gave you a quick end, and a chance for heroism."

I tried to blink, but couldn't. It was at that point, that I realized my body was gone. That made sense. It was probably in a hundred pieces by now. My eyes, or whatever I was using to perceive my surroundings, saw what was left of me as a floating speck of coalesced energy which, I had an unnerving feeling, would have simply dispersed elsewhere into the universe, had Laurelin not had her eye upon me.

Finally, I said, "What about...what about my family? My life on Earth? Falkor? Are he and the kiddo safe, at least?"

Laurelin's expression shifted to sadness, and I felt a surge of despair and worry. "Your loyal friend...was with you, at the end. Heedless of the danger, he ran to help you...and sadly, shared your Fate... The child is alive, and I spared him from seeing what becomes of a body after a fast moving vehicles strikes it. He will honor your memory the rest of his life, and become a close friend of your family...assuming the strands of Fate do not shift overmuch, from my tampering. Your death will be ruled a hit-and-run, and the NYPD will not be able to find the truck that ended you."





I was still processing that Falkor had died too. I wanted to cry, but couldn't. I had no tear ducts, all I could do was radiate sorrow, in silence. Laurelin, Goddess that she was, sensed this. "If it alleviates your pain...you should know that loyal Falkor chose to join you. His own end was also quite close, this he was aware of...and he could not just leave you, the one who fed him such delicious treats and gave such kind belly rubs, to depart this world alone."

My sorrow only quadrupled, and my soulspark shuddered. "Oh dear..." Laurelin murmured. "I...I apologize. I had not expected his will to overpower his instinct to survive. He was not supposed to perish like that, but rather in his sleep, quietly and peacefully."

"Laurelin..." I finally croaked with whatever I was using to produce my voice, "That's not...it's not helping. I...I'm glad I know, but..." The sorrow now mixed with guilt, as I had to come to terms with the fact that my friendly, derpy boi had gone out with me, because I was getting isekai'd, apparently. Because that was a thing that actually happened, apparently. The nerdy weeb within me was, admittedly, hyped, but the cost had been poor Falkor... Questions began forming within what was left of my mind, but Laurelin remained silent, letting me process and cope. Mentally, silently, I asked if she could hear my thoughts. She didn't answer, but I wasn't entirely convinced.

Regardless, this information created a new resolve in me. If I was going to get yeeted to another life in another world to solve its problems for what seemed to be a genuinely Good aligned Deity, I was going to do it right, dammit. Finally, I said, "Tell me...of Arcadia." I knew of the name, that it had, if I recalled correctly, Grecian origins, related to a lush and verdant paradise. I also had enough pop culture awareness to recognize her own name, and the Legends from whence it came. That alone was quite interesting to my nerdy disembodied ass, but I resolved to save the topic for perhaps a more appropriate time. As kind a Goddess as Laurelin was, I knew there was likely a limit to what she would divulge here, at the start of whatever otherworldly madness awaited me.





Laurelin smiled at me, and said, "Arcadia is a verdant and magic-filled paradise, created by myself and my beloved husband, but it is teetering on the edge of stagnation and corruption. The magically gifted ruling elites of our society, known to all as the Arc Wardens, have grown complacent, and those without enough magical power to become adventurers or nobility suffer under their rule. The Arc Wardens and those with powerful magic make up about five percent of Arcadia's roughly two billion souls. The rest, are relegated to lower caste lives, and often they suffer for it. The peaceful balance of life and magic that my world was founded upon is eroding, thanks to the steps we have had to take in response to...to..."

Her voice grew somber, and the golden glow around her dimmed slightly as she continued her exposition dump. "In response to the barbaric actions of my son. Once a paragon of noble competition and honor, he has fallen into...pure darkness. He sows chaos and strife, and revels in slaughter. The Mortals who worship him change into monstrous forms. To sow the chaos and disorder he desires, he has been unleashing the arbiters of his will who have been blessed by shards of his Divine power. My people have named them Demon Lords. The children of my world cry out for a savior, and...I still hold hope that, some how, some day, my beloved Dagorion will come to his senses and repent his dark deeds...though at this point...I know not if Arcadia will let him."

I frowned, trying to take it all in. "But...why choose me? I mean...I've been aware I'm kinder than most other Humans for some time now, but I'm not a saint. There are those in my world who I genuinely hated. And honestly, Goddess Laurelin...it sounds like those corrupting your world are not so different from the kind of people I despised. People born with privilege, who abuse it at every opportunity."





Her gaze softened. "You are far more than your emotions, dear Hero. Your strong moral fiber, your capacity for compassion, and your willingness to act in the face of fear, all these qualities make you the perfect candidate, and...I know well that there will be bloodshed, if and when the ruling Arc Wardens and the hierarchy they have created are overturned. I would have you guide them, and those who come after them, as best you can. I will, of course, aid you in this, as will my husband, the God of Magic, Galdurath. Arcadia needs someone who understands the value of Balance, someone who can inspire change, and guide them back to the right path. Together, I believe we can accomplish this."

"So, save your world from overpowered magical elitists, save the soul of a corrupted Dark God, and guide your completely foreign society back to the right moral path...no pressure..." I muttered at the end of my recap, earning another chuckle from her. "Alright, let's say I agree. What's the plan?"

Her mirth faded once again. "I believe your world is familiar with this concept, of being brought to another world during your life, or upon your death. Though many among you believe it to be mere fantasy. In keeping with your culture, I shall grant you three Boons, to aid you in your next life. You may decide what they are for yourself."





I frowned, but then remembered, I no longer had a face. "So...what are my limitations, exactly?"

Laurelin smirked at me, a glint of mischief in her divine eyes. "What limits do you believe a Deity possesses? There is not much I could not grant you, Hero."

A little exasperated, I responded, "Could...you give me an example?"

Her smirk widened. "If you desire the ability to travel time with a magical musical instrument whilst wielding a powerful and somewhat sentient sword, complete with green clothing and a kit of various and useful tools, I could make it so. If you wish for your body to be able to enter a 'Super' state, by perhaps becoming more muscular, blonde haired, and ever more powerful, even when you're beaten to within an inch of your life, that is within my power. If you desire Telekinesis, and the ability to influence thoughts and reality itself, whilst clad in stately brown robes and armed with a sword of focused plasma, I could make that happen as well. The plasma swords, Lightsabers, I believe your people called them, are quite a popular choice."

I was, in a word, stunned. "I...I don't even...You're telling me I could be a time-traveling Super Saiyan with a freaking Lightsaber!?" I said, combining all three, to test the boundaries of her offer. Once more, she chuckled.

"Complete with a sentient blue time traveling phone box, if you wish it."





My disbelief magnified. "That's just...what even...HOW!? How do you even know all these...oh, right, Deity, I guess there's some level of Omnipotence, but you said other Universes have Lightsabers too? Like...what? Help me understand, please."

Laurelin seemed quite amused by my emotional state, but for me, it felt like an emotional roller coaster. Mercifully, she exposited some more information for my whirling mind. "I can confirm for you; the Multiverse is incomprehensibly vast, and the tropes and heroes you spent your life learning of may very well exist, somewhere within it, in some form. Likely, a form you're familiar with, studious pop culture enjoyer that you were. Mortal cultures are often affected by what Galdurath, myself, and other beings on our level call Dimensional Echoes. These echoes are like...waves of energy that affect a part of reality your species, in your Universe at least, has yet to understand, or even discover provably exists. These waves have patterns embedded into them which radiate across the entirety of the Multiverse, and have a habit of manifesting in forms that you, and your considerable collection of cultural knowledge, will likely recognize, if you choose the ability to traverse the Multiverse as one of your Boons."

"I'm...I'm gonna need a minute..." I said, properly stunned. It was all a bit much. After a moment, I said, "Does it have to be three? Can I acquire more Boons? Can you give me, say, five instead of three?"

Her kind eyes turned sharper, as she stared at the energy that comprised my soul. "You are well aware the dangers of Greed, young Hero. However...because the task I have given you is so monumental, and dear to my heart, I will tell you this: there are limits. Your Boons will grow and change, as you do in Arcadia, but they will start off comparatively weak. Your actions and efforts will be the catalyst for this change. To answer your question...yes. You may acquire more than three. I will not yet divulge how, though, nor will I grant more than three, at this point. On Arcadia, great deeds are heavily rewarded, so I recommend choosing Boons that will help you achieve that greatness."





Slight panic set in, as I realized I could very easily screw myself with the wrong setup, but thankfully, I'd seen that done before, and had a general idea of what would likely end up being useful in a reincarnation situation. One thing was clear, though. I needed more context. Cautious of the new sharpness in her kind eyes, I probed some more. "In most examples of this scenario on my world, the Heroes in question often end up with surprise or unexpected, but not unwelcome, aid from their Divine patrons in the form of minor blessings. Should I expect the same? And if so, could you tell me what they are? I don't want to waste such an important gift on overlap."

Laurelin was quiet for longer than expected, and I started to wonder if I'd overstepped. Finally, she spoke. "Your new body will possess the magical potential of an Arc Warden. This will inevitably cement your status among the magical elite, for there are good souls among them that could become Great, with the right guidance. With this potential, will come access to what we call Status Magic, a concept I believe you should be familiar with. It will provide a display not unlike your 'video games' to aid you in managing your skills, attributes, and any items you gather. You will also be able to manipulate your natural magical energy in whatever manner you desire, though on Arcadia, this is primarily done by casting what your people call Spells. In addition to that, you will speak and understand the spoken and written language of my world, without having to learn it the hard way."

I nodded, which equated to me bobbing up and down in place. "I umm, assume your world has some form of currency, as well?"

Laurelin nodded. "Your skills will allow you to acquire as much as you need, provided you make the effort."

Painfully aware that her answers were getting shorter and less expository, I thought quickly and quietly, for a long time.





If Arcadia was a world inundated with, assuming the Goddess was accurate and truthful, around one hundred million magically gifted people who, if the 'Dimensional Echo' pattern held, were likely some kind of adventurer ranked by skill and magical aptitude, then there was no point in asking for ninth level spells. If spells could be cast, I had no doubt they could be Counterspelled, and it was here that my D&D knowledge blended with anime, as I recalled a particular protagonist who was famous, or perhaps more accurately infamous for his unique and unprecedented ability to literally cut through the absurdly powerful spells the wizards in his universe had at their disposal with his giant black devil sword. I wasn't obnoxiously loud and energetic, nor would I be declaring myself the Wizard King, but if I wanted fame, breaking people's magic on a world that seemed to be all but drowning in it was a good way to get noticed.

Being a powerful spellcaster among powerful spellcasters would not be enough to do what Laurelin desired of me. I had to connect with both the overpowered magical elite, and the downtrodden and likely less magically gifted lower castes of her society, if I wanted to truly bring about lasting changes. Thus, I tentatively asked another question unrelated to Boons. "Goddess Laurelin," I started with respect in my tone, "I believe I have the shape of what I will need for my first Boons. But...I do need to know...do all people of Arcadia have magic within them? Or are there those born without any at all?"

She blinked, her eyes becoming less intense as she seemed...genuinely confused as to why I wanted, nay, needed to know. "It is...exceedingly rare for someone to be born without any magic within them whatsoever. My Galdurath's blessings upon the world and his role in its creation guarantee that. There are methods of stripping someone's magical power away...but only if they are already very magically weak, and possess a truly small amount of power. Most of our technology requires at least a tiny bit of magic for the people to use it."





I asked for more exposition, then. What kind of races lived there? Were those with magic organized into a hierarchy below Arc Wardens? Did the various races and beastfolk get along, or were they divided and prejudiced? What stats and attributes exactly, did Status Magic display, and what exactly did each one connect to?

I learned Arcadia had a veritable kaleidoscope of sentient species, there was indeed an Adventurer's Guild, complete with ranking system, quests, and even loot-spawning Dungeons (which would be the main source of my monetary wealth, apparently), and that all these races did in fact get along. There were exceptions of course, the all too familiar mindsets of those who claimed their kind was somehow naturally superior to everyone else, but it seemed Laurelin and Galdurath had done a fantastic job of nipping prejudice in the bud. This made my job infinitely easier.

Attributes and stats, praise the Goddess, were apparently the same as they tended to be universally. Intelligence was linked to magic power, and spell potency. Strength would make me hit things harder, make me able to last longer in fights, take more heavy hits and be able to stay alive and standing, and able to lift increasingly heavier objects. Dexterity helped with dodging, sneakiness, and things like shooting arrows, mastering single handed light blades and their sword styles, or throwing knives. Charisma would help with social situations, and could apparently cure even my natural awkwardness, or so Laurelin had assured me. I would need all of them, to be capable of facing down a God, and convincing him to end his millennia long efforts to create chaos and disorder.





To my great joy for the plan forming within my mind, stamina was, apparently, not a measured stat. One's 'hit points' as I'd called them, were directly tied to one's physical strength stat, and automagically grew as one increased their overall level. Levels, I had learned, also increased all of these stats by at least one point, so my goal was not impossible, but, I had been warned that the stronger I grew, the more likely that my levels would result in boosting some stats and not others, depending on the path I took. If I neglected any, it would, eventually, show up as a price I would have to pay.

"Alright, fair Goddess." I said, projecting confidence, as a plan came together. "I am decided on my initial Boons." Laurelin's eyes widened, and the smile had returned. I hoped she was even more convinced of my worthiness, after my lengthy adjustment period to the fact that I was dead, so was my little floofy buddy, and the fact that I was apparently being isekai'd. Hopefully, my choices didn't disappoint her, or end up being objectively useless.

"First!" I practically shouted, "I want my new body to be extremely durable! I want to be able to tank a hit from Truck-kun, and live! Just make me extremely, naturally, tough!" That made her smile, but she nodded. This was, by far, my most selfish Boon. After breaking twice in my last life, I was absolutely terrified of what the beasts she had mentioned could and would do to me. But so long as my body wasn't as fragile as a basic human's, I could be exactly who she wanted me to be, I was sure. It also played into my plan pretty cleverly, at least from my perspective. Time would tell if I was right.

"Second!" I continued, "I want to greatly increase my Intelligence stat from the jump, so that I can bring my considerable knowledge of Kung Fu, specifically the Martial Arts, with me to Arcadia! I also believe the knowledge I accrued in my past life, especially the knowledge related to the philosophies behind Kung Fu will greatly aid your world." To be clear, I'd never been in a proper contest of the physical arts of Kung Fu, mainly because of my lack of physical fitness and then my injury, but I had learned the forms and practiced them, and with a body that wouldn't break, as well as Status Magic, a whole world of possibilities opened up before me.

It was here, that the Goddess interjected. "You may bring a Master's level of Martial Arts knowledge of a single Martial Art Style with you, not all of them. I will allow you to develop, learn, and master the ones you do not initially choose over time. Furthermore, you may keep some pieces of your previous life's knowledge, but things like, for example, how to split an Atom, or how your murderous Firearms work, will be erased."





I frowned a bit at that, or would have if I had a face, so instead I bobbed in place again. "In that case, I choose the Dragon Style. I'd still like to remember what I knew of Science though, Goddess. It's going to be a big help if I can convince the Arc Warden elites to listen or hear me out in exchange for otherwordly techniques and knowledge related to physics, fuel sources, and even crop farming. I spent much of my last life learning all sorts of useful things...though I uhh, never really got a chance to actually do most of them, or make use of said knowledge."

Laurelin was quiet for a moment, and then nodded. "I can sense your pure intentions. I will not cripple your understanding of your Earth Sciences, but know this: should you try to recreate your radioactive death bombs, your hand-held murder machines, or any other of the many devices you Earthlings use to slaughter each other, I will scrub your knowledge completely, and without warning. You may even not survive the process, or be left in a vegetative state for a time as a result."

I gulped audibly, despite not currently having a throat. "I'd never dream of creating such things, Goddess. Like you seem to...I also despise guns and nuclear weapons. My world started spiraling into the shitshow it's currently in once we advanced those two technologies specifically...and it's not going to get any better. You have my word, I will not deliver the knowledge of how to more efficiently end innocent lives to Arcadia, and if you wish it of me, I will even personally scour such knowledge so that it never has a chance to manifest, if you want me to." I figured a Fireball must be just as deadly as a gun, but for all I knew, there were wards to prevent casting spells for war in Arcadia's cities. Or, there were no such wards, and Laurelin simply wished for there not to be yet another way to easily take someone's life, on her planet. I got the sense she was very tired of seeing her children die to her son's wars, and the oppression of the caste system.





"Finally..." I said, somewhat less excitedly, as I knew my final Boon, that was probably closer to a Wish, in D&D terms. It was one I'd had since I'd manifested here, and learned what had befallen me, and my favorite floofy friend. "I want Falkor to come with me. He's a good boy...and he lost what time he had left of his comfy life because of me, short though it apparently was. That doggo lived every day to its fullest, and seemed to enjoy every minute. The least I can do is let him take part in my new one, and...it'd be nice to have someone from home, with me. So I don't get too homesick."

Laurelin's face shifted to a new expression then, and it took me longer than it perhaps should have to realize I'd made a Goddess tear up. "The love you two have for each other...genuinely stirs my heart. That Boon, my Hero, you can have for free. United in Death, you shall be united again in your new Life." Her hands moved, and glowed with golden light, then, a moment later, a smaller spark of energy not unlike mine, appeared in this golden voidplane alongside myself and Laurelin. Again, I felt the urge to tear up, as I heard Falkor's bark, and again, I had no eyes with which to cry.

"Heyyy, buddy." I said, and the bright little spark radiated excitement, and palpable joy as he heard my voice. I always knew I was one of his favorite humans, and in his long life at the shelter he'd had many, but it seemed I had greatly underestimated just how much he liked me. It made my soulspark shine a little brighter.

Laurelin gave us a moment as Falkor's spark excitedly bobbed around mine, and then quietly 'ahemmed'.





"Ahh, right, sorry." I said, still overcome with happiness that Falkor was even still here. She was really testing my emotional range today. "In that case...I want my final Boon to be a new body for Falkor. I want him to be a Dragon. But not just any Dragon..." I said, chuckling as I spoke, "He should be as his namesake was. A Luckdragon. A wise, friendly being, who has Fate on their side. The ability to fly the skies of Arcadia, his own magical abilities and stats, and...most importantly...I want him to be able to speak and understand Language, as we do."

Laurelin wiped another tear away, and nodded, giving us a large, genuine, and downright beautiful smile. Galdurath was a lucky man...God. "A worthy Boon for a worthy soul, and one easily granted. I had worried that Arcadia and the life you would lead would be a bit...rough for one as small and fluffy as Falkor was, but this Boon has rectified my concern. He will be a companion to you for as long as your new life lasts, and when it does eventually end again, some day, you will depart to whatever comes next together." Her smile faltered slightly, then. "On Arcadia...Dragons are historically seen as the greatest of my son's dark abominations. It took him many centuries to perfect the attributes you would give to a Dragon, but he did eventually succeed in creating them, and the devastation they wrought is not easily forgotten. Falkor shall bear my mark upon his brow, and his eyes shall shine with my Light. All who look upon him will know him as a Dragon created for good...and in time, who knows?" The author of every biological entity on Arcadia gave us a playful smirk. "Perhaps Falkor will not be the only Luckdragon."

The three of us laughed, and then Laurelin raised her hands, as they shone again with her divine power. "In your time deciding your Boons, we have managed to return to the space that Arcadia resides in. From this point on, your Path is your own, Hero. When next we meet, it will be on my beloved Arcadia."





The world went white again, but now, as before, Falkor was with me, and I could sense him. Feel him, actually. And also literally. As in, with the sense of touch common to sentient beings. A musty, but not unpleasant smell filled what I recognized as my nose, though I could immediately tell it had changed in both size and shape. Bit by bit, my senses reconnected with my new body, and by the time I opened my eyes, I could literally feel it in my bones. I was strong. Durable. Whole, and unbroken. The pain that had plagued the latter half of my Earthly life was finally, mercifully gone, and I felt better than I had in decades. Perhaps I really had been sick, back on Earth. Or something. It was unnerving to think I'd almost suffered a worse fate than getting mowed down by Truck-kun. I truly owed Goddess Laurelin, and resolved then, as I opened my new, still blue eyes, that I would help her recover her clearly dearly beloved son. Even if it killed me. Even if he broke me, for fun, a thousand times over.

No longer was I on the boring, Godless, and downright murderous planet Earth. This was a world that had been created and blessed by not one but two Gods, one who I had yet to even meet, and no matter how badly I broke here, I knew from Laurelin's description that healing magic, her magic, could repair me fully. I realized as I looked around the fairly well furnished bedroom we'd appeared in, just how raw of a deal we had back on Earth. For the last time in hopefully a long time, I put the thoughts of my depressingly doomed old world aside, and found a mirror.

My eyes were drawn first, to Falkor. I smirked, as apparently Laurelin either didn't know that Luckdragons, at least those from Fantasia, actually looked remarkably like dogs, or she had purposefully decided to mold his new and evidently quite young body after what dragons looked like on this world. His scales were white, his underbelly was soft, leathery, and a fitting creamy brown, he had two folded white wings, and their leathery flaps were also the same creamy brown. His eyes lacked pupils, and shone with an energetic golden light. As promised, upon his brow and just under his tiny pair of golden brown horns that were the same color as his claws, I could see the symbol of a golden tree that rose from his eyebrows to the beginning of the small white spikes that formed a crest on his head, and went all the way down to his lizard-like tail. His body was serpentine like a Chinese dragon, but he had the four legs and two wings of a western one as well. His tiny claws gripped my arm, and to my immense satisfaction, I barely felt any pain or discomfort from them.





Then, I saw myself. My eyes were, in fact, the exact same, but that was all I'd retained from my Earth body. I was young, I realized, as I raised a hand to feel my beardless face. Too young to even grow a beard. I immediately cast my eyes downward, and started examining my new, durable body from the bottom up, my new brow furrowing as I saw fine dark leather shoes on my large feet, a pair of pressed and quality black pants covering my male parts, and a royal blue school blazer trimmed with gold. It was most definitely a posh school uniform, and even had a name tag on the breast pocket. I squinted at it, and smirked. "Drake Long? Is...is that my name? Isn't that just...dragon dragon?" I was fairly sure, at least on Earth, that 'Long' was Chinese for 'dragon', like Kung Fu was Chinese for Martial Arts. Kind of. My old Earth memory flared up as I rolled the name in my head. Drake Long. I didn't dislike it, at all, but there was...something very familiar about it. Something I felt like I should have been able to remember, and would later hit myself for not immediately realizing.

Then, finally, and somewhat hesitantly, I looked at what I had to work with in terms of my new face. I'd gotten a bit of a peek, seeing my eyes, but I'd quickly cast them downwards. Falkor was draped regally around my broad shoulders, and I realized that I'd probably end up being the same height as I'd been on Earth, once I was no longer a fucking teenager. I spoke my first words in Arcadia then, as I took in my face, and unfurrowed my new, well-kept and less bushy eyebrows. My voice wasn't quite as deep, at least not yet anyway. "Ho-lee shit. I'm a teen!" I said, purposefully raising my voice, and to my chagrin, making it crack like it had the first time I'd suffered through puberty. "And...and I'm hot!?"

In my first life, I'd never really been able to tell what women qualified as attractive, for men. Or if I fit those parameters. I'd never asked, and only two women had confirmed I'd been easy on the eyes, though that was mostly because my own eyes had been, in their words, 'dreamy'. I could admit they had been my best feature, but now, I had multiple best features. A strong jawline, classically good looks, even with my face in an expression of shock, and topped off with slightly curly and somehow fitting isekai protagonist hair. It was shorter than my last body's, and I had a feeling that was because of whatever dress code this school I was apparently enrolled in had. Falkor huffed a chuckle on my shoulders, and I heard his voice for the first time. He sounded young, but there was still a rich tone to it that was deeper than my own.

"Handsome!" He boomed in my brain, and I had to admit, he was right.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 2: Puberty Strikes Back
​

"Draaake! Time for breakfast!"


Drake Long blinked in disbelief again, still coming to terms with his objectively hot teenager body, and the uniform he was wearing. Drake had no doubt Laurelin intended for him to go to some sort of high school. His mind was racing. Puberty. Again. Homework. Again. Tests. Drama. Cliques. Again. Greeeaaaat. Term papers about useless subjects. Trapped in an uncomfortable plastic seat for six or more hours. For years. Awesome.


The dark memories of a time in his past life he was eternally glad to have been over with were resurfacing with a vengeance. He'd been as much of an awkward nerd in his last high school as he'd been as a nearly thirty year old man. He hadn't been lucky in le romance either, as the father of the one girl he'd managed to woo as a teen had arrived in her room when he'd been 'lubricating the gates' and the relationship had never recovered after that.


Then, Drake blinked again, and looked at Falkor, who had a very bemused expression on his little dragon face. "Wait…that voice…was that Laurelin?" He nodded, and they left what Drake assumed was his room, to find a rather absurdly large hallway with a high ceiling and many other closed doors along it. He decided to go left, as always, and came upon some stairs. Then, the smell of food hit them. Some kind of meat, and eggs, it seemed. Falkor smelled it too and Drake followed his forward-leaning dragon snout to the kitchen and dining area.





Goddess Laurelin was indeed there, in a lighter dress this time, blue and white and still filled with stars. She smiled as their eyes fell on the feast sitting on the dining table and said, "I figured you would appreciate a meal before heading off to the Academy."


Drake blinked. "Academy…? I just got here…as a teenager apparently…and now I'm going to a school of some sort?"


Laurelin nodded. "There's no better place to learn what you need to know! And you already know how to navigate one, so it should be no problem for you." Drake knew better than to argue. Her 'mom tone' would brook no truancy. "It's a 'boarding school' in Earth terminology, and the semester started a few days ago, just so you're aware." Drake hid his grimace as he had some lightly salted eggs.


"And it's all just…the same as what I know from Earth? Grades? Tests? Math, language, science, P.E, and…magic, probably?"


She smirked at him. "You got most of the courses just by guessing. I expect straight As from my chosen Hero." Drake groaned. Grades. Great. Awesome. Yay. He genuinely would've preferred a dank dungeon reeking with the stench of voided orc bowels, than more schooling. Both Laurelin and Falkor laughed at him, even as the dragon was munching on a small mountain of cooked sausages with a look of pure joy. "Falkor will be staying here, with me, for a time, while you get educated. I need to examine his growth, make sure it isn't stunted, and inform your Instructors that they are not to harm him when he visits you. They do not allow pets, but I know I won't be able to keep him away forever."





Drake raised an eyebrow at her. "Is he…going to fit in this place, once he's grown?"


She chuckled again. "I take it you haven't looked outside yet. You should. It's quite a sight."


Nomming on a sausage of his own, Drake stood and strode towards the paned windows lining the far wall of the eating area, and gasped, as he beheld Arcadia's sky for the first time. There was no Sun, no star to warm the far flung planet. Magical lines of energy swirled through the sky, but above them, was a truly majestic rainbow nebula. "Holy shit…" Drake muttered, in awe. Falkor jumped on his shoulders again, and Drake watched his eyes widen as well, scratching underneath his chin as they took in the sight. Laurelin joined them, a moment later.


"Well, my Hero? What do you think of the world my husband and I have created?"


Drake blinked. "Created? What, like...from scratch? Also...where's the local star that warms it? And...no moons? Do you guys not have seasons here?"


Laurelin chuckled, but seemed amused and willing to answer her nomming Hero's questions. She gently wiped some sausage grease from his cheek, going full mom-mode as she said, "I spent many Earth years searching for a suitable place for Arcadia, while my Galdurath built a device strong enough to keep it alive indefinitely. Once I found a suitably sized chunk of rock and dirt far enough away from everything else...I called him here, and we shaped most of the world as you will see it. Arcadia does rotate, it is moving, slowly, through space, and we do have seasons. Four, just like Earth, and seven days mark our weeks, with two days for rest, a schedule you should be quite familiar with. The main difference is that our crops continue to grow in Winter. Snow and colder temperatures do not effect certain areas of the planet. Mostly just the cities, and even then, it does no accumulate."





Drake finished his sausage as the Goddess exposited. "Seven days. Magic snow. Very interesting. Is the view always like this?" He asked, gesturing at the spiraling rainbow nebula 'above' the planet.


"Only from our palatial grounds." A new, deep male voice said. Drake turned and beheld what looked like a classic stereotype of a wizard. He seemed human, with long white hair, a long white beard, kind but tired eyes, and blue robes trimmed with gold, not at all dissimilar from Drake's uniform and its color scheme, that glowed with faintly pulsing purple arcane patterns. "Greetings, Drake Long. I am Galdurath, husband of Laurelin, and God of Magic." He inclined his head, and after glancing at Falkor, Drake bowed low, and Falkor lowered his head as well.


Drake could tell that Galdurath didn't care for him. He was looking at the two isekai'd arrivals with veiled distaste, like an upper east-sider looked at a puddle of urine on a New York sidewalk. This did not bode well. Drake needed the two good aligned Gods to be firmly on his side. As Drake met his gaze evenly, Galdurath's eyes narrowed slightly. "I am, genuinely, honored to meet you, Galdurath. Since your wife told me about you, I've been eager to meet an actual God of Magic."





Galdurath's tone now echoed his eyes, with disdain. "I'm sure you have. Just so you're aware, your current year's tuition has been covered by us. For matters involving the Galdurian Arc Warden Academy, we will be acting personally as your Guardians." Galdurath stared him down with quiet intensity. "Obviously…we're very busy. So don't waste our time by having us need to be called in by your Instructors. Future school years will be up to you to pay for. To graduate as a recognized Arc Warden, you need a Grade Point Average above three, and six consecutive years of schooling."


The teenager did the math, and tried not to grimace. He'd be twenty two by the time he finally got to adventure, assuming his grades, which had been lackluster at best back on Earth, were up to par. GREAT. Drake must have shown his disdain on his face, because Galdurath's white brows crashed together. "We can always return your worthless essence to the Earthsphere, if you prefer. Seeing you now…I genuinely cannot fathom what my wife sees in you, and seeing your achievements of your past life, all zero of them, I expect you to fail. Spectacularly."


"Galdurath!" Laurelin's fierce tone sliced through Drake's retort before it formed. "I chose him, with the same parameters that selected you once upon a time. You insult both yourself, and my intuition, before he's even stepped out the Fucking door!"


"My love, I-"


"Spare me!" She countered, and Drake made a mental note to never piss Laurelin off, but this had the vibe of a fight long in the making given how quickly she'd gone off, so he wisely shut the fuck up. "You've had nothing but disdain since I came up with this plan, you've whined about it incessantly, and now, atop all of this childish behavior from a God, you insult our Hero, a guest in our home, before he's so much as opened his Status Magic!? Go back to Primus. The sight of your countenance is enraging me."





With fury in his eyes aimed in Drake's direction, Galdurath wordlessly bamfed away in a flash of bright blue magic. Laurelin took a deep breath, and calmed herself. Drake noticed the sky then, and the clouds that had suddenly rolled in, now once again dispersed, revealing that gorgeous nebula in the space 'above' Arcadia. "I'm sorry about him…for all his wisdom and intellect, he can still succumb to Mortal flaws. He was once a Mortal like you, and his utter failure to stop our son and guide our society has made him...frustrated. My summoning you here is proof that he has completely and utterly failed. You will have to impress him greatly, if you want him to respect you."


Drake had a feeling the God of Magic was plagued by other worries. He recognized that look in Galdurath's eye, the one he had when he saw his beloved wife. She was admittedly quite a catch, and were Drake in his position, he'd probably also be feeling some trepidation from her summoning another isekai protag to accomplish a task his own Godly powers failed to handle. "With respect, Goddess…I need to speak with him. Now. Letting this fester is just going to cause more problems. I think things will go better though, if you're not around while we speak. Give me...ten minutes, and then bring me back here…after that, I'd like to at least look at my stats and get a feel for casting magic before I go to an elite Academy dedicated to it."


Laurelin sighed, and then waved a hand at him. A divine golden shield surrounded his person, clinging to his skin. "His powers won't negatively affect you, so long as this shield endures. Ten minutes." She said, tiredly, before bamfing him away. Drake nodded, and then, he was elsewhere.





Drake appeared in a genuinely awe inspiring wizard sanctum, worthy of a God. There was only one large window, showing the city, Primus no doubt, below. The view of the massive cylindrical white stone towers was awe-inspiring, but Drake didn't have time to properly take it in. Galdurath was standing by a table full of arcane devices, and he scowled as he saw him appear. "You have some nerve, asking to come here uninvited." He stated plainly.


Drake nodded. "I apologize…both for that, and for what I'm about to say, if it offends you." That got his attention. "I'm sure…that dealing with the aftermath of your son turning evil is…a kind of stress I can't properly fathom. Having the fate of an entire world is, as you pointed out correctly, new to me. But all I want, Archmage Galdurath, is for you and I to be allies in his purpose here. I owe your wife for saving me, and Falkor. I can see that losing your son has deeply hurt her…and I want to help. I know I can help. But I'm going to need your help as well, so, man to man, reincarnated Hero to reincarnated Hero, I want to give you my word on this. And you can use your Godly powers to confirm the truth of my words in my soul: I solemnly swear to help your son return from the darkness, to guide your precious world to a better path, and to make your family whole again. That's what your wife wants, I think, and the very least I can do is attempt to bring him home." Galdurath was quiet, his angered expression lessened, as his words were processed. "And," Drake added, "I have absolutely no romantic intentions towards Goddess Laurelin. I just want to state that, for the record, here, at the start of what I hope is a long and mutually beneficial partnership." Drake offered a hand to him, and Galdurath looked at him, sighed, and then walked towards him.


As he took his hand in a firm shake, he said, "I remain skeptical…but…my wife is right. You have literally just arrived. You will make mistakes, as I did, and rise to the challenge set before you, as I did. You have my word, Drake Long, I will not hinder your quest. Until your oaths are fulfilled, you may see me as an ally." He let his hand go, and regarded Drake with, by his estimation, mildly less disdain. A puddle of dirty water, perhaps, as opposed to urine. Drake called that progress.


Drake bowed again, deeply. "In time, I hope we can also be friends. I'll do my best to prove worthy of your wife's appraisal, and, I'll put in a good word with her on the home front for you…if uhh, you wouldn't mind sending me back there."


Galdurath nodded again, his expression passive. "I will wish you luck, Drake Long." He said, as light engulfed his vision, and Drake was whisked back to the home of the Gods. "You will need it…" He muttered, before returning to his work, and shaking his head. A magicless soul from a magicless universe attending an academy dedicated solely to magic had a low probability of working out.





Falkor's scaly tail wagged as Drake returned, appearing in the kitchen this time, and Laurelin was once again at the table, quietly sipping what smelled like tea. "How was he?" She asked, eyes not leaving her cup. Drake smirked lightly. It was clear she cared as much for Galdurath as he did for her, but losing a son to evil's embrace would strain any marriage, divine or otherwise.


"Skeptical…perhaps credibly so, but amenable to helping me accomplish our mutual goals. I'm sure once I can prove somewhat competent, he'll warm up to me. Maybe once I clear a Dungeon or two." Drake chuckled.


Laurelin raised a brow at him. "That's quite a feat, you know." Drake blinked in confusion at her, and she elaborated. "There are thirty two known Dungeons that have appeared across the entirety of Arcadia. Seventeen of those, are what we call Demonic Dungeons, and the creatures within them are quite strong. Stronger than Runic class Adventurers. Fortunately, at a certain level of power, they cannot leave the Dungeon without Dagorath's direct influence either personally or through a Demon Lord. Only low level monsters can leave, though they'll simply respawn if they're killed outside of a Dungeon. The only thing that ends their twisted souls permanently, is dying in a Dungeon, and while inside one, they are exponentially stronger. The Final Bosses of each Dungeon are considered comparable to the highest ranks of the Arc Wardens, and just reaching them takes quite a lot of resources, supply lines, and manpower. We do have Heroes who could beat them, but the interiors of Dungeons can be incomprehensibly vast. Like…the interior of a TARDIS, they're bigger on the inside, and entirely under the control of the Final Boss that rules over them."


Drake smirked, and ran his thumb across his nose, embracing the stereotype he'd been reincarnated into. "I'll say it again, then. I'll clear out a Dungeon, maybe even two!"


My bravado got the Goddess to chuckle. "In all our long history, since the Dungeons first started appearing, only five regular Dungeons have been fully cleared out. Two by the Elves, and three by Humans. And those only fell because they appeared well within the territory of those races, where supplies and strength of arms were plentiful. Perhaps before you start boasting, you should at least use your Status Magic."





"Right, let's see what awesome stats I've spawned with!" Drake said confidently, then, as the silence grew, Drake realized he actually had no idea how to cast magic. Like, at all. He'd been focusing his mind like a true anime protag, and yet, no screens appeared. Frowning, Drake raised a hand before him, but still, nothing happened. His mind raced, and settled on, perhaps, the status being summoned by both verbal and somatic components, as most spells Drake was familiar with required. "Status!" He said, still projecting confidence, but again, nothing happened.


Laurelin raised a brow. "Oh dear. You really have no idea how to open it, huh? I suppose that makes sense…you are from a Universe that utterly lacks magic. Just searching it was quite tiring, as a result, even for me." She set down her tea, and approached him, taking his hands. She closed them together, like he was about to pray, and then it occurred to him, the source of this world's magic was a God. Maybe praying was the main requirement. As an atheist in his former life, the idea simply hadn't occurred to him. Drake had to remember he was in a world with nature-defying powers, now. The old rules no longer applied. "Try again." Laurelin gently encouraged.


Calmer now, Drake tried praying, or at least, his best attempt at it. His parents had, like the majority of Earthlings, indoctrinated him into the same Abrahamic cult they'd been a part of before he could even form words, let alone properly comprehend what a God even was, as a concept. Drake hadn't been a genius, but he had been rational, and there had never once in his previous existence been anything he'd seen or experienced that could remotely be called a God, or even supernatural. And, of course, actually reading the Bible had cemented his opinion of the Abrahamic God as a mass murdering, utterly evil entity, by every objective definition of the word.


Galdurath might've been a bit self important, but he was not the kind to, for example, murder everyone on Arcadia by drowning the entire planet, or maul children by ordering the local wildlife around. Probably. That said, Drake made a note to look into both his and Laurelin's recorded divine acts, in this world. Drake doubted Laurelin had any sketchy actions in her past, but Galdurath seemed like the type who would, and had, done whatever he had to do to keep his precious home intact, by any means necessary. It was a good idea to know exactly who his new allies were.





"Status…" Drake said quietly, whilst thinking of the God of Magic. Drake could've sworn he felt a disembodied sense of irritation, but when he opened his eyes, it was to a floating blue screen with his handsome face in the top left corner, above which, was his name. He smirked. The layout was slightly different, streamlined, one might say, but the similarities were uncanny. "Say, Laurelin…who designed the layout for these Status sheets?"


She gave him a knowing smirk. "Why, that would be my dear husband."


Drake chuckled. "And uhh…I take it the honorable Galdurath had Dungeons and Dragons on his home planet? Another Dimensional Echo, perhaps?"


She giggled lightly, amused by his reaction. "Caverns and Wyverns, actually."


His eyes widened. "Oh, please tell me there's a variant here on Arcadia!" There was not much Drake had liked about the Earth. It was a violent, merciless place whose beauty was belied by the brutal nature of its natural laws. To survive, one had to consume another living thing's energy, and despite not liking that concept personally, it was just how things worked. You either ate, and lived, or ended up as food for animals, or plants, so they could live. But D&D had been a bright spot in an otherwise depressing timeline. For a time, anyway.


He'd actually started the group at one of his first jobs, as an after school counselor/teacher in what had essentially been a daycare for both 'normal' kids and those on the autism spectrum. When the time had come to sadly move on from that part-time job, the D&D group's parents had asked him to keep things going since the kiddos had so much fun with it, and he had agreed, after working out where they'd host things, and most importantly, when. Despite being almost twice their age, they'd continued playing D&D for many years, and those memories of hijinks and hilarity would never leave him. But this was a new life, and more D&D meant there would be more memories.





Laurelin tilted her head. "I've personally never cared for it…but I believe the nerds of my beloved world call their version Dungeons and Deities. My Galdurath was quite amused by it."


Drake grinned, turning back to his magical character sheet. "Mark me, D&D. I shall play you, again." He'd been a DM in his past life, so either he could make a group, or join one. Like most, he'd been a player before he rose to share Ao's role as Overgod at the head of a pack of nerds. He wouldn't mind being a PC again, though. And judging by his Status Magic, he essentially was one, in a sense.

(I'm just going to make the actual Status sheets and put them here, rather than describe every single thing on them every time it comes up. Enjoy.)

"So…" Drake started, as Laurelin stood beside him, eyebrows raised, "My Int is great…slightly higher Strength, I like it, but uhh…how high do these numbers go? Is one hundred and three a lot? Do stats increase by more than one point per level?"


"One point per level, usually…but I don't know how your level and Charisma has already…" She chuckled then. "It seems sweet-talking my husband gave you experience. And extra charisma points. Makes some sense, he is a God after all. You must have really gotten through to him for that to have happened enough to level you up…"


Drake took the opportunity to make good on putting in a good word for the God of Magic. He'd never played wingman to a God, but if anything would raise his charisma some more…


"I think he's just…frustrated that I even have to be here, which is fair. Were I in his position, I'd be irritated too, being kinda replaced with a seemingly unqualified stranger. But we reached an understanding. Once I prove somewhat useful I'm sure he'll come around. He didn't immediately shoot down the idea of us being friends, at least." Drake nodded confidently. "It's a start."





Laurelin's expression was a mask of a slight smile, and Drake had no doubt she'd guessed what he was trying to do. But she made no mention of it, so Drake assumed he'd been successful. His eyes were drawn to his Feats and Minor Blessings section, as it updated at that exact moment. "Ally…of the Gods…ten percent universal experience bonus!? Fuck yes!" That reaction got another chuckle from the Goddess of Life. "Now…let's try some skills before the school day ends completely."


He swiped to the side of the status screen, and brought up his depressingly tiny list of skills.

"Huh. So I have…Dragon Palm…damages and stuns…and a basic melee attack…and no magic? I thought I'd be able to manipulate magical energy?" He asked towards Laurelin, as he noted the colors around his attacks. Yet another D&D reference no doubt. Green indicated At Will attacks, or Cantrips, which could be used indefinitely, red meant they were either Encounter powers, or had a significant several-minute cooldown, and while he didn't have any Daily class skills yet, he guessed their border would be gray, black, or white.


She nodded. "Manipulating raw magic isn't so much a skill as something you can do because your body has such a large amount of it. With an Intelligence stat on par with a Adamantine or Runic level Adventurer, you should have enough magic power to fuel whatever you desire. I'll let you try out Pyrokinesis, before we need to depart in time to arrive for afternoon classes, including meeting the Headmaster, and assigning you a room."


Drake nodded. "Fair. I'll try to grasp using magic quickly. So…how exactly does one manipulate…raw magic?"





Laurelin tilted her head. "Hmm. It's…hmm." After about a minute, she snapped her fingers. "You saw The Last Airbender, right? I recall it was a favorite of yours."


Drake nodded. "Greatest cartoon ever made. Not even a contest. I think I know where you're going with this, Goddess." She chuckled, and gestured for him to try. Drake closed his eyes, and visualized the magical energy that was flowing through his new, objectively hot body in a way and amount that simply didn't exist in his old universe. He gasped slightly, as he felt it. In multiple parts of his body, his Chakras perhaps, pools of significant roiling energy. "How umm…wow that is something. How do I make it into fire?"


"Magic, at least in our world, responds to one's Will. If you have the willpower to imagine something, you can usually guide the magic into whatever form or pattern you desire. Like fire."


"Alright." Drake muttered, eyes still closed, visualizing. "Think…flamethrower." Three images stood out in his head. Actual real life Earth flamethrowers circa WWII, a Charizard, which basically was synonymous with the fire typed move, and Phoenix King Ozai, high on Comet powered energy, burning the world with unhinged glee at the climax of the series. Probably because she'd mentioned Avatar. His eyes snapped open, and his hand rose, pointing into the air. He felt the flames form, swirl, condense in his palm, and then surge into the air. Drake blinked as the force of it actually had recoil, and he briefly wondered if he could make himself fly like a human rocket. If he ever found himself in the air for whatever reason, he'd try it with four limbs.





Remembering Laurelin's words and Aang's first attempt with this element, Drake lessened the output with the force of his will, and guided the flames down into his palm, keeping them alive as he focused. He walked away from Laurelin carefully, and then very slowly started weaving the flames around him, exactly like a firebender. It was, Drake discovered, a great way to get a feel for manipulating magic, which became easier and easier to do as time passed. With his will focused, he could draw on the magic from the back of his mind, and stopped and restarted his 'firebending' several times to get a feel for it.


He was so into it, he nearly lost track of time, and about halfway through his total reserve of magic, he stopped with his best attempt at a firebender's flare, making the flames into a dragon. That, was still a bit beyond him though as the final surge of flame just spread out wider, rather than taking on a draconic shape. Laurelin clapped, and Drake heard Falkor let out a roar that resembled a bark. Bowing to his audience, and properly sweaty, he caught his breath and walked over to them. "I think I've got the hang of it. Thank you, Goddess. That example was perfect."


She chuckled. "I barely explained anything. You have a knack for this, Drake Long. I think if you check your skills, you'll find that they've changed." Drake did as she suggested , and sure enough, he now had Firebending listed under his Dragon Palm and basic melee attack. It was a stance, apparently, and would increase his party's attack power, while he used it. A dark grin came over his face. He planned on taking a page from the Goblin Slayer. But with fire. When he finally got to start adventuring. Drake figured the school would probably have them clear out weaker monsters at some point. It'd be an incredible waste if they never actually utilized their top tier magic skills to wipe out monster hordes.





Laurelin's method of transporting him, enough clothes for a week and his various course books (which he would also have to buy in the future), was a carriage drawn by four pegasi, which were apparently as rare as unicorns on Earth, in that science minded people thought they didn't exist. Laurelin had been evasive when Drake asked why she'd guided them to the God's realm in the north, but her expression, and mention of her people's obsession with their wings and feathers, told him all he needed to know. It also confirmed that the mortals on Arcadia were not immune to the barbarity the mortals on Earth had also experienced.


The sky spires of Primus surrounded the academy, a primarily white stone series of skyscraping pointed towers that stretched impossibly high, and as they got closer he realized, stood taller and wider than anything Drake had witnessed on the Earth. The Galdurian Arc Warden Academy was quite a sight, from above. Nestled between several skyscrapers in the ancient city of Primus, the campus nevertheless had plenty of room, and seemed to connect to the city at large with usefully placed footpaths. There were three main buildings that formed the central campus, with multiple, much simpler buildings on either side that had to be dormitories, separated no doubt by gender, and distance. As if that had ever stopped teenagers.


Directly and centrally behind the main campus building, was a long rectangular field that reminded him of Soccer, or what Pokémon Trainers faced off on. In the center was a golden eye surrounded by a white pyramid, and the majority of the field was a rich blue. As they descended, Drake saw the field was trimmed with gold, confirming for him that blue and gold seemed to be associated with the Gods, or at least Galdurath.





The grand entrance of the academy was framed by towering ivory columns, blue runic etchings glowing faintly with latent power, and beneath the statues atop them; accurate depictions of both Laurelin and Galdurath that had been carved in gold and silver respectively with clear and obvious skill. The cobbled walkways leading inward were lined with floating lanterns, their glow shifting to reflect the hours of the day, and winding bridges spanned small artificial rivers filled with bioluminescent fish that resembled Koi fish from Earth. Vendors operated stalls along the academy's campus, selling enchanted parchments, rare alchemical ingredients, and a metric ton of what seemed like magical amulets, rings, and necklaces, items that probably took up minor slots on one's person, but improved their overall power, for a steep price, no doubt.


Drake's arrival was nothing short of a spectacle. The pegasus-drawn carriage, gilded and pristine, descended with practiced grace into the academy's main courtyard, the winged beasts landing upon the intricately carved stone before the statues of the Gods with a synchronized beat of their hooves. The moment he stepped down, he could feel the attention shift, eyes drawn to him as if by some unseen force. Laurelin, disguised as a mortal elf now, and playing the role of his mother, exuded a quiet regality in her new posh noblewoman attire and hairstyle that only heightened the curiosity surrounding them as they headed towards the main building. He could hear the whispers, hushed and hurried, as students clad in uniforms like his own murmured theories about his origins.


"Who is that?"


"I've never seen him before, with a face like that, I'd remember. Did he just transfer?"


"Look at the way she carries herself. That woman… she's no ordinary noble."


"She has to be from a major House...but which one?"


Even the faculty seemed intrigued as they entered the main hall of the building. Professors watched them, some with mild curiosity, others with narrowed eyes filled with calculation. To Drake's eyes, not one of them would've looked out of place at a Harry Potter convention. The interior of the academy was nothing short of breathtaking. The ceiling soared high above them, enchanted to resemble the nebula-filled sky outside with soft golden hues of the late morning hour. Immense chandeliers fashioned from sparkling rainbow colored crystal floated in midair, and the glowing arcane gemstones pulsed softly with power.





The marble floor beneath them was polished to a near-mirrored shine, etched with intricate golden filigree on every single tile. Towering columns lined the hall, each wrapped in a spiral of softly glowing arcane script that drifted across the stone, constantly rewriting itself as if scribing an unending spell, likely of protection from all kinds of magics. Along the walls, massive tapestries illustrated the academy's rich history, depicting grand battles, pivotal moments of magical discovery, and the formation of Arcadia's greatest Heroes. Students from presumably higher years passed through the hall in groups on their way to their next class. Only a few occasionally paused to glance in Drake's direction before quickly moving on, whispering in hushed voices. As they walked deeper into the grand entryway, the scent of parchment, enchanted ink, and aged tomes mixed with the varied perfumes the upper classes used, resulting in a not-unpleasant, but potent aroma.


Inside the academy's central tower, Headmaster Veydris awaited them. His office was a vast chamber, its vaulted ceiling covered in shifting constellations that mirrored the sky outside. Shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes stretched from floor to ceiling, each bound in leather embossed with golden filigree, glowing faintly with protective enchantments. The scent of old parchment mixed with the lingering aroma of rare incense, a blend of knowledge and tradition that permeated the air. A grand circular desk, carved from an immense slab of dark obsidian, stood at the center of the room, its surface covered in neatly arranged stacks of scrolls, enchanted quills, and arcane artifacts that pulsed faintly with dormant energy.


Behind the Headmaster, was an enormous enchanted window that did not reveal the outside world, but rather displayed shifting depictions of history itself, from grand battles fought in the age of legends against powerful Demon Lords, to celestial charts that predicted the flow of the leylines across Arcadia. Arcane scripts hovered in midair around the frame, providing onlookers with a brief but informative blurb about the scene being depicted. Drake tried not to get distracted by the slideshow of interesting lore. Being very much a ravenous consumer of various lore about various worlds, Drake considered himself an expert on histories ranging from Arda to Azeroth, though, almost none of that knowledge was likely to help him in his new life, which was a depressing thought. He took mental notes from the scrolling images, and resolved to look up the key words he could remember in the academy library at some point.





Headmaster Veydris himself radiated an aura of composed authority, his silver eyes sharp and wrinkled with the weight of centuries. His presence was neither oppressive nor overtly welcoming, but one of calculated observation, as if he measured the worth of every individual that stood before him. His long, deep-blue robes shimmered subtly with interwoven magic, layered with runes of wisdom and power. His fingers, adorned with rings containing stored spells, rested upon the surface of his mahogany brown desk as he regarded them with quiet intensity. His hair resembled Galdurath's, probably on purpose, with the only difference being a braid of silver locks that encircled his wizened skull. He acknowledged Laurelin with the barest inclination of his head.


"You walk among Mortals today, Goddess Laurelin." He noted, his voice steady.


"I do, Headmaster." She answered simply, offering nothing more than a fake smile. Then, with a subtle shift in her demeanor, she continued. "Drake Long is under my direct protection, as well as my husband's, and though he may appear unfamiliar to your records, he is not without merit. You will find him to be a...fast learner, and soon, his presence here will make sense." She paused, letting her words settle. "Additionally, he is not alone. His companion, Falkor, will be visiting on occasion." Her voice was light, almost casual, but the weight of her authority made it clear that this was not a request.


The Headmaster frowned. "You know we do not allow pets-"


"Falkor is no mere pet." Laurelin answered, enjoying the old man's discomfort more than perhaps she should have. "He is a Dragon, the first of a new breed of magical creatures who will undoubtedly aid us against Dagorath's dark abominations, should they arrive with the next Demon Lord. He is intelligent, kind, and can speak and understand our tongue, so if he violates any of your precious rules, simply explain them to him, and he shall follow them. My main concern, is that you do not try shooting him down. You will not like his response to being attacked." She provided a physical description of Falkor then, and the Headmaster nodded, resigned to simply accepting that his campus would now be playing host to a dragon, sometimes, apparently. Veydris sighed, inwardly. Gods.


The Headmaster studied Drake in silence, his gaze piercing and irritated. Then, with a measured breath, he retrieved a document and stamped it with a glowing sigil. "Welcome, Drake Long. You will be assigned to Class Seven, year one. You will stay with your Instructor and your classmates for the duration of your time here, so I would advise you to make a good first impression. You will be informed when your...Dragon...arrives to visit you, and will be financially responsible for anything he destroys." Drake nodded, doubting Falkor would break anything intentionally. The meeting was over as swiftly as it had begun, but the weight of it lingered as they departed for his new school life.



As Drake Long and the Goddess Laurelin stepped outside the office, the heavy wooden doors shutting behind them with a soft thud, Laurelin turned to Drake. Her expression was softer now, the sharp authority she had worn in front of the Headmaster fading. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small nod of approval. "This will be difficult, but you have endured much worse. Learn quickly, trust your instincts, beware your fellow classmate's goals, and do not be afraid to carve your own path," She said, her voice carrying the quiet certainty of someone who knew his potential far better than he did. "You are not alone, even if you feel like it."

With those parting words, she stepped away, vanishing into the grand corridors of the academy without another glance. The moment she left, the quiet intensity of the situation caught up with Drake as he realized he was, in fact, very much completely on his own, in a world he knew precious little about. He exhaled and looked around, realizing that without Laurelin leading the way, he had no idea where he was supposed to go.

He hesitated at the grand junction of twisting corridors and arched passageways, each lined with glowing runes that pulsed gently like the heartbeat of the academy. The students moving past him seemed to know exactly where they were going, while he stood in place, trying to make sense of the path ahead. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, he found himself in what appeared to be a maintenance corridor, filled with floating dust particles illuminated by the soft golden light of hovering lanterns.



"Lost already, are you?"

Drake turned to see an elderly elf with platinum blonde hair and a light mustache, leaning against a broom, his pointed ears twitching slightly with amusement. His long hair was tied back neatly, and his deep green robes bore the faint insignia of the academy's maintenance staff. His eyes twinkled with wisdom and an undeniable kindness. He had the look of someone who had seen countless students come and go, yet still found amusement in their struggles.

"Yeah," Drake admitted with a sheepish grin. "First day, new place, kind of a maze. I'm trying to get to Class Seven."

The janitor chuckled, resting both hands on the broom handle as if it were a staff of great importance. "Ah, the academy does have a way of humbling even the brightest minds. I am Faelar, caretaker of these halls." He gestured down a side corridor. "Class Seven, you say? Follow the blue sigils on the walls. They will lead you to the main classrooms, which are marked on the top of their doors with two numbers The first is your class, and the second, your year. You'll want class Seven-One."

Drake nodded, glancing at the softly glowing symbols before turning back to Faelar. "Thank you, Faelar. I appreciate it."

The elf smiled, tapping his broom lightly on the marble floor. "Pay attention to the details, young one. The academy is more than just books and battlefields. Sometimes, the smallest things hold the greatest secrets. Now go, before you are late."



Drake gave him a nod of thanks before following the path, and eventually finding a door marked with the number he sought. He paused at the entryway, tried to ignore the weight and importance of the impression he was about to make, and knocked, straightening his uniform and his leather backpack holding his books, as he readied himself. "Enter." Came an authoritative baritone.

As he stepped into the room, the eyes of the students of Class Seven shifted toward him with intrigue, some openly staring, others whispering among themselves. The students were arranged in three neat rows of four desks, each seat occupied by someone who, in some way, exuded talent or breeding beyond the average. The air practically vibrated with unspoken assessments, each person weighing his presence against their expectations. Drake eyed them, in turn, but only briefly, as he met his new Instructor.

Standing at the front of the room was an absolute mountain of a man, or rather, a Leonid, as he believed their race was called. The Instructor towered over the assembled students, his physique closer to that of a warlord than an academic. His crimson blood red mane, streaked with silver, was combed back loosely, revealing a feline face marked by experience but softened by the warmth in his golden eyes. Despite his sheer size and the undeniable power radiating from his presence, there was an air of calm about him, a quiet confidence that made him feel more approachable than intimidating. He was not dressed in the flowing robes of the other professors but in a well-fitted, dark blue longcoat that sat on his massive frame over a red plaid undershirt. His attire was simple, stylish, but practical, the kind worn by someone who had no patience for unnecessary frills.

The lion man regarded Drake for a moment, his expression unreadable, before giving a slow nod. "You must be our newest addition." He said, his deep baritone rumbling through the room with an effortless authority. "Drake Long. Welcome to Class Seven. I am called Aslan. I will be your Instructor during your time here, as I help you and your peers ascend to the level and competence of an Arc Warden. Just so you're aware, we will be having a new student join us tomorrow, as well. Introduce yourself." A large, clawed paw gestured at the gathered students.

Drake couldn't help but let out a small chuckle under his breath. Yet another Dimensional Echo. He had half a mind to ask if Aslan was a king in another life. Instead, he simply nodded and stared at the back wall of the room, avoiding eye contact and controlling his nerves as he said, "Hello there. I'm Drake...uhh, I'm fairly new to casting magic, and to the customs and rules of your impressive city, but I'll do my best not to drag the class down. I look forward to working with you all." He lowered his head just enough to convey respect, and then took his seat. Murmurs followed him, wondering how a 'newb' at only level three had made it into the Academy. Apparently, people could tell what level he was just by looking hard enough.

"Good. Let us begin. Time waits for no one, and we've a limited amount of it." Instructor Aslan turned away and picked up a thick tome from his desk, flipping it open with a practiced ease. "We will continue today, with the history of the Seventh Demon Lord invasion, and the varied effects on Arcadian society that the invasion caused both during and after the Hero Valerian managed to slay the Demon Lord, and carve his name into legend." Aslan gestured at the book as he spoke, and Drake's eyes widened, as it displayed actual images projected and formed by the words within the pages. They sure knew how to make learning fun, here.



He split his attention then, as he felt far too many eyes shifting his way, and not on the lesson. For his part, he had, almost immediately, noticed the bombshell of a blonde elf in the second middle row of the room. She had piercing emerald eyes, and sat with an air of aristocratic confidence, her uniform immaculate and her posture flawless. The way she held her chin slightly raised gave the impression that she was used to being in charge, or at the very least, being the most important person in the room. Her gaze flickered towards Drake as she simultaneously took in the lesson, not with idle curiosity, but sharp calculation, as if she were gauging his worth in an instant. Drake met her gaze, and felt his body's pulse quicken. He shot her a genuine smile, but she seemingly ignored him, and focused back on the lesson.

Next to her, a smirking, tabby furred cat girl leaned back in her chair, arms crossed behind her head, the glint in her large eyes hinting at mischief. She had an effortless, almost roguish energy about her, like someone who had spent just as much time breaking rules as she had following them. The contrast between her and the blonde elf made it clear that if there was a hierarchy here, she was the wildcard who disrupted it regularly. She was more openly staring at Drake, but had turned away in disgust when he smiled at the blonde.

A dark-haired and composed human student sat at the front left of the class, his posture rigid and his expression focused as he ignored Drake's existence, and focused on the lesson. Unlike the others, he did not bother with outward displays of authority or charisma. He had the air of a Class Representative, and Drake had a feeling he also boasted the highest scores on written exams.

A towering brute of a teen, another leonid, sat near the back next to Drake, his massive fur covered arms crossed over his chest. His mane was youthful and black, shorter than Aslan's, and his eyes were a bright red, unsettling with his leonine pupils. His uniform strained against his muscular frame, and his expression was unreadable at first as their eyes met, until he gave a slow, approving grunt, as if deciding on the spot that Drake met some unspoken criteria of strength. There was no malice in his gaze, only a simple, practical assessment. Strength recognized strength. Drake was just glad his neighbor approved of him.

On Drake's left, also in the back, was a silver-furred Fox youth who had clearly never bothered brushing the silver clump between his foxlike ears. He had a lazy grin, and lounged against his desk, looking entirely unbothered by the tension in the room. His sharp, foxlike features carried an air of amusement, as if he found the entire situation entertaining rather than concerning. His grin widened as Drake made eye contact, and with an exaggerated stretch, he was the first to quietly say something to him, having noticed his smile towards the blonde elf.

"Well, well. Looks like we've got a new contender."



Before Drake could respond, another student shushed the silver fox from the middle row, a tan-skinned girl with dark brown, tightly coiled black hair adorned with small golden rings. She wore a confident smirk, her piercing amber eyes shining with irritation. "Quiet Leif. Pay attention, newbie." She focused back on the lesson, and had the vibe of someone who had had to struggle to afford to come to a school this prestigious, and had every intention of making the most of every second.

Seated beside her, a dark elf with smooth obsidian skin and striking dark green eyes folded her arms across her chest. Her long silver-white hair reminded him of a Drow. She said nothing, but had flashed Drake a smile on his way to his seat. Now, she was paying attention.

Behind the Dark Elf, as they were apparently called, a towering lizardkin with smooth emerald-green scales tapped his claws against the wooden desk. His bright yellow eyes locked onto Drake with an analytical gaze, and they shared a nod of respect. Apparently, seeing the black maned leonid give his approval was enough for the lizard man. Drake liked their vibe, and hoped he could keep up with such obviously skilled warriors that, he had a feeling, would be on the front line in melee combat with him.

To the left middle side of the room, was a crimson scaled merman with well groomed crimson hair and looks that rivaled Drake's own. He leaned back with an easy grin. His clothing was slightly more disheveled than the others, and a well-worn spellbook sat open on his desk, its pages covered in handwritten notes. He too gave Drake a nod, before looking back at the Instructor, who seemed to notice all the looks Drake's way, but tolerated them. They were teens with brilliant minds, he couldn't rightly expect them to ignore a shiny new mystery dropped right in the middle of them.

The last member of the class was right in front of Drake, and sensing Aslan's tacit approval of the class looking at him, she turned right around, with a bright smile, but spoke quietly to him so as not to interrupt. He leaned forward, so he could hear the buxom honey blonde bunny girl. "I'm Tala! If you want the notes on the other lectures we've had, just let me know!"

Up close, he noted some beastkin had more 'human' in them than others. Like the cat girl, and Tala, the only exception being her bunny nose, which only further accentuated her cuteness. She was by far the class member closest to full adulthood judging by how her bust was straining her blazer, with long brownish blonde hair that sat between her long rabbit ears, and genuinely kind vibes. "Thank you, Tala." He murmured smoothly, "I'll take you up on the offer, after class." That seemed to overjoy her for some reason, and she turned back to the lesson, fluffy tail twitching in what appeared to be joy.



History class was nothing like the dry, monotonous lectures Drake had expected. Instead of dusty textbooks and endless recitations, Instructor Aslan used magic to bring the past to life. With a flick of his fingers, glowing symbols coalesced in the air before unraveling into vivid, three-dimensional projections of legendary battles. Vast armies of high tier adventurers, their armor gleaming under phantom sunlight, clashed against monstrous foes that included orcs, goblins, trolls, and other horrific variations of Arcadia's races, mutated by darkness. Their swords carved through the air with precision and power. Ancient castles crumbled under the assault of arcane sieges, and spellcasters wove dazzling displays of magic, their energy rippling through the illusions, and sometimes striking a student, harmlessly, but with enough of a jolt to focus their attention back on the lesson. It seemed that Aslan was directing the projections, in conjunction with the book.

Drake found himself leaning forward, enthralled by the sheer spectacle of it all. This wasn't just storytelling. It was an invitation to witness history firsthand. He observed how warriors moved, how spells were seamlessly interwoven with physical strikes, how battle formations dictated the flow of combat, and what a proper Arcadian war actually looked like. The Instructor narrated with an air of reverence, his voice rising and falling in perfect cadence with the ebb and flow of each historical moment of significance that would be on the test. Aslan was clearly in his element, and his lesson was an art form, a dissemination of knowledge wrapped in spectacle, meant to ignite a sense of wonder and respect for those who had shaped the world before them.

At one point, a massive spectral knight, the Arc Warden Valerian himself, standing at least fifteen feet tall from an Enlarge spell, charged forward, his greatsword carving a flaming arc through the illusory battlefield as he went blade to blade with an even larger orc. The monstrosities face was tattooed and pierced, large tusks jutted up from his round, powerful jaw, and dark runes rippled across his musculature in place of armor, the Dark God's blessing clear by the horns and leathery wings that sprouted from his back. The force of the Demon Lord's swing sent projected adventurers scattering like embers in the wind, while Valerian stood strong, and alone. Drake barely suppressed a whistle of appreciation. He could almost feel the heat radiating from the fiery steel, even though he knew it was all just an illusion.

"Pay attention, students," Instructor Aslan's voice carried over the magical din of the display. "This was the Hero Valerian's last stand against the Seventh Demon Lord. Note his footwork. His stance. his unflinching resolve in the face of pure evil. The way he anticipates his opponent's strikes before they happen. These are not just relics of history. They are lessons for your future."



By the time lunch rolled around, Drake quickly departed the classroom and was one of the first to the lunch line, thanks to a helpful and timely directive finger-point from Faelar. Once he had his rather decent meal of meat covered in some sort of gravy-like sauce, what looked like and had the consistency of mashed potatoes, and something the lunch lady had assured him was delicious for a side dish, he opted for solitude at an empty table near the back of the large room, hoping for a quiet meal to process everything he had learned so far. However, his solitude was short-lived.

He barely had time to take a bite of his food before a shadow fell over his tray. The blonde elf from earlier approached with an air of regal confidence, setting her tray down across from him with deliberate grace. Her arrival was quiet, composed, and yet undeniably purposeful. Her gorgeous emerald eyes flicked toward him, lingering a moment longer than necessary before she turned back to her plate. She made a show of appearing indifferent, but Drake caught the subtle way her fingers drummed against the tray, perhaps a sign of nervousness? Her presence alone carried a weight of expectation, as if she had already decided something about him, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

After a pause, she finally spoke, her voice smooth and measured. "You don't belong here."

Drake raised an eyebrow, swallowing his bite of food before he spoke. "I paid tuition like everyone else."

She studied him again, this time with a hint of curiosity breaking through the practiced veneer of aristocratic composure. "It wasn't meant as an insult. Just an observation. You do not walk or speak like the scion of an Arc Warden family, and I have never seen you before. Your level is too low to afford this place on your own. Who is your sponsor?"

Drake smirked, and projected confidence. "I'm afraid I can't say...just know that I'm here to learn, grow, and...shake things up. In a good way."

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she took a slow sip from her goblet, her gaze never quite leaving him. "Interesting."



A moment later, the tabby cat girl from their class sauntered over and plopped into the seat beside the elf, grinning at Drake with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and mischief. She leaned forward slightly, tapping her clawed fingers on the table. "So, what's the story, new guy? Drop in from the sky? Get teleported in from some hidden kingdom? Or are you secretly an exiled prince?"

Drake arched an eyebrow. "None of the above...although, I will admit, Teleporting was involved. But that's all you're getting." He smirked at her as well, and she raised her eyebrows, ready to retort, with sass no doubt.

Before she could, the towering black maned brute of a leonid approached, carrying a tray stacked with enough food for three people. He set it down with a decisive thud beside Drake, and gave him a nod. His gigantic frame made an imposing wall between Drake and the rest of the room. Without a word, he dug in, sharp teeth making quick work of the roasted meat. The table shook slightly with each heavy movement, but the sheer normalcy of the act somehow made it even more intimidating. It seemed he'd be introducing himself after his hunger was sated, which was fine with Drake, who had no intention of interrupting him.

The dark-haired tactician arrived next, his movements precise and measured, as if every step he took was premeditated. He took the seat next to Drake, as the cat girl said, "Vincent! You were right, the newb Teleported in from...somewhere." The smart teen nodded, and adjusted his glasses, giving Drake an appraising look. "Perhaps he simply tested at an advanced level, bypassing the standard entrance examinations due to his Arc Warden potential. It wouldn't be the first time." His tone was neutral, but seemingly friendly, or at least as friendly as nerds like him could be. He placed his tray down without hesitation and folded his hands in front of him, studying Drake as though he were a puzzle waiting to be solved.



Finally, the silver-haired fox trickster strolled up on the other side of the blonde elf, balancing an apple between his five fingers before casually tossing it into the air and catching it. "You all are asking the wrong questions. The real question is, how long does he plan to last?" He smirked, sliding into the other seat beside the elf, his fox-like ears twitching. "Hope you don't mind the company, newbie. We tend to adopt interesting cases."

Drake smirked. "Not at all. But I have a feeling this isn't just about making friends."

The tabby cat let out a mewl of laughter. "He catches on quick! Most people don't just appear in Class Seven without a name that carries weight. We had to find out if you're some kind of hidden prodigy, a noble's illegitimate heir, or just someone lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. Figured we'd do a little investigatin'."

"Subtle," Drake remarked dryly. "But if any of those apply to me...it would certainly be luck." His vague answer made the cat girl subtly grit her teeth. Like pulling water from a desert stone, this guy.

Rose finally spoke again, her voice smooth and composed. "Since we'll be working together, it's only natural to gauge what you can do. A weak link in a team can be disastrous, and I prefer to know what I'm dealing with before that happens."

Drake took a bite of his food and nodded. "Fair enough. I suppose I should ask the same. Who am I dealing with?"

The cat girl couldn't help but answer first, as she leaned back, balancing her chair on two legs. "Nyara. My old man is an adventurer, and I'm planning on being even better than him. I'm what you'd call a Sword Mage. But despite that, I stay the fuck out of melee combat. The sword increases my range, but it's not really meant for parrying or stabbing. Too fragile."



The blonde studied him, as if weighing the truth in his words. "I am Rose Valcrest. My family has trained Arc Wardens for generations. My specialty as a Sage, is the healing arts given by the Goddess Laurelin, and enhancement magic. I'd like to know yours, before everyone else speaks."

Drake glanced around, and noted that when Rose spoke, everyone else in Class Seven listened. For varying reasons no doubt, but even the silver fox teen stayed quiet when she spoke. He nodded, and said, "In the interest of honesty...I'm very much a newbie. I have three skills so far, my level is single digits, but you're right, my potential was classed as an Arc Warden's, so I was brought here."

"And your class?" Rose asked.

Drake nodded again, she'd shared hers, so it was only fair. "My Status listed it as Monk."

From the other side of the hulking leonid, came the hissing tones of the emerald scaled lizard teen who'd apparently sat down without anyone noticing. "What...the fuck...issss a Monk?"

Drake blinked, and looked around, as the others echoed his question. "Do...do you guys really not have Monks, here?"

Rose answered him. "No...none of us have ever heard that word, let alone what class it is or what it does." Her beautiful features furrowed. "Explain, please. If we're to work together, we need to know."



"A Monk is..." Drake started, as he struggled to find the right words, and then settled for what would help Rose the most. "I'm a melee fighter. Most of my attacks are close to mid range. My skills so far seem to deal damage and have a brief stun...I don't know what they'll be like as I level up, since apparently...I'm the first Monk here. I'll probably need light armor so I can move around and dodge, and my fists are my primary weapon. There's more, but that should suffice for now."

Rose smiled at him, and Drake felt his heart quicken again. She really was just absurdly beautiful. "That was a useful assessment, Drake." Her gorgeous emerald eyes had him snared. "I look forward to learning your class with you, and seeing how you grow. There is...an air of destiny about you that's..." She let her sentence trail off, and Nyara butted in, seizing the pause to fill the air with her sassy tone.

"So wait, you punch things until they die? That's it!? What kind of Arc Warden doesn't use a weapon? What kind of damage dealing melee class doesn't have at least medium armor? You're gonna die, kid. The Goblin archers will turn you into a pincushion before you ever get close."

Drake smirked at her. "Actually, if I'm right about my future abilities, catching things like arrows or bolts will be within my skill set. I'll be just fine. Now, let's hear from the rest of the class, shall we? Names too, if you all don't mind. I'll try to remember them."



The dark-haired class rep in the making adjusted his glasses slightly, making them purposefully obscure his sharp, narrow eyes as they caught the light. "Vincent, of the noble House of Kei. I'm an Enchanter. Strategy and tactics are my specialty. I study how to control the battlefield before the fight even starts. Most charge in thinking strength or speed alone will decide a match, but positioning, information, and strategy win wars." He adjusted the cuffs of his uniform. "I analyze patterns, predict enemy movements, and manipulate engagements to ensure victory. My spells are largely supportive and controlling, barriers, illusions, and forced movement effects to dictate the flow of combat. I can also use a few decent attack spells, enhancement magic, and low tier healing and magic restoration spells."

Vincent then glanced at Drake, a knowing glint behind his spectacles. "If you're planning to fight with just your fists, you'd better learn how to think ahead, or you'll be a dead man walking the moment a real battle begins."

The leonid brute finished tearing into a piece of meat and finally spoke, his voice deep and steady. "Garret."

Drake turned his head to look at the hulking leonid and waited for more. Garret swallowed his bite, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and added, "I'm what you'd call a Knight. Tanking is what I do best. Holding the line. Taking hits on my shield, so others don't have to."

He then gave Drake an appraising look, his red eyes narrowing slightly. "Getting up close to punch things, though? Takes guts. Even the best Arc Wardens prefer attacking the spawn of Dagorath from a distance."

Drake smirked. "Well, I don't really have much of a choice. It's what my class is built for."

Garret let out a low chuckle, nodding approvingly. "Then I hope you're fast. Otherwise, we're gonna need to find you some better armor."



Finally, the silver-haired trickster smirked. "Leif. I hide in the shadows, and I'm quite fast. I use knives and a bow, but all my skills are suited to gathering information, and dealing quick bursts of damage. If you see me out in the open and in melee combat, I'm having a bad day."

Drake chuckled. "A Rogue, then? I understand. If I ever see you struggling, I'll lend a fist or two." The fox man smirked, but seemed to appreciate that.

Before they could continue, another tray clattered onto the table beside the tabby colored cat girl. Tala, the lapine girl, had arrived, her long ears twitching as she settled beside the cat girl smoothly, having no doubt already heard their conversation even from the line. "You guys are being too nosy," She said with a cheerful huff, her voice lilting playfully. She shot Drake a reassuring smile, one that felt far more welcoming than the calculated assessments from the others. "If he wants to punch things, let him. I think it's very interesting that you're a class we've never heard of. You must be special, eh Rose?"

The elf coughed, only the faintest of flushes marking her cheeks, but then it faded as fast as it had appeared, and she nodded. "If he's the only Monk, then one would assume he's special." The two girls shared a silent, intense stare then, and Drake blinked, wondering if he was sensing what he thought he was sensing. Maybe if his charisma had been naturally higher, he might've been more sure.



Tala turned to Drake then, her soft brown eyes bright with curiosity but absent of pressure. "I'm a Cleric, by the way. Healing and protection spells are my specialty. I'll keep you alive, no need to worry, but if you could avoid getting hurt so I can focus on healing our tank, that would be great!" She giggled, but Drake had a feeling she was being serious, and telling him, in so many words, not to stand in the fire. Thankfully, he'd played enough MMOs to understand his role. She continued, bubbly as ever. "Need help figuring out your schedule? Class Seven can be overwhelming at first. I can show you the easiest paths between buildings."

Drake chuckled, appreciating the rescue from the interrogation. "That might not be a bad idea. I'm still getting my bearings."

Tala helped him after that, and he learned that Sethis, the lizard man, was also a tank class, though instead of a shield, he used a massive greatsword, and a small buckler. For a tank, he did quite a lot of damage, though his actual blocking skills were nowhere near Garret's. Drake knew he'd prefer to be behind the hulking leonid. The members of their class who hadn't joined them were Zara, the darker toned human who was apparently what people called a War Mage, the dark elf, Lyria, was a Sorceror, which was apparently just a War Mage that used summoned elemental minions to supplement her role as a damage dealer, and the crimson merman, Caelum, who was apparently a Sage like Rose, though instead of enhancement, his affinity for water magic made him a healer, and an off-damage dealer.



By the time the meal ended, Drake had earned a mixture of begrudging respect and genuine curiosity from his new peers. The jabs, the assessments, the playful skepticism, it was all a means of weighing him, testing his presence, his confidence. But more importantly, it was inclusion. He wasn't just some outsider being observed from afar. He was already becoming part of the rhythm of Class Seven, tangled in their web of rivalries, friendships, and unspoken rules. That distinction made all the difference.

As they stood to clear their trays, Rose lingered for a moment, glancing at Drake before finally speaking. "You didn't crack under their pressure. That's a good sign."

Drake smirked at her. "Was that a test?"

"Everything here is a test," She replied mysteriously, before turning to leave.

Garret clapped a heavy hand on Drake's shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. "You don't spook easy. That's rare in a striker."

"Not much point in fighting if I'm afraid to take a hit," Drake said with a shrug.

Tala laughed, her long ears twitching with amusement. "I like this one. He might actually last a week."

Vincent, adjusting his glasses, offered a small nod of approval. "We'll see if he lasts longer than that. The Academy is not forgiving."

Drake chuckled, shaking his head as they exited the cafeteria together. Whatever this place had in store for him, he wasn't facing it alone. He had a solid group in the classmates who'd deigned to introduce themselves, and he'd be glad to have any one of them in his party. Indeed, they were all over level thirty, and he really hoped he didn't bring them down because of that.



Unlike conventional physical education, their next class was designed for practical survival in Dungeons. The massive training grounds in one of the campus's main buildings were split into several magically controlled battlefields, each simulating different dungeon environments, rocky caverns, dense forests, crumbling ruins, etcetera. The instructors wasted no time in forming teams, pairing students randomly, but also based on their roles. Drake was assigned as a damage dealer once Instructor Aslan confirmed that no one knew what a Monk was, thus, as a close-quarters fighter responsible for dealing swift and decisive blows while evading counterattacks, he'd been relegated to DPS. His team consisted of Vincent, who took the role of tactician and battlefield controller, Garret, the unshakable tank who anchored their defenses, and Tala, the team's cleric. Though her natural Lapine agility made her an excellent scout, her true strength lay in support magic. Her spells reinforced Garret's defenses, mended wounds mid-combat, and bolstered their endurance, ensuring they could last in extended engagements.

The other team, consisting of Sethis, Rose, Leif, and Zara went before them, and performed quite well on a battlefield of ice against a elemental golem made of stone. Leif was less than useless with his daggers, so Zara had been forced to expend quite a lot of her magic power to compensate his lack of damage. Rose had also had to apply several damaging spells that drained health over time, and Sethis was able to close the gap with mighty strikes from his greatsword, as he kept the golem focused on him, and tanked its brutal hits with his weapon, and Rose's potent healing magic.

When it was their turn to face a summoned construct, they found themselves on a mountainous piece of terrain. The cliff sides rose high, making it into a small canyon, with limited space to move. As their construct burned to life in a tornado of flame, Drake swore. The one element he'd been hoping he wouldn't have to face, on literally his first day. With more time, he could've at least tried experimenting with water, or earth. His teammates were Garret, Vincent, and Tala, and with that team composition, dealing damage was almost entirely on him. Without him, they wouldn't bring down their target within the time limit, which was as good as failing.

"What's wrong, Drake?" Vincent asked, worried for his grade point average.

"I did say I had three skills, yea? Well...the most damaging one changes my attacks into fire damage...and I don't think punches will do much against that!" The burning cyclone roared, not waiting for the party, and Garret stepped forward, shield at the ready. The flames parted around his massive frame, and the other three hid behind him.



"Well...figure something out!" Vincent shouted, as he and Tala split once the flames stopped, forcing the construct to divide its attention. "You're our damage dealer! Deal damage!"

Garret looked back at him from behind his shield, and grinned confidently, making an impressive form in his basic plate armor. "I'll draw its attention! You find a way to hit it where it hurts. We're counting on you, newbie!"

The massive Leonid charged, planting his feet firmly before meeting the beast's burning claw strike head-on. A loud clang rang through the training grounds as Garret's enchanted armor absorbed the impact, his sheer bulk keeping the creature occupied. "Vincent!"

Vincent, standing further back atop a small cliff now, eyes flicking between their positions, adjusted his glasses so they caught the light. "Tala, circle around and mark it with DoTs! Drake, do something!"

Tala darted up another cliff behind the construct, her lapine agility allowing her to weave between the beast's wild swings. She began casting three spells in a row, each one landing like a weight upon the construct, weakening it, and slowing it down. "Damage over time is active!" She called out.



Drake gritted his teeth. Fire wasn't going to work. His basic strikes wouldn't land with enough force to matter, and though he probably could have attempted a Flurry of Blows, he also knew that would be negligible at his level. The construct was at his teammate's level, though it had, mercifully, been lowered so he could at least damage it enough for them to pass. He needed something else besides fire. His nerdy mind thought back to Laurelin's lesson, and the stereotypes that had led him to new skills. Once again, Pokémon entered his mind. What beat fire? Water, obviously, but there was none around. All he had were rocks. Then, he remembered, rock and ground moves also beat fire types. Firefighters dumped not only water, but sand and dirt on, for example, forest fires empowered by ridiculously high winds, and a climate suffering from the massive pollution humanity was causing. Figuring if it had helped in California it would help here, Drake quickly sent his will into the rock and stone around them, desperately forcing them to react to his magical commands.

And the earth responded.

With a sharp exhale, he spun in a smooth spiral out to the side of Garret's bulk, and drove his palm into the ground. Jagged stone erupted in an instant, like a proper Stone Edge, as it raced towards his target. The once solid terrain became his weapon, sharp rock formations jutting upward, knocking the beast off balance as he hammered it with a surprise strike to its 'jaw'. As it staggered, Drake moved, using his agility and the raised stones like stepping platforms to launch himself higher. Warping the final stone around his feet as he leaped heroically into the air, he twisted his body and came down with an explosive heel drop, striking the creature's 'head' and sending it to the ground. He shouted at his teammates. "NOW!"

Vincent reacted, as he'd been charging up a powerful ice spell that wouldn't immediately melt, all he'd needed was an opening. Garret stabbed his sword into the construct's 'neck' as it was stunned, the magical weapon keeping it pinned, as Vincent's spell lanced forth in a line of frost. Tala healed Garret as he stepped back from the beast with smoldering fur, and Drake followed the ice with a downright brutal beatdown from his now rock-encased fists. Within thirty seconds, and after another Ray of Frost, the construct dissipated, and Drake fell onto his ass, panting hard. He wordlessly expressed his thanks to the stone, not sure if they could grok him, but glad that his gambit had worked out in the end. He felt Tala's magic surge into him, and realized he'd also been pretty badly burned. He hadn't even noticed. With as little damage as his earth enhanced fists had done, his entire focus had been punching the fire elemental as fast as possible, until it died.



Silence followed before Garret let out a low, approving rumble. "Not bad, newbie. Most people wouldn't have figured out a new skill that quickly."

Vincent adjusted his glasses again, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Still inefficient, but adaptable. It seems Monks have a proclivity towards elemental magic."

Tala grinned, as she hopped down, and helped Drake up. "I'd say that was a solid first run. Not bad, handsome." She winked at him, and he felt his face heat up in a manner that had nothing to do with almost burning to death.

Drake let out a breath and centered himself, rolling his shoulders as the tension in his muscles slowly faded. His entire body ached from the intensity of the battle, but the rush of victory was worth the considerable effort that his earthbending had taken. His magical power was still fine though, barely even a sliver had been used, but despite that, it had still drained him physically, as if strength was also a factor. He wondered if earthbending would also improve his other skills, and resolved to try a workout with the various elements when he had time. That could be his solution to making sure all of his stats rose with every level.



Aslan came over to them, as they walked off the field. "Very well done, Drake Long." He rumbled. "I threw fire at you on purpose. I was made aware of your skills...and wondered how you would react. And in the flames of combat, your strength has grown! As has your level, I see. Well done indeed. Now, clean yourselves up. We've still three more classes before the day is done." Class Seven groaned, but did as they were instructed. The other groups were not thrilled that the newbie had upstaged them with his performance having drawn Aslan's eye, but not one of their groups had failed to take out their construct.

The next class was Advanced Magic Control, which required absolute precision and teamwork, forcing students to wield arcane forces with discipline rather than raw power as they shaped their magic together, weaving it to form something fragile, like a vase, in his group's case. Drake was paired with Rose and Tala for the class competency assessment, and thanks to the budding love triangle forming between them, which Drake took all class to even notice, not one of them performed very well. Rose's magic was elegant and refined, but she kept glancing at Tala and Drake, and losing her focus thanks to her rising anger.

Tala, for her part, was too focused on helping the newbie instead of her own magic control, and Drake, despite his best efforts, was trying to suppress the powerful mix of male hormones that surged into his dumb ape brain every time Tala's glorious breasts pressed into his back, or his side. After the tenth time, he knew it had to be on purpose. He appreciated that she found him attractive, but it was frustrating to lose his magical focus every time his instincts said, 'Look! Tits!' He'd forgotten how incessant a teenage male mind could be.



He hadn't put much thought into le romance, as he was used to either being ignored by women, or being too obtuse to notice their subtle cues. Nothing about this was subtle though, and he found himself with a moral dilemma. Both Tala and Rose were going to become exceptionally gorgeous women, he had no doubt. The problem, was that he was mentally twice their age, and his stupid body, was not. It was very much eager to swipe its V-card. Drake was fairly sure that would be immoral, and yet every time he tried bringing it up to Tala, she barreled over his words with niceness, forcing him to focus on the lesson, y'know, at least until her giant tits pressed into him again, and shattered his focus. This in turn, had often made Rose lose focus, and shatter their forming vase. By the end of the class, Drake was properly sweating, not entirely from exertion, Rose had a red mark on her refined nose from where she kept pinching it, every time Drake's concentration had faltered, and Tala seemed very pleased with herself.

Their next class, Dungeon Tactics, delved into the recorded experiences of past explorers, dissecting the perils that lay in the depths of the unknown. Unlike the previous class, this one was far more theoretical, relying on maps, historical accounts, and strategic breakdowns of famous expeditions. Vincent thrived here, answering the instructor's questions with crisp, methodical explanations. When a scenario was presented, a hypothetical dungeon filled with shifting traps and monstrous guardians, Vincent sketched out three different plans in mere minutes.

Drake, for his part, also excelled at this, using his raw intelligence stat to keep pace with Vincent, much to his irritation. This culminated in a final example of a truly absurd Dungeon layout, involving spring jumps, spike pits, floating ever-rotating flails that would knock people out of the air, and of course, not one, but three fucking lava pits. Drake had questioned the veracity of the layout, wondering aloud if Dungeons actually became this ridiculous, at which point he learned that the older the Dungeon Boss, the more clever they tended to be. While Vincent had tried to carefully strategize around each trap, Drake had asked Aslan what powered things like ever-rotating flails, and the answer, was always magic. Dispel Magic was indeed a thing, and quite a common spell across classes as it turned out, so Drake had his theoretical party, displayed by a magical approximation, Dispel most of their traps, claimed he could cool the lava either with water or by firebending the heat from it, and at that point they had still had enough spells at the end to theoretically face the boss and win. Vincent's party, had not, as his overly complex plan had confused them, and their magical simulation of the Dungeon ended in repeated failures, while Drake managed the final win.

Much to his relief, Tala had been partnered on Vincent's team, and Rose seemed to have regained a little respect for him after he managed to out-strategize Vincent. The Enchanter was clearly upset with his loss, but Drake had walked over to him at the end of the class saying, "If our parties ever end up split in a Dungeon, I'll feel better knowing at least one of us is with them. And if we're in the same one, well...I weep for whatever Boss we encounter. It won't know what hit it." The two had shaken hands, but Vincent still seemed resolved to beat him next time. Drake, and his unfairly boosted intelligence supplemented by decades of dungeon crawling in video and tabletop games on Earth, wished him luck.



Obscene Beasts and How to Kill Them, by far Drake's favorite class title, was exactly what it sounded like. The Instructor, Kang, was a battle-scarred bovinid man, a veteran with an eye patch and a love for dramatic storytelling. He took the class from Aslan as the leonid took a well-earned break, and guided the students through the horrifying abominations that Dagorath had spewed into the world, creature by creature, including their theorized origins, and the known extent of their abilities. The class was held underground, and the stone brick walls flickered with magical projections of towering monstrosities, their twisted forms shifting as the instructor described their habits, weaknesses, and worst-case scenarios. Drake recognized far too many of them, yet another reminder that Dimensional Echoes were at work, though thankfully his D&D knowledge often turned out to be wrong, as he got a name for a creature slightly wrong, or gave it an ability it wasn't known to have. He proved competent, but Kang eyed him with a weird look whenever this happened, probably because Drake always sounded sure of himself, and wary from what had to be experience. He let out a sigh of relief when the Instructor continued the lesson without mentioning certain nightmare-inducing creatures, like Beholders, or a Tarrasque. Some creatures were better left on the tabletop.

By the end of the day, Drake was assigned his dormitory. The fourth floor's twentieth room. That made him chuckle, as he had always celebrated the Highest of Earth Holidays with gusto, and weed. He briefly wondered if Arcadia had hemp, but then remembered, his teenaged brain wasn't ready for drugs, and they were probably against the Code of Conduct that he'd been issued, but hadn't actually read. The hallways of the dormitory wing were lined with thick wooden doors, each marked with glowing runes to indicate their magical security enchantments.

Pushing his door open, he stepped into a spacious room, far more lavish than he had anticipated. There were three large beds, each separated by wooden partitions to afford a modicum of privacy. A single enchanted lantern hung in the center, casting a warm glow. Bookshelves lined one side of the room, already filled with various tomes, likely courtesy of one of his roommates. A sturdy desk occupied the far corner, covered in carefully arranged notes, diagrams, and spell matrices. The air held the faint scent of parchment, ink, and unwashed teenage male.



Drake's arrival did not go unnoticed. One of his roommates, Vincent, was already seated at the desk, meticulously reviewing a thick tome, his glasses reflecting the lantern's glow. He barely spared Drake a glance before returning to his studies, though his silence spoke volumes. He would not be defeated so easily again. The other, was the sharp-eyed merman with deep crimson hair and a handsome face, Caelum, who looked up from his own book, offering a polite nod. "Ah, Drake Long. We didn't have a chance to meet today. I am Caelum Triton, a Sage who specializes in healing and offensive water magic. I expect we will be seeing much of each other in the coming months."

Drake set his bag down on the empty bed, glancing between the two. "Good to meet you, Caelum. Hope you don't mind a bit of company."

Caelum gave a faint smile. "As long as you do not mind the faint smell of the ocean and fish, we should be just fine."

Vincent finally spoke, not looking up from his book. "Try to keep the noise level reasonable. Unlike some, I intend to spend my nights refining my strategies, not causing disruptions."

Drake smirked. "Duly noted."



As the night stretched on, Drake sat on his bed, status screen hovering before him. The events of the day replayed in his mind; the battles, the lessons, the romance, the tests of wit and willpower. He had expected this world to challenge him, but not in the ways it already had. More than the combat, the camaraderie, and the lessons, it was the simple fact that he had carved out a place for himself here, however tenuous. He wasn't just an anime enjoyer watching events unfold. He was in it now, truly part of some great story that had yet to even properly start.

He checked his status one final time, smirked at the visible progress he'd made, and then quickly fell into a deep sleep, thoroughly exhausted from the day.

His dreams were not to be undisturbed however, as his unconscious mind was enveloped in a golden glow. "So, my Hero, how was the first day of the rest of your new life?"

Drake groaned tiredly. "It...it was a lot. But I leveled up into double digits, at least. I won't be as much of a burden on my party, now. Although...I did umm...I did face a problem I could use your Divine guidance with."

Laurelin smirked at him, knowingly. "The flirting?"

"The flirting!" Drake said, exasperated, mumbling it loudly in his sleep. Caelum and Vincent shared a look, sighed, and tried to go back to bed. Drake continued in his head, oblivious to his roommates, "I didn't even think about it, but I mean, I'm technically twice the age of everyone in my class. The only reason I could keep up with Vincent, whose also my fucking roommate apparently, is because of my life experience, and that same experience is...making me hesitant about forming any uhh...romantic relationships."



Laurelin broke into laughter. For a solid two minutes. It just kept going every time she saw his expression.

Finally, he said, "I'm glad my awkward pain is so amusing to you, Goddess..."

She gave him a kind smile. "Drake Long, for that is who you are, now, you are a sixteen year old male. These relationships are important, and they'll last you the rest of your life. Spurning romance now will only cause problems later, when you decide you do want to woo one of them."

"But...but it's so...Wrong!" Drake countered.

Laurelin fixed him with a stare, then. "I'm going to be blunt, Drake, and I need you to hear me. Your past life's romantic exploits were...objectively sad." Drake winced, but Laurelin kept going, and did not hold back. If she was going to watch his exploits, she wanted some romantic spice, and though she'd never admit it, she was one hundred percent the reason Rose Valcrest had ended up in his eventual class. Drake hadn't remembered the reference that was his name yet, but she certainly had, to her amusement. She hadn't expected Tala, though. Laurelin knew, if she wanted her dose of drama, she had to break down this admittedly fair hangup her Hero had, and make him understand the objective truth, harsh though it was.

"Your first relationship was ended by parental interference, and a relocation. The next three were all long distance, over the Internet, and didn't really count. Your most serious one ended abruptly when it also became long distance, and she eventually left you for someone closer, and the final one barely counted as a relationship because you had, by your definition, 'checked out' already and determined your Earth had enough people living on it. The epitome of casual, that one."



"I get it, I was awkward and incompetent at love." Drake muttered. He wasn't used to Laurelin being so blunt. He'd also thought he was over his romantic incompetence, but her words had cut him deep.

"My point is, Drake, your past life's choices did not a Lothario make. Your actual experience, is about the same as an average teenager, but you have the added benefit of understanding what not to do, what goes where, and what to stimulate to get results. You have the means, motive, and opportunity to have a proper teenage romance, so take my advice: do not hold back. Trust your heart, and you won't regret it. You are once again a teenager, and should not feel guilty for experiencing perfectly normal teenage desires."

Drake pondered for a long time, going silent. She was, technically right. By every metric, he was now sixteen, and though he had lived more years than his peers, they had not been spent on romance. He knew the mechanics of course, enough to achieve the basic goal of a sexual encounter, but his only actual epic romance had become long distance, and never overcame that distance again. It had also effectively broken his heart, and his hope of finding a 'soul mate'. "I'm...I'm just gonna see what happens, I guess." He said with a sigh. He wondered if he still wasn't over the aforementioned romance.

Laurelin nodded, smiling knowingly, and with a suppressed chuckle said, "Very well, Drake. I will let you rest. Just be aware; polygamous marriages are quite common on Arcadia! Byeeee!"

And with that, she was gone. Drake mentally narrowed his eyes, wondering at the Goddess's motivations, before tiredly letting them go. It didn't matter what she wanted, or what the common romantic entanglements on Arcadia were like; in no reality would he ever willingly create a harem.

---

For those curious, here's Class Seven's layout, definitely not in any particular order whatsoever.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 3: The Storm That Hunts Alicorns

I'm having way too much fun writing this.

Enjoy.​

---

The Galdurian Arc Warden Academy, Boy's Dormitory - Primus City​

The first thing Drake noticed about his new world upon awakening, was how technologically advanced it was. It wasn't even electricity based technology, either. It was magic tech. The most important invention being, of course, the shower, with an honorable second place mention to the Magitoilet. There were no sewers on Arcadia, all the waste was just teleported, apparently, to a fiery volcano Dungeon whose inhabitants, apparently, liked it. So much so, that said Dungeon hadn't spewed forth monsters in centuries to attack the civilized world, and in return, adventurers didn't raid the place. It was as close to peace as the spawn of Dagorath had gotten, with the other races.

Vincent had been up at the ass crack of dawn, studying, and Caelum could apparently wash himself off with his magic as he pleased, so Drake had plenty of time to enjoy a steamy spray of perfectly controlled water. It was infinite water, too, so there was no inherent guilt about washing himself in enough clean water to support entire villages, for weeks, on remote or poor parts of the Earth.

This morning, Drake was using his shower thoughts to make a decision: buxom, bouncing, bunny girl, or gorgeous elf Sage? Both blonde, both beautiful, and both healers of significant skill. He knew he had to pick one to pursue, and not lead on, when ideally, he'd get to know them both before deciding. Whoever he showed a preference for was sure to make the other hurt right in the feels though, and despite knowing rejection would hurt regardless, neither young woman deserved to be led on or lied to.

Then, there was also the elephantine skeleton in his closet to consider. He knew how trying to hide one's isekai status went, and he knew it would get out eventually. All anyone had to do was read his Status to see he was a special boi. How each of them would react to that knowledge, for he intended to share all of it (which was the only way this situation stopped creeping him out because of the age gap) was also something to consider. That conversation would happen soon as well, as he didn't want either of them falling for his pretty facade and then being disgusted when they learned he was technically twice their age.




Finally, he made his choice. Despite the appeal of Tala's bouncy bunny booty that his instinct driven eyes had noticed the day before, there was just something about Rose that hit different. She had a Zelda vibe to her but the attraction went beyond mere physicality. "Well Drake Long, looks like it's Rose for…you…wait a fucking minute…" He muttered, as his cognitive wheels finally turned, and his Earth memories finally made the connection.

It was at that point that Laurelin's mysterious 'reference' with his name clicked into place for Drake. He'd asked her why he hadn't chosen his own name, and she said that once he understood her reference, he'd probably laugh, and roll with it, knowing him. He was, indeed, physically laughing, as he realized he was now the American Dragon…Monk. Drake Long. Classic.

He heard Laurelin's laughter in his head, then. "It's about time, Hero…given how much that show influenced your last life, I was sure you'd remember sooner…and to further encourage you to embrace your new status, Drake Long, if you can spell your name to have the same flow as the theme song, I'll grant you a Boon." Drake, of course, knew what she was referencing. Jake Long, the 'Amdrag' himself better known to some nerds as the voice of Fire Prince Zuko, had an admittedly catchy flow in his Disney show's intro theme song. Before the second season had ruined it. He probably hadn't made the connection since he'd been younger than he was currently when he'd watched the Disney channel for the last time. But that catchy flow still echoed in his thoughts.

"From the D to the R to the A to the K to the…no, that doesn't flow at all." He muttered. Adding two different letters was going to be more tricky than he'd first thought.




He heard the Goddess giggle again, and before she faded away, he asked her a question that had been bugging him since yesterday. "Goddess…am I the only Monk in the world?"

Laurelin answered, her good mood conducive to exposition. "You are the first. There was one other who multiclassed into it later in their life, but they never acquired skills from it, beyond using meditation to focus their mind. Your peers don't know what you are, because no one has ever properly started or multiclassed to Monk early enough to learn its martial arts. The weapon arts and spellcasting are much more common, not to mention, easier to master."

"Yea…that makes sense. I'll work on having my name match the flow of the show. Stay tuned." She giggled again, wishing him luck, but he was motivated now. She'd dangled the perfect reward in front of him. It was literally too good to ignore, though he couldn't fathom why Laurelin was offering something that big for something so objectively small, that nobody on this planet would understand as a reference. Maybe she just wanted a laugh, or maybe there was a particular Bard she was grooming to one day literally sing his praises. At this point, that wouldn't surprise him.




The mornings of his days were, according to Instructor Aslan, to be spent working for the Adventurer's Guild, to build rapport with their staff, and get their names somewhat known amongst those they could very well one day end up leading on a Dungeon Raid. Everyone else in class had groaned at Aslan's mandate, though, which led Drake to believe there was a catch. As he arrived in the Primus Adventurer's Guild, he suddenly understood the catch.

He was still in his uniform, since he lacked any kind of armor, not that Monk armor even existed anyway. Any regular clothing he wore would probably be about as equally protective as 'Monk armor', the way he saw it. As he saw his classmates though, he realized he was very much alone in his assumption. Vincent was on his case immediately. "Imbecile!" He hissed. "You can't wear the Academy's uniform here! Not only will it get ruined beyond use almost immediately, you just painted a giant blue and gold target on us!"

"Don' get pissy with him, glasses." Came an obnoxious, rough voice. They turned to behold three heavily armored and armed veteran adventurers, sporting steel plates stamped with the Adventurer's Guild's seal on their armor as a sign of their skill level. "Tha entire place had you newbies pegged as Arc Warden babbies tha moment you waddled in 'ere."




Drake stared at the human scum with a bored, blank expression. "And? So what if we're from the Academy? That means every single one of us has more magical potential in our pinky than your entire genetic lineage."

The two geniuses beside their truly foul smelling leader made 'ohooo' noises, and Drake noted his classmates facepalming. "Big talk frum a kid tha' showed up in his Academy jammies."

Drake narrowed his eyes. "This is a uniform, Trash Heap. One representing the colors of the God of Magic. You'd do well to remember that." The leader looked back at his comrades with a knowing smirk, but if this was a trap, Drake was going to spring it. He was confident he could take any of the losers before him one on one. His level might have been low, but he had the Kung Fu knowledge of a Master in his brain, and a body capable of using it. He was also absurdly durable, which meant his punches hit harder than they should have. "I can change into my bedclothes, if you prefer. I'll kick your mongrel ass in whatever outfit you want, it makes no difference to a class that uses Light Armor."

Vincent grabbed his shoulder. "Drake, we're not allowed to start brawls-"




The sad excuse for an adventurer mocked Vincent's tone. "Waaaaah! Wuwr nowt awowed to stawt bwawls! Hahahahaha!"

Drake's eyes narrowed, and he found his voice deepening towards what it had been in his old life, as he said, "I'm not going to brawl here, in the Guild of Primus. But if this Human garbage wants a Duel to settle this nonsense, I will happily show him Exactly where he ranks, compared to an Academy First Year." Drake smirked then, and dropped the bait. "The lowest level First Year in my entire class, I might add. Surely a big stwong steewl cwass Adventuwer can take a level ten, no?" He taunted, mimicking the man's tone.

By this point, the entire tavern floor of the guild was watching with bemused expressions, and as Drake planned, the crowd made an 'oooooooh' as he laid down the gauntlet. The human didn't have enough brain cells to wonder why a level ten first year student would do something like this. Anyone with a brain, might have known the Academy did not enroll idiots, and been more cautious, but it seemed the disease of stupidity was as rampant on Arcadia, as it was on Earth. And once again, to his dismay, prevalent among humans. Dimensional Echoes at work, no doubt.

"Yer on, whelp." The man snarled, thrusting forward a hand. "I agree to tha duel. Name tha terms."




As Drake took his hand, he suddenly knew, without knowing how he knew, that the man was exactly level fifty. High, for a steel rank adventurer, and likely at what Aslan had called the 'Blood Limit'. Apparently, those without Arc Warden levels of potential had a limit to the amount of levels they could gain, and eventually stopped. According to his research though, a level fifty should've been able to advance to the next class of adventurer. Either way, he was practically drooling at the chance for that much experience. A level twenty five construct had boosted him from three to ten. A level fifty seasoned warrior, stupid though he may have been, might just boost him further, especially with his experience gain.

"One on one. No weapons, no potions, no healing. I came here to quest today, and I don't have time to punch through your potions. Not that you should need them against a level ten." Drake said, smirking, and gripping the man's hand tighter.

The steel adventurer was all in, completely confident in his abilities. "I accept. An' I don't want no repercushions from tha Academy when I beat one of their little babbies bloody."

Drake grinned malevolently, as his grip tightened on the man's hand even further. The adventurer tried to pull it back, but Drake did not relent as he all but snarled. "Oh I promise…the Academy will hear nothing of this from me." With that, their hands glowed with magic, as the symbol of a flag bearing a pair of crossed swords hovered over their fists.

"The Duel is agreed upon…and in the interest of safety, the Guild will be holding it on the roof." One of the elven counter attendants said, giving Drake a sympathetic look. Forty levels was an insurmountable wall, as he would soon learn. "Those who wish to watch, should ascend now. This way, gentlemen…"




Drake finally let the man's hand go, and he sneered at Drake, following the woman. Drake went after them, but stopped as he felt a light hand on his shoulder. He turned, and felt his breath vanish, as Rose's absurdly pretty eyes locked on his. "You should forfeit, Drake…these Adventurers love situations like this…and if you lose, our class will look weak. Also…I-"

She was cut off by Tala, who sensed a moment happening, and got in front of it, literally pushing Rose out of the way as she took one of Drake's hands. "I can't bear to watch you be hurt!" She said with her big golden bunny eyes wide and pleading, "The rules say nothing about a Buff. Fortitude!" She intoned, and Drake blinked, as the divine magic surged into him, significantly raising his health, and strength. For a time.

"Cat's Grace!" Came Rose's voice, as she Enhanced his Ability for good measure, boosting dexterity, if he recalled rightly. She gave him a small, shy smile. "Don't die up there, alright? You're definitely going to get in trouble for losing, though…the Headmaster doesn't like bad press."

"Ladies." He said calmly, evenly, his mind already calmed and focused, for battle, "Have a little faith that I'll win. I managed just fine against the Fire Elemental. Compared to that, this trash is nothing."

"He's a seasoned level fifty Steel Ranked Adventurer." Vincent snarled, gripping his staff so hard it would've broken had it not been magical. "He's going to wipe the floor with you. Absolute. Imbecile."




"Glad to have your support, roomie." Drake said, smirking at the Enchanter, who looked ready to snap. He leveled his staff at Drake and snarled, "Enhance Strength! Enhance Movement! Chant of fucking Fortitude!" Three more buffs landed on Drake's person, as he blinked in surprise.

"If you're going to talk so big…you had better fucking win!" Vincent snarled, making his own way up the stairs the spectators were using, alongside the rest of the class. That left Drake with Tala and Rose, neither of whom was willing to depart first.

He smiled at both of them. "Thank you, both, for the Buffs. But seriously. Believe in the me that's going to crush that asshole. The prayers of two beautiful healers is all I need, for victory. Watch." He nodded and smiled at Tala, winked at Rose, and then turned to walk confidently up the stairs. As he went, he stretched his arms, stopping at each square landing to stretch his legs. He could feel the magic empowering him, and as he made it to the top of the building, or rather, a high balcony that had been converted into a fighting field for practicing adventurers, he heard the man's obnoxious laughter.

"Aww look! Little Academy babby got himself some Tier One Buffs! Bahahaha!" He popped a potion and went to chug it, when suddenly, it was snatched from his hands. Indignantly, he blinked at the Guild Clerk holding his potion.

"The rules were clear, Mr. Kedran. No potions. Magic, like Buffs, is allowed."




The foul smelling excuse for an adventurer, Kedran, apparently, scoffed. "I don' need no fucking Buffs to crush this runt. Come on already, fresh meat! I'm starvin' over here!" He and his compatriots chuckled at his D tier humor. Drake took in the crowd as well, and frowned.

The clerk was equidistant between them, on Drake's side of the basic, circular field, were his classmates. Garret gave him an encouraging thumbs up and a confident nod, while Sethis and the rest seemed assured of his imminent loss. Vincent was still fuming, but watching closely. Rosa and Tala were holding hands, united, briefly, in their worry for their hot classmate. Drake didn't notice, but their resident dark elf, Lyria, was also watching him closely. His performance with the elemental yesterday, namely the way that he moved…intrigued her. It also helped that he was pleasant to look at, but she'd caught on quickly that there was more to this noob than anyone understood. And, there was the fact that nobody even really knew what a Monk was. Yet.

Drake fell into his Dragon Stance, and stared Kedran down. The man was in the middle of making comments Drake would not repeat, about his female classmates. He used the misogyny as fuel for his anger, and the weight behind his strikes.

"Begin!" The clerk shouted, stepping back.

Kedran waltzed forward two steps, and then blinked. Drake was gone. "Wot the fu-" An almighty crack echoed across the balcony, as Drake channeled his buffed speed and his Street Fighter knowledge into a beautiful Shoryuken to the jaw. He was by no means done, though. He could feel his magical power surging through him, and it was showing him details of his opponent that hadn't been there seconds ago. He spun gracefully as he rapidly landed and adjusted from the uppercut, straight into a high roundhouse kick to Kedran's midsection. Empowered by magic, Drake's eyes widened as his durable, hardened foot sent the man hurtling into the white brick wall of the Guild with a resounding boom. The kick hadn't done anywhere near as much damage as slamming into stone, but the point had, in Drake's opinion, been made.




Drake rose from his stance, awkwardly, and looked at the clerk. She was an elven woman with her chestnut brown hair drawn back in a ponytail. "He still has health…should I leave him, or…?"

"The Duel will end when one participant runs out of seventy five percent of their Health Points." She informed him calmly. Drake nodded, and took his stance again, as Kedran got up, swearing like a sea captain.

"Smarmy…fucking…juiced up, inbred, cousin fuckin', NOBLE CUNT! I'LL KILL YO-" He launched a basic Flare at the first year, but Drake was a blur again, gone from where he'd been standing. Another boom filled the air as Kedran smashed into the brick wall a second time, from a speeding gut punch from Drake's hardened fist. Then, he just started pummeling the man. Eight heavy strikes to his face, followed by Drake going full Rocky Balboa training on cold meat montage on his midsection, and then a graceful sweep of the legs and a falling People's Elbow to the gut ended Kedran's remaining health, by his estimation.

The clerk was there, ready to stop him, but Drake was nowhere near blinded with rage. If anything, he was as calm as a still lake. He gestured to the adventurer, and the clerk checked his pulse and status, nodding. "Adventurer Kedran, Steel Rank, is unable to continue! The winner is…umm…" She paused awkwardly, gesturing to Drake, who wiped his brow, and addressed the crowd.




He walked before them, and projected his voice. "My name, is Drake Long. I'm the world's first Monk!" The crowd murmured, having never heard that word. "For those who don't know, Monks essentially 'punch things until they die.'" He said with actual air quotes. "We're also pretty fast, but not very well armored. I look forward to working with all of you!" Fist to palm, he bowed low, and rose once the slow confusion and disbelief shifted to highly entertained disbelief and raucous insults at Kedran's incompetence.

"This kid's a whole new class? The fuck?"

"Wow! I knew that guy sucked, but beaten by a level ten!?"

"Monks are legit, man…"

"He's going to get demoted a rank for sure."

"Nah mate, I think the kid is just that good. He's on an Arc Warden's level, remember?"

"Nah, you're right…those kids are just on another level…seeing it in action though…damn."

Similar murmurings followed the crowd as they descended, and left Drake chuckling. He flexed his fists, testing them. Normally, in his old body, punching someone's face bones and rib bones would've hurt. Now, they barely tingled. "Durability…" He muttered, grinning. "Was a wise choice."




Then, he felt a familiar press into his back as toned feminine arms wrapped around him from behind. Yet, he did not buckle under Tala's weight. "You did it! Holy shit! I don't even…how!?" She shrieked in his ear. Gently, Drake unclipped her arms, and turned to the stunned faces of his class, and the clerk.

"That…was cool." Garret rumbled in approval, as Sethis, despite his earlier skepticism, nodded in agreement.

"And hot." Tala giggled. Drake felt his face heat up, suddenly.

"Like a frozen Sun…" Nyara muttered, disbelief plain on her feline features.

"I too would like to know how you accomplished this, Mr. Long." The clerk stated, amazed how one so young could move so fast. "The disparity in level…this result should've been impossible…or at least harder to achieve…" Quietly, she wondered if she was looking at the start of a Chosen One's rise.

They were exceedingly rare, mortals favored directly by Laurelin and Galdurath, but every few centuries, one would appear. Usually right before a Demon Lord. She suppressed a shudder of fear. Their world had gone centuries now without a new Demon Lord appearing…which meant the next one would be seriously bad news, if the past was prologue.

Drake chuckled, nonchalantly shrugging as he'd already stopped sweating. "Look people, I'm not braggin'...I'm just an American Dragon…Style Monk." He tried not to burst into laughter, but he did have a wide smirk on his face.

"Amer…ican?" Vincent said, puzzled, irritated, but smiling despite himself. Their new classmate was certainly something.

In the back of his head, Drake heard Laurelin giggling hysterically.




The clerk ahemmed, before the blonde bun could make further advances. "You'll need to come with me, Mr. Long. The Guild Master is…going to want to hear about this. Having a level fifty veteran so soundly beaten is going to be a big hit to our competence."

"Or, the start of a meteoric rise from another Academy student." Drake offered. "Surely the G.A.W.A. is renowned enough for this to not be that surprising, right? We do also have to get started on our Quests, guys." He made his voice deep, like Aslan's then, "Time waits for no one…" That, made smirks break out across his still shocked classmates. Every single one of them knew for sure now, their new rapidly leveling classmate was in no way weak.

It was at that point, that Rose spoke up. "I'll be your party's healer, Drake…if you'll have me." She gave him a small but hopeful smile.

The victorious Hero smiled genuinely back at her. "Gladly, Rose…so now all we need is a tank…" Garret thumped his basic iron breastplate, and gave the pair a nod, "And another damage dealer…" He cast his eyes towards the rest of the class.

At that point, a voice Drake didn't recognize, because it rarely spoke up, filled the air. "I will aid your party, Drake Long. Your skills are…impressive…if confusing. I wish to see more." The owner of said voice turned out to be their resident dark elf, Lyria.

Drake inclined his head towards her. "Glad to have a powerful Sorceress along. And with that, I think we've achieved a balance of beauty, and brawn, eh Garret?" He elbowed the giant lion man, who chuckled awkwardly, glanced at Lyria, and then looked away quickly. The dark elf smirked at him.




As the rest of the class split up and set off, Drake, Rose, Garret, and Lyria followed the Guild's clerk up another flight of stairs to what Drake recognized as an elevator. Naturally, like all the other tech he was noticing today, powered by magic. As they made it to the top floor and entered the Guild Master's office, Drake noted it was considerably less magical. A magnificent, massive red-orange greatsword with a pair of S shaped twin blades comprising its length sat on the wall, covered in visible dust. The master himself was standing before a window, hands behind his back, as he looked out over Primus.

​

"Sir, I've brought the Academy student involved in the Duel below."

"Thank you, Kelista. That will be all, for now." The massive golden armored form rumbled. The clerk gave them all a look, and then hurried off. "I saw your class's handiwork down there. But even without Buffs, that…Monk, was it? That Monk would've torn through Kedran regardless." The man turned then, and the party blinked, as they saw a scarred human visage, still handsome, despite the damage. Drake blinked, as his eyes and their seemingly new ability to evaluate people registered him as a High Human, like Drake was. Rose was considered a High Elf, and according to Laurelin, the 'high' versions of a species were simply those with exponentially strong magical potential in their blood. She'd made Drake a High Human mostly as a joke though, one they had both found amusing. He was glad his patron Goddess had such a good sense of humor.




"Adventurers like Kedran are a stain on what we do." The Guild Master stated flatly. "He'll be demoted posthaste. I've only been looking for an excuse, until now." The Guild Master crossed his burly arms, then. "You there. Dragon Monk. Step forward."

Drake did so, and as he did, he once again felt he was in the presence of one who could reduce him to atoms, if they wished to do so. "I am Guild Master Solus, of the Primus Adventurer's Guild." He needlessly said, "This effectively makes me the head of the entire Guild all across Arcadia. You seem like a capable fighter, despite your low level. Bring up your Status for me, please."

Drake briefly hesitated, but as the man raised a scarred eyebrow, he did so. Quietly, Solus looked over the information. "From level ten, to level twenty five. Most impressive, but how... Ahh. I see. Lord Galdurath and Goddess Laurelin's will becomes clear, as their latest ally appears now, in an age of peace that has not known a Demon Lord in generations." Drake winced as he heard sharp inhales from behind him. Garret, as usual, was taking things in stride, but then, the leonid had known Drake was special since they'd met. It was the girls who were shocked by learning their newest classmate was a Chosen of the Gods. "Drake Long. I am giving you and your party a Quest worthy of your skills. Complete it, and I shall promote you to Adamantine Ranked Adventurers on the spot, and give you a bonus in the form of compensation as well. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to protect a herd of migrating Alicorns currently flying over the Elven forest of Silmaril east of here."




Drake's eyes widened in shock, and he silently, immediately, reached out to the Goddess. Her answer was amused, but measured.

"Calm down, my Hero. There isn't an actual Silmaril there. It's simply a name the Elves of old chose for the land after learning my origin, a story that you don't have time for right now."

Solus was still talking, and Drake blinked as he sensed Rose had now walked up beside him. "…some kind of beast around level fifty that the Guild hasn't identified yet. What we do know is that if it's hunting Alicorns, it's powerful, and has likely feasted on some before. This mission would be difficult for most Adamantine parties, but with your magical aptitude, Skills, and training as future Arc Wardens, it should be well within your skill sets. Take a moment, before you accept. Death is a very real possibility."




Drake huddled up with his allies a few feet from Solus's desk. "I think our Party is ideal." Garret rumbled. "I say we rise to this challenge."

"I…really need the money." Drake muttered. "And I trust in our Skills. We have heals, we have a solid tank, and between Lyria and I, we can...probably do enough damage."

Lyria frowned. "Our Skills won't do much. Especially if it's much higher level than us."

Drake smirked. "That punk downstairs was much higher level than me. We've got this, Lyria. And if we don't...we bail, run, and suffer the consequences."

Rose frowned, and seemed worried. "He said it was a flying Monster. Can you handle aerial combat, Drake?"

He nodded. "If our Sorceress can boost me with Fly, it won't be an issue."

Lyria scoffed. "I'd need a Pegasus feather to learn a spell that strong. I'm good, not that good. Pegasi are insanely rare. We didn't all come to the Academy riding in a carriage pulled by four of them. And yes, I did check for feathers once I heard about that."

Drake grinned at her. "Would an Alicorn feather do? If our lovely Elf Sage can approach one and ask for such a gift, we can help protect their herd. Either way, Garret and I would probably spook them."

Rose peered at the handsome monk, her cheeks slightly more pink. "More of your strange sometimes-accurate-sometimes-not beastlore?"

Drake shrugged. "From what little I know of Unicorns and Alicorns, they will apparently only tolerate female virgins. Not male ones. So, it's up to you, ladies."




Rose's face went scarlet, and Lyria's darkened to a mix of black and purple. Garret awkwardly looked up and away from both women, wisely not touching that subject in any discernible way. "You assume much Drake Long!" Lyria hissed at him.

Drake blinked. "Oh. My bad. Are you both not…?"

"Of course we are!" Rose whisper-shouted. "It's still incredibly rude to assume, though!"

Behind them, Drake heard Solus failing not to chuckle. "I'm…sorry, ladies. Clearly you're more sensitive about this than I am. My apologies. The point still stands. One of you can approach the Alicorns, beg a molting feather, and then we'll be able to fly against whatever Monster is hunting them. And if that fails…I do have a trump card that can fly me around, but…I don't know if he's ready yet. Either way, I'm very much down for this Quest."




Lyria looked at Rose, then shrugged. "I...think this plan is more solid. Drake is right. We can do this. I say we go for it."

Rose sighed, composing herself. "A-Alright. I don't want creatures like Alicorns being devoured by some Demonspawn. Let's save them."

"Good!" Solus boomed, having heard every word the teens had spoken. They reminded him of his own days at the Academy, back when Galdurath had still taught there. "Now that you've accepted, I'll sweeten your reward, to further motivate you. If all the Alicorns safely make it to the northern continent, I'll double your monetary reward, and throw in some Epic tier, Class appropriate armor. Obviously, if you hadn't figured it out, the Guild and our beloved Goddess Laurelin are very invested in making sure the Alicorns arrive intact. Their role in Arcadia's ecosystem is vital. Good luck."

From what Drake had learned, gear typically came in six tiers. Common, which was just basic clothing, Good, which as the name implied, was slightly better than common and tended to be actual adventuring gear, Rare, which made it pretty obvious how hard that tier was to find, Epic, which was the kind of armor and weapons that the Demon Lord slayers of old wore, in every slot, Legendary, which the Arc Wardens strictly oversaw the use and deployment of, as well as who was allowed to keep such weapons or armor, and finally, Artifact, which had the potential to be anything, from armor, to a magic item. They were typically considered as useful as legendary tier items, sometimes even more so, and were therefor tied at the top. The sword on Solus's wall, for example, Drake could now see was a legendary tier weapon. If he was handing out epic items, he'd probably used them himself once. This helped Drake fully grasp the stakes here, but Solus was clearly gambling on them to succeed, and Drake didn't want to disappoint him. He seemed like a good person to know, and impress.




As the party left the Guild's headquarters, they gathered around Lyria for Teleportation, which was within her skill set. They appeared in an elven city, and Drake got his first proper look at one. He was reminded of Night Elf cities from World of Warcraft, but this one was much brighter, and didn't have actual buildings. The homes and businesses had been built into carefully hollowed trees, probably through magic, and the trees didn't seem negatively affected by that. They'd simply grown around whatever the elves built within them, as nature always did. Instead of resisting that though, the elves of Arcadia had embraced and utilized it to their advantage. Some of the trees seemed as tall as skyscrapers, marking them as ancient.

Seeing his expression, Rose smirked up at him, as he had about a head of height on her. "First time in an Elven city?" Drake nodded. "Some day I'll have to show you Fangorn, our capital." Her cheeks flushed slightly, as he shifted his eyes to hers. "If you want to, of course…"

"I do." He answered smoothly. "Who better than a High Elf Sage to show me around? I think I'd get lost without a guide, it just looks like a forest to me."

Lyria ahemmed loudly. "If you two are done, we need to get moving, if we're going to find the Alicorns before whatever is hunting them does."




Nodding in agreement, Garret and Lyria led the way, while Rose quietly pointed out the buildings to Drake's eyes. Eventually he saw what gave away a home or business from a regular tree, but he let Rose go on explaining. He didn't mind hearing her voice.

Once outside the city, the journey was long, but primarily boring. They came across a violent pack of wolves, but made ridiculously short work of them as Garret drew their aggro, and the other three punched, burned, and smote them to death. Even Drake hadn't leveled up from them. To counter the sheer boredom of walking, Drake tried controlling the wind, and getting some airbending under his belt. It'd be incredibly useful for the fight to come. Unfortunately, the wind didn't answer, but Rose was supportive every time he failed. Garret and Lyria were less supportive, as the Leonid ripped a loud fart that echoed in his plate armor, and declared himself a superior 'air bender'.

When they came upon a small river, Drake had a chance for redemption. Thankfully, the water was more responsive, and he was able to impress his party members with a series of flashy moves straight out of The Last Airbender. They refilled their water canteens, part of the standard Adventurer Kit that came with the usual bedroll, spark stone, and travel rations. As well as, of course, rope.




Figuring his party would be knowledgeable about the composition of their adventuring gear, Drake slyly made a show of examining the rope, and then said, "So uhh, what do you guys think this is made of, exactly?"

The three of them shared a look. Rose shrugged, Lyria was too puzzled to answer him as she just squinted at him, trying to understand what was so interesting about rope, but Garret, bless his big beautiful furry face, said, "Uhh…Hemp? It's called hempen rope, so…"

"Yes!" Drake whooped, and the others shared another look. No one commented, though. Sometimes Drake asked weird questions, almost like he somehow didn't know basic things about the world. Like what people made rope out of.

For Drake, the logic was simple. If Hemp existed, then the fun version also existed. Probably. And even if it didn't, it could. He was still too young for that, but some day, he would once again celebrate the Highest of holidays, for Arcadia also had twelve months, though he hadn't memorized the names yet. Currently, it was the Earth equivalent of Fall, which meant the school year at the Academy was similar to the one in America, starting in Fall and likely ending for a break in early Summer. The seasons, oddly enough, did have the same names.




He kept trying airbending as they walked, but had a continuous lack of success, until Lyria signaled that she'd found the herd. "Alright ladies," Garret rumbled after Drake nudged him. "You know what to do."

Drake gave them a thumbs up. "Good luck!" The girls gave him an unamused look, confirming they still hadn't forgiven his faux pas.

As Garret and Drake waited in silence, he continued futilely trying to match Jake Long's flow quietly, to his new name. "From the D to the R to the A, K, E…" His eyes widened. That…actually flowed correctly. "I'm the…Dragon Monk…daddy of the N.Y.C. Ya heard…?"

He sat up suddenly, drawing Garret's attention, and practically shouted it in his head, properly, with the right speed, tone, and mental theme song accompaniment. He grinned as he felt Laurelin's amusement. "I knew you'd get there…good timing, too. Choose your Boon, Hero. Or, two Minor Boons instead of a major one."

"Oh, that's…that's gonna need a minute…what qualifies as a Minor Boon, Goddess?"

"Armor, weapons, a reasonable boost to your stats…it'd be easier if you knew what you wanted, and I could tell you if it qualifies as minor, or not."

"I'll let you know, Goddess. I appreciate your infinite patience." She confirmed his words, and Drake sensed her humming his flow in her own mind, to her immense amusement.




A minute later, Drake had his choices. "So…wise and merciful Goddess…would learning another Language not native to Arcadia count as a Minor Boon? The one I have in mind would be from a place you probably know well."

She chuckled in his skull. "I had a feeling you would eventually ask to wield the Dovah Zul. Hmmm. I'll allow it as a Minor Boon, with the caveat that you have to learn any Shouts. I will grant you one Shout to begin with, though, for I am a merciful Goddess."

Drake grinned wider. "Merciful indeed, fair Laurelin. Well, if I'm the American Dragon Monk…only one shout will do!" He heard her chuckle again, as he shouted, in his head, "Dovah…Alok!" Roughly, of course, this translated as 'dragon rise' but in Drake Long's context, it was 'Dragon Up'. Because of course it was.

"If you find yourself falling short of power in your fast-approaching battle, try your Shout. It will burn a considerable amount of magic, so be aware of your magic pool. Bad things happen when you run out of Magic. Your second Minor Boon?"

"I need better armor than my school uniform." Drake stated plainly, "and since no such Monk armor currently exists…I was hoping for a robe. Maybe…something white, gold and green trim, with a Yin Yang symbol on the back. Silk, probably, but enchanted with…let's say Good quality, with the potential for more. Crafting skills are something I really want to look into…y'know, when I have a minute. As far as effects…turning my movement speed into a flight speed would be ideal to start with. That and the Good tier armor rating should be enough for a Minor Boon, and it will greatly aid me in keeping your Alicorns safe."

"Your Boons are granted, Drake Long. Fight well. Fight smart. The beast that is coming is…a true horror."




As Drake grimaced, suddenly less confident if Goddess Laurelin was calling their opponent a true horror, several things happened at once. Drake was illuminated by a flash of light, and Garret stared, mouth open, fangs visible, as a folded white garment trimmed with gold appeared in his arms. He held it up, letting it fall open before him, and noted a white, silken, breathable top and bottoms as well. Underclothes, for the robe to go over, not at all dissimilar from what monks wore on Earth. "Yessss." Drake hissed. "Monk armor! I'll be right back, Garret!"

The black maned leonid just stared, as his ally dashed into the bushes to change. "What…the actual fuck…?"

Then, sensing something, the leonid looked towards the girls. The Alicorns were launching into the air in a panic, while Rose and Lyria were readying spells. With a snarl, he leapt from the bushes with a skill designed to help big, heavy tanks like him get where they needed to in a timely manner, just as a sparking black claw wreathed in red and black lightning struck at Lyria. Garret landed in an explosion of dirt and stone before her, his shield pulsed with blue light first, then red, and the beast who owned the claw shifted its burning red eyes to him.

It was a creature from a nightmare, not entirely unlike a leonid, or the Lions they'd come from, but whatever this had once been, Dagorath's power had warped it into something else entirely. Two massive leathery demonic wings rose into the sky, and Garret noted they were coated in sharp, black armor, as were its forearms and elbows. Its mane was almost white, save for the bloody tint that darkened it, and the leonid knight grimaced, as he saw for himself the ever-lingering stain that Unicorn blood came with. It didn't seem fresh at least, so their bonus was still intact. Then, he saw its stats, and his eyes widened.

Level seventy five.

The three of them were just under forty. And Drake was even weaker, and not wearing armor. This was not something they could take. Not unless Drake had another ridiculous card up his sleeve, which, to be fair, he had hinted that he did have. Leveling up had apparently given him several intense new skills, including something that could, apparently, cause near instant death, or at the very least, significant damage that couldn't be resisted. He'd read them aloud on their walk to this remote fae field, but Garret doubted they'd do much to something at seventy five. The level disparity was too great.

​

Lyria attacked anyway, as a barrage of Fireballs launched from her crescent Moon tipped staff. What truly hurt it though, was the Smite that Rose landed on it, manifested as a slash of divine light. "Anyone remember what the fuck a Raiju is!?" Garret shouted, hoping some useful beast lore might reveal an exploitable weakness, but the girls both answered with a negative. "Balls." He rumbled. The name of the game now, was kiting it away from the Alicorns. Even if they fell and became its next meal, the mythical winged and horned creatures would be given a significant head start. "I'll kite it!" He shouted, "Rose! Hasten them!"

Forcing the sparking claw away, Garret bravely charged the beast and forced it to step backwards as he sliced at its paws and face. It leapt back into the air, snarling as lightning began building around it. He had no doubt Drake was coming, his new friend was probably just waiting for an opening. "Starting Debuffs!" Lyria called out, as she used her innate Sorcerer powers to cast three spells at once. Then, once the relatively quick debuffs fell over the Raiju, she summoned a Lightning Elemental for good measure. "Divert its attacks! Or we're dead!" She ordered. The being composed of pure plasma made a nodding motion where its eyes were, and shot into the air above the Raiju, waiting to strike.

Garret, for his part, was going blow for blow with the massive beast, tanking some strikes on his shield, and paying for every sword skill he attempted. Rose kept having to heal him, as each strike from the Raiju lowered him by half his health points. The creature's claws and serrated metal covered wings were cutting through his plate armor like a hot knife through butter.

"Where the fuck is Drake!?" She shouted.

"He'll be here!" Garret roared. "Keep your Magic replenished, and focus! We can do this!" Despite his words, Garret knew they were, at most, keeping the Raiju at bay so far. The damage they were dealing was negligible, and Lyria's spells seemed to be resisted. They had limited magic potions, too. This stalemate they'd managed to force with their tactics so far could not last. Garret activated his damage mitigating buffs specific to his class as Rose chugged one potion, and his body surged with white energy as Lyria cast Enlarge on him. With a feral grin, the dark maned lion knight empowered by powerful defensive skills rose to the Raiju's eye level, and with a pair of roars that shook the forest, the two leonine figures clashed. A shockwave tore through the area, as the Buffs once again proved how useful they could be when stacked. Rose had learned to cast quite a few, some that passively boosted stats for limited time periods, and others with shorter durations, but better effects. Like restoring her magic, or continuously healing Garret while she spent time chugging potions.




For his part, Drake had been about to jump in, it had just taken a minute to attune to his new clothes. Once he did, he launched into the sky, and got some height. Reaching level twenty five had come with some new skills, though he hadn't had a chance to try them out yet. His Step of the Wind got him into place instantly, and he saw Rose and Lyria notice him first. From under his hood, he had a cocky smirk. Quivering Palm, a technique that might well save them here with the sheer amount of damage it did, needed an opening, which meant he needed to make one. Thankfully, he had something that could, probably, do that too, since it wasn't technically a magic based attack. They needed damage this thing wouldn't resist, and its armored hide and innate magic were blocking most of Lyria and Garret's damage.

That was where his new Ki Blast came in. That one, he had tried on the road, and though he hadn't told the others, he felt he could make them bigger. Much bigger. At the price of more magic power, of course. Despite not being a magical attack, using Ki still burned his magic energy pretty significantly.

"Dovah Alok!" His Shout cracked through the air, and as promised, seemed to function like the Kaio Ken from Dragonball Z, in that it greatly enhanced his attack power, briefly, for a heavy price on his body. Wasting no time, he lowered his hands by his sides, and created a new move as he summoned his Ki Blast, and forced it to grow. Purely for fun, he started shouting, "Kaaaa…meeeeh…"

He smirked, as he heard Laurelin in his head. "Oh wow, you're actually trying it mid-combat!?"

"Haaaa…! Meeeeeeh!" The Raiju, sensing the growing source of Ki, turned its foul eyes to Drake, but Garret was there, smashing its muzzle with his giant shield, and forcing its focus on him as he continued brutally bashing its feline face. Lightning arced around the creature in a deadly display and shot towards Garret, but the Lightning Elemental tanked it. It could do that, at most, one more time. Drake didn't wait, they needed to damage this thing as fast as possible, before Rose ran out of magic. As soon as the Ki Beam hit what he sensed was the limit, for now, of how far he could push it, he channeled Son Goku and gave his best, "HAAAAAAAAAA!"

Using his magic and his manipulation of his bodily Ki that had come with leveling up, Drake imposed his will on the empowered Ki Blast, making it take the iconic beam shape and white-blue color he desired.




The area turned bright white from the light it gave off, as it shot down towards the Raiju, hammering it right between the wing joints, and slamming it into the ground. A significant portion of its health was removed, but the creature was nowhere near done yet. It still, unfortunately, had over half its health points, while Drake felt his considerable magic pool rapidly depleting thanks to his Shout. As soon as his Kamehameha Wave struck, Drake shot downward, readying his Quivering Palm, as Garret further pinned the creature by stabbing his sword through its right paw. Rose and Lyria hammered it with spells, and Drake felt a buff empower him, specifically his health again, as he landed on the creature, and disrupted its natural bodily Ki with his glowing palm.

Drake grinned, as he sensed the Raiju, considerable constitution though it had, fail to resist the technique (It rolled a 5). Drake then began using his other skills to brutally pound its wing joint, as his Quivering Palm worked slightly different from the table top version. He needed to strike his target repeatedly to make the internal waves of Ki force damaging its organs take effect. Empowered as he was by his Shout, this was not hard to do, and the party watched, in awe and disbelief, as his punches started making the Raiju's body rupture. Armor around its chest burst apart, and that was only the most noticeable damage. Much of it was internal. The Raiju spat up foul black blood, thoroughly unable to rise as the sheer force of Drake's punches kept hammering it back to the ground, and continued to rupture its internal organs. "Get back!" He shouted at Garret, and the knight swiftly turned, abandoning his sword, scooped up Lyria, and then leapt back towards Rose.

Without the tank to draw aggro, the suffering beast turned its wrath on Drake. Another surge of lightning struck at him, and though Lyria's elemental tanked it, the attack still hit him. But Drake refused to so much as falter as he felt the foul energy burning him. "Just die already!" He shouted at it, his blows coming faster and faster, even as he felt his power waning. Sensing his strikes weakening, the Raiju countered, and countered hard. Drake's eyes bulged as the brutal backpaw sent him soaring into a sturdy tree trunk, and he hit it hard enough to cough up blood. That was bad, but his own stats said he wasn't done yet. His vision wavered, as he saw his magic running dangerously low. If Laurelin hadn't boosted his Int stat, he'd have long since run out.




"DRAKE!" He heard Rose scream, and he grinned at the Raiju as it slowly stalked towards him, the vibrations from his punches still very much tearing up its insides. He felt a timely surge of healing fill him, and he was no longer at death's door, as his health points surged to full. He stared at Rose in disbelief, as she wasted Heal, on him. Simply named, but incredibly potent, Heal brought the target to full health thrice per day, at a reasonable magic cost. It was typically for use on tanks, not damage dealers, unless they were almost dead. That, was when Drake understood how bad he must've looked after that hit.

Drake stood up straight, his hood now lowered after getting struck, and wiped some blood from his mouth. He raised the palm that had started the internal organ barrage, still glowing crimson from the effects of his shout. "Nice try, fucker…but you're already dead." At about just under half of its total health, he knew his Quivering Palm could end the Raiju now, with how many strikes had strengthened it. Each of his hits had been followed by Flurry of Blows, each of which counted towards raising the damage of Quivering Palm. He clenched his open palm into a fist, and all at once, his internal Ki strikes ruptured the creature's heart. Its red eyes bulged, and its natural lightning radiated outward as it died, a final fiery fuck you to anyone in its vicinity, namely Drake. Drake raised a quick earth barrier, but the explosion still knocked him back into the tree again, thanks to how concussive force worked, and his vision went black.

When he came to consciousness again, he was…oddly comfortable? Like he was on the world's softest pillow. Then, he grimaced, as he felt something wet hit his face. He tried raising an arm to wipe whatever it was away, and then groaned. Massive amounts of pain filled his body, and his eyes shot open. He didn't even have time to register he'd been in Rose's lap, his head just mere inches from Paradise, as his body punished him for using the Shout. His ears were ringing, and he rolled off the lap pillow as he coughed up more blood, but then another surge of warmth and healing filled him, and he punched the ground, forcing himself to focus. The aftereffects were pretty harsh, for a skill that was supposed to be a Boon.




Gradually, the pain lessened, but he had a lingering soreness all over. Finally, his ears started working again. "...think he can hear us." He heard Garret rumble. "Drake…say something, my friend."

"I'm…I'm alright…" He managed with a raspy voice. "That…that new Skill is a lot…" He muttered, feeling markedly better, as he realized Rose was rubbing his back.

Laurelin's concerned voice entered his mind again. "That's because you didn't set a limit, you fool! You activated the Shout to its highest degree, and while that probably helped you defeat such a powerful foe, the backlash nearly killed you! If Rose hadn't recklessly spent her Heals on you, that final blast would've ended you."

"My…bad…" He groaned, shifting to a sitting position. He finally looked at Rose, and it was guilt that hurt him this time. Her composed self was gone, nose runny, puffy red eyes, and yet there was relief there. Using the robe sleeve of his new armor, he gently wiped her face, and smirked at her as he subtly cleaned the sleeve on the grass around them. "The Goddess just confirmed it for me…I'd be dead right now without you, Rose Valcrest. My life is yours." And having died once before, Drake knew his words were sincere, and accurate.




Her face turned a deep crimson then. "Wha- I don't- I just-"

"I do…need to rest a minute though…guys…check on the…things…" He fell back into the elf's lap, and was out again. This time though, there wasn't lingering pain. Just comfortable bliss. He was vaguely aware of his teammates talking, but he had to focus. Another feature he'd gained with leveling up, was a kind of Healing Trance, and while he'd need a solid four hours eventually, for now, he needed his muscles strong enough to help him walk. A few minutes in the trance would get him there.

He sensed Garret and Lyria move rapidly away from them, belatedly realizing the sorceress probably knew Fly by now, and felt relief. They'd check the Alicorn herd, make sure everything was good, and by the time they returned, he'd probably be ready. He felt Rose stroking his head, and let a small smile form on his face. He could've stayed like that for hours, but eventually, he sensed the others returning, and woke up.




"You're awake." Rose said, her cheeks still flushed for some reason, despite there having been plenty of time for them to cool off.

"I am." Drake replied, smiling at her. Her composure had returned, at least. "Thank you, for tolerating that…it umm…helped speed up my Healing Trance. I'm good enough to walk now, probably." He said, slowly rising to his feet, unsteady for but a moment before he found his balance.

"The mighty Monk rises!" Garret roared, clearly enjoying being able to fly. He landed, and clapped Drake's shoulder. "Your Skills are seriously cool. What even was that energy beam?"

"I want to know, too." Lyria stated. "It didn't feel magical, and the Raiju didn't resist it."

"I basically supercharged a Ki Blast, and after I mishandled my newest Boon, it uhh, got exponentially stronger, though you saw the cost. Apparently my Skill needs a set limit, otherwise it goes hard enough to kill me. I know how better to wield it now, though. I don't think I'll be going that hard again…that hurt, man."




Garret smirked at him, a sly look on his leonine face. "I'm sure another healing session on Rose's lap pillow would fix you up just fine." Lyria snickered.

Drake coughed into his fist. "The lap pillow is for emergencies only…probably." He said, eyes closed, though he subtly peaked at Rose. Her face was red again, as she looked downwards. More seriously, he said, "I was dying, guys. And I'm pretty sure her Healing Aura helped my own healing skill work faster."

Lyria and Garret shared a look. "Uh huh." The sorceress said, smirking.

Drake looked at Rose again, smiling genuinely. "I meant what I said before, though. You saved me, Rose. Anything you ever need from me, just say the word."




Lyria sighed loudly, before Rose could answer. "We get it, you're into each other. Anyway, the Alicorns were over halfway to the northern continent when we last saw them. None of them died, and it's just about noon. We need to get back, report in, get our rewards, and get back in time for homeroom."

"Oh Gods…" Drake groaned, "I forgot we still had classes…"

"We should check our Statuses too." Rose finally said, managing words in her usual calm tone, though she seemed quite happy, judging by the small smile on her mouth. "That monstrosity is sure to have leveled us up."

They stepped apart then, checking their stats individually, and as Drake saw his new level, a mind boggling fifty five, he heard three simultaneous gasps of "Holy shit!" from behind him. Turning, he looked at his party. "You guys alright?"




Coming closer, Garret said, "We hit fifty five! That's over the level fifty mark!"

Drake raised a brow. "Level fifty mark?"

Rose chimed in, just looking impressed. "Once someone hits level fifty, levels get a lot harder to gain. And what's more…by my math, all of my stats increased by one for each level I got. That's…hold on, why do I have Ally of the Gods too?"

"I noticed that as well." Garret rumbled.

"Same." Lyria said.

They all looked towards Drake, who shrugged. "I guess…it applies to my allies too? The allies of my Godly allies are my…allies?" That made them chuckle. "I also reached fifty five. Looks like I finally caught up to you guys." He grinned, though it was mostly at Rose. Her beauty was like a magnet for his eyes.




"Either way," Lyria said, interrupting before they got lost in each other's gaze again, "We're at the right level to be Adamantine Rank Adventurers. The rest of the class is going to lose their shit over this."

"Right." Rose said, still smiling. "Let's get back. I don't want such a great outing spoiled with tardiness!"

They stepped closer to Lyria then, and with a flash of magic, they were gone.

Primus Adventurer's Guild - Primus City​

"Wow…that burned a lot less magic than usual…" Lyria muttered, as they appeared with a bamf in the foyer of the Guild.

"Probably your new level." Drake said, grinning. "Praise the Gods, for they are generous."

All three of his party mates nodded in agreement. Rose seemed to literally thank Laurelin, quietly praying. They approached the Guild Clerk's counter, while Rose had a moment with her Deity, and the elf, Kelista if Drake recalled correctly, stared at them with an open mouth, looking between them, probably at their levels. "You're all level fifty five!?"

Once again, the entire lower floor went silent, as the gathered adventurers, some of whom had seen their shenanigans earlier in the day, stared at them, their own eyes confirming what Kelista shouted.




Not one to miss an opportunity, Drake said, loudly, "Guild Master Solus's Quest was pretty intense…Runic class, easily. We faced something called a…Raiju. Level seventy five, massive, armored, the kind of thing that feasts on Alicorn blood." He paused for dramatic effect. "But between our top tier Party tactics, and some Monk badassery on my part, we managed to kill that fucker! Garret! Give the lady our proof."

The massive leonid, whose armor was practically falling apart at this point, placed two massive black horns he'd hewn from the dead beast on the Guild Clerk counter. Kelista cast Identify, and just stared in disbelief. "You…you're not lying…this thing was an Epic tier Monstrosity, and you managed to kill it!? At level twenty five!?"

Drake chuckled loudly and confidently. "I laid down some high tier Monk moves on its ass! And now its ass is grass! Of course without my tank, our potent heals, and some timely debuffs and tanking from our Sorceress's elemental, we'd all be crispy fried right now, but we did it." He grinned at the elf. "And now we'd like our reward. Please. Every Alicorn survived."




"I'll need to check with the Guild Master…" Kelista started.

"No need." Came a thunderous baritone that echoed through the room. The scarred handsome visage poking out above the titanic gold plated form of Guild Master Solus stepped down the stairs, walked nonchalantly through the tavern portion of the floor, and up to the victorious party. "Our branch in the north has confirmed the Alicorn herd arrived safely, if a bit spooked. Well done!" He thundered. "From this moment on, you shall be Adamantine Ranked Adventurers, and have access to the Quests available at that level! I don't think a group of First Year students has ever gotten to that rank… Furthermore…I believe I promised one class-appropriate Good tier piece for each of you…though…Garret, was it? I'll give you two. To replace that armor that's clearly beyond repairing. I can tell you fought hard, to keep the abomination in place."

There was unhappy grumbling from the modestly filled tavern, and from what Drake could tell, the regular adventurers were not thrilled that a bunch of Arc Warden newbs were now Adamantine rank, having jumped straight past bronze, iron, and even mithril, with a single quest.




Solus looked over the party then, and though it was subtle, he could tell they'd had quite the morning adventure. His eyes settled on Drake, then. "I see you found some proper Monk attire out there…not bad at all. Good thing I got you armor that's also a weapon!"

"Oh, I don't really use-" Drake started, but then his eyes widened as Solus produced a pair of awesome, gleaming light blue metal gauntlets. "Fist Weapons do actually have a niche in our society, and I think these will serve you well. The Fists of Far Reach enhance your attack power, your magical control, and can turn your punches into ranged attacks." Drake thanked him, in awe as he slid the light blue metal gauntlets onto his hands. They shrank to fit his size. Large blue arcane gems surrounded by a circle of tiny engravings were on the back of each hand of the gauntlet's presumably powering their useful magic. They retracted, after Drake attuned to them, leaving his hands open, and the metallic bracers on his forearms. With a thought, he could have them cover his hands again, and rather quickly.

"For your dedicated High Elven Sage, a set of vestments, once worn by the first healers to learn from Goddess Laurelin herself. They will greatly increase your available magic power, and reduce the cost of all healing spells. Wear them with pride, for you are worthy of them after keeping your Party alive against such a powerful enemy." Rose was similarly in awe, and scurried away to a changing room for adventurers to put them on immediately.

To Garret, Solus said, "Your armor will be sent to you on the morrow, but for now…I give you my old Shieldblade. I can attest to its powerful defensive magics. It should serve you well in Dungeons, until you loot something with better stats." He moved on to Lyria then, who was clearly the most eager to try her new gear. "And to the skilled Sorceress Summoner, without whom your party would have failed, and taken much longer to arrive and return from your Quest, I give the Stave of Stored Spells. It can hold any spell, of any level you can currently cast. The higher the spell's rank though, the less room it will have. May it save your party, when your magic is drained and your backs are against the wall."




With the items handed out, alongside their reward of eighty thousand Gil per party member, Solus departed, leaving the teens to marvel at their new stuff. Garret was still shocked he was wielding a blade that Guild Master Solus had once used, from the sound of it, on quite a few adventures, before taking up his current apparently iconic greatsword. So iconic, they'd literally named it the Solus Greatsword after its wielder.

From Drake's perspective, the rest of the day was a blur. One second he was complimenting how gorgeous Rose looked in the rather revealing, for healing robes, white and gold clothing that now fit well with her similarly colored staff. It also had a hood on it. Being thoroughly drained, Drake managed to recount for his classmates what their morning had been like, much to their chagrin, and despite his best efforts, and how interesting Aslan's lessons were, he could barely pay attention.

They did get their new arrival, though. A burly bear man by the name of Bjorn Bjornson, who demanded, not asked, that everyone just call him Ironside. He was a Berserker, and being a bearkin, that meant he was extremely durable, and hit things so hard it healed his own damage. Such Berserker tanks were rare, but renowned for how absurdly good their recovery skills were, to the point that, apparently, healers in their parties could just focus on damage and not even need to really worry about their health points.

As soon as classes were over, Drake tiredly returned to his dorm, and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He belatedly activated his Healing Trance, but rest was very much required. He hoped the rest of his days weren't this exhausting, or his school work would surely suffer.

---

Our protag's current stats, for those wondering.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 4: The Only Cure for Goblins, is Death

Be aware, there are some...intense and gory parts in the Zemkarth part of the chapter. If you've seen Goblin Slayer, you already have an idea. Nothing too graphic is described in detail, but this is your trigger warning.

Shit gets intense.

Also, due to popular demand, I've split chapter 4 into shorter chapters. The story is identical, it's just in smaller parts now.

Enjoy.​

---

When Drake Long, the isekai'd American Dragon Monk, returned to consciousness, only four hours had passed. His stomach growled, and after glancing at the magic clock in their dorm room, he realized it was dinner time. He continued his streak of avoiding the dining hall in the evening hours, as that many people in one place made him twitchy. The food vendors around the entrance of the campus were just as good, provided portable portions, and had much shorter lines.


He grabbed a pair of what looked like burritos to his eyes, and wandered towards the combat field behind the main campus building. A few people apparently had the same idea he did, and were having dinner in the stands, but after a quick scan, he realized they were couples, and moved on. He wandered aimlessly, letting the universe guide him until he found a grassy, secluded spot under a large tree, and chose there to eat. In under two minutes the rather yummy burritos were in his stomach, and he was looking at his status.


Seeing nothing had changed after sleeping, he closed his eyes then, and started meditating, reaching a state of inner calm before he attempted to bend the air again. Spreading magic into it like he had with other elements simply hadn't worked, so instead he made his sphere of influence wider, and lessened the amount of magic to a trickle to compensate.






Drake found himself getting rather focused as he meditated, more so than he ever had back on Earth. He marveled at the magic flowing through him, and with some minor alterations, made it flow into the air more effectively. He was so focused, that it took Rose shouting his name three times, before he finally noticed, and opened his eyes. They widened, in surprise. The entire field around his chosen tree was wildly waving in a strong, constant breeze. The wind calmed immediately, but he felt he could control it now, within his magic's range and influence at least. He also realized he'd been floating, which wasn't an ability his academy uniform possessed.


His efforts had attracted a small crowd, most of which was the rest of his class. Rose had that impressed look on her face, but as she gracefully started walking towards him, Tala hopped ahead, and skidded to a stop in front of him, jiggling all the way. "Drake! I heard you could fly, but only in your special robe!"


"Yeeaa, well, I think I've more or less figured out Airbe- err, Air Magic." He chuckled, then glanced at Rose as she joined them at her own pace, hiding her irritation with the bunny girl rather well.


"That makes all four basic elements now, right?" Rose gave him a sweet smile. "You're going to be even stronger once you master them all."


Drake scratched the back of his head. "I wouldn't say I'm anywhere near mastery with the four I have."






Both girls put an arm on a different shoulder of Drake's then and said, simultaneously, "You'll get there." By this point, the rest of the class had approached, and most of them shared a look, as the two blondes glared at each other again.


"Ohhh, damn. Here we go, fam." Nyara muttered in the background, as several of their classmates nodded eagerly.


Then, in a tone that sent a premonitory chill up Drake's spine, Rose said, far too calmly, "You know, Drake, I think it would help all of us if you made it clear which one of us you prefer…romantically."


Behind them, Leif had a surprised look on his foxy face as he muttered, "Oh shit, she's just going for it."


Drake gave Rose a sad smile, and he knew, deep down, the time for the truth had come. She looked worried with this response. "Well Rose, the thing is-"


Tala unhelpfully cut him off. "He prefers girls that aren't going to be small the rest of their life, right Drake?" She said, putting her arms behind her head as what she had was bared for the world to admire. She was out of her uniform now, and her chosen outfit of a low cut but simple top with straps and her school skirt hid absolutely nothing of her top tier curves.


"Boobs over brains. Wins every damn time." Zara muttered, irritably.


Drake gulped, trying not to stare, but the bun's cleavage had to have been magnetic. Or something. Finally, he wrenched his eyes away. "That's not what I-"


"Drake said he owed me his life." Rose said calmly, her words like a rapier. Tala looked back at him with big, sad, brown eyes full of disbelief and hurt.


"Can confirm, he did say that." Garret rumbled from the crowd. It was clear the lion man was cheering for what he considered the One True Pairing.






"Girls!" Drake finally raised his voice. "Please let me finish. There's something you should both know about me…especially before we start getting into romantic entanglements…"


"Finally…the backstory reveal!" Vincent said, leaning forward and pushing his glasses up.


Drake sighed, audibly, at their peanut gallery. "Y'know what? Fine. You should all know this, if we're going to be raiding Dungeons together. Can't really ask all of you to trust me, if you don't know me. I'll ask you to keep it quiet, but I know how loud some of your mouths are." He glared specifically at Nyara.


"He's got you pegged there, Cat." Lyria taunted her.


"Lyria." Drake said, gesturing the rest of the class closer. "If you and Zara wouldn't mind giving us a sound barrier…that'd be much appreciated." The two spellcasters shared a look, and then nodded. One by one, they sat in a circle beneath the tree, as the leylines in the sky began to shift towards dusk. "Some rules, before we begin. No interruptions. I solemnly swear that everything I'm about to say is the God's honest truth, but Rose, feel free to drop a Zone of Truth if you doubt me."






She hesitated for a moment, and then began casting. "I trust you, Drake, I just…I need to know for sure."


"I understand." He said, smiling at her. "I won't hold wanting the absolute truth against you. In fact, I'd be kinda disappointed if you didn't." She gave him a shy smile, and started casting. The holy magic formed a circle around their sitting circle, just inside the sound-containing barrier. "If you'd confirm for our allies that I'm not resisting…"


Rose nodded at them. "He is under the Zone's effects. Go ahead, Drake."


Drake took several deep breaths, and then began, lowering his voice towards what it had once been, in his past life. A rather deep and not unpleasant baritone. "I come from a planet known as Earth, the third planet in what my people, Earthlings, called the Solar System, within what we called the Milky Way Galaxy." The entire class had wide eyes, as the Zone of Truth did not activate. "When I lived there, it was in a city not entirely unlike Primus. One of, if not the largest on the Earth. New York City. My world, and my Universe, apparently, completely lacked magic, according to Goddess Laurelin, so naturally, we had a lot of problems that we could only solve by using our technology, powered not by magic, but by electricity. I worked at a shelter for animals, dogs, cats, nothing too unique or different from what you have as house pets here, who had been mistreated or abandoned by their owners…"






He had them effectively spellbound, as he recounted his life, his true age, his nerdy preferences, his crippling injury, the corrupt Garbage that had been elevated by those with currency to rule his decaying nation, and then, of course, the last walk he and Falkor had ever gone on.


"I heard the horn, and I knew I had to act…nobody else was close enough to reach them. I ran to Falkor and the kiddo, and then tried to leap out of the way…but at that moment, my ankle decided to break again." Rose gasped, and Tala had tears forming in her eyes. The rest of the class was quiet, and somber. They knew what came next. "I tossed Falkor and the child onto the curb, but in doing so, fell back on my fat ass... The last thing I saw was Falkor running towards me, and…then I met the Goddess herself. I…don't think it's yet time to tell you all the mission that she tasked me with, but I give you my word, some day, I will. If you end up following me to the conclusion of this journey of mine, you will know our ultimate goal well before we reach it, and I will not hold it against you if you decide to back out. It's...a lot. Even for someone with Divine aid."


He took another breath, and sighed lightly. "Anyways. Laurelin gave me three Boons to achieve this task of hers. I chose an absurdly durable body that would not easily break again, a significant boost to my Intelligence stat, so I could keep and retain the knowledge of my old life, and the knowledge of the Dragon Style of Martial Arts, and my final Boon I used on Falkor, once I realized he'd purposefully chosen to go out alongside me. He was named after a Dragon from a movie in my world you see…so I had Laurelin make for him a new, proper draconic body. I expect he'll be visiting me soon enough, so you'll all probably be able to see him when he does. And from there…you all basically know the rest. It's been about three days, maybe four since I was on Earth." He smiled at them, then. "But I like it here. The people, the magic, if I'm being honest, Arcadia is leagues better than that shithole I left behind."


Rose spoke quietly, then, "But your family…"


Drake nodded, sadly. "Thinks I'm dead. And…in a very real sense, I am. I am not who I once was. Even my personality has…shifted. I was never this social or talkative or strong on Earth. I was essentially an outcast, and content with my status as one, but…Laurelin selected me to be something greater, and I'm not going to pass up the chance. That's my story. You ladies can release your spells, now."






They did so. Drake stood, as did everyone else, and it was Vincent who spoke first, stepping forward, and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're a Hero, Drake Long. A proper Chosen One, with the morals to match. I'd be honored to fight beside you, no matter what quest the Goddess has given to you."


"With my power, and your tactics Vincent, I'm sure we could clear multiple Dungeons." Drake answered. "I'll see you back in the room. I'm sure you have questions." The bespectacled genius of their class nodded in confirmation, and headed away from the tree.


Garret was next. "We make a solid team, Drake Long. I am honored to know you better, and to continue to call you friend. Rest easy knowing nothing you told us has lowered my opinion of your character."


Drake chuckled, as they bumped fists. "I couldn't ask for a better tank, Garret. I'm glad we're friends too." The leonid gave Rose and Tala a meaningful look, before he walked off.


Lyria was next. "This explains your weird class that no ones ever heard of, and your sometimes incorrect Beast Lore. But I like it. I'm sure whatever mission the Goddess gave you is worth pursuing. Count me as an ally, Drake." Drake thanked her, and she left as well.






One by one, the others came.


"Sssorry I doubted your sssskillsss." Sethis hissed. Drake forgave him, and the large lizardkin departed, rightly sensing Tala and Rose had words for him.


"That's quite a story, Drake…I wouldn't believe a word of it if I didn't trust Rose's magic." Leif said, before just sauntering off immediately after speaking. Drake heard him mutter under his breath as he left, "...n't believe…Goddess…him of all fu…people."


Next, was Zara. "If the Goddess Laurelin vouches for you, that's good enough for me. Just don't drag our class down, newbie. I don't care how high your level is; you're no warrior. We'll see how that 'courage' holds up inside a Dungeon."


"Appreciate the vote of confidence, Zara…" Drake muttered, as she left too.


His other roomie, Caelum Triton, stepped forward then, a smirk on his handsome merman face. "I knew you were special, but a bonafide Hero from another world? I have sooo many questions. But we can get into that later, in the room."


Drake chuckled. "I'll answer as many as you like, you're a gentleman and a scholar, Caelum." With a mutual nod, the crimson scaled merman followed after Vincent.


Last to linger, besides the girls, was Nyara. "I'll keep my mouth shut about this one, Monk boy. Not like anyone would believe me anyway."


"Thanks…?" Drake replied, but the swift cat girl was already gone.






Then, finally, Drake, Rose, and Tala were alone. He chuckled awkwardly. "Soo…I hope you understand now why I was uhh…hesitant to…start anything romantic. You both deserved to know the truth about who I am before anyone got…too attached."


Rose crossed her arms, her gorgeous emerald eyes searching his face for a long moment, as if weighing something in her mind, before she spoke. "I can't say I expected that story, but…I appreciate your honesty, Drake. You didn't have to tell us all of that, but you did." Her expression softened slightly. "And for what it's worth, it doesn't change anything for me." Drake was stunned by her tacit admission, and in hindsight, he'd probably pick that moment as the one where he properly fell for her.


Tala, arms still behind her head, gave him a grin, though her ears twitched slightly as she caught the look in his eyes. "Yeah, you think a little thing like 'I was reborn from another world' is gonna scare me off? Please."


"But…I was nearly twice your ages…" Drake started.


Tala chuckled. "I like older guys…" She purposefully jiggled again, and Drake avoided his teenage gaze getting caught in that chasm of soft warm pillowy paradise again. "What's wrong? Don't even pretend you don't like these…"


"Thirty years is almost nothing, to Elves." Rose cut in sharply, snaring his eyes with hers again. "Besides, I know what my heart is saying, and I'm not going to deny it. I still want to know who you prefer. That hasn't changed, either."






Drake looked between them both, and then sighed softly. "Sorry Tala…you're gorgeous, I mean it, but Rose…there's just something about her that…feels right. On every level." The High Elf flushed again, but she didn't avoid his eyes.


Tala deflated, and lowered her arms as she saw them having a moment. Crossing them under her absurd bust, she said, "Yeeaa…I had a feeling. As soon as she offered to be your healer first yesterday, I knew my chances were slim. Ahh well. I guess I'll see if Bjorn wants a bushel of bunny babies. Or maybe Caelum."


Drake blinked. Twice. "W-wait, you're going to…?"


Tala winked at him. "Lapines don't waste time when it comes to having kids. We start as soon as we're able, especially those of us with Arc Warden potential." She smirked at his stunned expression. "You probably didn't know that, huh? I was sure our babies would've been beautiful and strong…but alas, it seems the Elf beat me to it. Guess that's that! Enjoy your preachy tree hugger, Drake. If you ever change your mind…well, you know where to find meeee!" As the bunny girl bounded away, Drake exhaled slowly, feeling more certain in his choice. He knew himself well enough to recognize that creating a literal army of powerful bunny children with a woman that fine would result in a problem he was not prepared to handle.


Although, the more he thought about it, the more he was sure the rest of lapine society raised the young communally. Tala wouldn't have had time to study, otherwise, and judging by those matronly curves she rocked, she'd probably already had a few offspring. Not that it seemed to bother her, and really, why would it? Different cultures had different expectations. The hangup was his, not hers. He also wondered if they even chose one mate for life. Probably not. He didn't hold it against their species, but it was enough to be a deal breaker in terms of a relationship.






He blinked, as he felt Rose's hand slide into his. Her ears were red now too, as she murmured, "Elves…don't reproduce nearly as often as Lapines…but…my family will also want heirs, at some point…probably quite a few of them."


He felt his cheeks light on fire at the implication. "Uh-uhm, err, well, as uhh, as soon as you're ready for that, we can, uhh, discuss it."


"I've had enough words for today…" She murmured, and then she stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him.

Drake blinked, his mind going utterly blank, as he blinked twice more, and then let his instincts take over. His arms wrapped around her, and he let himself enjoy the moment without any guilt. His actions, making sure she knew what she was doing, with whom, also felt right, to him. When they finally broke for air, the night had arrived, and his new gorgeous elf girlfriend bid him goodnight, walking off looking quite pleased, as she subtly touched her lips.


For Drake's part, there was no comparison. No woman on Earth had ever given him a kiss like that, and now, he understood the difference. And, begrudgingly, admitted Laurelin had been right. He had functional knowledge, which would be used to Rose's benefit, but actual experience…left him very much feeling like a teenager. His body still felt like it was on fire, as his heart raced in his chest. All that, from just one kiss. He hoped Rose had felt similarly smitten afterwards. He inhaled a long breath, and then exhaled literal fire, as he expelled the heat from his body, cooling himself down rapidly with his firebending.






Upon returning to the dorm's fourth floor, and its twentieth room, Caelum and Vincent greeted him with knowing smirks. "Sooo? How'd it go, extraplanar lover-boy?" Caelum teased from his bed.


Drake felt his cheeks heat up again, but the smile was on his face before he could even try to hide it. "Rose Valcrest…is my girlfriend." He shook his head, still not quite believing it. The finest elf in the entire Academy, and she was into him. Enough to make the first move. He smirked at Caelum then, regaining his composure. "Oh, and Tala may have her sights set on you, now."


Caelum's eyes went wide. "Really? Interesting…but not surprising. I take it you realized what Lapine culture is like?"


Drake nodded. "Yea…I mean…I get the appeal but uhh…it's a bit too casual for me, y'know? I prefer one woman. Most Earthlings do."


Vincent chimed in, at that point, looking up from his book. "Interesting. It seems Earth cultures had more of a developed predisposition towards monogamous coupling. Could you tell me what drove this development, Drake?"






Drake chuckled. "Uhh…well, most of the, erm, more technologically advanced part of the planet was essentially taken over and ruled, more or less, by a…rather oppressive cult for a solid two thousand years. We had Kings and such, but they all paid homage, and gold, to the Church. In that time…the Church managed to properly fuck up any chance our society had for being as open and polygamous as Arcadia. Unions were between one man, and one woman, blessed and overseen by their God, that's literally what they used for his name, just God, and deviating from that norm, or breaking that covenant by marrying others or fornicating outside of those unions was seen as an affront to God. And the Church. But mostly the Church."


Vincent frowned. "And yet, despite this control, civilization advanced? There must have been some benefits to this system, even if unintended."


Drake shrugged. "For a long time, the survival strat for anyone without wealth was 'have as many babies as possible, and hope they don't all die during the Winter'. And that worked. But society's actual progress was more due to the geniuses our population produced, than any byproduct of monogamous coupling. Sure, stability from two parents, one male one female, helped raise offspring, but that system was extremely prejudiced against same sex pairings, which are entirely capable of also raising offspring to maturity. Anyone that didn't fit into the cult's mold was ostracized, and vilified, in the name of their God."


Vincent squinted at Drake. "But…you said your Universe of origin had no magic. So from whence did this God come?"


"People's imaginations." Drake said, hopping on his bed.


Vincent squinted further. "So…no magic whatsoever…and yet many Humans worshiped it?"


"Yea…Earth is…pretty terrible. People needed something to believe in. Fear, mostly, of the consequences of bad behavior, murder, adultery, etcetera. It didn't always work, but for many, it managed to keep their behavior in check…more or less. Naturally, the leaders of the Church had no such fear. The people selling this lie very obviously knew it was nonsense. And to be clear, the cult I'm speaking of was only the latest in a long line of cults, stretching back around about two hundred thousand years of recorded history. We had many Gods and Pantheons of Gods, but when I left, most of the old Gods were used in our cultural media as imagined characters, and mostly for their epic names."






"And did you believe in this 'God', Drake?" Caelum asked.


Drake shook his head. "I was indoctrinated into the cult as a child, but I figured out it was nonsense eventually. Science was much more interesting, and it had a pretty solid method."


Vincent leaned forward now, interest piqued. "What is this…Science? Another cult?"


"Uhh…I mean, there were a few eccentrics that definitely treated it like one, but no, mostly it was a method of examining the basic truths of our magicless reality, and demonstrating whether they were accurate, or not. It wasn't perfect, but for a species as dumb, violent, and horny as the majority of Earthlings…it worked. The only actual God on Earth, was Currency. When I left, money was the only thing being genuinely, universally worshiped. If you had enough of it, you could literally buy your way into power, no matter how undeserving you were, or what heinous crimes you'd committed."


Vincent made a 'hmm' noise. "I can see why you're glad to be free from such a place…but this…Science, and electricity-based technology intrigues me."


Drake smiled at his roomie. "I can try to pass on what I know, some time, if you want. I'll have to write it down, though. There's…a lot. But I believe much of it can be used here on Arcadia as well…we just uhh, have to be careful what we introduce to your world. Goddess Laurelin was…not impressed with the weapons the Earth had, mostly because Earthlings used them with depressing frequency on their own species."






Caelum blinked in disbelief. "Wait…the Humans on your world actively killed each other? Without being corrupted by some darker force?"


Drake nodded. "You…have no idea, my friend. When I died, there were at least three global superpowers committing active acts of systematic and entirely needless slaughter of their fellow Humans. Even on kids. My own country was no exception, either."


Caelum let out a low whistle. "That… sounds bleak."


Vincent exhaled, shaking his head. "Perhaps a lesson in what happens when power is left unchecked, with no higher authority to guide it." He glanced at Drake. "I'll take you up on your offer. I want to see if this 'Science' of yours can be applied in Arcadia… responsibly."


Drake nodded at Vincent. "So long as we stay responsible…it shouldn't be an issue. I'm sure the Gods will tell us if we start to unleash something that will destabilize your society."


Caelum leaned back, deep in thought. "The idea of a world without divine intervention… it sounds fragile."


Drake nodded. That was one word for it. "You should all really thank them for what they've done with Arcadia…as someone from a world without any God managing it, the contrast keeps highlighting just how bad things are on Earth."






With that, the conversation changed to the lateness of the hour, and the three teens decided to turn in. Another day at the Academy awaited them.


The next morning, Drake immediately noticed a change. Vincent and Caelum were glad to see him, and Vincent's prickliness had faded considerably after hearing Drake's origin story. They were becoming fast friends, and Drake spent a solid half hour explaining, as best he knew, how electronic devices functioned. Having increased intelligence made this much easier than it would've been just a few days earlier, and Vincent seemed eager to try it out. When he learned that there were electrical currents even in some foods, like popotoes (essentially just potatoes) he'd immediately sprinted to the school's kitchens to acquire one.


This left Caelum and Drake to head to the Guild on their own. They found Rose and Lyria idling by the clerk's counter, chatting with Kelista. Rose had her new healing robes on, and Drake shamelessly checked her out. She must have felt his gaze, because she turned, saw him staring, and then shifted her shoulders. The already low cut robes sank lower, revealing even more porcelain elf skin, and Drake gulped, before he forced himself to focus.






"Ladies." Drake said, acknowledging Lyria's existence, before his eyes were inevitably drawn back to Rose's. "Vincent is uhh, busy, today, so it's just Caelum and I."


Rose seemed practically glowing, as she smiled up at him. "Two healers is fine, since we don't have a tank. Garret and Sethis partied up today."


"Then we should do the same." Caelum said smoothly, smiling at Lyria. "If you'll have me."


Lyria looked at the happy couple, saw they were waiting on her approval, and then she nodded at the attractive, crimson scaled merman. "You're welcome to join us any time, Prince Caelum."






Drake blinked. "Wait. What? You're a Prince!?"


Caelum chuckled at him. "I keep forgetting you don't know much about our world. The Triton family has ruled in the undersea city of Thalassia since Merpeople and the Beastkin of the sea first appeared. We've been going to the Academy almost as long." The merman prince smirked at Rose then. "I'm surprised your new girlfriend didn't mention that. She's practically a Princess herself."


Drake blinked, and then stared at Rose, who was glaring at the merman. "I can believe that, actually. It makes sense. She has the beauty, the poise, the manner of speech, I was wondering if she was royalty or something, but Elves don't have Kings…right?"


Caelum chuckled knowingly. "They have those who might as well be such. But I'll leave her family history for the two of you to discuss. We should start on our Quests."






At that point, Kelista chimed in helpfully. "We do have a Mithril Rank Gathering Quest, if that interests you. You wouldn't need a tank necessarily, and your Sorceress can summon one if you get swarmed."


The party shared a look, and when no one spoke, Drake said, "What exactly would we be gathering? And what lives there?"


Kelista checked the quest's specifics. "Apparently…Mithril Ore, and enough Blackstone to smelt it into bars. That's about three pieces of Blackstone for every piece of Mithril. As for what lives nearby…Giant Scorpions, a reclusive Goblin Tribe, and a small settlement of Dark Elves who own and work the mine."


Lyria's eyes went wide. "W-what's this settlement called, exactly?"


Kelista scanned her info. "Ahhmmm…Zemkarth, I believe."


Lyria let out a soft sigh. "No way…but…why would the Dark Elves not mine this for the Guild themselves?"






Kelista scanned the info again, and then shrugged. "I couldn't say…but I did hear a rumor that the settlement is having a rough time." She had a sly smirk on her face, then. "Sounds like something a group of Adventurers might handle."


Drake cracked his knuckles, and grinned. It sounded like some giant fuckoff mine beast had interrupted production, and giant beasts were essentially experience pinatas to a party this damage heavy, assuming it wasn't absurdly high level. "Oh, we'll handle it. I do have a question, though…I've seen Mithril on the armor of some Adventurers, and I know our Adamantine tags are still being forged, but uhh…what is Blackstone? Is it as literal as the name suggests?"


The clerk nodded. "You'll know it when you see it. Blackstone is crucial in forging high level weapons and armors. It's also what powers the Dark Elven forges, since it burns so hot, once it's purified." Drake nodded. It was coal. He'd been pretty sure, but now, Kelista's description confirmed it. With the quest accepted, Drake and Caelum changed into their respective robes, and Lyria teleported them.






They didn't appear in a city-based magic circle though. They were barely even within the settlement around them. Dark purple magical lanterns gave Zemkarth an ominous glow, and as soon as they materialized before a small dwelling carved into the mountain rock. Lyria muttered, "I'll need a second, friends." Before she ran into the house before them, clearly worried despite her expression.


Putting two and two together, Drake said, "So…did either of you know she was from Zemkarth?"


Rose shook her head, and Caelum said, "She doesn't really talk much, our Lyria. Which is a shame, truly. She has a lovely voice…but remains mostly a mystery."


Drake smirked at his roomie, raising an eyebrow. "Ohh? Sounds like someone would like to investigate that mystery a little closer."


Caelum sighed. "I would, honestly, but…I'm not as lucky as you when it comes to romance, Drake. Being a Prince of Thalassia…scares off most people, no matter how attractive I make myself."






Drake blinked, and then tilted his head. "Is…is Thalassia okay? I can't imagine many things that would scare off Arc Warden tier suitors…"


Rose spoke up then leaning into him. A small smile appeared on her face, as she heard Drake's heartbeat triple in pace. "Ahh, right…Otherworlder. You see Drake, Thalassia is next to a particularly…powerful Dungeon. The Fathomless Rift. It was one of the first Dungeons to appear, and by the time the Thalassians found it…its Boss was quite powerful. It spews out so many monsters that the seas of our world are practically swarming with them. Thalassia itself had to seriously improve its defenses just to stay intact…so it's a bit like living in a war zone. The attack swarms come daily, and while its defenders are strong, the Riftspawn are nearly infinite, and the assaults are nerve-wracking. It's impossible to tell when one will manage to slip into the city by force, or by some previously unknown weak point."


Caelum nodded sagely. "An excellent summary, Rose." He looked at Drake, then. "It is the duty of every Triton King to one day assault the Fathomless Rift, and try to end its horrors…I've lost my father, four uncles, and three of my five brothers to it already…I'm the youngest, but my time will come as well, and once I have an heir, I'll be forced to go. So you see…anyone who would want to date me would have to ignore my very likely demise, and the demise of our child, should it be male, to be with me. It's…gotten to the point that certain Mermaids have to be selected, at random, to help the Triton family stay intact." Seeing his face, Caelum gave him and Rose a sad smile. "But it's fine, it's simply my fate, I've long since come to terms with it. And so long as my dear friends and classmates remember me, that's all I need."






Drake wiped the formation of tears from his eyes, and hardened his gaze at Caelum. "I consider you one of the first friends I made here, Caelum. I'm not just going to remember you. I refuse to just let you die. When the day comes, I will join you in the Rift, assuming I'm able to…and we will end this foul legacy together." He looked at Rose, and his bravado faded slightly, as he saw her expression. "Are you with me, Rose?"


"It's…more complicated than that, Drake…the Fathomless Rift is…a death sentence. You have yet to actually delve into a Dungeon. You don't know what they're like, what their Bosses are like…"


He smirked confidently at her. "I know with my Party by my side, the woman I adore included, nothing will stop us. And I think Caelum is worth fighting for. But to ease your mind…I won't attempt the Rift until we're ready, and have cleared two other Dungeons at least."






Caelum sighed, and gave Rose a sad, but knowing smile. "Would that it were it so easy. I know you mean well Drake, but…I would feel better if you and Rose lived, and had many happy centuries together. Maybe name one of your offspring in my honor. There's no need to die on my account."


Drake shook his head firmly. "I wouldn't be able to look at the child without feeling guilt. Look, I know I may be new to this world. I know I may have some naïveté when it comes to Dungeon delving, but I also know quite a lot about Dungeoneering. You saw my skills. I beat Vincent at planning our way through a frankly absurd Dungeon layout. With our class on your side, and other Adventurers besides, we can do this. We can free Thalassia."


Caelum sighed, and his body shuddered slightly. Drake's eyes widened as he saw the merman was tearing up. "Don't…give me hope. I already accepted my Fate…"


Drake was insistent, though. "Hope is what you need, my friend. Hope will be what sees us through that undersea Hellhole. Just…trust me. Two Dungeons…and then we save you from Fate itself." He offered the merman a hand.


Caelum wiped his eyes, and nodded, taking it, and shaking it firmly. "I don't know why…but I believe you." He smirked at Rose then. "I can see why you were drawn to him."


Rose had a big smile. "He certainly is…something." Her eyes hardened too, then. "We've been friends for a long time, Caelum. I don't want you to die, either. You deserve to be the King who lives. The first to rule Thalassia for the majority of his reign in peace, in thousands of years. When the time comes, I'll be right there beside Drake. I know Garret will, too."






At that moment, a slightly sweaty, haggard looking Lyria emerged, a frown on her fair features. Caelum spoke first. "What's wrong, Lyria?"


She looked down at the ground, hand gripping her staff so tightly even her dark skin was whitening. "It's…my family. My home. I'm sure you all figured out this is my house…only my grandmother was left inside, and she can barely move…apparently, the rest of Zemkarth is being snatched, one person at a time…by Goblins."


Caelum scoffed. "Goblins? I didn't think such weak creatures could bring mighty Dark Elven smiths so low…"


Lyria and Rose glared at him, but Drake spoke first, as his nerdy ass knew better, he raised a hand towards the girls, non-verbally asking them to hold off on berating the princeling. "You speak as though you've fought them, Caelum. Might I ask where?"


Caelum blinked, frowning slightly as he recognized he'd said something insensitive. "The Wallow. It's a low level Dungeon on the northern outskirts of Primus. Absolutely packed with Goblins. Low level Adventurers sharpen their swords there, usually until they hit Steel Rank. Bjorn, Leif, Zara, and I killed so many, we hit Mithril…we made it quite far down, too, until our supplies ran out. Time can also flow differently in Dungeons, sometimes. We were in there for a week, and were out before the afternoon."






Drake's eyes narrowed. "And the Goblins on the lower levels…let me guess, they got exponentially harder to fight, right? Started appearing in groups of twenty, thirty, or more?"


Caelum nodded in confirmation. "Higher level, supported by magic users, and enough numbers to rapidly drain our supplies."


Drake grit his teeth. "And another guess if I may…you didn't see a single one on the way out, did you. Not even corpses."


Caelum's eyes widened. "Is…this a Monk ability? It's like you were there…you're right. Our path towards the upper floors was unimpeded, though we ran into plenty on our way out. The upper floors always have squads of three to five roaming them."






Drake nodded, and sighed. "Fuck. They're using you. All of you. The Final Boss of that Dungeon…it's probably been doing this for ages. Even longer, since time flows faster in there. Fuck. This means…they're like the Goblins I'm familiar with…easy to pick off alone, but deviously clever. Especially once one of them ranks up to a higher tier of Goblin." His eyes shifted to Lyria. "I'd bet my robe that's what is happening here. In fact, I bet their leader is originally from the Wallow Dungeon. Are there any other Dungeons around Zemkarth?"


"Just the Infernal Cistern." Lyria said, grimacing. "They're the ones that…love our excrement. But they don't attack us, so long as they're not provoked."


"There's also Blackspire…" Rose said, shuddering slightly. "But the Monsters there are too powerful to bother with Goblins. Even among Monsters, Goblins are seen as lesser beings. They're not created from other sentient races getting corrupted, either. Dagorath engineered them himself, from pure darkness."


Drake nodded, and sighed heavily. "Of fucking course he did. Alright. If we're going to save your people, Lyria, we need to move. Now. This just became an Adamantine or Runic level Quest, and whatever is leading them is probably pretty high level…definitely over fifty." He glanced at Rose then, and murmured, "I read somewhere the level cap was two hundred. Is that accurate?"






Lyria led them, as they started heading towards where the goblins were known to reside. Rose murmured back to Drake, "Leveling over fifty usually takes an absurdly long time. Even if we killed another Raiju level monster, we'd get maybe four or five levels at most, with your Boon. I think two hundred is the highest people have been able to reach in their lifetimes…but anything strong enough to boost one past that lives near the South Pole…and those Monsters tend to be around level one hundred and fifty, with the abilities and skills to match."


Drake nodded, and then raised a hand. They were outside Zemkarth now, in a ravine through the mountain that was perfect for ambushes. "Hold up, guys…I want to try something." During his conversation with Vincent, he'd learned that apparently, Buffs worked by surging magic, either from the buffer or buff-ee, to the parts of their body that ended up enhanced.


Now more in tune with his bodily energy after unlocking airbending, Drake had a feeling he could take it further. "Draconic Perception…" He muttered, increasing the flow of power to his eyes, ears, and nose all at once as he channeled his namesake. Sure enough, the stench and light giggling of goblins filled his senses.


"Rose, Caelum, we need Buffs. Lyria, you're going to want an Earth Elemental. Like now. They've already surrounded us. I sense thirty." Drake said, speaking low and quiet. They'd stopped though, and the goblins were just smart enough to know they'd been noticed. Their sages empowered Drake's health, strength, and speed, while Lyria got a boost to her magic power, and one from Caelum that would apparently refresh her magic power over time. Then, the goblins appeared from both sides of the ravine. "Cover our front with Stoney!" Drake shouted. "I've got our backs. Sages, in the middle, and keep your Barriers up."






Sure enough, several roughly made bolts launched at the sources of empowering magic, and not Drake or Lyria. They fell uselessly, blocked by divine shields of Laurelin's light. Seeing where they'd come from, Drake didn't hold back. One of the enhancements martial artists on Earth sometimes used to help their bodies prepare or strike harder, involved certain kinds of breathing techniques. Drake hadn't tried them out yet, in this life, but he had used them in his previous one.


He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through pursed lips several times, building heat, and then took in a larger one. He activated his firebending, exhaled a line of flame from his mouth, and with some guidance from his hands, made it arc gracefully into the goblin's hidey holes, burning them alive.


The rest jumped out then, roughly fifteen of them with truly shoddy wooden weapons and armor, but Drake had already inhaled again. He made an O shape with his hand, raised it to his mouth, and then exhaled again, immediately enhancing the flames he made from his mouth as they passed through his hand's amplifying energy. The fires burned white from their intensity, as Drake didn't hold back, and all that remained as his vision recovered from the blinding glare, was a few piles of stinking ashes that faded away. Seeing their back was covered, Caelum and Rose helped Lyria make short work of the fifteen or so that came from the front, and just as quickly as it started, the fight was over.


"There will be more, and soon." Drake said. "Lyria, lead on. Have your elemental hide in the earth, if it can. Let's pick up the pace. If they have scouting parties that large…it doesn't bode well for Zemkarth's captives." They started running then, and Drake dashed up by Lyria's side, as they continued. "I should warn you…you're probably going to see some…truly depraved things once we reach their base…I know it sounds harsh but…stay focused. We can retrieve anyone who died later. If you get stunned by what they've done with your people…they'll use that opportunity to do the same thing to you." Drake glanced back at their sages, too. "That goes for you two as well…stay focused, stay angry, and turn anything with green skin into pulp. We can deal with the residents once the Goblins are completely exterminated. That means not spending your magic on wounded captives, either, not until their leader is down. We need to slay all the Goblins. Then we can help their victims."






Sure enough, as they approached the part of Zemkarth's mines that historically housed the aloof goblin tribe, they came upon an atrocity that confirmed for Drake the depths of depravity to which Dagorath had fallen. Dark Elven heads were mounted on wooden spikes, their bodies treated with the same disregard, in displays meant to intimidate, and unnerve.


"Ignore it." Drake reaffirmed with an angry grimace. "They're going to try to weaken and demoralize us as much as possible before we find the abomination responsible for this…save your anger, and your spells."


Two heavily armored goblins with tower shields and spiky metal plate armor blocked their path as they reached some kind of gate, or entrance, also carved with the same shoddy wooden style. Drake surged forward before Lyria could bring up their stoney friend. His first fist wove between the tower shield's shoddily forged spikes, and hammered the shield, smashing it into its owner from the force of the blow. Filled with fury, Drake ripped the shield, and the arm, from the dazed goblin, stomped its helmeted skull into green paste with a durable boot-covered foot, and then roundhouse kicked the shield towards the other charging goblin.


The giggling green monster seemed…happy, as his ally was turned to pulp. As if watching the brutality was doing something for him. Thoroughly disgusted, and more worried for Zemkarth's inhabitants than before, Drake switched to his earthbending as the goblin blocked the shield with its own, and stabbed at Drake with his corroded iron sword. Drake moved like water, spiraling right, then left, and then brought his hands together with a powerful clap. Two boulders rose from either side of the goblin, and mimicked the path of his hands, crushing it into bloody metal goo between them. "Keep moving!" Drake shouted, already running, "If they like watching each other die, that does not bode well!"






As expected, the gauntlet only got tougher and more brutal as they ran deeper. The bodies and their parts were arrayed in truly barbaric positions, and Caelum confirmed that, usually, low level goblins outside of a Dungeon did not go to these lengths. The worst part though, was that even if they killed all of the goblins, and their leader, they'd just respawn in the Wallow within a few days. Free to sneak out and start this horrorshow all over again somewhere else.


The enemies also got tougher. Magic casters accompanied shielded and plated warriors, and while Drake and the earth elemental handled the warriors, their casters managed to masterfully Counterspell and dispatch the goblin shamans and wizards. By the end of the gauntlet, their opponents were in the high forties, in terms of level, more than double what usually lived here, according to an ever more shaken Lyria. She was holding it together, but as they entered a circular arena at the end of the gauntlet, she saw a 'tree' full of her people, and finally fell to her knees. "Is…is anyone even left…?" She murmured, weeping quietly.


"Ho ho ho hooo…" A laugh that could rival Jabba the Hutt filled the area, as did his ungodly stench. "See how tha leetle elf cries! Ho ho hooo!" The earth shuddered, as an obscenely obese example of goblin biology stomped out from behind the 'tree', where Drake heard pained cries coming from.


"Lyria…" Drake murmured, "There are still survivors…and you haven't seen your family yet…compose yourself. This is the pile of shit responsible for all of this." That seemed to help her, as her sorrow was replaced by rage, she let it get her back on her feet.






The giant Goblin King grinned at them, but then, his eyes narrowed, as he saw they were furious, raring to go, and not nearly done yet. "Dum dums!" He thundered, "Me said tire them! Grrraaah! Kill! Now!"


"Drake…" Lyria said quietly, as plate wearing goblins surrounded them, though most did not have shields, being instead dual wielders or two handed weapon users. "Handle the rest…Elemental…protect the Sages…" Magic power started flaring off of her in waves of white, and her long hair rose with her power. "That pig is mine…" She leveled her new staff at the obese goblin, and arcane rings appeared around it as she struck. "METEOR!"


The goblin leader was enveloped by heat as a massive burning rock shot from the top of the staff and expanded rapidly. And yet, the powerful creature caught it, struggling against its momentum. Lyria, still furious, burned power to make it strike full force.


For his part, Drake encased his fists in stone, and raised a shield wall like a castle's turret around their healers. "Right here, greenskins!" He shouted, drawing their attention. "Dovah Alok! Times four!" Energy radiated out from him in waves at a lower rate than it had against the Raiju, and he charged at the goblins. Drake spiraled past their strikes, but did get hit by three of the attacks, despite his masterful dodging. He felt Rose's magic immediately flow into him though, and his wounds closed and healing instantly. He shot her a wink, before roundhousing another goblin with a stone encased foot.


Seeing their leader was resisting the Meteor, Drake used his buffed speed to get involved. Like a white blur, he was there with a Step of the Wind, and struck with a timely Dragon Palm, then backflipped away, throwing an sharp earthen elbow into two goblins attacking his earth shield around their sages. A massive elemental fist rose from the earth, and turned them into goo. Then, the powerful stored spell detonated, but Lyria was by no means done, and neither was her target. "Sunfire! Moonfire! Rain of Stars!" A beam of orange, silver, and then a torrent of white magic rained down on the obese creature, but it was essentially a living sack of health points. Lyria swore, and then shouted, "Debuffs! Now!"


Caelum and Rose shifted from firing basic Smite and Frostbolt spells at Drake's enemies, to laying on multiple debuffs at once. The dragon monk was not idle though, as he was making a pile of stunned and pummeled goblins. Each strike he landed stacked the minions atop the others, keeping them all pinned as they landed with force, and once he had as many as he dared to stack, he stomped the earth, and brought his raised fists down towards the ground. A circular pillar of stone descended rapidly on the pile of murderous goblins, and reduced them to gooey green chunks, and then black smoke.






His Shout ran out of steam about that time, and Drake suddenly felt winded, panting hard, as the Goblin King suddenly roared with enough force to shake the cavern system. Lyria leapt and pushed herself back with a Gust, shouting, "It's enraging! Elemental! Draw aggro!" Saving the elemental for this moment had proven to be the smart choice. The Goblin King's metal spiked fists tore into its body, but the elemental gave it a pounding in return. Each blow in the oversized slug fest sent shockwaves through the cavern.


Seeing Drake was on one knee, still winded from his Shout, Rose restored his energy. Drake gratefully nodded at her, rose to his feet, and then, he was gone in a flash of white. The Goblin King was sitting at level sixty, an earned level sixty, and his roar had actually been a demoralizing debuff of its own, not unlike a Slow spell. Drake hadn't been affected though, already slowed by his own exertion, and Rose had spent her action on freeing him of it. Caelum healed the elemental, his magic water restoring parts of its earthen form, and as the Goblin King readied a martial skill to hammer it to pieces in his enraged state, Drake was suddenly there, his palm quivering with power.


The Gods smiled on his strike, and even the obese goblin's constitution couldn't resist the effects of the Quivering Palm. He followed it with a Flurry of Blows, and each one multiplied the internal damage his bulging stomach was now suffering. Furious at his lack of damage on his enemies, the Goblin King struck with his own martial skills, but the elemental was there, and tanked the hits, all three of them, reduced to rubble before Drake's eyes. To his credit though, he didn't hesitate. Flames surged around his fists as he changed forms, hammering the giant green monster's stomach with two brutal fire fists, before unloading another Flurry of Blows, something he could chain with pretty much any melee attack. They didn't do much damage on their own, but with Quivering Palm up, they were incredibly useful.






Drake back flipped away, and Lyria was there, staff held forward, as a stream of white hot flames of her own burned the Goblin King, his obscene tree, and everything around him that was wooden. That final attack, put the creature within the range of Drake's Quivering Palm damage, and he shouted at the obscenely fat monster as he clenched his fist, and ended its life. "Hear me Goblin! I'm going to hunt you down in the Wallow, and kill you for good!"


Burned, battered, and internally bleeding the goblin grinned at him with a rotting smile, "Try it!" He roared, coughing up a thick glob of dark green blood, and smirking as it dribbled down his obese chest. "The Wallow is endless! The Emperor already begun!" The obscene creature grinned wider, as the internal damage made him expand. "You never stop us, weak Humie…your city already bends...soon...will break!!!" Then, with a gleeful cackle, his bloated body convulsed violently before exploding in burning green goo, which was actually quite damaging as it landed on all four of them. Rose and Caelum had to burn several spells just to get it to stop burning through their clothes and their allies. Once they were safe, Drake earthbended the fallen, burning corpse tree out of the way of the small tunnel behind it, and the party dashed inside to behold a new horror, one Drake recognized.


Dark Elves were manacled to the stone walls all around the chamber, in various states of bleeding, but the most disturbing thing, was what the goblins had done to their nether regions. The women's clothes, the lower parts anyway, were gone. The men were bleeding, apparently repeatedly stabbed in the family jewels. Healing magic could keep them from bleeding out and repair any brutalized body parts, but there was no easy fix for the trauma the goblins had caused.






"Above us!" Drake called out, as Lyria and the others started to move for the prisoners. Drake and Lyria moved before the small, stealthy goblins could strike though. Each once more utilizing their flamethrowers, the objectively weaker but somehow more perverse goblins fell like burnt insects to the ground, before they disappeared in black smoke like every other monster.


Drake switched to waterbending, and used what he had on hand to hydrate the survivors, and keep the Sage's mana filled. After ten minutes, everyone was free and healed to the point that they wouldn't die, but their eyes were haunted. Lyria's family, her mother, father, and two young sisters, had been among the more recent captives, and thus hadn't been brutalized like the others. The Dark Elves did confirm, though, that the Goblin King had indeed come from the Wallow Dungeon, and everyone who'd been turned into an 'art sculpture' had been brutalized like they had been, first.


For Drake, that solidified his choice. "Guys…" He said quietly, and all eyes turned to him, even the Dark Elves. The ones that weren't in shock, anyway, which was too few of them. "I think I know which Dungeon we need to clear first…"


Caelum grimaced. "Clearing the Wallow won't be something the Guild will approve, Drake. It's next to Primus, and it has plentiful low level monsters. It's too convenient. It's why they never attempted to clear it before."


Drake shook his head. "I don't care. Adventurers can fight other things, and y'know, actually go on adventures for their early experience points. The Wallow needs to be Purged. This will not happen again." His eyes were burning, and he knew the things he'd seen on their way in, and repressed, would stay with him for a long time. "If the fucking Guild has a problem with that…I'd like to see them try and stop me."






"Obviously…I'm in." Lyria said, the raw fury still in her tone.


"I'll support your choice, Drake." Rose said, calmly, "But clearing a Dungeon without the Guild's blessing will…have blowback. Even at the Academy. They might even demote you, or ban you from Raid Parties. Either way…we'll be made examples of, not elevated as Heroes. The other low level Adventurers will probably not be happy either."


"So I'll have a shiny blue Adventurer plate instead of a green one, and I'll have to do things solo. I don't care, Rose. What matters, is people. And if those savages have done this here, I have a feeling they've done it in the suburbs around the Wallow as well. They need to be stopped." Drake replied, adamantly.


"I will aid you as well, Drake. But we must be prepared. The Dungeons, especially the Wallow, are designed to drain our supplies before we ever reach their Goblin Emperor." Caelum said, quietly. "We're going to need a ton of food…especially if you plan on bringing Sethis, Garret, and Bjorn. Those beast boys eat four times the average sentient."


"You're right, Caelum…getting food and supplies to Adventurers on long term raids in Dungeons is a problem we need to solve, if we're going to clear them. Right now…we need to help these people, bury the dead, and get back to the Academy…then we'll do some reconnaissance. If the Goblins are getting out, it means the Wallow has other entrances. Something that fat and grotesque probably couldn't just sneak out the way Adventurers come in."


Caelum nodded. "I was thinking about that myself. We need to find and plug the other exits, root out any reinforcements they have lurking in the urban sprawl of Primus, and then Purge the Dungeon floor by floor." A dark smirk came over his handsome features. "Looks like Class Seven is going on a Dungeon Raid."






The rest of the quest was simple, comparatively. Lyria insisted that they continue their mining, and they left her to gather two stacks worth of Blackstone, while Rose put the bodies of the goblin's victims to rest. They'd settled on a mass grave, due to how scattered they were, and wanted to build a monument to remember them. Drake was gathering Mithril and Iron Ore for his quest and said monument respectively.


Eventually, he grew tired of the pickaxe he'd been provided, and just used his fists, which actually turned out to be faster. When he delivered the iron, the Dark Elves who'd managed to avoid torture and process what had been done, came to him. Lyria's father spoke for them, his silver eyes were empty and angry. "You're the one they call a Monk, yes?" Drake nodded. "We heard your words…and we want in. Dark Elves are strong fighters, when we're not ambushed. We know the bastard's tactics now…and we want vengeance for our fallen kin."


Drake gave him a grim smile. "We're going to scout things out first, and once we do, I'll take those of you high enough level to survive. You're not coming against the Boss…but numbers will help against the High Goblins. Train hard. It will take some time, so prepare yourselves, and enough food for several months. Maybe even a year. Time flows weirdly in there." The elf nodded at his words, and Drake paused, thinking ahead. "There's…one more thing you could help with. Spread your story. The Guild and the Academy will likely pitch a fit over this…and I intend to call them on it. Spread word of this in Primus and your capital. Try to recruit some strong Adventurers if you can, and when the time comes, we'll end these atrocities." Lyria's father, and the elves with him, nodded.






When the party returned to the Guild, they reported what happened to Kelista, who gave them some serious hazard pay as a result. In level, Drake, Rose, and Lyria had gone up by two. While Caelum had hit level fifty thanks to Drake's Boon. They gave nothing away about revenge, but had mentioned the leader's place of origin. All that elicited from Kelista was a shrug, but none of them lost their cool at her callousness.


Drake ended up bringing the ore to the Blacksmith Guild, and he managed to get a crash course in blacksmithing from the smiths who were more than glad to let the eager young student do their work for them. They'd actually laughed when he said he wanted to try smithing with his fists, at least until he pounded fresh mithril into an ingot in two strikes of his flattened, stone-encased fist. The smiths had him punch his way through much of their workload, and though he'd been quite dirty by the end, with his white martial arts pants almost fully black, they were quite amused by the sweaty, shirtless monk, and invited him back any time.


Smithing also had a level as it turned out, and gaining experience through that had gotten him halfway to fifty eight. Punching metal with stone-clad fists was cathartic, and he liked the idea of being a smith without a hammer. Caelum had also done some smithing, as it was a hobby he'd picked up from his home, and he too was quite amused that Drake had opted to forgo a hammer.


Once they wrapped up their quests, they returned to their room for a well earned shower, and to clean their clothes. Somehow, it was hard to believe they still had an entire day of classes ahead of them, but the whole raid had actually gone quite fast, thanks in no small part to their party's Buffs, and Drake's airbending. Drake sighed quietly as he showered, feeling very much exhausted, and wondering how he was supposed to focus while being this drained. Images of the mangled elven bodies the goblins had displayed flashed between drops of water. Yet, he didn't complain, he just dried off, and quietly promised those departed souls vengeance.


It was going to be a long year.

---

Chapter 5: I Need Infinite Rations, and a Cold Shower

Enjoy.​

---

By the time Caelum and Drake were done with their basic Blacksmithing quests and had returned to Class Seven, most of their peers were gathered by Vincent's desk, marveling at how something like a bit of zinc, copper, and a popotoe could produce the equivalent of a low level Light cantrip. Even Aslan was intrigued.


Once the amusement over Vincent's 'magic popotoe' died down, Aslan gestured at their chalkboard, and conjured what looked like a seating list. "From today forward, Class Seven will be sitting in this formation, for the rest of this year at least, unless changes are needed. Please adjust yourselves accordingly."

Drake, as it happened, was now beside his girlfriend, with Garret on her right, and Lyria on the opposite side of the row. Glancing at the layout again, Drake realized there was, in fact, a pattern to it. Each of the teams they'd formed recently for questing had seemingly been solidified. "As you may have noticed,"Aslan rumbled, "your new seating arrangements are the parties you have formed in recent days. I am impressed with how you've all done with your questing, especially the four in our first row. The Raiju was a powerful opponent, one the guild is saying could have been a Dungeon Boss, had it been contained within one. Expect your future challenges to be even more dangerous, but rewarding."






The four in the front row nodded in unison, unified in their resolve. They'd filled Garret in on their traumatic morning in Zemkarth, and the lion man was very much down to fly in the face of the Guild and clear a Dungeon full of torture-happy goblins.


Their Instructor continued. "Now then, as some of you may be aware, our Academy has ten classrooms per year, with around twelve students per room. Each classroom regularly competes with the others, within the confines of Dungeons, once their students have achieved Steel Rank with the Adventurers Guild. These competitions are designed to help you grow, but also are quite important for keeping Monster populations managed. Your teams are expected to work together to gather as many kills and items as you can." Aslan smirked then, though there was a slight gleam in his leonine eyes. "Since we have some overachievers this year, we've been paired against Class One this time."


Drake raised his hand. Aslan inclined his head, indicating he could speak. "Are…the classes ranked by some kind of factor?"


Aslan nodded, and his blood red mane moved with him. "At the start of the year, they were ranked by your averaged levels and abilities. We lacked two students though, so ours was a bit lower by comparison. Now that you and your Party have reached Adamantine Rank, and we have you and Ironside, we're closer in power to Class Two. This test will also determine if we deserve a higher number, or even the topmost spot." He grinned at the class then. "I am confident that you are Class One material. Prove me right! Hahaha!"


With that announcement given, they began the lesson, on the only heroes to ever successfully defeat multiple Dungeons. Drake and his party shared a look, at that particular lesson happening the very day they'd decided to clear the Wallow Dungeon, but they paid attention all the same.






"Those who clear Dungeons are those who have carved their names into history." Aslan rumbled, "Final Bosses are exceedingly difficult, and almost always level one hundred, or higher. This means they are effectively immortal, and will only grow in power for the duration of their existence. Their abilities are what usually make them rise above other Monsters. We actually have a Final Boss with a pretty rare ability not far from here, in the Wallow Dungeon. Does anyone know what it is?"


Drake felt a bead of sweat run down his neck. Somehow, Aslan knew. This was too much of a coincidence to be natural. There was that, and the fact that he'd looked directly at Drake when asking his question. Drake used a subtle breathing technique to stay calm, and shrugged in answer to Aslan's intense leonine eyes. Mercifully, he looked elsewhere, and the rough rumble of Bjorn, 'Ironside' as he preferred to be called, filled the air, as the nonchalant bear teen said, "The Goblin Emperor of the Wallow Dungeon. Chronogrin. He can manipulate time, so even if some cocksure newbies did manage to reach him, they'd never actually get the chance to defeat him. In his lair, he is unkillable. And he never leaves his lair. He's also extremely high level, last sighted at one hundred and five."


Slowly, Drake and the others in his party reached the same conclusion. Someone had squealed. Drake trusted his teammates and Caelum though, which meant someone with Stealth had spied on them and spilled the beans. He subtly enhanced his perception again, and glanced at their class Rogue. Leif was staring directly at him. And smirking.


"Correct." Aslan rumbled. "Chronogrin has tried for centuries to break out of the Wallow, but each time he makes an attempt, the Guild in Primus soundly defeats his High Goblin armies. Your upcoming contest against Class One will take place within the Wallow to curb these armies, in two months time. Much like its namesake, the further one delves into the Wallow, the slower time flows. Even the most prepared parties end up burning through their supplies before ever getting near Chronogrin himself. This is, unfortunately, the case with most Dungeons that are still intact. The Final Bosses learned from the mistakes of their fallen contemporaries, and now, just reaching them takes monumental effort. It is why clearing a Dungeon is regarded as such a legendary feat."






The rest of the lesson continued, going over the heroes who'd cleared the Dungeons, which Dungeons had been cleared, and the party names of those storied Adventurers, carved forever into Arcadia's records. The most recent ones, Vis Aeterna, still had members who taught at the Academy. When the class departed for their five minute break between the next one, Aslan called out, "Drake Long. Stay a moment."


Leif snickered at him as he confidently strode out of the room, and started chatting with Rose. Drake had no worries about her stabbing him in the back romantically, but it still inspired the urge to wring the damned fox's neck. He was mostly irritated that Leif had been able to spy on him, though he started to wonder if Leif had not been spying on him, but on Rose. And if he made a habit of doing so. He kept his cool, as he stepped before Aslan's desk. The powerful leonid steepled his fingers, watching his student with a practiced eye.


"So. You have figured out that Leif has heard, and reported your plans to clear the Wallow." Aslan rumbled, plainly. Drake didn't bother denying it, he knew Aslan was no fool, and, he respected the lion man. "I heard about your Quest in Zemkarth. The atrocities the Goblin King committed in the name of his Emperor." The hulking leonid sat forward. "Leif expects me to report you to the Guild. As your Party has no doubt told you, clearing the Wallow will not be seen favorably by the Guild. It has too many benefits for their Adventurers…" His tone turned harsher then, "However…this ease of access to low level Monsters comes at a cost. The areas around the Wallow are, as one might expect, filled with the poor and the destitute. Nobody wants to live near a Dungeon, and those who do are desperate, and without Magical ability. Few capable warriors patrol that area of Primus, and even when other breaches in the Wallow are reported, they take months to seal by the Guild. The atrocities you witnessed are not contained to Zemkarth. They have been occurring for some time among the lower castes of Primus as well." He lowered his clawed hands. "I am in agreement with you, and your rebellious teammates. Chronogrin must be slain, and the Wallow purged. Even among Monsters…his Goblins are barbaric. Torture is not uncommon among Dagorath's spawn…but the rape and the…art…are unique to Goblins."






Drake nodded along with Aslan's words, glad to hear them. His opinion of his Instructor was skyrocketing. "I sense a but coming…"


"But, the problem remains. Reaching the Final Bosses is simply too taxing. Thus, Drake Long, Chosen of the Gods," He rumbled, dropping his title and simultaneously revealing that he very much knew who Drake was already, to some extent, "I task you with solving this problem. You have two months to prepare, and with Class One down there with you, you will never get a better opportunity to delve deeper into the Wallow than anyone else. Now then, on to our next class."


The rest of the day was a blur, and though Drake paid attention, his mind was focused on how one might even grow enough food to last. He essentially had three options. Bring as much food as possible, ration it, and shove it in, ideally, the equivalent of a Bag of Holding. Unfortunately, Rose told him such inventions did not yet exist, so unless Vincent could figure it out with his top tier enchanting skills, that was unlikely to work. There was also the problem of acquiring so much food. Currently, with his rewards, he had just enough Gil for three years worth of tuition, roughly twenty two and a half thousand, which meant he couldn't spend more yet.


The next options, relied on his nerdy weeb knowledge from his other life, in the form of special foods that appeared in what he hoped would be Dimensional Echoes he could make use of. The first option, and the most likely to work, given who had grown Arcadia from scratch, was Lembas Bread, or its Arcadian equivalent. With enough of a easily rationed foodstuff that could fill a man with one bite, rationed appropriately, they could last a very long time in the Wallow.


The third option, was the most unlikely, and that was finding a way to create the equivalent of a Senzu Bean, straight out of Dragonball. Not only would it, assuming it followed the pattern, keep them fed for ten days straight, it was an instant revive to full health and magic. Invaluable in the deeper floors of a Dungeon. He'd already managed to replicate a Kamehameha Wave closely enough for it to become a skill of his, so he figured making such an item was not completely impossible.






As it happened, fate was on his side, as Class Seven reported to the final class of the day, one considered boring by most: Alternate Jobs and Where to Find Them. Their Instructor for this class was an elderly witch who oversaw Class Three, usually, and Drake made use of her knowledge, once he and Rose partnered up to study the magical plant they were going over for the day. The plant in question was unimportant to Drake's goals, and he only paid it enough attention to pass the class. His real focus, was plying the witch for knowledge.


"Instructor Hollowbranch…" He started, after calling her over, "I was wondering something. Farming is considered an Alternate Job, as opposed to the regular Jobs like Blacksmithing and Weaving, right?" The elderly woman smiled and nodded. "Is there like…a world-renowned Farmer who has achieved a high level in that Job?"


The silver haired elven woman had a gleam in her eye, as she eyed Drake, saying, "It is said no living being is more skilled a Farmer, than our own Goddess Laurelin. This is why all Farmers, and Gardeners like myself, pay homage to her, and her techniques. Every single high level Gardening and Farming skill we possess, stems directly from her own, and her immense generosity in sharing them with us." The old woman smiled at him then. "If that's all, you should help Miss Valcrest before she finishes the assignment on her own." The threat was veiled, but it was there. She'd lower his grade if he didn't focus on the task at hand. Fortunately, the vision of perfection beside him made even Botany interesting.


Despite being essentially brushed off by the Instructor with what she probably thought was a non-answer since she hadn't named a single contemporary, Drake smirked inwardly. Laurelin he could, theoretically, go and see. And it'd be nice to see Falkor as well.






Once classes were done, Rose insisted on having dinner together, in the city. When he realized she intended for them to go to what Drake perceived as a fine dining restaurant, he informed Rose that he didn't actually have any clothes suitable for that, unless his Academy uniform would suffice. Rose lied, saying it wouldn't, and then dragged him to the nearest tailor.


She put him in several different suits, and each time her face flushed a little harder, until she finally settled on an emerald green one that made her ears turn red when he'd stepped out in it. They parted, then went back to the dorms to dress themselves, before rendezvousing by the agreed upon dining area. They also had a similar experience, from their roommates. Vincent was useless, uninterested, and plied Drake for more scientific knowledge, while Caelum helped him with Arcadia's version of a bow tie, that seemed more like an ascot to Drake's eyes, but he didn't argue with their naming conventions. Rose got aid from Tala, as they wrongly assumed he was a 'boob guy', the buxom bun had still managed to make Rose's assets pop enough to catch the eye, and her dress straddled that line between classy and way too revealing perfectly.

When they met up again, they stared at each other for a full thirty seconds, as a red flush reached both of their cheeks. Rose's dress, shimmering white, trimmed with gold, and form-fitting, made her already striking features even more dazzling, while Drake, in his emerald-green suit, felt uncharacteristically dapper. Rose had been right, this color suited him, even if he wasn't used to the finer things in life. Finally, recognizing that look in his eye, and realizing Drake was just going to keep staring until someone said something, Rose smirked and held out her arm. "Shall we?"


Drake chuckled and took it, leading her inside. The moment they stepped through the entrance, conversation around them hushed. Patrons turned, eyes flickering with interest, admiration, and, in some cases, jealousy. It was clear they made a striking pair. Drake wasn't sure he liked the attention, but Rose seemed to thrive in it, walking with the confident poise of a noblewoman, and looking quite pleased with herself.


Once seated by a rather impressive view of the rainbow colored Nebula above Arcadia, ever-present in the sky, they were handed menus, but Drake found himself watching Rose more than the elegant script in front of him. "What?" she asked, raising an amused brow.


"Sorry." He said, smirking. "Your beauty keeps drawing my gaze back to you."


She scoffed, but her cheeks tinted pink. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Long. Now, what are you having?"


Their conversation drifted as they ordered, and soon enough, food was placed before them. It was a fine meal, nothing particularly grand or exciting, but the company made it worthwhile. Over plates of expertly cooked meat, mashed popotoes, and seasoned vegetables, Drake steered the conversation. "So, tell me about your family," He said, remembering Caelum's words, as he took a bite of his meal. "I know you have siblings, but I don't think I've ever heard the full rundown."






Rose smiled, swirling a fork through her popotoes. "Two older brothers, both Arc Wardens, like I will be. One's stationed in Var Thule, that's an Adventurer City down on Tharvoss, holding the line against Dagorath's forces, and the other is an explorer, constantly sending letters from the edges of the known world. He's always chasing rumors of lost civilizations and forgotten artifacts. Then there's my younger sister...she's still finding her path. She's smart, but not much of a fighter. She might end up a scholar, though that's never been my path."


Drake raised an eyebrow. "Your parents are Arc Wardens, right? I assume they aren't just any Arc Wardens."


Rose nodded, her expression shifting to something between pride and exasperation. "That's putting it mildly. My father is one of the Arcari, a group of Elite Arc Wardens in Primus. He leads them, which means he's also in the Triarchy, namely, the three most powerful individuals in our society. Our rulers, in a sense. My mother is a Sage of Fangorn, a master of Light magic and healing. They are both widely respected and feared in equal measure."


Drake sat back, processing that information with wide eyes. "So…you're basically a Princess of the entire planet…and your father is one of Arcadia's three most important people." He made an internal 'aww man', but his expression gave him away.


Rose gave him a look. "I prefer 'highly esteemed,' but sure, you're…not entirely wrong. My brothers followed the path they were expected to, one is an Adventurer holding the line in Var Thule, another is an explorer chasing the unknown. My parents expect me to take a seat among the Sages or dedicate my life to politics. But that wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want to sit in Fangorn forever, healing minor injuries and bruises and performing fertility ceremonies. I want to use my power to help people…like you do. Like we've been doing. It's been so much fun." She smiled at him with her big besotted eyes, and he felt his body heat up again.






Drake smirked. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I'll endeavor to keep her 'esteemed Highness' entertained and satisfied on our many adventures. Even if we keep almost dying…"


She giggled. "It is never dull, I'll give you that. What about your family? You've mentioned them before, but you always stay vague."


Drake hesitated, twirling his fork between his fingers. "I had a brother, parents… good people. But they're gone now, in a way." He sighed, setting down his utensil. "It's weird. Technically, I'm not even related to them anymore. From their perspective, I don't exist."


Rose's expression softened, but she didn't press. "Does that change how you feel about them?"


"No," He admitted. "But it makes me wonder…what does that make me now? Where did this body come from? It's DNA, it had to come from somewhere. Did Laurelin make me from nothing, or am I carrying pieces of someone else? Maybe even Galdurath? Or am I truly, divinely random? The first of my line?"


Rose reached across the table, resting her hand lightly over his. "You're still you. Whoever you were, whoever you are now…none of that changes the person sitting in front of me, or how I feel about you."


Drake smirked at her, getting lost in her emerald gaze again as he squeezed her hand gently. "You…are something special, Lady Valcrest." He teased.


She smirked. "It's a gift. Now eat your food before it gets cold."






Rose showed him a few landmarks of Primus within walking distance once they had their meal, and everywhere they went, Rose drew stares with her sheer beauty. She insisted he was getting looks as well, and he was, but none of the women had the bravery to try to snare him away from a High Elf so obviously beautiful. The men, naturally, were not so hesitant, and after the fourth rando tried walking up to her, he didn't leave her side again. Most, saw his level and backed off, and eventually they decided to end their date where they'd first kissed, by picking up where that one had left off.


Since it was late by that point, few people were around, and since they didn't have classes the next day, they had their first proper make out session, which only got increasingly heated the longer it went on. It took Drake more bodily control than he expected to keep his stupidly eager teen body in check, and to his credit, he remained 'at ease' right up until the end, when Rose's tiny hands kept exploring his now open shirt, and she decided to straddle him.


Both their eyes widened as he felt warmth and she felt firmness, and Drake was taken by surprise when she kept going anyway. He got lost in her lips again, and then forced his mind to stay focused. "Rose-" He managed her name, but her lips smothered his again, and he literally could not resist her. Finally, he moved his hands from her back to her shoulders, reluctantly pushing them apart. "Rose." He said more firmly. "I-if this keeps…heating up…things are going to…look," He said, smirking, and cupped her flushed, sweaty cheek. "The very least a woman like you deserves, is a bed."






His words, and hearing her name, pierced through the haze of hormones, and she turned even redder, as she realized just far things had gone. "Y-yea, right, you're right. I'm sorry, I…I forgot where we were." She giggled at him, and stole another kiss, while her hands buttoned up his shirt again.


His smirk stayed constant, as he let her fix what she had eagerly undone, and with impressive speed, for one supposedly not versed in le romance. Elven dexterity at work, no doubt. "We should do more of that, next time…somewhere more private. If you want."


The flush, which had been fading, returned in full force, but she didn't deny her feelings, or repress them. "I'd like that…you're a good kisser, Drake Long."


He shook his head. "I'm average at best…but it helps when I'm so completely enamored with who I'm kissing." He sat up then, and helped her to her feet, as they both adjusted their clothes. "It's pretty late. I'll walk you back, miss Valcrest."


"Such a gentlemen." She teased, offering her arm again, as they walked, slowly, back to the girl's dorms.






There were more people around outside, even with the late hour, and their lack of uniforms and general attractiveness once again drew eyes to them. Rose, heedless of this, grabbed his collar and dragged him into one final, passionate kiss, before she bid him goodnight. Drake departed the girl's dorms then, once Rose was inside, and walked back to his own dorm, expelling the heat from his body through his skin, this time, rather than a flamethrower. With how hot she'd gotten him this time, that would've drawn way too much attention, but the air around him did shimmer from the amount of heat he discharged.


Drake sneaked quietly into the room once he arrived, dropped down to his underclothes, and exhaled yet more heat, as he pulled his sheets over his sweaty form. Then, suddenly, the two lights above Vincent and Caelum's beds flicked on. His roomies were sitting up on their beds in their nightclothes, Vincent smirking, and Caelum feigning seriousness.


"You were out quite late, mister Long. Care to account for your whereabouts?" Caelum said, struggling to keep from cracking a smirk.






Drake shrugged, not sitting up. "I gave Rose a first date she'll hopefully fondly remember…I know I will. Ye Gods."


Vincent snortchuckled, as Caelum continued. "I hope you were a perfect gentleman, young man. Otherwise her father is going to kill you." That part, he wasn't joking about.


"Right, her father, one third of the rulers of the entire fucking planet. I'd almost forgotten, with all the…uhh…heat." Drake muttered, sitting up properly to look at his roomies. Their eyes widened, as they stared at him, and their reactions were priceless.


"Lucky…fucking…otherwordly Bastard." Vincent muttered, sighing, and falling back into his bed in a feigned huff.






Drake blinked. "What?"


Caelum broke into a laugh, as he saw the state Rose had left him in. "You uhh…should look in a mirror, my friend. She was all over you, clearly. If her father saw you now, he would one hundred percent murder you. And probably get away with it, too."


Getting up to head for the bathroom, he saw what he looked like, this time. Most of her lipstick had been transferred from her lips to his neck and chest, and that had been early in the session. She really had been all over him. Slowly, and with great effort, he wiped the irritatingly persistent lipstick away, and as he did, he pondered Rose Valcrest, and just how fond of her he was becoming. She clearly felt the same way, and as he cleaned off her lipstick and saw the marks she'd made on his chest and abs, he decided meeting her parents, or at the least the elven member of the Triarchy, sooner than later would be a good idea. He had every intention of being serious with her, for the long term, and likely his entire life. As he returned to his bed, he used a breathing technique to calm down further, but he knew he wasn't going to sleep very well after getting that wound up. Thankfully, he had a new outlet for all that energy in Blacksmithing, and an idea of how to rapidly increase his level, possibly.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 6: Every Thing I Make, Every Quest I Take, Every Base I Break, an Elf King's Watching Me

Here's Class Seven again, now with combat armor variants. Class One will be at the bottom of the chapter. Enjoy.

---

Behold. Le World Map is complete. Enjoy.

And our boy's current skills.

Office of the Triarchs, Primus - Arcathis




​

Vaelithar Valcrest was at his ancient white wooden desk, his sharp eyes, one gold on the right, one silver on the left, were taking in the usual report of his beloved daughter's activities. Lena, his High Elf assistant, looked particularly nervous, hiding her classic elven good looks under her curly chestnut tresses, and as he read the report in its entirety, he understood why. His body was the picture of calm, dressed in robes befitting the Archsorcerer of the Arcari, the elite group of Archmagi that ran, operated, dispatched, and trained Arc Wardens, Vaelithar sat above all of them in terms of power, respect, and prestige, as one of the three immortal sovereigns that had overseen Arcadian society for millennia.


"Lena."


The word was like a thunderclap in the space, as the level one hundred and ninety sorcerer's aura started to flare up. Not many things could cause him to lose a measure of control, like this. In fact, there were maybe only two. His daughter, and his wife. He doted on them, but not on his sons, and they understood why. He respected them instead, as they'd done their storied lineage proud, but they were both several centuries old. His precious Rose was barely seventeen. Thus, Lena understood his intentions when he spoke again.


"Get me every single piece of information that you can about this…Drake Long."

​

Lena nodded. "I-I had a feeling you might want it, Archsorcerer, so I already compiled everything the Guild and the Academy have on him." She handed him a single piece of paper.


Vaelithar considered himself a good boss, even tempered, fair, even if their hours required them to work tirelessly year round for the good of their planet. There was simply so much to do, and arcane sorting methods could only go so fast, and retain so much. So it made his assistant flinch when his eyes rapidly scanned the paper that was slowly bending in his strong grip and said, "What the fuck is this?" He was perfectly calm, but there was a storm in his eyes and his bodily network of magic. "It's nothing. It's barely three paragraphs. You're telling me the oldest Guild on the planet and the finest Academy in the world, both of which he must attend, only gathered a single piece of paper's worth of information on him!?" Most dossiers ended up being several pages, at least.


"Well, sir, it uh, it seems your daughter has chosen a complete enigma as her suitor. No family history, no family name, and while the word itself is not unknown to us, it seems his last name has only ever been used to refer to, umm, length. There are no other Longs on all of Arcadia. On top of that…he's a class we've never heard of. A…Monk, I believe. Running description of its abilities is, and I'm quoting the Guild, sir, 'a fast, melee striker that punches things until they die'. And that does seem to be what he does. He and his Party, your daughter among them, have faced down a level seventy five Raiju that was hunting an Alicorn herd, and a level sixty Goblin King. The same one responsible for the slaughter in Zemkarth. The Monk, Drake Long, was level twenty five at the time of facing the Raiju, and level fifty five against the Goblin King."






The Archsorcerer slowly raised a sharp eyebrow. "He's gone from level three to fifty five inside of a week?"


"Fifty seven, as of last Status activation, sir!" Lena clarified, standing straight.


The High Elf's aura grew more intense. "This…has the reek of that Goddess all over it…" He snarled, standing, hands on the desk as he gave his orders with a controlled fury that made his robes billow. "Find out where he's going tomorrow…then, I'm going to Eradicate hi-"


Vaelithar paused, as one of the floating patterns by his desk drew an ornate Magic Mirror up onto it, as it received a communication from its partner. On Arcadia, these essentially functioned as telephones, though thanks to magic, they had jumped straight to the 'face time' stage of that technology, and never progressed it any further. While useful, they were hard to craft, and could only pair with one other mirror at a time. This one was specifically for his beloved wife. "Syl…That was fast. I take it you saw the same report I did."


His wife nodded. "And as expected of my darling Vael…you're already plotting to destroy the young man our daughter chose. Even you can't commit Murder, Vaelithar. Especially not of this boy."


The Archsorcerer grit his teeth. "I don't care how special he is to the Goddess, he will not have my Rose!"

​

Sylriel Valcrest rolled her eyes. "You sound like my father. When you courted me. At the Academy. As teenagers."


Vaelithar blanched, but as usual, his wife was right. Skilled politician he was, he dodged her point. "She's too young to start dating! We were twenty, at least. Several years in, proper Adventurers! She's barely seventeen! Maybe when she's a hundred and seventy. Or seventeen hundred. Quadruple digits at least." He said firmly, crossing his arms.


"She's closer to eighteen, and you know it." His wife replied calmly. "Listen to me well, Vaelithar. I know I cannot stop you from spying on him tomorrow. Few could. But understand, I will not allow you to murder our daughter's chance for a life as happy as ours before it's even begun! At the very least…examine the quality of his character. Our Rose is no fool, and if this report is accurate, she seems to have fallen harder than he has. She practically ripped the poor boy's shirt off in public, and he left not a mark on her." Sylriel smirked knowingly at him, then. "Perhaps, like some people, his emotions aren't always immediately obvious, and readable. Perhaps he understands what seeing kiss marks on her neck would do to her reputation. We simply do not know…so observe him. I will be. I'm very curious."


Vaelithar exhaled, defeated once again by his wife's sound logic. "Fine. But if he fails to impress me, I will see to it that he is removed from my Rose's life, one way or another."






Sylriel sighed, exasperated. "She's not Yours! She's her own person, Vaelithar. Just like we taught her to be. And this is her choice. By the Gods, you are stubborn…but I know it's because you care. You should come home, dear. Relax properly, before tomorrow."


Vaelithar sighed, tiredly. "There's…just too much to do. Weekends are when I catch up on everything I don't have time for during the week. I'll try to make it home soon."


Sylriel deflated at his words, but nodded stoically. "Alright. I'll see you then, I suppose." The mirror floated back to its resting place, and Vaelithar sighed again.


Lena spoke then. "Sir…I can wrap things up tonight, and I've already made room in your schedule for tomorrow's…spying. Go home. Rest. The work will be here when you return from scouting this…Drake Long person."


Vaelithar eyed his assistant. "You're sure? You already have your own work to see to as well, Lena."


The younger elven woman nodded confidently, though she still looked nervous for some reason. She's already given him the report, but Vaelithar didn't question it further. Many people were unnerved in his presence, and he had been releasing his aura more than intended. "Quite sure. Get some rest. I'll keep things from catching fire until you return."


Vaelithar glanced at his work pile, and sighed. "I could use a rest…very well. I leave things in your capable hands. I'll see you sometime tomorrow, Lena." With that, arguably the most powerful spellcaster on the planet, save Galdurath, Teleported home to surprise his wife, leaving his assistant alone in his office.






She got to work immediately, organizing papers, perusing the high level magical tomes on her boss's walls, many of which had been magically sealed and warded for centuries. Then, after several minutes, she contacted her true boss. Or rather, the one that had leverage on her. "Mr. Pandarus. I'm finally in."


The spell, a new one invented for one to one communication over vast distances, crackled as the arcane office's wards interfered with it, but the man's sleazy voice came through all the same. "It's about fucking time, Lena."


"Just tell me what I'm looking for." She said, barely hiding her disgust.


"Mind your tone, wench." The man growled. "The tome is called the Arcanomicon. Dispel the ward on it, and use the Scroll I gave you. Then, I'll see that your sister is let free. You should hurry up…Goblins are quite unkind to female prisoners."






Having seen the accounts from Zemkarth, and hundreds of others just like them that she'd kept from the eyes of the Triarchy at the behest of her blackmailer, her sense of panic and worry overpowered any hesitation she had for betraying the Archsorcerer. The tome was quite ancient, and a warning ward flashed as she drained it of magical power, what little was left. This simply required someone with enough mana to repower it, and the wards would persist for another several centuries.


It was a common enough occurrence, but before she repowered the ward, she'd be quickly perusing the tome in question. She opened the scroll, and grimaced as she recognized the highly regulated Duplicate spell, capable of exactly copying non magical artifacts in their entirety. Like the interiors of old tomes.


She had the tome copied and replaced quickly, and then Teleported the object in question to her blackmailer. His sleazy voice came into her head again, making her cringe as she placed the tome back and empowered the ward again. "Your sister will be just outside the main entrance to the Wallow. Have a nice life, Lena." She shuddered again, and Teleported, leaving the work pile, and the office, unattended.






She appeared outside the Wallow Dungeon, gasped in shock at the sight before her. Her sister looked like she'd been literally thrown out of the Dungeon, and left in the dirt. The lower part of her clothes were gone, and her eyes were blank, expressionless, disassociated with her reality. She curled up when her sister touched her, and as she looked up, her blank eyes registered that she was back in the upper world, and with her sister.


Tears streamed down the younger elf's face, and her sister was shaking as well, not with tears, but with rage. She forced a connection to Pandarus, all but shouting in his skull. "You said she would be unspoiled! What the fuck Eridion!? We had an agreement!"


The voice she was rapidly coming to hate filled her head again. "Ahh. That is unfortunate. You know what Goblins are like, my dear, downright brutal, and exceedingly stupid. Tell you what, I'll pay for her medical treatments, and a memory wipe spell, and she'll be good as new."


Lena grimaced. Even memory spells had limits. The more traumatic the memory the more likely it would resurface. Her sister would get maybe a decade before things started resurfacing.


"Remember, if you renege on our agreement, they'll bury You, not me. You're the one that committed a crime, all I did was purchase an illegally cloned tome that, for all the Wardens will know, turned out to be fake. Take your sister to the nearest hospital. I'll make sure she has the best care on the planet."






Lena got her sister to her feet, and cut off the communication to Pandarus. He was the reason her sister had been captured at all, she was sure of it. She knew her sister wasn't his only victim, either. But she had no proof.


As Lena felt her sister weeping against her side, her resolve solidified. She'd play along, burn Pandarus's money on expensive treatments and therapy, but in that moment she decided that pig had to go down. The only question was how, or more importantly, who. Pandarus had enough Gil to buy anyone's loyalty, or threaten them into inaction.


For some reason, a snippet of information relating to Drake Long bubbled up from her subconscious, as apparently, though it was unconfirmed, the young monk had decided that the Wallow needed Purging in the aftermath of what they'd done to Zemkarth. He was unbound, somehow, to their society, and his only emotional ties were all Arc Wardens, and had the vaunted protection of the Academy keeping them safe from the likes of Pandarus. He would, Lena realized, be the ideal instrument of Pandarus's downfall, and he might even do it for free, with moral fiber like what the rumors claimed he possessed. With a plan forming, Lena guided her sister to the hospital, and then began composing a secret, magical message.

The Next Day, Galdurian Arc Warden Academy Male Dormitory - Primus City​

"The idea is to pass an electrical current through an antenna, kinda like the 'magic popotoe', but much stronger. That'll make what we called 'radio waves' back on Earth. And thanks to the capacitors we made and set to charge before breakfast, we should, theoretically, be able to communicate with them, now they've had time to draw in ambient mana. This actually turned out really easy, since these nifty magic crystals can translate sound waves. We had a whole wire, cone, and magnet setup on Earth, but this is…so much easier."


Drake had used some minor metalbending by combining his earthbending to make his new device, along with a new blacksmithing skill related to magically shaping metal. This had unlocked a whole new stance, and had evolved his various element bending techniques into one single technique that he was familiar with, and very excited at the implications of: Energybending.


Vincent was composed but excited, the shine of his eyes giving him away. Caelum had tuned out and made a vacant expression during the explanation of how radio waves and antennas worked, but he was just as interested in the end result. "So we'll be able to speak to each other over long distances without any magic? Just a button press? Do you think they'll work in Dungeons?"






Drake shrugged. "They should. Depends on how much interference they pick up. Anyway, I'm gonna go outside and test this bad boy. Don't touch anything but the button, when you answer."


Drake ran out of their room then, found the stairwell crowded, and thus opted to leap out the window of the fourth floor in front of the stairs, cushioning his landing with some timely airbending. He looked up then, and smirked as he realized Rose and Lyria were before him, already in their adventuring clothes. They smirked at him, and Lyria shook her head as Drake said, "Stairs were crowded. Wanna see what we've been up to all morning?"


The two girls shared a look, eyed the magitech walkie talkie in his hand, and then nodded. Drake grinned and held the button. "Weed Den, this is Amdrag, confirm you copy, over."


Rose giggled at his strange choice of words, and Lyria was also smirking. Then, their eyes widened, as they heard Caelum's voice, and what sounded like Vincent struggling to grab the device. "Uhh…what? Drake? We can hear you, uh, over."


Drake smirked, and pressed the button again. "Ten-four Fisher King. Put Four Eyes on, if you would, over."






Vincent's voice came through next with remarkable clarity. "This must be that…radio language, you mentioned. It seems to combine vague physical characteristics, along with number combinations meant to convey acknowledgement in a subtle manner. I must say, I don't understand 'Weed Den' or 'Amdrag', though… over."


Rose and Lyria shared a look, and Drake grinned, as Vincent's voice was coming in crystal clear. He'd been worried the ley lines encircling the planet might scramble radio waves, but so far, they were good. Theoretically, with how Vincent explained that Dungeons were highly concentrated areas of magic, one of the many things that made their inhabitants so deadly, especially when they had time to just level without doing much for centuries, the walkies would probably work even better within them. At least, until one of the Final Bosses figured out what they were doing.


"Drake…" Rose started, "Did you…just invent, or perhaps re-invent is more accurate, a magicless long-distance communication device…in less than half a day?"


"Our room is the Weed Den, and I'm American, technically, and a master of Dragon Style Martial Arts. Amdrag. Over." There were, obviously, other reasons he'd chosen that callsign, but Vincent wouldn't understand them. Yet. Making cartoons, anime, movies, video games, all of it, was very much on the list. Currently, the most popular Arcadian method of entertainment was magically animating words with a mid level spell, like the Instructors did when teaching, but it was very draining to anyone who wasn't a high level Arc Warden, and the animation style changed with who was doing the casting. Drake intended to revolutionize their animating skills, and make bank while doing it. He smoothly turned back to Rose, and winked at her. "Girl, I've barely gotten started. Just wait. Once I make screens and recording devices, I'm paying a visit to the artists at our fine Academy. They're going to be superstars!" He chuckled, using jazz hands to emphasize his point.


They would also, from the jump, be getting certain guarantees about rights, pay, ownership over their image and its use, and of course, a strict code of conduct that would try and prevent any perverts in the future from creating the abusive, cookie cutter, greed driven shithole that Hollywood had turned into.






Rose chuckled at him, practically glowing as she did. Or maybe she just did that from his perspective, since she still had him dazzled from the night before. "Well, the sky isn't roiling with magic, so I guess the Gods will allow whatever schemes you have in mind. Anyways. If you boys are done reinventing how the world communicates, Garret is waiting at the Guild already, and so is most of the class." She gave him a meaningful look. "We're going into the Wallow, today."


Drake grinned with a fake sinister gleam in his eye. "I hope you all did some cooking already…because while I was making this," He spun the walkie like a revolver and slid it into his once more white martial arts pants, "Vincent managed to revolutionize Adventuring forever…after a few discussions about quantum mechanics, and a lot of spellcasting. I'll go get them."


In short order, they'd arrived at the Adventurer's Guild, where they found their classmates, geared and ready to roll out. They were also, each of them, holding various multitudes of foodstuffs in various methods of wrapping. Their class clown, Nyara, got on Drake's case as soon as he and his party walked in. "This is too much food, Drake! I didn't realize you asked everyone to make some. There's enough here for a year!" She also seemed oddly upset, for some reason, as if she'd thought he'd only asked her and her alone to cook.






Drake looked at the gathered foodstuffs, estimated their portions, and then calculated for their beastly tanks. "I'd call this about eight months worth, if the Tanks eat like they usually do. Vincent, if you'd like to share with the class?"


The bespectacled enchanter smirked knowingly, pushed his glasses up so they caught the light and turned white, and then said, "My friends, our extraplanar ally informed me of a nifty concept that Adventurers in his home used, to carry large amounts of food and water simultaneously." He smoothly brought around the leather backpack he'd had on his shoulders then, and placed it on the ground. Glancing around, Drake noted that Kelista, the Guild's primary clerk, and a few of the other adventurers loading up on breakfast were eyeing them too.


"It's called…a Bag of Holding." Vincent said, and a few of their classmates smirked at the name. "As you might expect, it holds things. But more things than usual. A lot more. Normally, shoving this much food into an Arcane Hole would make it too heavy to carry, but with some timely low level Blacksmithing runes for weight reduction engraved into the high quality leather bag I attached the Hole to, it's able to be worn in combat. The leather did also need to be magical and somewhat high quality for the runes to take, but it all worked out. Put the food in here friends, and we'll be on our way."


One by one, they put their food in the pocket plane, and then Vincent shouldered it again. They took some basic kill quests for goblins, hobgoblins, and even a Goblin King, if they could find one. As they stepped outside, they found the only members of their class who hadn't initially joined them, namely, the fourth row of their class seating chart that included Bjorn, Caelum, Leif, and Zara.






Caelum nodded at Drake as they locked eyes. "I explained the situation. Despite Leif's snitching, we're all in agreement with the general plan. The abominations in the Wallow need to be destroyed."


"Good." Drake said, meeting the gaze of everyone but the backstabbing fox, "We're going to need to trust each other down there." At that point, he gave Leif a hard to read stare, and the fox man's ears lowered slightly. "If we can do that…we'll be fine. The Goblins already trust each other, or at least obey enough to work together. If we can't outmatch them in that regard, they'll have yet another advantage over us." He addressed the group then. "While we're in there, try to stay close to me. I have a buff that boosts your experience gain, and we all need to get a lot stronger."


With that made clear, Class Seven made haste to the Wallow Dungeon. The first floor was little more than a series of caves, long tunnels, and the occasional round intersection that nine out of ten times either had a fight going on, or the remnants of one. Drake quickly realized the first floor on the first day of the week's end was absolutely packed with new adventurers. After a solid thirty minutes of only finding in-progress fights or ones that already ended, Zara finally said, "Let's just head deeper. We're wasting too much time."





Heading downwards in a Dungeon meant finding the right room on one's current floor, one that usually was home to what adventurers called Floor Bosses, which were usually higher level monsters, and always had loot with or around them. They found the floor exit, and the boss, already slain and looted, and by the look of him, he'd been slain a while ago. The next floor was entirely different. Connected by a short descending spiral staircase encased in black worked stone walls that seemed beyond a goblin's ability to craft, they emerged into an open field that had rolling plains, idyllic grassy fields, and several valleys, within which were fortified goblin camps with watchtowers surrounding them. Around the hills were a ring of mountains that, Drake assumed, were the hard border of the floor they were in. There was even an artificial sun in the sky, despite Arcadia not being anywhere near a star. Even this far away, Drake could see sentries on the furthest encampment's watchtowers, though his brows furrowed, as he saw arrows take them out.


Enhancing his senses, he looked closer at the other encampments, and swore. "There's only a few left, and one's being attacked now! If we want in on the Floor Boss, we need to move!" As one, the four teams of four started running forward in a wedge formation, and Drake grimaced, as he noted the various trees and bushes dotting the landscape had enemies hiding within. "Hit the bushes with arrows! Low level spells only, they're just weaklings!"


Having apparently heard him, one of said weaklings that he hadn't noticed, a goblin in an assassin role most likely, leapt at him with a surprise attack from Stealth, and a pair of daggers dripping with poison. Drake managed to dodge one, but that just brought him right into the other, as it sank in deep, and critically, into his shoulder, near his heart. Almost immediately, he felt the poison numb his nerves and take effect. Perhaps it was his anger at being injured so easily, or just luck, but Drake countered with a critical strike of his own, as the power of his Dragon Palm blew away the top half of the low level goblin. Rose came up to him, but he shook his head. "I'm fine. Daggers can only do so much damage, and Monks can expel poison." Or at least, they could in D&D. He focused his inner Ki, and slowly, the tainted blood, now purple from the poison, leaked from his shoulder, and with some quick waterbending, it was left in a smoking pile on the ground.





In the distance, smoke began to rise from the war camp, and Drake saw their group had fallen behind, to wait for him and Rose. "We need to go faster…everyone huddle close! I'm giving us a speed boost!" As they started running again, he started bending the air around them, first increasing their speed, and then as they caught up to their classmates, the entirety of Class Seven. In under a minute they crossed the vast plains. "On three…jump as high as you can! Trust the air to carry you over the wall, and get ready to fight as we land!"


Drake counted down, and then as one, they leapt. With a surge of airbending, he propelled them over the wall, and straight into utter chaos. Three teams of four adventurers below were heavily outnumbered, and in an increasingly desperate fight. Drake's growing perception saw they were also Academy students, and he had a feeling, they'd just jumped in on their class rivals right as the shit hit the fan. Leveling past fifty five had unlocked a new move that promised to make Quivering Palm even more brokenly overpowered. The Status System called it 'The Dragon's Fangs'. Drake knew it by a different name though, Eight Trigrams: Sixty Four Palms. The best part though, was that it was classified as an at will attack, meaning he could use it repeatedly, though his heightened perception when he aimed each attack did burn through his magic, it wasn't fast enough to matter, with his mana pool.


As he activated it, Drake saw the nodes of magic within the goblin's bodies that were within his melee range, and with his new ability, he could hammer those nodes for serious damage that grew exponentially from two, to four, to eight, to sixteen, to thirty two, to sixty four strikes at once. He just needed to manage to hit six times in a row to get to that number. As Drake took in his targets, he noted that these were hobgoblins. They were much larger than ordinary goblins standing at least six feet tall, they were hairier, and apparently hornier too, as they had a reputation for stalking the upper caves in search of female adventurers, but usually, they just ended up dead. The noob squads they'd run into had, after some chatting, revealed that multiple parties would band together to slay a hobgoblin, if one was found up above. Everyone knew what they did to their prisoners, but the system wasn't perfect, and too many women ended up being dragged down to this floor, or even further into the Wallow as a result.





Class Seven wasted no time. Their tanks spread out and drew the focus of the hobgoblins going for their peer's healers. For his part, Drake hammered a particularly hairy one for twelve total Dragon Fang strikes, which left it stunned about as long as a Dragon Palm would. Lyria's magic struck next, a Lightning Bolt that burned off most of the hob's fur, and then Leif was there to steal the kill, as he stabbed the creature in the neck and heart simultaneously. He smirked at Drake, as if his juvenile BS mattered, but Drake had already moved to his next target, along with everyone else.


The tables turned on the hobgoblins quickly, with most of what he assumed was Class One accepting their aid with little more than a nod. Their skills were legit, but their levels were slightly lower, and the hobgoblins were all at least fifty. Between that, and numbers, they'd ended up in dire straits rather quickly. As Drake and his timely fists helped turn the tables, and Leif kept stealing his kills, he finally found their leader.


Sethis and one of the knight tanks from Class One had it cornered, and as more of their damage dealers were freed up, they were converging on what had to be the Floor Boss. Covered in spiky black metal plate, the heavily muscled goblin was not a hobgoblin, but something else entirely. "It's a Champion!" Vincent shouted helpfully, as he and the rest of Drake's party saw where he was heading next. "Debuffs!"





He and Lyria hit the Goblin Champion with a series of debilitating debuffs that sapped its strength and forced it to slow down. Champions were apparently a mutation that hobgoblins could turn into when they served a strong enough king. They were considered leaders among their species, but they didn't tend to live for very long. The stronger a goblin got, the more paranoid it became, often for good reason, as a race as fecund as theirs was always trying to shift the power structure. It took brains, cunning, and brawn to advance, and hold one's position. This particular Goblin Champion clocked in at sixty, and Garret took over as main tank, since he was the highest leveled damage sponge they had.


As the champion swung its double-bladed great axe, Garret tanked it, and Sethis took the next blow, sliding across the field as even after a reduction in strength and speed, the Goblin Champion was no joke. After him, Class One's knight, covered head to toe in expensive looking plate armor, tanked the next, by which point Garret had been healed by Rose. This was the first time Drake had seen tanks rotate in action, but he didn't wait and watch, he needed to get a piece of the action, if his experience buff was going to apply to everyone around him. Thus, he decided to use some more of his new techniques, a powerful three-strike combo, and his first class buff, Fury of the First Dragon, which caused the enemies he struck to either be knocked prone, or sent flying into the air.


With a furious yell, he vanished in a flash of white and caught the champion with a swift uppercut to the jaw, sending it skyward, to the shock of both it, and his tanks. "Back up!" Was all he had time to shout at them as he leapt into the air after it, and activated Duel in the Heavens, the aforementioned three-hit combo.





Drake caught up to the champion in the air, as rotated to his right, hammering the monster with his knee, right to the midsection, where a human's kidneys would be. He then rapidly spun the other direction, and landed another knee strike, at which point he gusted himself back with some timely airbending, then forward again as gravity brought the Goblin Champion earthward again. Shifting the focus of his buff, Drake sent him hurtling into the ground with a double handed slam to the goblin's green abdominal muscles. The Goblin Champion slammed into the ground hard enough to break it, making him prone, as their tanks laid into him.


Having backed up as asked, they were perfectly positioned to damage the champion. Sethis cut off a leg, while Garret stabbed its heart, and the Class One tank went for the throat. Two sorcerers from Class One joined Lyria then, as all three focused lines of intense flame from their staves on the crater in which the Floor Boss had landed, reducing its health to zero.


The other parties, seeing they had things in hand, had begun searching for victims, but unfortunately, those they found were already dead from their wounds. Leif called out that the Champion was dead then, around that time, and the rest of the two classes converged on the three tanks, Drake, Lyria, the other two sorcerers, Rose, and another healer who'd been helping her from Class One. Seeing the looks in their eyes, Drake spoke up first. "Four from your class and five from ours took this bastard down. I'd say that means we split the loot evenly. Any objections?"





The armored knight from the opposing class shook his spiky black haired head, as did Garret and Sethis, but of course, there were dissenting opinions. The epitome of a pompous noble stereotype, a High Elf whose golden plate armor was still pristine, spoke up loudly, turning up his pointed nose at them, as he needlessly ran a hand through his orange-blonde hair. "Our Class got here first. The loot, therefore, is ours." He hadn't even bothered joining the other tanks, despite being near enough to do so.


Leif spoke up next, a grin on his foxy face. "Your Class would be dead without us! And we'll take the payment for saving your asses from that chest!" He said, raising a silver claw towards a rather large and stereotypically overflowing brown loot container.


"Everyone calm down…" Drake started, as more claims for the loot erupted from both sides. "Garret, Sethis, take our armored friend here, and guard the chest for now, if you would." The three tanks shared a look, nodded, and then did so, which quieted the bickering.


Another force of personality emerged from the back of the opposing class then, and Drake could tell he was their leader. His hair was blue for some reason, probably thanks to mixed ancestry, and he smirked at Drake, as they locked eyes, and read the basic info that, Drake had learned, was a byproduct of reaching level fifty, namely, seeing another person's name, level, and class, with a glance and a bit of focused magic to the eyes. This teen's class was Sword Mage, like Nyara's. He was also level sixty, though, as Drake checked his own level, he found he'd hit fifty nine, which meant that, with his experience boost, he'd gotten a level and a half from a Goblin Champion. Given that the only ones above them were Kings and presumably the Emperor too, that made sense to him.





The blue haired teen held out a hand towards Drake. "Rael Astorius. You must be the Monk. I speak for class One."


Drake took the hand, giving it a firm shake. "Yes, I'm the Monk. Drake Long." He glanced at his classmates, and shrugged. "I don't know if I speak for all of them, but I am the primary reason we're here."


Rael gestured to the chest, then. "You seem reasonable. I'm glad. What should we do about this loot?"


Drake chuckled. "First, let's see what's inside. Garret, if you and your Class One compatriot would kindly open the chest…"





Rael smirked. "Forgive me, I forgot you're new to our Academy. The gentleman in the plate armor is Varian, a Knight of the noble house of Rynn." Drake blinked, and bit his tongue before he could smirk. Varian Rynn. He had a feeling the knight's sword could split in two, and the more Drake looked, the more similarities he noticed. A blue and gold lion emblem on his kite shield. Both pauldrons of his blue full plate armor sported the head of a lion framed by eagle wings. Nice. Rael Astorius continued.


"The rest of my Party, Ceyrin Aerothal and his mighty wolf, Draug…" A member of Arcadia's bird folk that strongly resembled a Bald Eagle dipped his white head in Drake's direction, and the wolf by his side, which had to have been a Dire Wolf by its size, gave him an intelligent glance, and a slow nod. Apparently it qualified as a magical creature. "…and of course, our own fiery healing Sage, Lady Elara Astris."


The lady in question was busy smirking, and chatting with Rose, who looked absolutely thrilled to be in her presence. As she heard her name, the admittedly beautiful redhead turned to Drake with a critical eye, but this time, even his teenaged body did not react as she stepped close and offered a hand for him to kiss. He shook it, instead, and she scoffed, pretending to be offended. "So this is little Rose's latest love, hmm? Well, at least you've got the look of a Noble…I don't know about that Class, though…"


Varian spoke up in a rough baritone as he and Garret emptied the chest, placing the items within on the ground for all to see. "His Class just sent a Goblin Champion soaring twenty feet in the fucking air, Elara. With his bare fist." He gave Drake an approving nod. "It takes guts to face the spawn of Dagorath in melee combat, let alone in armor that light."





Drake shrugged. "Doesn't really bother me. Now then, along with the armor and weapon he left behind, it looks like we've got…an uneven amount of items." He sighed, and cast his gaze over the members of Class One that had yet to be introduced. Their second party was led by the paladin with orange-gold hair, long elven ears, full golden plate armor, and a cape. He was using a warhammer, and a large shield with Laurelin's symbol on it, the same golden tree that marked Falkor's brow. Their healer was a snake woman with black scales that had red bands on them, and a yellow underbelly, though her top half was more human than snake. Their damage dealers seemed to be a pair of pretty cat girls, one was a rogue like Leif and had black fur, with white markings on her cheeks. Her twin had white fur and black face marks, and he read her class as 'Druid', but she didn't look like a healer. Drake's eyes widened as he realized her hands had been shapeshifted into powerful white claws. A Feral Druid, then. A master of shapeshifting.


Drake sighed inwardly. In another life, in another world, that had been his class of choice. Stealthy, high burst damage, decent DoTs, and of course, the ability to heal. He tried not to think of his many MMO characters, now probably doomed to sit idle forever. All that effort and time, now useless to everyone. The final party of Class One arrived next, and Drake had to do a double take. Their leader seemed to be a redheaded nerd who was classed as a wizard. She was human, objectively normal, but the rest of her party was not.


Their tank was a hulking turtle man, with custom plate armor for his stomach and limbs. He had a two handed warhammer, and his thick, round shell, probably his shield, was covered in blue runes that had been carved into its edges. Their other damage dealer was an armored minotaur, with a large pair of dual-bladed axes. The most unique member though, had to be their healer. She was a being made entirely of stone, with orange-gold gems for eyes and similarly colored veins that ran throughout her skin. Her class was unusual too, as he'd never heard of a runescribe before.





"Now that everyone is here, shall we begin?" Rael asked, and the majority of those gathered nodded. "Let's start with the Champion's weapon. I see…only one here who could even use it, so, Bram," He said, turning to the massive bull man, "How does it compare to what you have?"


Bram looked between the two, and his brows crashed together. "Sharper…but the durability is trash. Would need forging." He snorted in exasperation.


"Actually, I can help with that," Drake chimed in, as he trotted over. The bull man was even larger up close, but as Drake pulled out a mithril ingot, left over from his first foray into smithing, the heavy bestial brows raised in surprise. He offered Drake the axe, and after some firebending, some fist smithing, and some blacksmith skills, he managed to infuse the shoddy goblin axe with the mithril bar, making it much stronger, and changing its overall appearance.


The bull man raised it, grinning. "HA! Mighty! You have the gratitude of Brammoth Ironhorn, small Monk."


Drake chuckled, and bowed. "Drake Long. Happy to help." He turned to the rest of the gathered adventurers. "If anyone needs repairs on metalwork, I can probably mend some stuff." He offered the gathered classes, and then blinked, as he realized his blacksmithing level had risen quite a bit just from that relatively simple fusion of materials and weapon. Apparently the higher the quality of material he worked with, the more experience it gave. An idea formed, as he remembered how objectively easy turning the mithril into bars had turned out to be. The four to one ratio with coal was a lot, but not with a Bag of Holding.





Next, the goblin's armor was claimed by Sethis, and Drake patched it up, along with a rent piece of Varian's breastplate, with his fist smithing. He'd managed to find an anvil in the goblin's encampment, which made fixing the armor quite easy. They also had a lot of Blackstone, as well as iron and copper ore. A little digging around had revealed a stash of mithril, which seemed to have been attempted to be forged by the goblins, with no success, but Drake had Vincent pack it all away into the Bag of Holding anyway.


Rael had fully taken over item distribution by that point, with both classes agreeing those who would benefit most from an item, should be the one to have it. The ultimate split ended up being fair, but the parties were split over the final item, as it would objectively improve anyone who used it. "You guys are still divvying loot?" Drake said, as he returned from the hut with the anvil in it, "I thought you'd be done by now."


"Ahh, Drake Long." Rael said, inclining his blue haired head. "Perhaps that Monk wisdom of yours can aid us here. Every Dungeon Chest below the first floor always comes with what we call an Epic tier item. This one, just happens to be…really quite good. Behold, the Corestone Catalyst." He held up what looked like a golden medallion, with a rainbow colored crystal at its center. "It passively heals any wound, and restores magic. At quite a fast rate. It also significantly increases one's speed, and provides a twenty point boost to all stats. As if that wasn't enough, it also grants its wearer an ability called Battlefield Awareness. Once activated, it highlights all nearby monsters, as well as allied creatures, in red and green respectively. Neutral creatures like natural and magical beasts are blue. It has only a three minute cooldown, and lasts until there are no longer red marked creatures in the area, or until its wearer ends the ability."


Drake whistled. "I can see why we're in disagreement on this."





At that moment, Rose stepped up next to him, and gave him a wink only he and their class could see from her angle. "I know how we might solve this, Rael, if you'll allow me."


Rael bowed gracefully. "Of course, Lady Valcrest. If anyone could mediate this, it would be you."


"Thank you." Rose said, stepping forward. "First, I'd like to propose something. From this point on, the floors will be harder to traverse, the enemies higher in level. My Drake here has an ability, as some of you have noticed, that affects all of those he deems allies. Many of you received quite a bit more experience than you were expecting, thanks to his arrival. I propose, in the name of leveling ourselves, we journey together henceforth, as allies, for I know the Goblins will be equally unified. Not being so ourselves may very well end up killing one of us."


Rael glanced over his class, and there was no dissent. She'd had them at 'magic experience boosting buff'. "Good." Rose said, with a dazzling smile. "Now then, as for who this rather decent item should go to, would everyone who already possesses a magical amulet, please raise their hand?"





Slowly, and with some confusion, everyone present raised their hand. Everyone except Drake. He was too busy falling, hard, for Rose as he just stared at her, impressed. Rael spoke then, "Drake Long…do you really not have an amulet, rings, or empowering trinkets?"


Drake shook his head. "I was going to get some, but I need all the Gil I make, currently. For tuition. I was told I had to pay my own way. I was hoping to get some on this run."


Rael nodded, and sighed. Rose had them. There was no one who needed it more than one without the slot even filled. "In that case…" She said, gently taking the Corestone Catalyst from him. "I believe the choice is obvious. We of Class Seven wouldn't be here today, if not for Drake. He's one of the highest level students in our class, and he's managed to outmatch even our Vincent in Dungeoneering." She put the medallion around his neck, still smiling, and finally met his gaze. As Drake had hoped, her cheeks flushed slightly. "If nobody objects, I'd like to make him our Class Leader, as Rael is to Class One."





There were, at that, some objections from Class Seven. Bjorn, Zara, and Leif all loudly protested, calling Rose biased. Bjorn crossed his arms, his deep voice rumbling with discontent. "I don't care how strong he is, leadership should go to the most experienced. And that's not him. I've been delving into Dungeons twice as long as all of you. I should be leading."


Zara scoffed, flipping her black hair over her shoulder. "You couldn't lead yourself out of a paper bag, 'Ironside'." She said with actual air quotes, before turning on Rose. "This isn't the government, Princess. You don't get to just crown your boyfriend as leader because you like him. He's not a leader, he hasn't been groomed since birth to be one, either. In fact, I don't believe he even has a family, let alone the finest tutors in Primus. Vincent or myself should be leading, no one else is near qualified."


Leif's ears flattened as his tail bristled. His glare was sharp, unrelenting. "Oh, of course. Let's all just line up behind the Chosen One like mindless sheep. Just because he's got divine backing, we should all just roll over and obey?" He scoffed, eyes burning with resentment as he crossed his arms. "He drops into our class from nowhere, racks up levels faster than anyone in history, and now we're just supposed to fall in line behind him? Not a chance. I'm not about to bow to some outsider just because Laurelin decided he should be special."


Drake spoke up, then. "I didn't ask to be Chosen, Leif. Goddess Laurelin made that choice herself, and she didn't choose you. She's not the only one that didn't choose you, either. Get over it." The foxkin drew his daggers and snarled, but a glare from Garret made him remember where he was. Behind them, Class One watched, interested, but lacking context. Drake turned to the others as Leif stormed off. "For this outing, at least. Rose is right, it was me that gathered us here today in a Dungeon most of you are well leveled above, at least for the upper floors. I'm the one who brought you into this pit, I'm the one who should be responsible for leading you out."


Bjorn studied Drake for a long moment before exhaling heavily. "Fine. But when you screw up, I'm taking over, Rookie."


Zara huffed but gave a reluctant nod. "No one is going to follow a guy that doesn't even use his real name Bjorn. Let alone someone who had to be demoted a year. You're less qualified than Drake is…but fine. He did beat Vincent that one time in class, I guess. Can't hurt to give him experience. That's what the Wallow is for."





Seeing Leif was still fuming, Drake walked over to him. "I think it's about time you and I had a heart to heart."


Leif remained unconvinced. "Fuck off and die." He said, simply.


"I'm not going to, Leif. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to stay, and special boi that I am, I'll probably live longer than you. We were on good enough terms at lunch my first day. We've barely spoken since. What happened?"


Snarling, Leif pointed a clawed finger at him. "You stole Rose! The most beautiful woman at the Academy and you just waltz in and immediately romance her? It's bullshit! You did something! One of your weird God powers warped her mind, or something!"


Drake whistled. "Wow, dude. Uhh…y'know what? I'll let Rose herself set you straight on that one. Just do me a favor and agree to work with the Class until we're out of the rapey Goblin cesspit, alright?"


Leif snarled, tail still bristling. "Fine." It very much was not fine, though, and the last thing Drake needed was some lovesick delusional fox boy stabbing him while he was facing down a goblin.
Drake returned to Rose's side then. "You should uhh…talk to him. He has some…misconceptions about your relationship."


Calmly and serenely, Rose walked over to Leif, and Drake heightened his hearing so he could hear her words. She wasn't harsh or mean, but she did make it clear the silver foxman had never had even a flicker of a chance at being with her romantically. She called her attraction level to him a flat, unmoving zero, which seemed to make Leif deflate under the weight of the reality of her words. They both returned to the group then, and Rose very obviously took Drake's hand. Leif was quieter after that, no doubt processing the reality of being so calmly and brutally rejected. Drake understood Rose's methods. They had just identified who was still against the idea of him leading. Not that he really wanted to, he'd never been even remotely leadership material in his past life, but with a medallion this overpowered, it would be foolish to not have him in some sort of leadership role.


With the drama settled, Varian, Rael, Drake, and Garret led them on to the remaining fortresses on the second floor. There were four left, with a slightly larger fortress at the far end of the floor, that was likely sitting on the entrance to the third floor. Drake murmured to Rose as they walked. "I was expecting more…mud. So far, all I'm seeing is fertile farming land and ore rich mountains. Why don't the Goblins just stay in here? Block off the entrances and prosper until they have enough numbers to break out?"





Rose smiled at him, though it faltered, as the eagle man ranger called out the number of guards and scouts they'd need to take out before assaulting the forts. "Monsters don't know how to farm…they also don't need to eat, they just like how food tastes, when they take it off Adventurers. Their only instinct is to slaughter and spread despair, as their God commands. The only things they build are weapons, and temples to Dagorath's depravity. Besides, only a few can break out, without a Demon Lord to call them forth from the Dungeon with Dagorath's power. We'll find more of them the further down we go, though."


At that point, Rael called them over. "We've decided to take two of the four Goblin fortresses here per Class. Ceyrin's eyes spotted a Goblin Citadel in the far mountains, packed to the brim with Goblins wielding iron weapons and heavily fortified, and the forest around it was crawling with Hobgoblins. Draug also, apparently, heard wolves, which means there's likely a squad of Goblin Riders, lurking about."


Drake frowned. He didn't know if his buff had a range limit, but there was another issue. "What if they have Goblin Champions in each encampment? You guys were in pretty dire straits from just one. We should scout them out, first."


Rael nodded in agreement, and then, a moment later, Ceyrin landed beside them. "I heard you talking." He warbled in his shrill tone. "Each encampment has a lot less Goblins than that last one, but they do have Champions leading them. There's never been so many on just the second floor." He said, giving Rael a look.


"I also don't know how far my Buff extends." Drake added. "If they're higher than sixty, our Class could end up in trouble too, and I wouldn't be surprised if they had more Goblins waiting where we can't see them."





Rael nodded. "Well then, the obvious option is to Party up. Your Buff affected us even without that, but it makes sense to do so here. It should still affect us if we're all in the same party, in the same Dungeon. We'll all be able to see each other's health and magic, and if one Class ends up in trouble, the other can rush over, or send some timely aid. We should select who among us can get to the others the fastest, and either lend a hand, or rush back for full reinforcement."


Drake agreed, and those chosen to be potential runners were himself, Lyria, who could fly, Leif and his Rogue speed, and Zara, who also had learned the Fly spell. From Class One, the runners were Ceyrin, the bird ranger, both of the cat girl twins, Miuli and Miulei, and Aeliana Altis, the nerdy redheaded mage who had tons of spells, among them, Fly. The sorcerers and wizard could cast that on tanks and healers as needed as well, making them the more valuable go-betweens.


With the worst case scenarios prepared for, the parties shared their class buffs with each other as needed, and then set out. Garret, Sethis, and Bjorn smashed through their first encampment's wooden gate with little effort, and the slaughter began. There were far less hobgoblins this time, but no small amount of regular goblins, many of whom had annoying ranged weapons. Drake kept the arrows off them with his airbending, and the casters in the parties took them out with spells.


After that, he switched to firebending, and went hut to hut, catching several groups of lazing regular goblins in his firebending breath attack before they'd even realized they were under assault. Then, a roar echoed through the camp, and Drake, Rose, Garret, and Lyria converged on it. They found Ironside, already in berserker mode, matching a confidently smirking Goblin Champion blow for blow, each one of his greataxe's strikes healing him.





The champion's smirk faded as he realized there was not one, but three parties attacking his home. Garret and Sethis got involved, and so did the rest of their class. Seeing the damage being done, Drake shot into the air this time, and prepared a Quiet Kamehameha, as shouting the words was entirely for flavor. It didn't feel as epic, but it was quite satisfying when the empowered Ki beam hammered the champion directly and ended his existence, after the casters and Leif had done their damage. It wasn't an easy encounter by any means, but once they found the pattern of his attacks, six damage dealers, three tanks, and three healers keeping them all up made short work of even the mightiest foe.


They looked over at the encampment across from theirs, and sure enough, a few minutes later Class One gave the all clear. None of their health or magic was overly depleted. Ceyrin was flying towards them, and Drake met him halfway, where they confirmed that they'd take the next two encampments, and then rendezvous to camp together. More eyes, and a chance to bond, not to mention more people to take watch shifts, would guarantee a safe long rest as their abilities recharged. He also confirmed that, like Class Seven's champion, theirs had been level sixty two, but they'd all gotten a shitload of experience from it, so his buff was working.


Drake had his parties ransack the camp for all it had, though once again there were no living prisoners, just corpses, a few very rotten Adventurer Guild rations, and shoddy armor. It seemed only the final encampments on a floor would have anything to do with smithing. There had been a chest by the champion, but Drake already had his loot, so he didn't bother trying to get any, yet. Everyone who'd gotten nothing so far, had first dibs.


Their next raid went much the same, though Class One finished their champion first, and Ceyrin marked where the camp would be. The quests they had for exterminating goblins were finished, and the hobgoblin one was as well. Now all they needed was a Goblin King, though apparently it was rare for them to be this high in the Wallow. Despite facing a dual-wielding champion this time, once again, Class Seven's tactics proved as good as Class One's, and their rising levels and damage of their abilities made even the level sixty two opponent an easy win without his camp to back him up. Goblin Champions were threats to less experienced lower level parties, and their status as Academy prodigies was proving to be a legitimate threat to the goblins. Drake had no doubt that the Goblin Emperor was watching them though, and probably on the next few floors, his minions would adapt, likely with larger numbers.


Drake ended up getting a trinket that no one wanted, his first, in fact. The Mirror Image Mirror didn't boost stats, just hit points, but it also made Mirror Images of its holder. Apparently, the images were durable, and also drew from the same magic pool, so it wasn't a popular spell even among casters, and they only usually made one or two images, typically. Drake could make up to six, with the mirror. Apparently they just autonomously attacked too, but Drake tried it out on their way to the camp, and realized his new medallion regenerated his magic faster than his clones were burning it. With a little communication and mental control, he could also make them attack as he wanted, so none of them wasted Quivering Palm on low level enemies, or a tree. They were, essentially, Shadow Clones straight out of Naruto, but they were also him, and therefore shared his goal of kicking ass and looking cool as a monk. He even found he could adjust their robe colors, for help differentiating. He smirked quietly to himself as he wore the trinket. His classmate's wariness about sharing a magic pool with their copies had worked in his favor.





Drake offered to store Class One's food along with theirs, after explaining what the Bag of Holding did, and they tossed in some other hard to carry things as well, to be retrieved later. Dinner was something that Sethis had made, namely quite a lot of hearty stew in a magic cast iron pot that always replenished the broth. This meant, if they could hunt, they'd always have stew to eat. It was then Drake learned that natural animals did also live in Dungeons, and could apparently come and go from them at will. Ceyrin had offered to hunt some deer after hearing about the infinite broth pot, and Drake and Rose went for a walk through the now cleared area of the floor, as the night sky took over the day. Oddly, the night sky had three moons in it, despite Arcadia having zero, and Drake started to wonder if Dungeons were just altogether separate planes connected to entirely different worlds, or planets. Or maybe it was just an aesthetic choice by the Final Boss, or whatever force in Arcadia was responsible for creating the Dungeon's layouts.


Once they were far enough away, Rose kissed him again, and while he could never deny her, he did avoid another make out session, saying, "The Final Boss can probably see everything we do when we're in his Dungeon. The last thing I want is that pig Emperor seeing any more of You than he has to." Rose deflated, but nodded, seeing the sense in his words. Drake guided her chin upwards then, snaring her eyes again. "Once we're out of here, we should go somewhere private, tomorrow. Maybe a beach, or something."


Rose smirked at him, his intentions obvious, but not unwelcome. "I'd like that." She said, eyeing him in his far too concealing robe. The flowing garments hid his muscles well. "Well, I'm going to get some rest then. Don't stay out too long, Drake."





Drake assured her he wouldn't, but that wasn't entirely true. He'd sneaked the Bag of Holding off earlier, and now retrieved it. There were mountains near the floor's entrance, and his Battlefield Awareness confirmed no nearby monsters, so he wanted to do some mining before turning in. With some earthbending, and using said earthbending to sense ores within the mountain, he found quite a lot of copper, iron, coal, and even ten solid chunks of mithril. He also ended up with what he was pretty sure was adamantite, but his smithing skills were too low to confirm it. He went deeper though, testing the limits of the Dungeon, and eventually found an ominous black stone that seemed to be a hard border of the floor, but he knew for sure that no goblin had placed it here, under literal tons of earth.


About two more hours of mining, and he returned to the surface dirtier, but loaded with more than enough ore for his purposes thanks to years of perfecting strip mining in Minecraft. When he returned, he set the Bag of Holding back where he'd nicked it from, and found Rael and Ceyrin still up, murmuring in low tones. They both seemed relieved to see him. "We were about to go searching." Ceyrin warbled quietly. "Draug saw you tunnel into one of the mountains, and for a while there we were out of range of your Buff."


Rael smirked. "Vincent said not to worry. Doing some late night Fist Mining, were you?"


Drake nodded, and grabbed a fresh bowl of stew from the pot, though it was mostly broth. Ceyrin and Rael joined him. "You guys haven't seen this yet, but I can actually bend the earth to my fists as well as fire and air and water. I loaded up on some ores that I'm going to smelt when we get out of here, and after that…I have an idea of how I can rapidly increase my Blacksmithing level, which as I understand it, will also give me regular experience too."





Rael chuckled. "Vincent pegged you correctly. Always improving. Though I saw Rose return early looking a bit disappointed. After that steamy makeout you two had the other night that got the entire campus buzzing I was expecting more mussed hair and missing makeup. Trouble in paradise?"


Drake shook his head. "There's only a few things that could keep me from kissing a woman that fine…but a Final Boss watching us, especially one as perverted as a Goblin, is one of those things."


Ceyrin nodded. "A fair assumption. I have felt eyes upon us since we set up camp, and there is nothing in the woods around us, though your new ability could confirm that for us."


Drake took the hint, and activated it. A moment later he said, "We're all good. I think Draug scared off any normal Goblins that might've tried messing with us, and the Hobgoblins are all by the Fortress."


"In that case, I'm going to get some rest. Don't stay up all night on watch, Rael." As the birdman departed, that left Drake and Rael to talk some more, not of anything important, mostly just stories of epic fights. Rael had tons, whereas Drake had to draw from his D&D group's escapades, and insert himself into them. The handsome Sword Mage was a decent guy and Drake found himself liking his subtle humor the more they spoke. Once Nyara and one of the cat girl twins, the black Rogue one took over their watch, he went to bed confident that, though Class One were rivals, they were also worthy allies. He made a mental note to see if the other first years were as worthy, and then went to sleep trying not to think of Rose and her soft, warm lips.

---

Since our Protag did ding to 60, here's the level 60 stat blocks

---

And here's Class One, the most elite tier of first years at the Academy. We're just gonna do combat armor for the classes moving forward since...y'all get it. Blue/gold blazer. Black pants. Pleated skirts.

​

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 7: Fire, Goblins, and the Pursuit of Loot


We'll be taking a brief reprieve from Goblins after this. Fun as it is to imagine those little shits dying, it Does get repetitive.

Enjoy.​

---

Second Floor - Wallow Dungeon ​

A piercing howl jolted Drake awake, but his heightened stats helped him reach awareness quickly. A chorus of other howls filled the air after what must have been Draug's, and Drake heard Ceyrin shout, "Riders!"


The camp had slowly been waking up, and Drake was one of the last to rise, which he'd expected, after staying up so late. What he hadn't expected was for the wolf riding goblins and their hobgoblin allies to attack them so late in the morning. He assumed one of their leaders had gotten impatient, and as he ran out of his tent, he found chaos. The minotaur built like a bison, Bram, was already surrounded by three, but the furious warrior was laying into them, and their mounts. One swing from him could, and had, split both goblin and rider in half.


Drake, being a fan of canines, immediately recognized that the goblin's mounts had been driven mad by hunger and pain, arguably more brutalized than the sentients the goblins captured. It'd take years to rehabilitate them, in facilities that simply didn't exist on Arcadia. He heard Ceyrin screech in alarm, and Drake saw why. Draug was surrounded by five riders and four rather large hobgoblins. Drake started running, seeing everyone else was adapting to combat with who they happened to be near. He also noted their enemies this morning were level sixty five. Ceyrin's scouting had put them at least ten levels lower just a day before.






Drake heard the thudding of soft feet beside him as he ran for Draug, the only member of the party in real danger at that moment, and found Leif, daggers drawn. The fox man grimaced, but nodded. "Take the left!" Drake shouted, activating his Buff, and shooting ahead with his Step of the Wind. A moment later, a hobgoblin went soaring sixty feet in the air, immediately after, a rider and his rabid mount were slammed into the ground and then hammered twice, four times, eight, sixteen, thirty times in total, before the goblin finally died. An arrow through the neck had killed the hobgoblin in flight, and another arrow mercifully ended the wolf under Drake, leaving him to keep going.


Not to be outdone, Leif had leapt onto the back of a hobgoblin, and cut its throat with a single deadly sneak attack, leaping off it and onto a rider. One dagger cut the wolf's throat, while the other was parried once by the goblin, but another quick stab through its eye and into its brain ended it, as well. Getting clever, Drake shouted, "Leif!" And then hammered one of the two remaining hobgoblins, sending it into the air horizontally this time, and straight into the other hob. They collided in a blubbery goblin heap, and Leif quickly cut their throats.


By that point, the three remaining riders turned on their new adversaries, and Drake had to raise a gauntleted hand as wolf fangs came down on his arm with frenzied strength. The goblin stabbed with its spear, but Drake grabbed it and crushed it in his grip, with strength now comparable to a level eighty adventurer thanks to the absurd stat boost his medallion gave. Using his firebending, he raised a hand and Shouted, turning the Yol into a sudden, massive flamethrower that turned the foul rider into ash. Across from him, the turtle man who Drake hadn't really spoken with yet came to Leif's aid, drawing his rider's focus and pulping his mount's head with his warhammer, while the nimble fox Rogue lunged at the goblin and stabbed it in the heart, neck, and skull in rapid succession.






Then, a blur of blue stabbed the rabid, clearly starved wolf that was savaging Drake in its muzzle, making it open its jaws in reflexive pain and releasing Drake's arm, before the magical momentum behind the masterfully aimed sword stroke sent it flying and rolling into a nearby tree. The ominous crack of bone, likely its spine or ribs, ended the poor creature quickly. Rael helped Drake to his feet, and then dizziness overtook him. Glancing at his arm, he saw the wolf's fangs had properly opened it, and blood was spraying rather quickly from it. "Velda!" He heard Rael shout, but the sound seemed far away.


Drake took a breath, and forced his body to stay upright, and focused. He ignored the burning pain in his nerves or the warm, wet spray of blood coating the ground, and his outfit. Then, intensely powerful light from a golden rune that appeared over the grisly wound surged into his screaming nerves, soothing them as it rapidly repaired blood vessels, tendons, muscle and skin. Only the lower part of his forearm had suffered, Drake noted. The top had been protected by the now thoroughly scratched gauntlet covering most of his hand and arm. He looked up to see the strange stone person, Veldra, he believed her name was, responsible for the powerful, rapid heal.


He gave her a thumbs up with the healed arm, and then his eyes widened as he saw the final rider going for her. Launching into the air, Drake blinked, as lightning surged around one fist, while the other drew a casing of stone around it. His first punch in this evidently new two-hit combo skill sent lightning surging into the Goblin Rider, and then his brutal stone fist turned its foul head into goo as the plasma lingering on its body surged into the stone fist and further empowered his follow-up strike.






Hearing heavy thudding paws and a premonitory snarl, Drake backflipped off the rabid wolf snapping at him, as Draug barreled it over, freshly healed by Ceyrin's abilities, and one of their healers. The dire wolf tore the smaller one apart, and Drake looked around as he floated in the air. The campsite was littered with goblin bodies, but none of them were too injured.


"Class One, on me!" Rael shouted, raising his sword. In short order, all three of their parties gathered with practiced ease around their leader.


Not to be outdone, Drake landed roughly in the center of his Class, and raised a hand. "Revenge time! Assemble!" Not waiting on his peers, he let his robe flare as he approached the earthbended table they'd put a rough map of the floor on. Slowly, and more haphazardly, Class Seven assembled. Leif wasn't visible, Bjorn decided to loot the bodies first, Nyara made sure the goblins were dead, and to her credit, found two that'd been faking, before she came over as well. Everyone else had been prompt in assembling.






"So." Drake started, as he and Rael stood at opposite sides of the table, "What the fuck was that? Reinforcements?"


Rael nodded. "We are of a mind. It's unlikely those were the Goblins we scouted yesterday…there's no way Monsters get that much stronger that quickly…unless…" He shook his head. "It's very unlikely."


Drake slowly raised an eyebrow. "Iiiis there a way they could level up that fast?"


Rael gave him an inquisitive look. "I'm surprised you don't already know. The only method known to us…is if they somehow acquired a shard of the Dark God's power. An artifact, or corrupted magic item…just being near the power of their progenitor can level them quite quickly…but such artifacts are usually only the possession of a Demon Lord…and we haven't had one of those in eons."






Drake glanced down, as Rose's tiny hand rested on his shoulder. "I've known Rael for a while. We should tell them. All of it."


Drake smirked at her. "Maybe you should tell them. I'm nobody. You're basically a Princess."


She furrowed her brows at him. "You're the world's first Monk. Ever. And our leader."


"As adorable as your lover's banter is," Rael cut in, "There's a fortified fortress full of Goblins waiting on us, and he's right, Rose. If you have information to share about the mysterious, handsome Monk that appeared out of nowhere, we'd believe it more coming from you, than from him. No offense, Drake."


"None taken." Drake said, smirking. "I'd be disappointed if you trusted me immediately." With a nod from Drake, and a last-minute but probably smart sound muting barrier, and a Zone of Truth from Class One's paladin, Rose told them, vaguely, of Drake being chosen by the Goddess, hence the experience buff, and that he'd come from another world, being reincarnated into this one. That was why none of them had heard of him, and why he was so strong. Strong enough to, she added, take on a level seventy five Raiju, and a level sixty Goblin King despite being very underleveled when facing them.


Drake added that his Shout, and unintentionally using it with no limit, had helped beat the Raiju more than anything. The only reason he hadn't died was because of his absurd magic pool, Rose's healing, and Quivering Palm. Quivering Palm had also saved their asses against the Goblin King, along with tactics.






"So you see," Drake added once she finished, "If it's the same Goblin King, the Goblin Emperor might well have figured out I have divine aid, and thus given his own servant something similar, knowing that I'd come here. There's a good chance there's a Goblin King in that fortress, empowered by Dagorath."


Rael nodded, taking it all in stride. He seemed almost relieved when he'd heard Drake was apparently the God's chosen. "So to have any hope against it at all, you have to face it, and that's after we get the experience from clearing most of the fortress. But how do we draw them out…"


Drake grimaced. "Well…there's a few options. We bombard it with Fireballs, fire arrows, and…something new I want to try myself, and see if that draws them out. If that doesn't work…we rely on their lack of intelligence, and bait them with the lovely ladies in our Party. Then, once they make a move to snatch them, we murder them. One by one. Over and over."


Rael was also grimacing. "That…could work, honestly. Goblins this high up in the Wallow are not the brightest. Their private parts do the thinking for them, outside of combat. Let's bombard them first, and see if we can't set their base on fire. I'm interested to see what you have in mind."


Drake grinned. "There's a few…tricks I want to try with my Firebending. Save your spells, for now…if this works, I'll be able to bombard them repeatedly from a distance, and they'll have to come out to deal with me. Gimme ten minutes."






Rael did so, and Drake left the actual assault of the fortress's terrain to Vincent and the others as he found a spot away from the stench and gore to meditate, and focus. His plan was straight out of The Last Airbender, again, as he strove to revive Sparky Sparky Boom Man, and his overpowered firebending technique, in some form. Since his magic regenerated stupidly fast now, he could practice as hard as he needed, and would still be good to fight later.
He started by checking his status, and found that hitting sixty had given him a new at will ability, probably the one he'd just used. One element per hand, for him to mix and match as he pleased. The obvious combo with fire was air, but first, he had to make his fire dense and compressed as possible, holding it until it made contact with something, at which point, it would explode. This actually turned out to be surprisingly easy, and he supposed he was technically just recreating a Fireball spell with Ki. Picturing that, helped him keep the small fiery condensed ball intact up to super long distances from him, the max he managed to reach being around what he assumed was four hundred feet, more or less, at which point he used his bending to make the ball of flame expand violently.


Next, was compressing the air, which would add force and momentum to his Ki Fireball, essentially turning it into a firebomb. One that actually didn't take much magic at all to form. No more than a basic Ki Blast, anyway. By the end of ten minutes, he returned confident that he could set the goblin's fortress on fire.






Without further ado, the parties made their way towards the fortress, and Drake's brows furrowed, as it looked…quite different than it had yesterday. There was a lot more metal, a lot more goblins, and just more fortress in general. It was at that point, that another explanation besides a rising Demon Lord presented itself for the level boost to their enemies. Taking eight hours to rest had seemingly given the goblins eight years to prepare themselves for the coming fight. Swearing, quietly, Drake signaled for Rael and his teams to join them again. "Change of plans…" He hissed, irritated, "They've bent time to give themselves more power. Leave the distraction to me, we're going to need the spells later. Ceyrin, if you could cover me from the trees, that'd be great. Everyone else…get ready to ambush a lot more Goblins."


Rael nodded, and he led both classes as Drake and the eagle man took their positions. "Try to keep the archers off me. I can handle everything else. You'll know when to start."


With a quiet nod, the ranger waited patiently from a good angle on the fortress and the haphazardly fortified battlements, and Drake flew high into the air, using his Step of the Wind to leap past the general eyeline of the goblins manning the fortress. They'd never been attacked from above, so why would they ever look up? Once more, Drake focused his Ki, and one hand burned to life with flames, while the other formed a compressed swirling cyclone of wind in his palm. He combined them, staying focused, aimed, and then fired. Repeatedly.






Suddenly, the almost idyllic Dungeon landscape was hammered with violent explosions, and they increased in pace, as Drake realized he could fire them faster. For three straight minutes, tiny orbs of orange death hammered the fortress. Supplies exploded, ballistae and huts caught fire, and the main gate took at least twenty blasts. Then, all went silent, save for the sounds of panicked, wounded, and burning goblins. In the following quiet, Drake smirked as he heard Vincent and Rael. "Holy shit…he's a one man army…"


"Yea…Drake can do alot with his…Ki or whatever that turns classic spellcasting on its head. It's fascinating."


About a minute later, the firebombs rained down again, and the Academy students waiting in hiding watched in a mix of disbelief and awe, as it seemed giving the monk the epic amulet had indeed been a smart choice for the party. This time, the fireballs came even faster, as Drake had a handle on combining his elements now, or at least, air and fire, which naturally complemented each other.


"Shields up! Shields up!" One of the goblins shrieked, only to vanish in an explosion of expanding flames before he finished his sentence. Another group started chanting, their crude staves glowing with their foul goblin magic, until a firebomb hit their makeshift battlements, turning them into a column of flame leaving nothing but ash behind.


Quietly, the sorcerers and other magic users took notes. Replicating Drake's feat would've burned through their mana four times over, and inwardly, every single one made a point to ask him about how he was managing to fire so many Fireballs at so little a price. This display of power was intoxicating to watch, but there had to be a trick to it. Not even past chosen heroes had been able to unleash this kind of ruthless fire barrage so fast, and so often.


Six minutes of firebombing passed, and the gate was mostly slag now. A few archers had tried shooting at where the firebombs were coming from, but Drake and Ceyrin had made short work of them, and their weapons. About two minutes passed, before they started up again, and Drake started bringing down the foundations of the fortress built into the mountain. There were always more goblins, but as their fortress literally fell on them, Drake burned any that might've survived in the wreckage. Then, he brought the finale. His Shout rang out over the sky, as high level hobgoblins started swarming out of the fortress interior. "Do…vah… Alok! Times three!"


The charging hobgoblins looked around in brief confusion, as silence reigned, and no more fireballs came. Then, the sky cracked, and their world turned blue. A bright blue beam of Ki energy carved through the hobgoblins, and burned its way into the entrance they'd come from. Drake kept the Kamehameha going, until he used as much magic as he dared. Two minutes later, as hobgoblins started appearing again after digging their way out through stone and corpses, Drake shouted, "NOW!" As he flew full speed, boosting himself with airbending, straight into the base. He encased both hands in stone, and as expected, combining an element with its same element with his new technique doubled its power. He hit the fortress's center like a meteor, and the resulting earthquake buried the approaching hobgoblins in fissures in the earth that swallowed up and closed on them. It also ripped the front door off its hinges, and as the gathered adventurers charged in, yet more hobgoblins from below crawled out of the woodwork, and the ruined, firebombed fortress became a scene of pure chaos.






It was, Drake realized, a proper war. The hobgoblins were seemingly endless, but Drake didn't waver. "Stay together! They have to run out of reinforcements eventually! Take down as many as you can!" They all knew the reason why, and sure enough, despite their enemies' high levels ranging from sixty five to sixty eight, the young students were effectively grinding them. By the time they finally stopped, their healers were winded, their tank's abilities were all on cooldown, and the magic users were starting to flag. Even with his buff however, Drake was about halfway to sixty one. It seemed the grind got even harder every ten levels, but that just meant everyone else in their classes were able to catch up.


"Mana Potions!" Rael ordered, "We're nowhere near done yet!"


"Ho ho ho hooo…" A deep laugh echoed through the area, and Drake grimaced, as did his party.


"I know that laugh…"


"Ho ho ho hoooo! Little God puppet remembers me! I remember him…" Sure enough, the Goblin King from Zemkarth reappeared, his ugly goblin face unforgettable, bloated and hideous as he was. This time, he was at level sixty eight. He was thinner, too, not muscular but stocky and in much better shape. "It's been mere days for you…but years for me…lucky I serve an Emperor who understands what threat you pose…" He held up a black piece of what seemed like something that belonged to a larger object, and had been broken off. It was radiating literal darkness, black and red energy surrounded it.






"Don't let it eat that!" Rael shouted, his eyes wide, but his warning came too late. Drake tried firing a combination of compressed air and a reasonable chunk of stone this time, but the Goblin King had already swallowed the piece of what was likely a shard of a shard of Dagorath's power. The bullet-like rock merely nicked his pointy green ear, and the Goblin King doubled over, as the shard's power, even such a comparatively small amount of it, raised his level to seventy five before their eyes.


The physical changes it wrought were more noticeable. This time, its body did shed the fat, becoming less stocky and more classically muscular. The powerful legs became covered in green fur, the obscene feet of the grotesque goblin became cloven hooves. Large leathery wings sprouted from his back, and his yellow, flat toothed maw was now filled with a razor sharp grin. Horns erupted from his skull, jutting upwards, and he grew in size, to a solid fifteen feet in height. That fucking laugh of his did not change, though. "Ho ho ho hooo! My God blesses me! Quake, Mortals! A Demon Lord stands before you!" He let out a classic villain cackle that echoed through the entire Dungeon floor.

Rael started to panic. "We…we need to run. We need to run Now! We have no chance against that thing!"






"FUCK. THAT!" Drake shouted, drawing everyone's gaze, as he stepped forward, his inner Ki slowly manifesting in waves of white around his form. "I told this sentient piece of shit that I'd kill it when next I saw it." His eyes were furious, and on fire, as he looked at Rael, the horrors of Zemkarth still fresh in his mind. "Don't make me a liar, Rael."


The strongest first year in the Academy blanched, his face white. "Drake…it's over ten levels above us! It's a nascent Demon Lord! We're out of our fucking league, man!"


Drake looked back at the Goblin King. "Your league, maybe. This is exactly what I was brought to this World to face. I'm not letting this garbage out of here alive so it can rampage on the surface! Not without at least trying to bring it down! Who's with me!?"


Garret was there, shield ready, a grin on his leonine face. "I am with you, Drake Long. My word is my bond."


Lyria stepped up as well. "This pig dies for good, this day. I don't care how juiced up it is."


Rose was next. "I'll keep all of you up! The Gods are with us!" She looked at Rael, then. "The Raiju we faced was the same level…and we were much weaker, then. Help us, Rael."






The blue haired sword mage was beyond reason, though. Too many legends and stories of these creatures had him crippled. To be fair though, nobody expected a Demon Lord level opponent in their first year at the Academy. "It's over seventy! Do you not understand what that means!? You're all fucking insane…"


Varian Rynn stepped forward then, grimacing at his leader. "Rael…he's right. If this thing reaches the surface it'll get even stronger. Thousands will die. There's no fucking way I'm just running!" He readied his own shield, and abilities. The other tanks in Class One joined him, the turtle man's runes activated along his shell, and the pompous paladin, though unnerved, would not be outdone.


Vincent stepped up alongside Drake, with Caelum, and the rest of those who hadn't been at Zemkarth. Class Seven took their stances. "It's just another sack of Health Points…" He said, pushing up his glasses so they caught the firelight, "and frankly…I want its loot." That, more than the words of honor and bravado, convinced the rest of them to stand firm. Only Rael was left, shuddering in fear.


Then, the stoneforged woman, Veldra, put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Trust in your allies, and your power, Rael Astorius. It is time to live up to your family's name."


Rael took a shuddering breath, and managed to calm himself. Shakily, he raised his sword. "Fuck it, then. If we die, we die together!"






They should have perhaps been more concerned that the ascendant Goblin King, now classified as a Malblin King, had given them time to find their resolve. He cackled again, and raised his now muscular arms as they brimmed with black and red energy. "Good! I was hoping you would prove worthy of Dagorath's blessing! My first blood offering to my God!" The fortress shuddered, and what shoddy wooden buildings hadn't fallen in the firebombing now collapsed, crushing what sounded like more goblins within them. It seemed the Malblin King wanted them to itself.


Massive black obsidian pillars of stone rose from around the former fortress, and Drake quietly started to sweat. This thing might have been the same level as the Raiju, but the boost from Dagorath and being in a Dungeon made their respective power leagues apart. If they were to have any chance at all, they also needed divine assistance. In his head, Drake quietly said, "Are you with me too, Goddess Laurelin?"


A comforting warmth filled him, and he gasped as his Ki shifted from white to gold in color. "Always, my Hero. When your need is dire, call for Falkor. He has been leveling up as you have grown, for he is bonded to you now and forever. He is ready. But the timing must be perfect."


"The Goddess is with us." Drake affirmed, and he heard other soft gasps as the combined classes saw his light. "We're the best in the Academy." He said confidently. "Stick to your tactics, keep the healers alive, and hit this Demonic shitstain with Everything you have! Do not hold back, or death is guaranteed!" Gamer that he was, Drake understood, even here, it was a race against time. They needed to do more health damage than the Malblin King had, in the time it took their healers to run out of magic, and potions. Thankfully, his allies were rich snots, and thus well-stocked, but even wealthy adventurer potion hordes had a limit.






The adventurers roared in acknowledgement, as the Malblin King roared in fury, hatred forming in his eyes as he, and his new Patron, recognized the power supporting Drake. The debilitating debuff from his roar washed over them, but the Goddess's power kept it from affecting them. Then, the tanks surged forward. Garret, Sethis, Ironside, Varian, and Vasari all started attacking at once, but it was Varian Rynn who took the aggro first. Red energy surged from his sword and into the Malblin King as he shouted, "Right here, shitspawn! Your fight is with me!"


The demonic goblin raised a muscular arm, but instead of corroded iron knuckles, this time, it brought a weapon into being composed of the dark power surging through him. A flail with serious Sauron vibes formed in his hand. The spiked black head of it was as large as Bjorn, and connected on a thick black chain to a spiked iron rod. The spawn of Dagorath brought it down on Varian's shield, right as the warrior used a Parry at the perfect moment to deflect its momentum. The Malblin King stumbled back, as the momentum of his strike was suddenly reversed, knocking him off balance, and leaving him open. As one, the damage dealers attacked.


No less than ten powerful spells from the now collectively fifty five and above Academy students hammered the malblin, among them Drake's rapidly fired firebombs, and Ceyrin's magic infused arrows. The amount of damage to its visible health was negligible, but it was a chunk of it all the same. One large enough to give Drake a good measure. They could, with tactics, a little luck, and no full health regen bullshit, succeed in killing the monstrosity before them. "It bleeds! We can kill it!" Drake shouted, "Again!" He focused his Ki into multiple points of fire around him then, and saved magic by using the same larger but still compressed air burst to shoot the multiple Ki Fireballs at the corrupted goblin.






The Malblin King regained his balance quickly, despite the combined spells forcing him a step back, and this time, his foul flail connected with Varian's shield. Despite his defensive skill meant to mitigate damage, it took him down to a single quarter of his health. In one blow. If the shield had been anything but the highest quality money could afford, it would've likely shattered. Thankfully, runite did not break easily. Flames burning with healing light surged into Varian, bringing him back to full health, but the knight knew when they were outmatched. "Vasari! Only you can tank those!" The turtle man nodded, and stepped forward. Being a Rune Knight, and a turtle, he was exceptionally slow, but extremely hard to kill.


He leveled his warhammer at the Malblin King, forcing its attention onto him now, instead of Varian as a rune appeared on the foul beast's brow, and exploded. The next flail attack was faster than it should have been able to be, but Vasari was ready, as he intoned his ridiculous defensive magic. "Perfect Shield!" The barrier of white energy flared with one of the rune's on the turtle man's shell, and the rebounded momentum of the swing violently rippled through the flail's chain, ripping the jagged black metal handle from even the Malblin King's iron grip.


Another round of spells struck. Vincent laid down debuffs designed to slow his target, and severely weaken its attack power, which would hopefully make its attacks manageable by the tanks, and easier on their healer's magic pools. Behind it, the more stealthy party members finally struck, as the twin cat girls, one now in the form of a massive white saber-toothed panther, tore into the malblin's heels, specifically the tendons helping it stay upright. The rogue's blades were also coated with multiple poisons, further meant to weaken its attack power, and the corrosive black essence spread up the creature's calves, turning its veins black as its blood was corrupted.






Drake, for his part, saw an opportunity. He was a white blur in the air, as he went for the fallen flail, and combining his metalbending with lightning, he used his Ki to swing the now sparking weapon around at the Malblin King's head as he rotated in the air. An ungodly crack echoed through the ravaged fortress, and he finished his spin, purposefully tossing the weapon far away from their enemy. He'd either have to spend power making a new one, or spend power recalling that one to his hand.


The improvised strike with a weapon that large did manage to daze him though as electricity surged through his skull, and Vincent shouted, "Bring it down!" as the creature stumbled unsteadily. Another barrage of spells slammed into it, followed by a Greater Earth Elemental tackling it after being summoned by Lyria, and Draug, who was pouncing on the foul creature. All of that, every attack, every spell, even the flail, only managed to bring the nascent Demon Lord to three quarters of its health which, at that point, triggered a perhaps not entirely surprising change in its fighting style. At least for Drake, anyway.


A wave of dark force surged through them, sending the entirety of both classes slamming into the obsidian walls. Only Vasari remained in place, as did Lyria's elemental, firmly entrenched in the earth as it was. Drake tried to cushion the impact with airbending, as he was out of range of the large area of effect attack at that moment, but he only managed to catch Rose, Tala, Elara, and Veldra. He'd prioritized the healers for obvious reasons. Caelum and Class One's snake woman had been too far away, but Rose and Tala were on it, as they landed safely thanks to Drake and cast a combined Mass Heal.


Vincent had also, thanks to a quickly cast spell on himself, managed to lessen the brutal impact. "Vincent!" Drake got his attention. "I need Haste! Tell Lyria to Enlarge me once she's up!" He held up a palm radiating with golden Ki, that shifted to red specifically around his palm, as it started to visibly quiver. The Malblin King's eyes narrowed, as he recognized that attack, and with his next move, he recalled his flail, and summoned a massive demonic tower shield that had a gaping dragon's maw hanging open carved into the metal. The maw flickered with flames, and Drake had no doubt it could probably spew them like an actual dragon.






Drake's pupils widened, as he felt Haste take effect, alongside several tier two Buffs from Tala and Rose as well. The rest of the party was on their feet again, with the tanks and rogues already running towards the Malblin King again. Vasari took its focus again though, as another rune on his shell activated, this one making him almost as tall as the nascent Demon Lord himself. A second rune popped then, as his turtle eyes became clouded with storms, and as the Malblin King struck again, the slow moving and now giant turtle simply sidestepped the mace, dodging it by less than an inch, as if he saw it coming, and countered with a brutal upswing from his warhammer to the monster's jaw.


"Rael!" Drake shouted, as he stomped the ground, raised a boulder, and used one hundred and twenty six Dragon's Fangs to fire chunks of the boulder at the malblin like a stoney machine gun. "Give me an opening!"


Rael was slow to get back on his feet, but Drake's words galvanized him. "Aeliana!" He got his class wizard's attention. "We're doing the thing!"


The redhead's eyes widened, and then nodded. That particular thing would give the monk an opening, for sure. The rest of Class One also got ready. Rael stabbed the air multiple times with his sword, and around the Malblin King, various sparking blue crystals came into being. Then, with a Chain Lightning in each hand, Aeliana fired them simultaneously, creating a supremely damaging cage of plasma that kept arcing back into the same target after bouncing off Rael's crystals. Eight times the lightning struck, for an impressive amount of damage, but Rael wasn't done.






Before the spells dissipated, he used his own magic to give them another jump, this time, into his sword, at which point he combined the spells and added his own Lightning Bolt at an increased casting level. The three combined lightning blasts hammered the creature, and the sheer amount of electricity running through its nerves made raising its shield impossible, at least for a moment. That combo also brought the bastard down past half health. The rest of the class wasn't idle though, for while Rael and Aeliana had used what could only be called a tag-team combo spell, the rest of their parties took full advantage of it too.


An arrow with magically enhanced force behind it slammed into the creature, right as Draug, Brammoth, and Vasari did the same thing, finally knocking it prone. The minotaur roared savagely as his axes repeatedly buried into its muscular body. "Aldaron!" Vasari called out, and their paladin was there, ready with a spell he'd been charging for a while now. Shining golden blades pierced the malblin's limbs, pinning them down, and though the powerful monster tried resisting, it's dark power failed in the face of such powerful light.


Drake didn't need an invitation, he was above the Malblin King in an instant, and then shot down, increasing his speed with airbending, as he attempted to land the Quivering Palm. The malblin's eyes widened as it saw him, and then they bulged, as Drake struck his now solid abdominals covered in gaping axe wounds with a brutal palm. Once again, thanks to the debuffs and disadvantageous situation, the Malblin King failed to resist it despite his hearty constitution.


"Every hit will increase the damage! Unload on it!" Drake shouted, flying into the air again.






Hearing his words, Ceyrin unloaded a rain of arrows on the large demonic goblin. Each of the tanks struck it with advantaged strikes now that it was prone, for as many times as they could. Bram roared, enraging himself as he swung his dual axes even faster. Going for increased numbers of hits, every single spellcaster decided on the same attack, and a literal horde of Magic Missiles, about five per caster for a rough total of fifty, hammered the malblin with perfect accuracy, right in the center of his eight pack of demonic abdominals.


Drake also took advantage of its prone position, as from above he sent Ki infused air bursts into every single energy point on its body, for a total of one hundred and twenty six hits. Yet even with all of the hits stacking the growing internal damage from Quivering Palm, his eyes told him it wasn't enough yet. As the smoke from the barrage of attacks cleared, Drake reached out to his draconic companion, and felt a powerful mind answer him. It both was, but was not Falkor, and it seemed becoming an intelligent dragon and presumably reaching level sixty had significantly altered his personality from lovable pupper, to wizened dragon. He was happy to sense Drake, but he also knew he would have to fight.


"Ryuuu…haaaa…" He started, changing up the name of the attack slightly, as he poured a large amount of magic into his focused Ki Blast. "Meeee…" The golden aura around him flared, shooting off of his body and into the air behind him, as a massive white scaled draconic form appeared above Drake Long. His eyes and brow burned gold, his underbelly's scales were now black, like his claws, and his horns had grown into a majestic pair of antlers that still looked as solid as any other dragon's horns, despite their shape. The monk raised his charging Ki attack from his waist to above his head, making it as large as he could for Falkor, who understood what he needed to do.


The dragon both spoke and roared as he shouted with his own baritone. "HAAAAA!" The Ki turned golden, enhanced by whatever power Falkor had awakened as a now significantly high level magical creature. And, thanks to his very nature, luck was automagically on their side.






Seeing the dragon appear had made the Malblin King's eyes bulge in disbelief, but as the Ryuhameha Wave shot down towards him, the paladin's binding light swords finally faded, and he raised his dark shield in his defense. That did little to stop the critically effective hit, but it did, irritatingly, lessen the total amount of damage. On the positive side, the shield was reduced to nothing, though the positives were quickly balanced by several bad things happening at once. Artificially improving one's luck, it seemed, had a drawback.


First, the ground beneath the prone demonic goblin cracked, and caved in from the force of the Dragon Destruction Wave, but the creature only smirked as he disappeared into the darkness below the fortress, and Drake had a sneaking suspicion it had wanted to be pushed down there at some point. Then, right after that, Haste wore off, as did his Shout from the end of his firebombing, and the toll of firing such a potent combo attack effectively slowed Drake to a crawl. Thankfully, he managed to fight off the exhaustion building within him by focusing his Ki, but the boss wasn't done. Now on the last quarter of his health, he was desperate, and ready to cheat, like every other fucking goblin.


A hand of literal darkness surged up from the sinkhole, and grabbed Drake, as the nascent Demon Lord's voice rang through the area. "YOU! You die first!" Drake was too drained to fight it, and he only caught a flash of his friend's faces as the hand rapidly brought him down into the darkness below. He'd only briefly seen the others, as it was, of course, Rose that he looked to first. He hated worrying her, but he'd made himself the obvious choice for retribution, and the most likely target for a classic boss move that focused on, and usually killed, a specific damage dealer.






Still lethargic from the loss of Haste, Drake slammed into the dark stone floor beneath the fortress, and groaned. He didn't hear it though, for an entirely different, and again not entirely unexpected sound overpowered it. The chorus of dark chuckles from a horde of fucking goblins. The cowardly little shits had been hiding down here the entire time, it seemed. Their beady yellow eyes lit up around him, and his senses counted well over a hundred of the weaker, around level thirty and forty, variants, at least twenty hobgoblins, and two Goblin Champions. Then, of course, there was their leader, the one most visible in the gloom, thanks to the growing aura of pulsating red and black energy.


"Ho ho ho hoooo…my God greatly desires your death…Drake Long." Drake saw the creature's magic refill, but thankfully, his health did not. He was apparently reinforcing what health points he had still with a shield of some kind.


Slowly, activating his Draconic Perception, Drake managed to stand as the lethargy from Haste finally wore off. "I would know your name, Goblin…if shitspawn like you even have names…" He was very obviously buying time, and yet, none of his friends had jumped in after him. His ears vaguely heard arguing above, but he knew what they'd be saying. He was as good as dead, there were too many enemies down here, and the smart move now was to retreat, leave the Malblin King to heal, exit the Dungeon, call in properly high level adventurers, and then come back later, and maybe find either his corpse, or his tortured body.






"You will never know my name…it is wasted on one about to no longer exist in this world! Die!" The now much more articulate demonic goblin shouted, still grunting from the effort of attacking while his inner organs were being subtly pummeled by the chain reactions from Quivering Palm, the Malblin King's single-mindedness overpowered the pain, and Drake tried to block the incoming flail, but the lethargy was still affecting him. His health had already recovered from his hard landing, but his magic would take longer. This rapid recovery was all that kept him from dying, as despite the quickly raised slab of earth he did manage to bring up, the black metal flail smashed through it like cardboard, sending him rolling towards the waiting goblins.


Immediately, the opportunistic fuckers were on him, stabbing him with their knives, and though the pain was immense, he saw one of the champions bring down its massive spiked club towards him, and he forced himself to roll. The club pulped the goblins around him, except for the one he'd rolled into, but Drake dispatched that one personally, as he grabbed its foul face and burned it off. The creature suffered horribly, but that only seemed to entertain the others around him.


Furious, the Malblin King roared, "He is MINE! He must be offered to Dagorath…steal my kill, and you will die for it!" Again the flail hummed through the air, but Drake was ready this time, and finally able to move again. He spun low under it, spiraling up into a stance he hadn't used yet, as he hadn't needed it. The Restoring Palm. Instead of attacking the Malblin King though, he backflipped instead into the horde of goblins. They were stupid, greedy, violent, but they'd just gotten a direct order not to kill him, which made them perfect shields.






Roaring in irritation, the corrupted demon goblin struck again with the flail, while Drake pummeled the trash mobs, as many as he could, within his Dragon's Fangs reach. The multiple hits rapidly healed him, and helped clear his head, then, he backflipped and simultaneously spun through the air over the flail, as it took out a large swath of goblins, turning them to green paste. Drake came down on a hobgoblin, his foot cratering its skull, before two more punches in his three-hit mid air combo reduced two more goblins to goo, and then black smoke.


Drake whirled, turning both fists to stone and catching the greataxe wielded by one of the Goblin Champions that was attempting to split him in half. Its slobbering grin turned to a grunt of effort as Drake's superior strength stat forced the blade back up, slowly, and into its own face, and then skull. The other champion roared and charged at him, but by that point, the business end of the flail had returned. It smashed through the top of its own champion with ease, and killed even more of the goblins.


They weren't idle, or afraid of death, and though Drake dodged most of their opportunistic stabs, many did manage to hit him. He punched his way to full health again, at which point, the Malblin King tried something new. Like someone about to hock a loogie, he rumbled, and then spat multiple foul globs of glistening black goo onto the floor of the circular area he was fighting in. Then, he used some magic of his own, and the way his beady, demonic pupils dilated, Drake had a feeling monsters also knew about Haste. He smirked. An idiot goblin probably didn't know, or care, about the side effects though.






Drake focused his Ki, unwilling to give up, and began glowing again, the only visible light in the darkness. He blinked, as he felt multiple sudden Buffs hit him all at once, and then realized that, despite his assumption, the parties had not abandoned him. Yet. The dead corpse of a hobgoblin fell from the hole above, and Drake nodded. They were probably not doing much better than he was. As he took a Patient Defense stance, and gestured for the empowered demon goblin to bring it, the smirking crimson behemoth vanished with blinding speed, but Drake sensed his foul power. He spun into a roundhouse kick that connected with and parried his muscled fist, then, the flail came around again, but Drake easily leapt over it. Even with Haste, physics limited how fast a weapon like that could go. Had he been using, say, an axe or sword, it would've been much harder to dodge.


The Malblin King brought it around again in a wide arc, and Drake ducked under it, then raised a timely stone pillar with his earthbending. It wasn't just a rock though, it was a perfectly circular pole, thick enough to handle the demonic weapon's chain. The Malblin King's beady eyes widened in surprise as his flail came around again, missed Drake completely as the chain hooked on the pillar, and instead smashed its wielder in the face. By Drake's count, he had to dodge six more times, and then, he could counter. Drake's eyes widened, as he realized the flail had not only shattered the magic shield the monstrosity had created, but it had done enough damage to him to push him below his final quarter of health. At which point, a final transformation occurred, but this too, Drake had been expecting.


Another pair of arms sprouted from under the Malblin King's other arms, his wings grew even larger, and twisted black spikes erupted along his back and from his shoulders. His disfigured facial features, ruined by the flail, became even more monstrous, and he grew even larger as the black smoke of his fallen minions surged into him.

The enraged Malblin Tyrant roared at him, as he summoned not two, but four giant black fucking demon swords, one in each hand, and for the first time, Drake's courage faltered. He couldn't fight this monstrosity alone. Warmth surged within him, and he heard both Falkor and Laurelin speak in perfect unison.


"You are never alone, Drake Long. When the time is right, you will know what to Shout."


Drake nodded as he felt the knowledge enter his brain not from Laurelin, but from Falkor, and he focused, maintaining his defense. The Malblin Tyrant attacked in rapid succession, and Drake met each strike with one of his own, encasing his limbs in thick stone so they didn't simply break. Even with his durability, he had a feeling this thing could manage to rip him apart if it got close enough. Then, as Haste ended and lethargy took over, the demonic beast lunged again with its malformed maw, trying to catch him off guard with an extra attack he wasn't expecting. Instead, Drake backflipped away, and put his fist to his palm, as he focused.


His Ki flared, as he felt Falkor, and he Shouted, "I am thou…thou art I… Dovah Zii!"






Drake smirked, as he saw a draconic shaped surge of golden light descend from above, and he sensed Falkor's soul merge with his, not unlike the feeling he'd had when they first manifested in this world. He felt Falkor's wings settle onto his back, his horns landed atop his head, and white scales covered his arms, hands, neck, and body. It was like he was wearing the dragon like a cloak, or armor, and his smirk widened, as he realized just how close Quivering Palm was to, finally, being ready to activate.


For good measure, and dramatic flair as he wanted Class One to remember this as much as his own Class undoubtedly would, he activated his Fury of the First Dragon, and then vanished in a golden blur. A brutal Shoryuken to the jaw sent the Malblin Tyrant sailing up and out of the hole, and the following Dragon's Fangs hammered the giant defenseless target, thanks to the lethargy, one hundred and twenty six times in total, in a flash of brutal punches and kicks. The final one sent the abomination into the ground again, crushing numerous goblins and hobgoblins under its gigantic body.


Drake hovered over his lethargic foe ominously, and snarled, "I'm a dragonman of my word…time to die, shitspawn."


The Malblin Tyrant raised its grotesque head slowly, wincing as the inner organ damage finally seemed to be having an effect. "I…cannot…die…I am…a Demon Lord!"






Drake's eyes narrowed, and he flew closer to the prone malblin's face. "A Demon Lord? My ass…you're nothing but another stinking…filthy…Goblin…" Drake's Ki surged to life around his fused form again, and his eyes burned with Laurelin's light as he said, "And I slay Goblins…" He inhaled rapidly, and Shouted, using both his own knowledge and Falkor's, "FUS RO DA!"


The malblin's head was utterly eradicated before the Unrelenting Force. Drake stomped on the ground, shielding the now convulsing body in multiple layers of stone on one side, the one closest to his allies, as it struggled to regenerate, and was simultaneously being ripped apart from the inside. "Everyone get back!" He shouted again, remembering this asshole's final goodbye from Zemkarth. He flew into the air as more goblins surged from underground, and then activated his Quivering Palm. To his eyes, the Malblin Tyrant had, somehow, still possessed health points despite not having a head, but it was good to know that monsters empowered by their God could persist without vital organs.


The following explosion of flame and shadow surged through the base, and Drake saw their tanks and healers shielding everyone. For a heartbeat, silence reigned. The surviving goblins surging up to this level of the Dungeon presumably from the one below, stared in wide-eyed horror as their king's headless corpse convulsed, glowing with an unnatural energy. Then, fire and shadow erupted in a blinding wave. The last thing they saw was destruction, as they died, permanently, in the hard fiery evidence of their loss, and the adventurer's victory.






Drake let the fusion with Falkor, which was burning through his magic, fade. He got his first proper look at his draconic friend, and his eyes went wide. He was, essentially, just a bigger dragon now, but he was also majestic. His golden horns had grown to be more like a stag's for some reason, but it worked. His fangs were longer, his wingspan wider, but his golden eyes still shined with that same happy energy they'd had on Earth. He was still Falkor, and he was still happy to see his friend. Drake chuckled, and scratched the leathery skin beneath his powerful jaws. "Heyyy buddy. Thanks for saving my ass. That…was fucking awesome. I didn't know we could fuse…and when did you learn Dragon Shouts?"


Falkor rumbled a chuckle, very much enjoying the scritches. "I am a Dragon now, Drake. Goddess Laurelin gave me Unrelenting Force and Fire Breath, as well as knowledge of Zii, of Soul. Apparently, there will be what you would call 'Word Walls' appearing in Dungeons from now on. I will tell you if I sense any, but for now…my knowledge is yours." Drake's eyes widened, as energy from his partner surged into him. His knowledge of Yol expanded rapidly, and Skyrim's most iconic shout now also had a place in his head.


Slowly, they descended down to the waiting classes of students, and in his exhausted state, Drake didn't notice there were two new figures among them, hanging back. Immediately after landing, while everyone else's eyes were warily on the smiling Falkor, Rose ran up to him with zero hesitation, hugging him with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…we left you…we just left you down there…"






"Rose…I'm okay. He had my number from the start of this fight. I was always going to get pulled in alone…but I managed to stay alive…and all of your Buffs helped too." He said, wiping her eyes, and addressing Garret, Lyria, Caelum, and Vincent as they came over next. "You had your own problems up here…though…I will say, the next time some giant fucking third phase Boss drags me into a death hole, having someone jump in to help would be nice. If there wasn't a horde of weak Goblin trash down there to punch-heal off of, I would've died quite fast."


"We wanted to jump in, but…" Garret started to rumble, but a new, masculine, and entirely unrecognized voice cut him off.


"We prevented them from joining you, Drake Long." He felt Rose flinch, and grip him tighter, as the voice's owner came into view. Platinum blonde hair, one gold eye, one silver, a High Elf, a sorcerer, then Drake saw his level, one hundred and ninety, and his eyes widened in disbelief. He blinked, but he wasn't seeing incorrectly, and a moment later, a fully grown High Elven woman with emerald eyes he was very familiar with stepped up next to him. She was at one hundred and fifty, and a sage like Rose. He put two and two together, and nodded in understanding.


"Lord and Lady Valcrest, I presume." He nodded. "You put Rose's safety first, I understand…I was referring more to one of the tanks…I could've really used a damage sponge, but it seems they were needed up here."






The sorcerer spoke again then, "It was a good chance to see your abilities for myself. You were tested against the merest fraction of Dagorath's power…power that would've likely killed anyone else here, and you managed to surpass your limits, and survive." He sighed, heavily. "I have to admit…I am impressed. And as such…I will not interfere with you courting my beloved daughter." His voice entered Drake's head then, as he continued, "But mark my words, Drake Long…if you break her heart…I will break you."


He answered in kind. "She's as precious to me as she is to you…perhaps even more so, in some ways…I'll do everything I can to make her happy."


Despite his initial assumptions, Vaelithar Valcrest considered that, to be the correct answer to his words in this situation. He'd spent many centuries evaluating men, and could tell when they were lying. But this one, young, battered, exhausted, but still alive, was not lying to him. A slight smile cracked his face. As usual, his wife had been correct. Their Rose had chosen well. "Now then…I believe our monitoring duties have concluded…and both my wife and I have things to attend to. Enjoy your loot, Adventurers. It was well-earned."


Rael spoke up then, for all of them, as everyone present, except Drake and Rose, bowed their heads to him. "We are deeply grateful for your assistance, Archsorcerer!" The elderly elf, king in all but name, chuckled, and then Teleported himself and his wife away from the Dungeon. They'd have to leave manually, like everyone else, and usually Teleporting inside of one drained too much mana, but for the strongest sorcerer in Primus, it was quite easy.






"Now then…" Drake said loudly, shaking them from the awe of seeing one of the members of the Triarchy jumping in on their Dungeon run to keep their daughter from jumping into certain death after her boyfriend, "I believe it's time for some fucking loot!" They all cheered, but Class Seven was clearly louder.


Vincent spoke next. "First things first, Drake…I know what you're like, and that you've already forgiven us for just…leaving you to death or torture…but this is, at its core, an egregious breach of the Adventurer's Code. We don't leave people behind…but that's exactly what we would've done had Rose not been adamant about joining you, along with the rest of your Party. Thus…I think it should be you who distributes the drops. You're one of our leaders anyways, and did, by every metric, the most damage here. You also got the Boss kill. I trust that you'll hand it all out appropriately."


Drake sighed, and then nodded. This was a duty of a party leader, after all. He smiled down at Rose as she hit him with a stamina refreshing spell. "I'll make sure everyone, in both classes, gets something good. It might take a while to sort through though, so…clear a temporary camp, and try to get some rest."






Thus as the classes walked off to set up a spot to recuperate, Drake began with the pile of stuff that the Malblin Tyrant had left behind with its remains. For himself, and the Guild, he took the two horns from its head. They were classed as Legendary materials, but maybe after he punched through his ore stockpile, they'd be usable. Next, was a massive chunk of what his eyes claimed was orichalcum, an ore typically used by the greatest smiths to make Draconic Tier Adventurer items. Apparently, this had been the monstrosity's heart. He looked up as Falkor joined him with a heavy landing. "The others fear me…and I can purify these materials." Golden light washed over the remnants of the Malblin Tyrant, cleansing it completely of Dagorath's lingering taint.


It had also left behind a black metal crown that Drake vaguely recalled seeing on its head. He'd been more focused on the giant flail. It had some abilities, but he had a feeling he could make it suit Rose with some reforging. The final piece of loot was a massive pair of black metal shackles. Enough for three pairs of gauntlets, at least. He carried them over to Vincent, and spoke loudly. "Two things! Most of the Malblin's loot needs reforging, which I'll probably be able to do. I'm thinking there's enough metal on the shackles for every tank to have some gauntlets, so write down what enchantments or Buffs you already have and want to keep on them, and I'll try forging them later. Secondly…be nice to Falkor, guys. He's a good bo- err, Dragon," He said, catching himself, but those who remembered he'd once been a dog smirked at his words. "I'm sure you'll like him if you just…hey, wait, where'd he go?


The paladin, Aldaron, pointed at the giant purplish-black chest, which Falkor was now sniffing. "He's going to steal our loot! I knew you were full of it, everyone knows Dragons are greedy and evil!" A disappointing number of them stood rapidly, and readied their weapons in response to his words and the supposedly threatened loot, but Drake slid in front of them, arms wide. "Did you not see his brow!? He's good! I know a good Dragon is a new concept for you guys, but you need to not threaten him. You won't like what happens. Just…let him do his thing." Drake said, as he turned, saw Falkor glowing, and smirked. "He's a Luck Dragon, after all…"

The classes made an awed noise, as they watched Falkor, and his golden light warped and enveloped the chest. When it faded, the chest was no longer purple and ominous, but orange and ornate, covered in gold trim. Vincent's eyes bulged. "He…he just made it a Legendary chest!? Drake…I love your Dragon!" The rest of the teenagers cheered, as a much more slumpy Falkor walked back to them.


"I…require rest." He rumbled. And there were numerous chuckles. "You Heroes will have need of these items…for the challenges to come. Wield them well. Please. There should be at least…one for each of you." Falkor gave a tired sigh, and placed his toothy jaws on his paws.


Drake patted his head. "Thanks, bud. I'll make sure everyone gets what they need. Can someone feed him?" He asked, looking around. A smile broke his worried expression as Rose stepped forward, radiant and smiling.


"I've been dying to meet the brave soul who accompanied you here. I'll take care of him." Falkor thrummed happily as she started petting him, his large draconic tail doing a far too canine-like wiggle of happiness. Draug laid beside him as well, and the two seemed to be speaking to each other on a level their partners couldn't comprehend.






Both classes followed Drake this time, too eager to wait, and Drake said, "It'd be fitting to have the first hit and the last handing out the loot, I think. Varian, care to give me a hand? The noble knight nodded, and Drake opened the chest, eyes widening as he looked at the contents. "Holy shit…" Not only were there a solid twenty four pieces of loot, they were sitting atop a pile of platinum coins. Due to Arcadian scholars and magi understanding the inherent value and usefulness of platinum as a metal, they were worth a hundred gold coins each. Fifty silver made a gold piece, and fifty copper could be exchanged for a single silver.


He'd researched the Arcadian wealth gap, as that would be an integral part of breaking the magical stranglehold on greater Arcadian society, and the disparity in wealth, the gap between the 'castes' such as they were, made the wealth gaps on Earth look like small fissures compared to the Grand Canyon. This gulf also helped reinforce the non-wealthy non-adventurers to be content with their lot in life, as at the very least, Arcadian society didn't delude them into thinking they'd one day become part of the elite with hard work and elbow grease. It was more of a 'maybe you'll be luckier in your next life' kind of attitude, and it made Drake a bit nauseous. It was easy to forget, but all of those around him, people he'd come to call friends if not allies, were sitting at the top of a very immoral mountain because of where they'd been born.


"A-alright…" Drake started, "Let's uhh…let's just go in order, I guess." He grabbed a miniaturized light blue runic metal sword with an ornate golden lion hilt. The eyes blazed with a familiar orange light, and the weapon grew to standard longsword length as he withdrew it and handed it to Varian. The knight eagerly ditched his lower tier weapon, and put the new one on beside his top tier shield. "If uhh, if you guys don't want to sell your old stuff, I'll take it off your hands. See that it goes to someone who can make good use of it. Varian handed him his sword, but judging by the looks in the majority of the other's eyes, they would not be as charitable.






The distribution continued. Rael received something called an Aetherion Crystal for the base of his sword, one that would apparently allow him to strike with varied elemental magic as easily as Drake could. They agreed to a sparring duel later, at the Academy, and Rael departed, saying, "Once you get your item, break into teams and start looting the fortress! Be on alert for remnants of Goblins though, make no mistake, those bastards are hoping we wander off alone. If you get into trouble, make noise." The last member of Class One's first party, Elara, received a trinket that glowed with inner flame, and would apparently allow her to convert natural sources of heat into more mana. Drake quickly had her test it on flames made with his firebending, and it worked successfully. It was good, knowing that if they ever teamed up again, he could keep at least one of their healers supplied with mana pretty much indefinitely.


Ceyrin received a magic horn that would apparently call the beast version of his ancestors, namely giant bald eagles, to swarm and attack his target of choice, disappearing once it died. It had a fairly low cooldown though, and it gave him the passive ability to understand animal speech. He immediately ran over to Draug to try it out, and the dire wolf seemed very happy that they could finally speak as equals, with full comprehension. Aldaron, the next Class One tank in their second party, received a circular piece of metal that, when equipped, moved behind his head and shone like the sun. Apparently, its effects weren't that great, its main utility being that it could be combined with any headwear. It boosted his healing abilities and his magic pool, but he didn't seem too thrilled by it. Drake had a feeling his insulting Falkor right before the dragon did his thing, had resulted in a lesser reward, though perhaps not entirely on purpose, it hinted at just how potent Falkor's luck could be.


The next item, a snake-shaped amulet, went to the snakekin shaman that acted as one of their healers. It essentially turned her into a venombender, allowed her to heal her own health from poisons not her own, and allowed her to cast a potent poisoning aura on an ally that would do poison damage even to beings that resisted it. Next were the catgirl twins. The rogue got a cloak that boosted her stealth skills, and made Stealth usable in combat, while the feral druid received a powerful totem that directly enhanced her shapeshifting, allowing her to turn into bigger, stronger, and more deadly versions of her usual forms. Vasari got a belt that turned magical attacks sent his way into energy that would make his next attack as damaging as any damage focused class, which he seemed quite happy with. He bobbed his head in thanks, and slowly walked away to await the rest of his party, and begin looting the fortress. Veldra's item was unique to her race, and it melded into her arm, apparently without pain. It made her already absurd healing runes able to affect multiple targets, and would remove the fatigue she felt once all of her runes were on cooldown, allowing her to stay useful and conscious during a fight.


Their redheaded wizard got a powerful staff that allowed her to recast multiple spells per day, even the absurdly powerful ones, which with her repertoire, made her even more of a threat. Brammoth, the minotaur, got a pair of 'boots' that were really more like metal prison leg bindings, except that they did the opposite of restricting his movement. The runes engraved into the light blue runic material would make him faster, allowing his charging attacks to be even more deadly, and helping his titanic frame get where he needed to be to deal the most damage even quicker.






Next, was Class Seven's items, and Drake identified Rose's quickly. A brilliantly shining gold amulet that would let her healing abilities remove things like curses, disease, and fear effects passively. Her spells were also greatly increased in potency, putting her on par with the likes of Veldra in terms of how much health she could restore. It could, when activated by her health lowering, also generate an impenetrable but temporary shield that would give her a chance to heal herself, and hopefully regain her momentum long enough for her party to aid her. Drake pocketed it, approving of Falkor's choice for her. It was a bit too in line with what her parents undoubtedly wanted for her, and his dragon had likely heard and seen them, while Drake was busy in the death pit. Garret's item was a weapon unique to lion men, or other beastkin with claws. It made his basic attacks do lightning damage, fit over his claws, a weapon he was most naturally gifted with, and, he could still technically use a sword with them on. He seemed pleased to essentially be able to have two weapons. It was also very good at drawing attention from monsters.


Next up was Tala, who got a pair of what Drake mentally referred to as 'winged boots on steroids'. Not only did they let her fly indefinitely, jump even further than normal, and match her healing robes, they greatly extended the duration of her protection spells, to the point that she could now essentially keep anyone she wanted to shielded basically forever, so long as she kept casting the spell. Her other items naturally regenerated her magic too, like Drake's amulet, so she was very pleased that she could now give 'squishy Sethis' an eternal shield barrier that would go far in keeping him alive. Sethis, as it happened, was next. His item was a greatsword, though as Drake took it out, it grew so large and heavy that even he struggled to lift it. The Abyssal Edge, as it was apparently called, was essentially just a sharp slab of dark metal that could turn his attacks into heals, and once per encounter, shield him from magic damage. Sethis struggled to lift it, but Drake had a feeling that with time and practice, he'd be able to wield the massive weapon to great effect.


Vincent received a cloak, the same color as his current one but a bit more ornate, that had a complicated enchantment on it. From what Drake quickly scanned through, he could absorb magical spells, and redirect that energy as he saw fit, either into himself, allies, or into protective barriers for whoever he decided needed one. There was something about enhancing attacks too, but Drake let the genius figure out his overly complicated item on his own. Nyara got a sword that could actually be used in melee without breaking, and turned her basic attacks into sharp slashes of wind. She could also use it to boost her speed, or an ally's. The last of their tanks, but by no means least, Bjorn received a bear-shaped amulet that just naturally increased how hard he could rage, and enhanced his roars to cause fear, or draw mass amounts of focus to him from nearby enemies. It also greatly boosted his stamina.







For Caelum, Drake found an item that would probably help him survive his trials to come. It was a ring that provided similar health, magic, and stat boosts to Drake's amulet, and it also had the ability to cleanse tainted water, convert water into health that wasn't his own, and it let him see in pitch blackness. For Leif, Drake had what seemed like a single shuriken, but not only could it multiply itself up to a hundred times, the original always returned to the thrower's hand. "I was thinking of turning the Malblin horns into daggers for you, too." Drake said to the fox teen. "They'd probably be pretty good."


"Don't bother." Leif snarled. "Like I'd want something forged by someone who punches metal. Ridiculous. I'll be just fine with this, and my daggers." He walked off then, feeling smug, and Drake just shrugged. The horns had a natural effect that drained health and magic from whoever they stabbed, but Drake could definitely use them himself. Facing down the malblin had made it clear that his Dragon's Fangs, while powerful, would be greatly boosted by something actually sharp. At a certain point, he guessed jabbing enemy magic centers with Ki would stop being as effective, and if they resisted that for whatever reason, actually stabbing them over a hundred times would also be effective, probably. Zara received a staff that let her turn every spell she had into an area of effect, or single/multi-target. It also greatly increased her range, and gave her a Buff that thoroughly raised her magical attack power for an entire hour.


As Drake started counting out the money, he found a final item, and guessed rightly that Falkor had included one for him, too. It was a ring, easily lost among the pile of awesome treasure, called the Ring of Draconic Friendship. It allowed him to summon a bonded companion to his side anywhere, at any time, greatly enhanced abilities used in conjunction with said companion, and increased his damage against any monster infused with Dagorath's power, which was technically all of them, otherwise they would not have been classed as monsters. He slipped it on, and to his surprise, it faded from sight. He smirked as doing so had made Falkor look over, he waved at his partner, who was getting some stew from Rose. He found he could sense the dragon's emotions much clearer now, and from further away. Their next combo moves promised to be quite powerful indeed.






Very much wanting to join his girl and his friend, he counted the money quickly, and his eyes bulged at the final total. Five hundred and fifty thousand, in gold. Most of it was platinum, too. That was about twenty two thousand and nine hundred for each of them, and he made it an even twenty two thousand and five hundred for each of them instead, as they had abandoned him in the death pit. That meant about ninety nine hundred more for his total, which for soloing a final phase demon goblin, he felt was fair. It was also just over a year of tuition for him, and when he deducted his remaining years of schooling, plus textbooks, that 'bonus' would likely cover it all. Assuming prices didn't skyrocket. That left him, assuming his math was right, with roughly five hundred gold free for his smithing and other shenanigans.


It was a pittance probably, to his allies, but monetarily, it put him in the upper middle caste above the majority of Arcadia's populace, and highlighted just how lucky adventurers were. He set the rest into twenty three piles, and levitated them over to their camp with his metalbending. As each of them returned, he made sure everyone got their share.


Rose smirked at him as he sat down beside her, and Falkor, who brought his head into Drake's lap for more pets and attention. The poor boi had gone a while without any from his favorite person, and Drake made up for lost time. "So what are you doing for the rest of the weekend? Anything fun planned?"


Drake blinked at the sense of deja vu from that particular question. The last time he'd heard it felt like a lifetime ago, in a different world, as a different person. He smiled at her, and Falkor, and the absurdity of their surroundings. A gorgeous elf princess and his favorite doggo-turned-dragon, sitting in an idyllic landscape marked by a thoroughly fucked up goblin fortress, in an magic underground Dungeon, on a planet ruled by warring Gods.


It was amazing how much had changed in a week. "I was planning on taking this gorgeous High Elf girl I know somewhere private…wine her, dine her, y'know, the usual." He winked, projecting confidence as Rose's cheeks darkened to match her namesake. "And once she's…satisfied, I have some smithing to do. But aside from that…" He chuckled. "Sleep. I'm definitely going to be getting a lot of sleep. I have a feeling it's going to be another long week."

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 8: Spell-Breaking Fists, and a Dragon's Cheesy Bliss



Somewhere in the Skies North of Primus​

Rose Valcrest was clinging to him. This would have been an extremely pleasant sensation, if she wasn't also shivering in fear. Drake had pictured this going more like it had in How to Train Your Dragon, but alas, there was no stirring instrumental string music, flying through clouds made one unpleasantly damp, and Rose was too terrified to open her eyes for very long.


"Are we there yet…?" She asked for the eighth time since they'd taken off, just five minutes earlier.


Drake guided Falkor higher, and she clung to him tighter, then, with their new mental bond that, most of the time, did not even require words he had the dragon find a warm breeze, and just glide for a while. "Rose." Him saying her name made her look up from where she'd buried her head against him. "You should see this. Not many people get to." The view, of course, was spectacular. Even more so than it would've been on Earth, since the leylines lit up the clouds with a whole rainbow of colors, not just gold.


"I-I'm fine…I'm just…really not meant for flying." She murmured, trying to curl up again, but he didn't let her.


"I'm not going to let you fall. Falkor won't either. Just look, please? For me?" She made a face at him, but sighed and carefully turned around in the new saddle they'd gotten that could safely seat two people. The man who'd made it had been terrified of Falkor at first, but like everyone else, eventually calmed down.


The dragon had been very patient with the people of Arcadia, but seeing them so terrified of him, did hurt his feelings. He was used to people liking his Goldendoodle face, but now he had fangs and claws and wings. Thus, Drake wanted to get them away from Primus for the weekend. Apparently, Galdurath had a forge up in Eldarheim that Laurelin had said Drake could use, so long as he kept it orderly, and she was ecstatic to actually meet Rose. Rose, for her part, still hadn't fully processed that she was going to meet and stay with a Goddess, since she'd immediately disliked flying, and fear had dominated her thoughts.





Even now, despite facing forward in the saddle, she was covering her eyes. Gently, Drake wrapped his arms around her, and had her lean back against him, but she was stiff as a board with fear. "Don't think about the ground, just take in some fresh non-city air…and enjoy that view."


Slowly, she raised her head, and then looked back down, tiny hands covering her face. "Nopenopenope. Too high. I can't, Drake, I'll fall or puke or…"


"I'm fine with you puking on me, Rose…I just want you to see this. Just take a deep breath, lean back, and take it all in." She leaned back against him, but kept her eyes covered. Very gently, he took her hands in his, and then whispered in her ear. "Seriously, you're going to regret not seeing this…"


Slowly, hesitantly, she peeked out, and then all at once her eyes went wide. "Oh…"


Falkor looked back at her, and smirked knowingly as he spoke to her. "I will not let you fall." She smiled at him and patted his neck, eyes wide at the kingdom of colored clouds before them.
"Alright…" She admitted, "Maybe flying isn't that bad. This is…wow."


Drake smirked knowingly as well, his expression mirroring his dragon's. He kinda wanted to yank her off the saddle and fly with her himself, but the poor girl was still shaken. Maybe on the ride back, after she and Falkor had gotten in some practice on their own, while he punched through his mountain of ores. He'd offered smithing upgrades to both classes upon finally exiting the Wallow, but Class One had claimed they were once again rivals, and just left. Everyone in Class Seven though, except for Leif, had been more than happy to have the overpowered Monk Blacksmith have a look at their stuff, especially when they heard he'd be doing his forging in Eldarheim.





"You think this is a view…just wait until you see Eldarheim…" He nudged Falkor again, and his scaly friend brought them down slowly without so much as a bump as his large white wings carved through the air, and once again, Drake smirked as he heard Rose gasp in awe. Leylines swirled around the magnificent white stone fortress, above which was the best view of the rainbow colored nebula on the entire planet.


Rose leaned back against Drake, seemingly more at ease. "It…feels like I've been here before, somehow…but I definitely haven't…"


Drake chuckled. "Not in this life, no…but in past ones, probably. All Arcadian souls come here to be reborn, as I understand it."


Rose glanced back at him, cheeks darkening slightly. "If I fell in one of our battles…would you find my soul again? Would you wait for me?"


Drake nuzzled her. "You're not going to fall. But if you did…I'd carry you here myself…and figure out where you were reborn. Then, I'd just have to wait a decade or two…but yes. I would try finding you again."
Rose waited a beat, then smirked and said, "Even if I came back as a guy?"


Drake pondered for a moment, then nodded. "I don't know if I could still be as…y'know, romantically attracted…I could try, I guess…but we would absolutely be best friends. I'd teach you my Monk ways." He smirked, as that made her giggle.





Rose seemed properly in awe as Falkor landed within the fortress's curtain wall, that extended quite far behind it, several acres at least, and had been the backdrop for the family photos Drake had seen of the Gods, and a young Dagorion the last time he'd been here. Drake removed the saddle from Falkor and chatted with him about how they could make it more comfortable for him. Then, he turned, as he heard Rose gasp again. Striding across the idyllic green fields towards them was the Goddess Laurelin, radiant and beautiful as ever, once more in her blue, white, and golden dress that seemed to be her casual default outfit.
Rose, understandably, panicked, and tried to scurry behind Falkor, but Drake snagged her hand before she could. "You look fantastic. Just talk to her like anyone else."


"But she's Not anyone else!" Rose hissed.


Laurelin was smirking lightly, obviously hearing them, as she strode closer. "Welcome back, my Hero. And this must be the Rose that has so captivated you. Be welcome here, Rose Valcrest. I've had the pleasure of hosting many members of your family over the years."





Years of training took over, as Rose bowed, deeply. "I-It's an honor, Goddess Laurelin. I-I… I'm sorry, it's just… a lot."


Laurelin nodded in understanding, but moved forward to take Rose's hands in hers. "I understand, child. There have been many firsts, this day. First flight, first meeting with a Deity…but you are very welcome in this place. Be at ease." And with a little divine calming, she was. With a teasing smile to Drake, she said, "You told me she was lovely, but I do believe you undersold her, Drake."


Drake shrugged, then smoothly added, "I haven't the words in Common or Dovah Zul to accurately describe her…but I did translate some Elvish before we left…" He met Rose's eyes then, and in her people's tongue, compared her beauty to the rainbow nebula above them. Her cheeks darkened, which was what he was after.


"Y-you're both too kind…" Rose managed, very close to just fainting from…all of it.


Laurelin smiled at them. "You two must be hungry. My Galdurath will be joining us tonight. I've made a feast for you two, I do hope you'll enjoy it."


Rose blinked several times, in disbelief. The Goddess of her world…made dinner for her. And her boyfriend. And her God husband, Lord of Magic and architect of the very leylines that swirled above them even now, would be joining them. She gulped, and took Drake's hand again. Seeing Rose was having a moment, Drake said, "Thank you, Goddess. I have some food from our Class in the Bag of Holding you should both try, if it pleases you. I know my peers would flip to hear how the Gods of their people liked their cooking."


Laurelin chuckled. "Galdurath may not eat much…he rarely does these days, but I will sample them. Come. I'll show you to your room for the weekend, and let you settle in before we dine. Everything should be ready, by then."





Rose was still awestruck, so much so that until they made their way into the God's living area, further increasing her awe, she didn't realize the Goddess had said 'room', as in one for both of them, until they entered, and she left them alone. The room was very much a spare, though not a speck of dust covered it. A bookcase with a comfortable chair was in one corner, as well as a desk that looked to have been barely, if ever, used. The bed was wide and ornate, and more than large enough for two teenagers to sleep separately and comfortably.


Drake, oblivious to Rose's darkening cheeks, sighed, and tossed his school jacket on the desk chair, and then changed into his 'monk armor', completely heedless of Rose's presence. His undergarments were rather long and baggy though, practically shorts themselves, so he didn't think it mattered. He stretched his limbs then, with satisfying cracks. The trip over had taken about two hours, most of which had been spent tensely trying to get Rose to chill. Turning to glance at her, he blinked. "I can uhh…use the bathroom, if you want to change."


Rose, still dazed by the divine hospitality, had just let herself be led into the room. She'd barely taken in the bookshelves, the desk, the pristine surroundings, before her gaze landed on the bed. She hadn't even noticed him change. She blinked. Once. Twice. Then the realization hit like a thunderbolt. "The bed!" Rose squeaked, which caused Drake to chucklesnort. She coughed, and then composed herself, cheeks still crimson as her namesake. "There's…only one bed, Drake…how…how are we to sleep?"


Drake raised an eyebrow. "Well, usually one lies down, pulls up the covers, and then…drifts off to dreamland. So…like we usually do?"





"Wh- bu- it's…not proper!" She said, confused by his nonchalant attitude.


He shrugged, but let the hurt show on his face. "Look, Rose, I wasn't intending to uhh…do anything…I mean it's more than big enough for us to never touch…if that's what you want. I think uhh…the Goddess assumed we were further along than we are, in that regard." His own cheeks started burning, but he shook his head, and regained his composure. "I can get a different room if yo-"


"No!" She said abruptly, cheeks somehow turning even more crimson. "It's fine, it's just…I've never…slept with a boy before…"


Drake smirked, and nodded, walking over to her. He took her hands again. "If all you desire is sleep, then that's all we'll do. I have no expectations…but…if you're as serious about…this…as I am, we are going to have to get used to sleeping next to each other." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Whatever makes you most comfortable, even if that means me on the edge of my side, with no blankets, that's what I'll do."
Rose smirked up at him. "I guess I could share some blankets…"


Drake smirked back at her. "How generous…I'm going to use the bathroom now. You should get ready." She nodded, and he went to do his business. The bathroom was not unlike those at the Academy, with a shower, sink, and magic toilet. He went extra slowly, since he knew how women got when it came to changing, but after eight minutes by his count, he knocked on the door to the room. "Are uhh…are you ready, Rose?"


"Yes. You can come out." She answered.





Drake emerged to see Rose in a dress that stole the words from his mouth for a moment and made his eyes widen. Her dress this time was green and gold, but in the style of the one she'd worn on their dinner date. Entirely on purpose, judging by that pleased, coy smile of hers, she'd left herself unzipped in the back so she could tease him, and push the cleavage on display even higher. "Zip me up?" She asked innocently, and Drake nodded, once his brain started processing again.


Rose turned to face him once he had, and like a magnet he found his face drifting towards hers, that is, until Laurelin's voice reached them. "Drake! Rose! Everything is readyyy~"


Rose smirked, and put a finger on his lips. "To be continued, handsome." She left then, striding gracefully out the door without waiting for him. Their room got several degrees hotter, as Drake had to expel his inner heat again to keep from sweating. It seemed someone had, within eight minutes, found her confidence again.





The dining hall of Eldarheim was nothing like the grand banquet halls of mortal kings. It was large, but there was no ostentatious display of golden cutlery, no endless stretch of tables meant to seat hundreds in cold, detached luxury. Instead, it was warm, filled with the comforting glow of arcane candles that lit the interior now that night had arrived. The long dining table, carved from a single ancient tree, bore the weight of the evening's feast with effortless grace. Runes glowed faintly along its edges, keeping the food warm and fresh no matter how much time passed. The air carried the scents of roasting meats, spiced wines, and the unmistakable aroma of fresh bread still steaming from the oven.


At the center of the table sat a golden loaf of braided bread, its crust glistening with some sort of oil. Small wooden bowls held an array of spreads meant to complement its flavor. There was spiced honey butter, thick and golden, infused with hints of cinnamon and orange zest. A deep violet preserve, made from elven berries, shimmered faintly under the candlelight. A third bowl contained a creamy mixture of roasted hazelnuts and mead, the scent alone enough to promise indulgence.


Beyond the bread lay the heartier dishes, each prepared with a level of care that could only come from hands that had mastered their craft. A haunch of meat, slow-roasted until the meat nearly fell apart at the touch, gleamed atop a large plate, where Galdurath, the God of magic himself, was slicing it into manageable but generous portions.


The side dishes were no less divine. A medley of root vegetables, coated in an elven maple reduction, sat beside a bowl of wild mushroom risotto. A fresh-picked green salad, dotted with slices of fruits and vegetables Drake didn't recognize, had been laced with ethereal nectar that heightened the natural sweetness of the dish.


At one end of the table, wooden boards displayed a selection of cheeses. Crystal goblets stood beside each plate, filled with wines and meads that had been crafted with the same care as the food. Some were deep and rich, dark reds meant to complement the weight of the roasted meats. Others were pale gold, light and floral, chosen to refresh the palate between bites. No matter the choice, the glass always remained at the perfect temperature, as though responding to the drinker's unspoken desire.


Desserts had been placed toward the far end of the table, awaiting those with enough room left to indulge. Small honey cakes, layered with spiced fig preserves, rested on delicate floating silver trays, their tops dusted with powdered sugar that caught the candlelight. Dark chocolate tarts sat beside them, their centers filled with enchanted raspberry liqueur that shifted subtly in taste with each bite. A final dish, ethereal citrus sorbet, had been served in bowls carved from ice that never melted, the cold sweetness cleansing the palate with each spoonful.





Drake and Rose stared, this time equal in their awe. "Wow…Goddess, you didn't have to…do all this…but thank you."


Laurelin waved a hand, already into her cup of…some sort of sparkling golden liquid. "It was no trouble Drake, really. Galdurath conjured most of it." Drake thanked him as well, and the white haired God of Magic inclined his head. Laurelin continued, "Besides, our Dagorion never brought a Lady home, and we've hosted Rose's parents before. Only the best, for our beloved guests."


Laurelin gestured to plates and silverware, and Drake took that to mean he would be getting his meal himself, and he did so without complaint, passing one to Rose as well. Once they were seated, Rose frowned at his choices, mostly cheese, a loaf of bread split in half, some root vegetables that looked vaguely like carrots, and what he knew to be popotoes, and a piece of the meaty haunch. "No salad? Not many vegetables either, I see."


Drake snorted lightly. "Muscles don't run well on leaves. I've never really cared for salads."


"Hmm." Rose said, still frowning at him. "Well, my people are primarily vegetarians, and even conjured meat is…frowned upon."





Drake groaned inwardly. That meant every time he ate with her family, it would be an unsatisfying meal of greens, grains, and probably fungi. He didn't care for eating leaves, since he considered that to be what actual food ate, grains were usually fine, when processed and cooked enough, and he disliked fungi on principle. Nothing that grew in damp, dark places was meant to be eaten by beings like him. "I'll manage on bread and popotoes, I suppose…but why would they have a problem with conjured meat?"


Galdurath cut in, mercifully saving him from the displeased expression on Rose's face. "Conjuring foodstuffs is not as simple as you assume, Drake Long. The food must come from somewhere, it is not simply magic reconfigured to look and taste like meat. But the Elves have long since mastered the art of harvesting it properly, and honoring the animal from whence it comes, as they did with our meal tonight. Rose is correct though, the Elves of Arcathis largely prefer vegetarian diets, and always have." Drake sighed softly, and, having finished cutting his piece of meat into smaller bites, shoved one in his mouth. His eyes widened, as it was, indeed, masterfully prepared. Seeing he wasn't going to contribute, Galdurath continued smoothly, "How is your Lord father, Rose? I'm afraid we find little time to speak of late."


It was Rose's turn to sigh. "He's quite busy. Arcadia's population grows ever larger, and the Triarchy is struggling to keep up. I'm sure he doesn't mean to ignore you, Lord Galdurath."





The God of Magic nodded. "Perhaps Drake could assist him in that. The people of his world were quite adept at storing massive quantities of information."


Drake blinked, and swallowed. "What…you mean like…a computer? You want me to craft a computer for the Triarchy?"


Galdurath gave him a knowing smirk. "It would go far in earning the gratitude of your Lady's father, and free up his time to spend with her. I believe her mother would be quite grateful as well."


Drake nodded. "A-alright…I'll uhh…I'll see what I can do. I've got almost two hundred Intelligence, how hard could crafting a computer be…" He was being sarcastic of course, since he knew full well he'd need to create memory banks to store a planet's worth of data, an entire network, as Rose's father would not and could not be the only one entering said data, along with all the other various components such a setup would require. "Y'know, if I didn't have to pay for every year of tuition, I could get that done a Lot faster…"


Galdurath's smirk widened. "You will manage, I'm sure. You've already acquired what you need for tuition and textbooks, and your Blacksmithing will give you more than enough currency."





Drake frowned. "I'm not sure…Blacksmithing is definitely fun, but…maybe, what was it called, Weaver? Maybe making clothes that everyone, mages and regular citizens alike can afford, would be better."


Galdurath shook his head. "If you want Gil, Blacksmithing will get you the most. The lower castes barely pay anything for their clothes, by comparison, because they barely make any money." Seeing Drake continue to frown, Galdurath smirked again. "Of course…if you feel that's not enough, you could aim to become an Omnicrafter."


Rose's eyes went wide, and Laurelin gave her husband a look. Noting their reactions, Drake said, "Omni…crafter? What would that entail, and why would I bother, if Blacksmithing makes the most?"


Galdurath went full Instructor, as he said, "Reaching level thirty in each of the crafting Jobs in our world, unlocks Omnicrafting, helpfully combining them all together into a single Job. They also have unique skills and can use pretty much every material they find to craft something that will raise their level. It would also greatly ease the difficulty of making things like microchips and complex wiring, which I will tell you now, are too finesse-focused to be classified under Blacksmithing. You'd have to rely on your tools, and your natural Dexterity. Not impossible, but not practical, either. Omnicrafting allows the crafter to make whatever their mind can conjure, provided they know and understand the components it's made of, and how they interact."


Drake pondered the God of Magic's words. They had merit. Being able to use everything from a Dungeon run, a Bag of Holding's worth of loot, was very appealing, and would solve his Gil problem. It would also allow him to give the lower castes things like free clothes and weapons to defend themselves, with materials he didn't need, but crafted anyway, to raise his level. And, of course, technology would also likely work much easier if he had the associated skills with Omnicrafting to create it with. There was a lot of wire rolling in his future, otherwise. By hand. "What other Jobs would I have to learn?"





Galdurath grinned, glad that Drake saw the sense in his idea. "In our world, Blacksmithing is the umbrella term for anything relating to metalwork, including armor, weapons, and things like jewelry and amulets. Carpenters, as you might expect, work with wood and glass, among other materials, to build things like furniture, windows, and even entire houses. Weavers are responsible for basic clothes, and clothes for high level Sorcerers, Wizards, and now Monks as well. Leatherworkers, as the name implies, create medium armor, bags, capes, cloaks, anything you would normally make with leather, obviously. Alchemists are the ones who make things like Mana and Health Potions, though that is by no means their only craft, it's what makes the most Gil, enough to easily rival any Blacksmith, and last but by no means least, our Culinarians, who cook our food and keep us fed." Galdurath's eyes were alight with possibility. "Given your unique Class, I believe you could find a way to make use of it, and your Ki, in all of these Jobs, and with your experience Buff, reaching thirty in each would be quite easy."


Drake nodded, seeing his point. "So…since my Blacksmithing is thirty five already, you're suggesting I raise all the others, and then raise my Omnicrafting from there."


Galdurath nodded, and sipped his wine. "I will also mention, leveling Omnicrafting gives Class experience equivalent to ranking up all six Jobs."


Drake smirked. That, was the kind of thing that made the grind worth it. That, combined with being able to use essentially everything to craft with, sold him on the time and effort it would no doubt take to achieve. "I'm in. I take it you have facilities here for each job?"


Galdurath nodded. "I do. My forge is what the Mortals would call an Omniforge. I was hoping you would take my suggestion, and make full use of it." His eyes were gleaming. "I am quite interested to see the things you will make, Drake Long."





Laurelin chimed in then, as the boys went back and forth. "You're forgetting the downsides, dear." Galdurath gave her a look.


Drake raised a brow. "Downsides? To being able to craft anything with every material I find?"


Laurelin nodded. "There's a reason most people don't do this, Drake. With your gifts you'll be able to reach the threshold quickly, but Omnicrafters…have been known to go mad from the sheer amount of things they can craft. Often, they'll try to craft one thing, and get lost in gathering the materials for another thing, a component usually, of what they ultimately, originally, wanted to make. It is a slow, time-consuming process…not to mention, quite difficult to manage in terms of backpack space."


At that, Rose giggled, and Drake reached under the table, where he'd stored the Bag of Holding once they sat down. "Laurelin, Galdurath, I'd like to show you the first of my many inventions. It's going to revolutionize Adventuring, and things like bag space."





Galdurath's eyes went wide, as he set his goblet down, and in a flash of magic sparkles, appeared next to Drake. A grin cracked his visage. "Is…is this what I think it is?"


Drake nodded. "Vincent Kei, my Enchanter roommate, helped me craft it. Behold. The Bag of Holding. Mark one."


Galdurath laughed, and clapped his hands once, clearly quite amused. With another flash, he returned to his seat, and smirked at his wife. "Not yet even an Omnicrafter, and he's already toying with Enchantments, spatial magic, and runes." Laurelin just sighed, knowing she'd lost this argument.


Drake smirked at Galdurath. "I'm surprised you didn't make one already."


The God of Magic chuckled. "My bag is actually a pocket plane only I can access, so…I never needed one. I always thought making one would be too expensive for Mortals, but…Vincent Kei, you said?" Drake nodded. "The House of Kei has produced many great minds in their lineage. I'm not surprised you managed to make something so revolutionary with such an ally. With your Omnicrafting and his Enchanting and magical skills…I daresay the two of you will revolutionize society within a year or two."





Drake looked to Laurelin then. "I know you're worried, but…what you're describing doesn't sound that much more complex than what I dealt with in Earth's video games. I won't go insane and get lost in crafting menus, I promise."


Laurelin sighed again, but she was clearly amused by Galdurath and Drake's shared nerdiness. "I should hope not." She said, giving Galdurath a look, and he straightened up, as if he had an inkling about what subject the Goddess was about to shift to. With his growing charisma, Drake noticed she had that tone, and had a feeling this was the true purpose of inviting him 'home' for the weekend. "We will…require your aid, sometimes, in the days to come, Drake. You see…something miraculous has happened. Quite recently. Something that has not occurred since…the dawn of Arcadia." Rose's eyes went wide, as she guessed Laurelin's next words correctly, "We're expecting another little one, soon. And when the time comes, and we become busy, we'd like you to babysit, if you're willing."


Drake was all smiles, as Rose went from quiet and shy in the company of Gods, to quiet and wide eyed with poorly hidden dread. "Congratulations!" He said, grinning, and internally wondering if his wingmanning efforts had paid off. "How do baby Gods even work? Do they grow as slow as Humans? What will they be the God of? Oh, and yes, of course, I'll gladly watch the little one. I've always been pretty good with kids."


Laurelin smiled at his reaction. "They grow…fairly quickly, though it depends on their power, and what they develop an affinity for…we won't know what she prefers, until she joins us."


Drake chuckled. "A tiny little Goddess girl…I can't wait. If she's as benevolent as her mother, Arcadia will be quite blessed."





Rose's stomach twisted. The last time a child of the gods was born, Arcadia suffered centuries of war and ruin. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Her thoughts raced faster than she could control. Was this the start of it all over again? Was history doomed to repeat itself? At that point, she spoke, her quiet tone a stark contrast to the smiles and good vibes. "Is…is that a good idea, Goddess? I…I don't want to be rude but…your last offspring…umm…plunged the world into war and darkness…and turned millions of us into abominations of what we once were…I just…"


Gadurath nodded his head, and Laurelin's face fell, but she hid her sadness quickly. They'd both expected this reaction, from a natural born Arcadian. "We will be carefully raising our daughter, young Rose, worry not. We…we will not make the same mistakes that we did with Dagorion…"


Rose was shaking slightly, and Drake tried to put a comforting hand on her, but she pulled away. This was too monumental. Too potentially world-shattering to just hand wave. "I…I would never blame the two of you for Dagorath's choices…w-with respect, I'm sure you raised him closely as well…and he…turned out the way he did anyway. I just…is this a good idea? What if, despite everything, she decides to turn evil as well? I…I don't think our world can handle two dark Gods."


Laurelin spoke this time. "Rose…the power that corrupted my son…I know what it is. I know from whence it comes…and I have every intention of, some day, saving him from it. It will be…a long, arduous road to redemption, if such a thing can even be earned from all the lives and people he has brutalized, but…it is possible to save him. And…I believe his sister will be a key part in bringing him back to the Light." Laurelin reached for her goblet, swirling the golden liquid inside. When she spoke, her voice was soft but steady. "I understand why you feel this way, Rose. I do. But this child is not my son. She is her own soul, with her own path." She met Rose's gaze, her golden eyes shimmering. "I will not let history repeat itself. That is my vow."


Rose nodded, but then said quietly, "I…I think I'm done eating. I…uhh…I need a minute to…process this. Please excuse me, Lady of Life, Lord of Magic…the meal was excellent."





Once Rose left, Drake spoke, as Laurelin sipped her drink but failed to hide the tears rolling down her face. "I can speak with her, if-"


Galdurath shook his head. "It is better to let her cope on her own for now, Drake Long. That reaction…" He reached out and squeezed his wife's hand. "It's…what we expected. You see, Drake…the people of Arcadia have…suffered unimaginable trauma from Dagorion's actions…and this trauma has extended across many of their lives, and reincarnations. That kind of trauma...lingers. Rose is no exception, but you, are. You have not fallen to the fangs of a Monster, or the flames of a Dragon. You have not reincarnated lifetime after lifetime, to end up facing, potentially, multiple Demon Lord reigns and the tragedy they bring. She has. All of our world's children have…and this response is only to be expected.."


"It still hurts, though…" Laurelin quietly added. That settled it, for Drake.


"That's no excuse to blame the little one who hasn't even been born yet!" He argued. "She deserves the chance to make her own path, whether she chooses the light, or the darkness. I know…somewhat, the horrors of Dagorath. I fought a Goblin King empowered by a shard of one of his artifacts. It was terrifying…and not even close to the real deal, from what Guild Master Solus told me. If Rose and her people are ever going to forgive him, they need to overcome their fear…because fear seems to be what his spawn are after."


Drake had a feeling that fear, and causing it, was one of the motivating forces for monsters. They didn't eat, they barely needed sleep, they didn't create, or deviate, or progress. They just existed, under the rule of the strongest monster, until they were slain, so what then, did they live for? What made abominations like the goblin race grin and laugh that awful, nightmare-inducing laugh? Brutality. Pain. And the fear of what the monsters in the dark would do to those clinging to the light. That's why they raped and tortured and killed. That was why they'd laughed when they saw his own brutality to their own kin, wrongly assuming he would one day become like them.





"You have divined accurately what spurs my son's creations, and from just one delve into a Dungeon, Drake Long. I am impressed. You are correct, for though it varies, inspiring fear, despair, and reveling in carnage and chaos are what the spawn of Dagorath love most. But I know, in the depths of my soul…our daughter will abhor this. As we do."


Drake stood, then. "I believe you. I'll talk with Rose later, Goddess. Don't worry…she's smart, and brave. She'll overcome her trauma…with a little rationality." His words got a smile, but he could tell Rose had really hurt her. "Anyways…I'm off to this…Omniforge. Feel free to try Class Seven's cooking, Goddess." He said, laying out a small portion of the meals and treats that they hadn't yet needed in the Wallow.


Galdurath rose as well, gesturing to the food as Drake shouldered his Bag of Holding. "I will join you, and instruct you on how to begin leveling your other Jobs." He smiled at Laurelin, murmured something to her, and then guided Drake through his home with long, graceful steps.





Galdurath's Omniforge was unlike anything Drake had ever seen. Situated deep within Eldarheim, it occupied a grand chamber that seemed to stretch up into infinity. Smooth walls of pristine white stone surrounded the forge, interwoven with veins of softly glowing magic, casting the entire space in shifting hues of blue, violet, and green.


At its center stood the forge itself, a pool of impossibly white lava surrounded by a pagoda of that same white stone, at the center of which was a massive anvil that even then was humming with magic power from the runes carved into it. Indeed, as the forge's master entered, many parts of it started burning to life, as if hopeful to be used by the God of Magic.


Surrounding the actual forge were workstations dedicated to each crafting discipline. A long, sturdy bench covered in measuring tools and an ornately crafted saw awaited woodworking, accompanied by stacks of pristine lumber, from common oak to rare, enchanted ebony, with each stack carefully labeled and organized. Another station held a broad loom, surrounded by neatly arranged bolts of cloth, spools of thread, and delicate needles, as well as a chair that seemed too comfy and out of place for it to be Galdurath's, which meant it was likely his wife's. To the right, a leatherworking station awaited, filled with leather strips, racks of finely tanned hides, soft pelts, and precision tools for shaping and sewing leather with unmatched accuracy.


Further along stood the alchemy table, laden with rows of glass vials, jars of rare ingredients, and bubbling cauldrons over burners that glowed with an unwavering heat. Probably for sanitary reasons, the Culinarian station was not present in the Omniforge. The forge itself was incredible, a tangible aura of divine power permeated the very air. It felt as though Galdurath himself had woven his essence into every tool and machine, and it made Drake a bit awed as he realized the God of Magic must have used this space for eons.





Very quickly, as Galdurath watched him, he realized that the tools the God of Magic used in his own Omnicrafting were way, way beyond his skill level. Even the blacksmithing hammer, he'd barely been able to even lift. Thus, he stuck with his fists. He also made an executive decision to use the ore he had on hand first, to make starter level tools for the other jobs. A very basic saw, several sewing needles, a round knife specifically for leather, an alembic for potion crafting, and a small frying pan.


At that point, Galdurath chimed in. "I notice you don't make use of any secondary tools in your crafting."


Drake raised an eyebrow. "Secondary…? Ahh. Right. If the Dimensional Pattern holds, they would be…a file, claw hammer, spinning wheel, awl, mortar, and kitchen knife right?"


Galdurath smirked lightly, and nodded. "I'm sure you've noticed the other patterns we've drawn on for Arcadia, not least of which is our currency. I can sense the question burning in your mind. Just ask."


Drake chuckled, as he began punching the mithril he had heated and mixed with coal into an ingot. "Chocobos…horsebirds…are they a thing too?"





Galdurath's chuckle echoed through the Omniforge. "They exist, yes…but the people of Arcadia see them as too wild and skittish to be mounts. They are among the fastest runners on the planet though, and some even manage flight, if they become high leveled."


Drake smirked, and moved on to the next ingot. "I was thinking of taming one for Rose…so she can keep up with Falkor and I. Carrying both of us won't go well in combat, and he'll be more useful if we can surprise our enemies with my own ability to fly as well."


Galdurath chuckled lightly again. "I see you're living up to the legacy of Dragon Riders already, planning ahead and attacking in conjunction with your partner. But…I believe Rose would be better served by an Alicorn. She's already befriended one, you know."


Drake paused, sweating in the intense heat of the white magma surrounding the Blacksmithing station. His top was off again, and his firebending kept him as protected as any apron. "Oh? Perhaps I could convince it to ally with her…what do Alicorns like?"


Galdurath continued to smirk, his handsome features almost sinisterly lit by the lava as he said, "Magic items. Especially those that boost their pool of magic."





Drake nodded, his course clear then. First, he imbued the metalwork for his classmates with the orichalcum he'd found. Garret was getting Varian's old, but now improved sword, and Drake melted down the Malblin' Tyrant's shackles with some intense firebending, and careful control over Galdurath's weird but very intense white lava. From the shackles, he crafted epic tier black metal gauntlets that would give their attacks leeching properties, or enhance those properties if other pieces of gear gave it to them already. Lyria's staff also got some orichalcum, which gave it even more space for high tier spells to be stored.


Next, were the horns, which Galdurath helped him turn into weapons. Continuing with the shameless ripping off of Earth's various video games and anime, he went full Assassin's Creed, and turned the tips of the horns, mixed with some of his spare platinum coins and orichalcum, into a pair of Hidden Blades that would leech health from whatever they stabbed, and attached nicely to his wrists underneath his gauntlets. They promised to make his Dragon's Fangs hurt quite a lot. Galdurath had, quite generously, allowed him to use some of his runite bars, since they were just collecting dust in his care, and with those, he upgraded Rose's staff, also with orichalcum, making it the highest tier an item could be, according to the God of Magic. Next he upgraded his own items, increasing the Mirror Image Mirror's tier to now make eight copies of him. He'd also enhanced the latest of his rings, purchased from one of the vendors by the Academy. The Ring of the Elemental Warrior just straight up boosted his elemental attacks by twenty five percent. When he'd infused it with runite and made it an epic tier item, that bonus had risen to sixty.


By the time he Fist Smithed his way through the upgrades, his blacksmithing had reached level eighty thanks largely in part to the quality of the tools and materials he had available. The hour was late, but he and Galdurath were having quite a lot of fun. The God of Magic had finally realized Drake was the same kind of nerd he had once been, and after sharing some C&W and D&D stories, Drake felt confident asking him for a favor. Not another boon, something more practical, but that would prove invaluable to him, and his party. "I was wondering, Galdurath, if you might consider sparring with me tomorrow. I…have a theory about punching through spells to nullify them…and if it works on yours, it'll probably work on anyone's. Including Dungeon Bosses."


That got another chuckle from the Lord of Magic. "That's…too interesting not to see you attempt, Drake. I do have things to attend to in Primus, but I can fit in a sparring session, sure." With that, he cast a spell that conjured an arcane clock, and winced. "It seems we've spent quite a long time crafting…but this was…fun."


Drake nodded in full agreement. "It really was. Once my Omnicrafting gets to a worthy level, I'd love combining our talents on some truly Legendary tier items. But I should be getting to bed…" Rose was either already asleep, or would not be pleased that he'd avoided coming back for so long. He bid Galdurath a good evening, as he went to check on Laurelin, for it seemed the Gods didn't really need to rest much, if at all.





Drake managed to find his way back to the room they'd been given, and Rose was indeed asleep. He creeped into the bathroom, waterbended some liquid from the faucets, and somewhat quietly wiped the sweat from his body, and clothes. He also washed and dried them, and while he did not use soap, it did preserve their cleanliness enough to sleep in for the night, at least. When he finally emerged, thinking he'd been quiet enough, Rose was awake, sleepy eyed, but happy to see him. She patted the bed beside her, and Drake joined her, blinking as she just cuddled right up to him, eyes closed again, a slight smile on her face as her tiny hand ran over his still bare chest. "You were crafting all that time?" She asked quietly.


He rumbled an affirmative. "Galdurath helped me." He let out a long yawn, and then said, "I got everyone's stuff done, smelted all the ores into ingots…including your staff. It's Legendary, now by the way."
Rose sat up, her sleepy eyes wide. "Drake, that's…oh wow, you look tired…did you use all your magic? You must have, if you made Legendary items…"


Drake brought up his status, and blinked. It was refilling, slowly but surely, but he had definitely been near depleting his magic pool entirely. "It seems I did…" He gave her a tired smile, though. "If it means you guys are protected in the Dungeons though…I'd say it's worth a little exhaustion."





She pouted at him. "Not too exhausted, I hope…I was waiting so long for you, I fell asleep…" She climbed atop him and straddled him then, and suddenly, he felt wide awake, for some reason. Probably the night gown she was in, which appeared to be the only thing covering her body at the moment. "I did say we'd continue…"


He'd never be too tired to make out with her, and thus, resume they did. He only paused when an idea entered his head, and after asking her if she minded if he kissed her elsewhere, Drake drew on his knowledge from another world to begin lubricating the gates to Paradise until the hinges squealed open with a divine deluge of Mana straight from Heaven. Rose fell asleep quickly, after that, and Drake opted to use his healing trance, as he estimated he had about four hours until it was morning.


Four hours passed quickly, and he spent most of them in that semi-aware state marveling at the downright gorgeous elf girl who was cuddled up next to him. When she stirred awake, he opened one eye, and caught her staring at him, which made her cheeks darken. Drake stretched, ending his trance, feeling refreshed. "How are you feeling?"


Rose's cheeks turned darker red, and he could feel her heartbeat increase. "G-great, actually…my head hasn't been this clear in a while." That tracked, and Drake smirked at her knowingly. "Could umm…could we do that again?"





Mostly for fun, he rolled atop her, still smirking, and kissed her between his speech pauses. "Any time…any where…my lips are at your service." He said, confidently. Then, he blinked, realizing too late that certain things were rising with the dawn, and in response to their current position.


It was Rose's turn to smirk, as her tiny elven hands, naturally suited to tending the tall, wooden scions of nature, went exploring. "Is this at my service too?" She teased.


Drake didn't back down, though he didn't advance, either. Her father had told him to make her happy, but if there was sheathing of certain swords in certain scabbards before certain wedding ceremonies he had a feeling the Archsorcerer would reduce him to ash. His actions had pushed the boundary of that mandate, but no lines had, technically, been crossed yet. "If you want it to be." He answered, teasing her right back.


Before her green thumbs could get to work, Laurelin's voice saved them from incurring the wrath of the Archsorcerer. "Kiiids! Breakfast is ready!"


Drake exhaled, forcing his mind, if not his body, to calm the fuck down. "To be continued…" He murmured to Rose, giving her a lingering kiss, before he reluctantly pulled away from her, and strode into the bathroom.





He breathed deeply once he was alone again, trying to regain control of his stupid, eager, teen body as he turned the shower on. Then, the door opened right as his pants fell to the floor. He was about to protest Rose entering with him while he was completely exposed, but then, he realized she was as well. And his brain stopped working. She said something about his surname being accurate as she walked up to him, her eyes unabashedly running over his birthday suit, but Drake couldn't hear very well in that moment, as he was burning the image of Perfection into his brain for all of time.


"Drake…?"


Drake snapped back to reality at the sound of his name. "Oh, uhh, wh-what uhh, what did you need, Rose?"


She chuckled at him. "I said…would you like to help me wash my back?"


Heat rushed to Drake's cheeks at the offer. "U-uhh, your uhh, your father would absolutely murder me if I did…"


Rose pouted at him. "My father isn't here…and if you're as serious about this as you were last night…we should get used to showering together." The pout shifted to a smirk.


Drake swallowed hard, searching for a witty reply, but found none. His own words, now turned against him, left him completely at her mercy.





Ten minutes later, with the both of them now much more intimately acquainted with the other's body, the two teens descended to the kitchen again, hand in hand, and it seemed Rose had put off thinking about the God's news entirely, right until they reached the kitchen, at which point her expression sobered.


As they entered the kitchen, Rose hesitated briefly, her grip on Drake's hand tightening. Laurelin and Galdurath were already there, seated at the table in quiet conversation. Laurelin looked up, her golden eyes softening with understanding as she met Rose's gaze. Galdurath offered a gentle, welcoming nod, maintaining his calm demeanor. Rose managed a small, tentative smile, though her eyes betrayed her lingering unease. She took a steadying breath, offering a polite greeting as she moved closer to the table.


"Good morning," Laurelin said gently, her voice warm and reassuring. "I hope you both rested well."


Rose nodded quietly. "We did, thank you."





Galdurath glanced at Drake, his expression thoughtful. "Drake, after breakfast, we should begin your training. This…Monk Ki idea of yours does have the potential to unravel spells, but it will need refinement."
Drake smiled, somewhat relieved by the neutral topic. "Of course, Galdurath. I'd appreciate your feedback."


Laurelin looked kindly at Rose. "And Rose, whenever you're ready, we can speak more about…everything."


Rose took another deep breath, nodding slowly. "I…would appreciate that, Goddess. Thank you."


The room grew comfortably silent as the awkwardness lessened, slightly. Then, Laurelin spoke again. "Oh, Drake, Galdurath mentioned you wished to begin cooking, so I left some of the easier things, eggs, toast, bacon, for you to handle." Drake nodded, and got to it, as those were all things he'd actually made before. Cooking an egg wasn't exactly computer science, and his heightened dexterity and senses actually helped. He could tell the moment they were ready to be flipped just by sight and sound, and he had the speed to move them before they burned.





Breakfast proceeded quietly, the soft clinking of utensils against plates filling the comfortable silence as Rose helped the Goddess set the table. Laurelin eventually broke the silence, her voice gentle as she addressed Rose. "I understand this news must weigh heavily on you. If you have questions or fears, please share them. We're here for you."


Rose hesitated, setting down the fork in her hand carefully. "I know your intentions are good," She began, her voice soft but steady. "But Arcadia has suffered greatly from the actions of a Divine child before. How can we be certain this time will be different?"


Galdurath met Rose's gaze calmly from where he sat, sipping a steaming beverage that smelled like coffee. "You can't be certain, but you can have faith in our vigilance and in your own strength. We will not allow the past to repeat itself."


Laurelin reached out gently, placing her hand over Rose's. "This child will be raised with love, wisdom, and guidance. And unlike before, we will have support from remarkable individuals like you and Drake. We won't be alone."


Rose's expression softened as she looked between the two Gods. The enormity of all they'd done for not just her people, but the entire planet, for millennia weighed on her. "I want to believe you," She admitted, her eyes glistening with restrained emotion. "I truly do. ...I'll do my best to have faith." She said quietly, offering a small but genuine smile.


Laurelin smiled warmly in return. "That's all we could ever ask."





By that point, the food was done, cooked with remarkable skill, likely because he did, technically, know how to make such things already, he just hadn't done so in Arcadia until now. Rose blinked at her scrambled eggs. "Oh…I've…never seen eggs prepared this way." She smirked up at Drake. "Is this an Earth thing?"


Drake gave her a wink and a nod, and he added a few shakes of salt over them. "I make mine with cheese, too."


"You do!" Laurelin said, seemingly delighted as she took a bite. "Mmmm. That…is a novel idea Drake. And I believe the more ingredients you use, the experience you'll gain." Hearing this, even Galdurath took a bite, and gave a nod of satisfaction.


Drake grinned at his own plate. "Interesting. I'll definitely remember that for later…" Rose raised an eyebrow at him, and Drake elaborated. "My people, Americans…we weren't great at much, but when it came to food…we were masters at combining multiple ingredients. Even those that perhaps should never have been combined at all…" He fully intended to bring pizza to this world that, apparently, did not have an equivalent somehow, but he would not resurrect the blasphemy of adding pineapple to it. He also made a choice then, that if he did start introducing new foods, they'd be primarily healthy ones. That meant frying things was out.


Laurelin smirked at him. "You know, starting a McDrake's chain could solve your currency woes quite easily."


Drake chuckled, and Galdurath seemed amused as well. "The world shall tremble before my golden arches. That's not actually a bad idea…but I was thinking of bringing Pizza first."





Laurelin's eyes lit up. "Oooh…I do recall it looking quite good." She was practically drooling, and Drake wondered if this was a God pregnancy thing, or if Laurelin was just a foodie.


Drake nodded. "I mean, it was a staple of students around our age, and there'd be no better place to sell it than the Academy. I wonder how high level I'd have to be to even make one…"


Laurelin smiled at him. "I can prepare the ingredients, once Galdurath leaves for Primus. You should work on your culinary skills while Rose and I are out."


Rose blinked, quietly nomming her cheesy scrambled eggs with a controlled amount of gusto. "Are…we going somewhere, Goddess?"


Laurelin blinked as well. "Did Drake not mention it?"


Drake coughed, loudly, "We uhh…it was pretty late when I got back, so. Anyway." He dove into his Bag of Holding as Laurelin and Galdurath looked between the two teenagers. Body language spoke volumes, and their charisma level was quite literally God tier.





It was obvious, as Drake retrieved her items, how close they were sitting, the way they looked at each other. If they hadn't yet, they were going to soon. Laurelin gave her husband a look, and he nodded. He could educate the young monk in the Arcadian methods and norms of courtship after or during their sparring session.


Rose seemed delighted by her staff, but her eyes widened when Drake brought out armor fitted for a unicorn. Or the flying variant. "I haven't had time to make a saddle yet, Alicorns probably require really high level materials, but that'll be my next project, after I sharpen my cooking skills and reinvent la Pizza."


Rose's eyes were wide. "R-Runite Alicorn Barding!? No wonder you were so tired…I don't know if this is a good idea though…I was so bad with heights on Falkor…"


Drake smirked. "But then you got better. Just trust that Alicorn you befriended, and you'll be fine. And the Goddess will be there too, you won't fall."


"You don't have to ride her now, if you don't wish to, Rose." Laurelin added. "But I know she'd enjoy seeing a friend again. Alicorns are quite sociable. At the very least, the barding will be greatly appreciated, and she can don it and store it as easily as any Adventurer. Would it not ease your mind to know she is well defended?"





Rose tilted her head. "Wasn't the herd going to stay here?"


Laurelin nodded. "For a time…but Alicorns will not linger forever. I can teach you how to summon her, if she accepts you as her partner, and when you do have need of her, she'll be able to Teleport back to her herd quite easily. If she wants to."


Rose started gushing. "Ooh! But the Academy has stables, too! I could braid her mane!" She finished her eggs in a flash, and downed her orange juice, before eagerly standing. "I'm ready! Can we go? Can we?"


The other three sitting at the table shared an amused chuckle. Laurelin rose to her feet, and nodded. "Let me just set up Drake's ingredients…while I do that, you should put your armor on. Then we can go." Rose opened her status then, and Drake nommed his own breakfast, curious. Then, after pulling up her inventory and tapping her healing robes, she just manifested them on her body, and did the same with her staff, which appeared on her back. Finally, the barding also vanished into her inventory. She saw Drake staring, and raised an eyebrow at him.


"I didn't realize we could change clothes with our Status…I've been doing it manually this whole time."


Galdurath and Laurelin chuckled, and Rose tilted her head. "Ohh…is that why you took so long to show up for the Raiju fight?" He nodded, and she giggled at him. "Well, now you know. You'll never have to manually change again."





Seeing Drake was almost finished, Galdurath got to his feet, and headed out the windowed doors leading to the God's 'backyard'. "I shall await you outside, Drake, and we will begin our lesson."


Laurelin hummed behind the cooking area, and sighed. "Seems the tomato sauce is elsewhere. I'll be right back!~"


Left alone, the two teens immediately found their eyes drawn together. Rose was in his lap in an instant, forehead pressed into his as her cheeks darkened. "I'm going to have to find some way to thank you for this, Mr. Long."


"You can thank me by flying with Falkor and I sometime…but for now, I'll take a kiss." He didn't wait for her to lean in, but rather met her halfway. She pulled away slowly, and Drake was about to not let her, when he heard Laurelin's footsteps too. "Stay safe out there." He said, helping her back to her feet.


"I'll be just fine." Rose answered, smiling and fixing her hair. Laurelin confirmed for Drake that she had all the requirements for pizza, even pepperoni, or something that looked like pepperoni at least, and then the two departed.





Finishing his meal, he gathered their dishes and put them by the sink, before trotting outside to a happy roar from Falkor. "Heyyy bud." He said, giving him all the scritches. "I swear you get bigger every time I see you."


Falkor smirked at him. "After each time you see me, your level has risen. Silly Drake."


They chuckled, and then walked towards Galdurath, who had his staff out. A rainbow colored gem sat at the top, surrounded by a complex ever-moving series of golden, rune-inlaid pieces of metal. Runes had also been added down the thick shaft of the weapon, and each was now humming with power. "Watch this." Drake murmured to his dragon. "I'mma punch some spells into nonexistence."


Falkor blinked, and then smirked. "If anyone could…it would be you." He flapped a safe distance away, and curled up, paws casually atop each other as he watched the two.


"Are you ready to begin, Drake Long?" Galdurath called out, and Drake focused his power to his senses, before he called out an affirmative. "Very well then. Let the duel begin!" As before, a flag symbol appeared over his hand, bearing a pair of crossed swords, and Drake fell into his dragon stance, as he focused his Ki.





The concept he was attempting here was simple, in theory. Magic on Arcadia worked not all that differently from how it had in the numerous fantasy worlds Drake was familiar with, not least of which being, D&D. A magic user summoned or drew upon the world's natural magic, focused it, usually through a wand or a staff, wove it into a spell, with words or just sheer willpower, and then launched it, with their own personal pool of magic power. A new word, a concept in Dovah Zul, the tongue of dragons, or the knowledge of it at least, had entered his head the night before, when he realized that unmaking the items he'd crafted with the other newly acquired Jobs also gained him experience. He verbalized that knowledge now, as he raised his fists, and the air around him cracked with his Voice, "Kren!"


Galdurath started simple, by hurling a Fireball his way, and though the God of Magic had cast it, he hadn't raised the tier of magic it required. Drake ran, leapt, and then punched the Fireball, as his eyes easily found the central point of the woven magic, and he guided his fist to meet it. The flames dispersed in a circular wave of force, and Drake landed with a smirk. Galdurath raised an eyebrow at him, and then prepared another spell. Lightning crackled up his staff, and then out of his palm, a standard Lightning Bolt. Had Drake not been enhancing his senses, the intense plasma very much would have hit him, as its speed left no margin for error; he had just one chance to disrupt it, and yet he struck forward with his pointer and middle fingers this time, jabbing the plasma, and unraveling it with his focused Ki, empowered by his Shout. It dispersed into harmless sparks, and Drake took his stance again, confidently.


Galduarth was not irritated by this, but rather, fascinated. The spells came faster, then. No less than nine Magic Missiles fired from the God of Magic, as expected of a being whose level was, to Drake's eyes, classified as ???. He jabbed all of them, dispelling them before they could hit and deal their force damage. A Thunder Wave came next, and while it was harder to see, Drake's palm strike dispersed it before it ever hit. Shards of ice, stone, even a Meteor, all shattered before the Dispelling Fist of the monk.





It wasn't a perfect technique, though. Eventually, Galdurath loosed a Cone of Cold, and Drake realized it was simply too wide, the nexus of its weave too close to Galdurath, for him to poke into being dispelled. Other things, like acid, still very much hurt when he struck at them, and spells like Gust, or stronger variations, had weave-points that appeared and disappeared rapidly, before Drake could ever hit them, and since they stirred natural forces into action he was forced to use his bending to stop them. Things like Chromatic Orb still had their effects when shattered, and he had to dodge out of the way of them. Earth Tremor and Earthquake also similarly appeared and then vanished out of his reach, but eventually, Drake realized his gauntlets could help with reach. The next spell, and the last, was a powerful Blizzard, but Drake actually managed to punch its focal point before it even started with his Fists of Far Reach, at which point, Galdurath signaled the end of their training.


The God of Magic hadn't broken a sweat, and the gleam in his eye was not battle lust, but knowledge lust. They had tested a hypothesis, and found it credible. Galdurath appeared beside Drake in a flash of blue sparkles, looking very much like someone who'd discovered something. "I knew this Monk power…harnessing the body's natural energy, had potential but this…" He coughed, as he saw Drake's smirk, and composed himself. "I would see more of this…Ki manipulation. I'm quite eager to try it myself."


Drake's eyes widened, but he nodded. Quietly, he wondered what a God manipulating Ki would even look like. A frown crossed his face. "Just…be aware, Galdurath, there are different kinds of Ki. Our bodies, at least going by the running theories on Earth, generate positive and negative auras. We couldn't manipulate these on Earth, or if some of us could, they kept quiet about it, but here on Arcadia, it's different. Being a Monk is all about understanding the flow of your body's energy, and manipulating it. Like, for example, if I separate my Ki into positive and negative while Firebending…" He took a deep breath, centered his Ki in his stomach, spun his arms in opposing circles, and Galdurath watched with rapt attention, mouth slightly open, as lightning manifested at his fingertips, as the positive and negative flows met, at his fingertips, discharging a bolt of plasma equal to any Lightning Bolt.





Galdurath then raised a hand, and directed into the middle distance, where he wouldn't hit anything. As a being of immense power, the separated energy was visually manifested as it responded to his masterful control without needing to be centered first, he just willedpositive and negatively charged energy within himself to travel up his arm, and instead of his fingertips, Galdurath's mastery let him shoot it from his palm. He grinned as a terrifying large lightning bolt shot forth, leaving the air around them reeking of ozone. "That…was a lot cheaper to fire, in terms of magic used."

Drake nodded. "It's a lot easier to use one's own bodily energy than it is to summon it from the aether, shape it into a spell, and then fire it yourself. Just…be careful. Using it too much or too carelessly could unbalance your energy…and I dread to think of what that would look like, in a Deity."


Galdurath nodded, keeping his cool, but Drake could tell he'd gotten the Lord of Magic's mind racing with potential. "I will explore this new power carefully, with the meticulous procedure of one of your Earth's scientists, worry not." A smirk came over his handsome features then. "In exchange for this knowledge, I would give you some, in return. Namely, in regards to how one might properly court and romance a High Elf who is a Princess in all but title."





Drake blinked. That was a hell of a subject change, but one that very much had his attention. "A worthy trade, Lord of Magic. I'm listening."


Galdurath went into a detailed explanation of elven union customs that, while interesting, dragged on for a bit. Drake quietly summarized it in his head once Galdurath finished, making sure he understood, as this was important to him. On the surface, it wasn't all that different from what Earthlings did, or used to do. The elves used a physical display of tying two into one, but their medium was plant life, like vines, or flowers, and different mediums had different meanings. Helpfully, Galdurath informed him that first time unions typically had 'Nimloth' or white flowers.


Using the couple's magic, the binding would then be shaped by the officiating sage into a seed of whatever plant they used, and with some elaborating, Galdurath added that using Nimloth was traditional, while in more modern times, elven females had begun to pick different flora with different meanings. Rose being who she was, would almost assuredly be using the white ones, which did, to Drake's internal amusement, apparently form the seed of a tree. It was, in Fangorn at least, also seen as an identifying mark of a High Elven home, having a white tree outside it, in the general vicinity.


Vows were entirely spoken in Elvish, even for interracial unions, and the parents of both participants apparently joined them by the arch they were unified under, which was apparently grown with a spell. "Obviously, should things with you and the young Lady Valcrest go well, Laurelin and I would be joining you. In lieu of your family, I would compose your side of the gathering of the friends you make at the Academy. And…I believe that is everything. It's not especially complicated, but Vaelithar Valcrest will expect these norms to be followed."





Galdurath turned to leave, but then paused. "Ahh. One more thing…potentially awkward though it may be…you need to know." He faced Drake again. "Love and the making of it is…nowhere near as convoluted and strict as the norms on your Earth. However…one does not enter a…physically intimate relationship with one of the Triarch's daughters and then abandon them. Not if they wish to live a long life, if you take my meaning. My point is…be very sure of your choice before you and the young Lady give in to your teenage desires. I do not need the headache a failed union would bring upon me from the Archsorcerer, for he will hold myself and my wife accountable for your actions as well."


Drake nodded, eyes on the ground, as Galdurath finished explaining, and with that, the God of Magic vanished in a flash of arcane power. Drake returned to the kitchen then his thoughts heavy with the information dump he'd received as he went about setting up his pizza pie, and when Falkor mentally learned of what he was making, the tremors from his excited tail shook even the sturdy foundations of the divinely crafted dining area. He could no longer comfortably fit within the domicile, or parts of it anyway, so he laid his head in through the back doors, his eager, hopeful golden eyes juuuust visible to Drake from behind the dining table's edge.


Falkor thought he was being subtle, but it seemed the doggo-turned-dragon had forgotten that he now also possessed a golden pair of horns, which very much gave away that he was watching Drake, who found his antics hilarious. "I'll make you your own, Falkor." Drake finally said, "But you need to not ruin Laurelin's kitchen. Go outside, fly around, do some Ki manipulation practice of your own. I know you were watching us. By the time you're done, your food should be ready." Falkor groaned, but did as he was told, the promise of his own, whole, pizza was too good to pass up. No more crusts to gnaw on, no more pieces that went in a human mouth, before being tossed or spat to him, no, he would have one entirely to himself, which was quite literally a dream come true for him.





The first pizza was Drake-pan sized, which meant it would feed one person at most, or two blonde women who'd probably want more but never admit it. The second, Drake loaded with chopped meat. Sausage, venison, shredded chicken, and an unhealthy amount of cheese. That, was Falkor's, which Drake grabbed a slice of. It was a thin one though, and served as more of a taste test than anything. It also greatly boosted his Culinarian skills, and Drake made some cheesy breadsticks to hit the threshold of thirty. He also noted that pizza was a very cheesy (pun intended) way to game the system, since he could load it with more toppings than most dishes he now had inborn knowledge of, as well as what ingredients they needed, which meant it gave more experience.


Falkor had done his training as he'd been asked, and was absolutely thrilled as he received his pizza, and Drake promised that if his draconic stomach didn't become upset by cheese, meat, sauce, and bread, he would make the dragon a pizza at least three times a week, if he was good. He even offered to, eventually, help Falkor master the art himself, mostly to lowkey see if his 'familiar' could also learn Job skills. He had the intelligence level of any other sentient, and Drake had a feeling creatures like centaurs or bull men also had food makers, so it likely wasn't limited by a thing like race.


The third pizza came out the best, half cheese, and half pepperoni, a slice of which Drake gave to the dragon, before having two himself. He left the rest for the ladies upon their return, since the magic table would keep it fresh and warm, and then set about mastering his other skills in Galdurath's Omniforge.





Woodworking was next, and though it was time consuming, and he kept having to go smith new, higher level saw blades, breaking them down also gave him experience, and by the time he hit thirty, he'd crafted a fairly decent, if simplistic, set of furniture for a kitchen. Later on, he would confirm Laurelin's aid in Teleporting it where he wanted it, as he fully intended to give it to a lower caste family, assuming he could find one in need.


Next, he tackled leatherworking, which was when he realized that Galdurath's material storage was, seemingly, infinite. Recalling his words about the materials coming from somewhere, Drake didn't go crazy. Each item he worked and shaped was something someone could use, after he sold it. Mostly, what he made was bronze to steel tier leather armor. Once he hit thirty, he stopped, but did spy a Unicorn Saddle as something he could make at forty. If he had time, he fully intended to go for it, but he also wanted to, if possible, become an Omnicrafter by the end of the day. Achieving that seemed like the kind of isekai-protag shenanigans he should've been capable of doing.


Weaving, as it turned out, was the most difficult of the Jobs, but eventually, he made a bunch of hilarious baby t-shirts and onesies that, while a bit rough on the seams, were quite soft on the skin thanks to the high quality materials he had. They had amusing words stitched onto them, and Drake was particularly proud of 'Spit Happens', 'Tiny Goddess, Big Attitude', 'Already Smarter Than Dad', 'That Smell Means I'm Winning', and 'I'm the Reason Naps Are Sacred'. The t-shirt line got him to thirty five, but he'd been having too much fun to notice he'd reached his goal.





Finally, all that was left was Alchemy, but before Drake could get started, he heard Laurelin ask for his presence, which he'd expected eventually. It was impossible to tell time in the Omniforge, there were no windows, and he couldn't conjure a clock. He knew he'd been at it for a while though, in addition to the time it took to refill his pool of magic. Crafting higher level items took more power, especially with high quality materials, but he found it a worthy endeavor.


When he returned to the dining area, he saw Rose outside, beside a rather lovely purple furred Alicorn, who seemed to be having a pleasant chat with Falkor. Her horn, wings, and hooves were silver, and naturally sparkled, and her mane was a darker royal purple that somehow had silver highlights in the form of streaks in it. Her tail was the same. Her intelligent eyes fell on Drake as he appeared. Laurelin was still at the table, nomming happily on a piece of cheesy pizza, which he had written down the recipe for and left for the Goddess. He gave Laurelin the baby clothes, which absolutely delighted her, and her giggles at the words upon them filled the background.


"Already smarter than Dad! Oh, I love these!"

Rose scurried over, all smiles, tired but clearly excited as she leapt onto him, and then blinked. "Wh- Oh come on! You leveled up again!?" She pouted at him, but the smile on her lips never left. "Every time I leave your side you get stronger without me."


Drake pulled up his status, and then smirked. Hitting thirty in all the Jobs but Alchemy had gotten him to sixty nine and by the look of things, mastering Alchemy wouldn't change that. The required experience to hit seventy was an even wider gulf than fifty and sixty.


"Nice." He chuckled, and then set Rose down again. "Are you going to introduce me to your new friend?"





Rose brought him over to the Alicorn, who raised her head as he approached. Her equine eyes widened as he came closer, and she backed up further, wings raised defensively, and Falkor rumbled a warning snarl as her horn started shining with magic. Drake stopped, blinking in confusion at her reaction, while Rose tried to soothe her. She looked at Drake worriedly. "She says…something about you is…unmaking Magic? Somehow? It's scaring her."


Drake squinted in confusion, and raised his status, then, he realized what the Alicorn, a being that was innately magical, was probably sensing. His Dispelling Fist, as the system had dubbed it, was a stance, and that stance was still up. He shifted back to his energybending default, and the Alicorn calmed down, but still refused to approach him. He tried addressing the creature directly. "It's a…new trick I learned. To unravel spells cast at me, or my allies. I can see why you were hesitant…I didn't even think of what it might do to a creature that's innately magical…but you have my word, I won't harm you. Or any other innocent creature."


The Alicorn calmed, as Rose petted her, and as the magic around her horn faded, so did Falkor's snarl. He was watching the Alicorn closely now though, his initial trust in her good will evaporated, as she'd tried threatening his friend just because of a status effect. Despite Rose's efforts, the Alicorn blinked away with a spell, and then took off, leaving her new rider to sigh in frustration. "That…is Nymera." She said to Drake, looking disappointed. "And despite my best efforts…she's already decided she doesn't like you."


Laurelin appeared beside them, still nomming on her pizza slice, or perhaps it was a new one. "I'll speak with her before you two leave tomorrow." She declared in that soft but telling tone of hers. Her eyes shifted to Drake then, and he spied a gleam of mischief in them. "Very well done with the Pizza, by the way. Rose said it made her fall for you all over again, and all without you even being present."


"Goddess!" Rose shout-whined, as her face and ears burned red, but Laurelin would not, and perhaps could not, be stopped.


"It is well past time for you growing teens to be off to bed." Drake opened his mouth to protest, but Laurelin was all over his excuse. "You can unravel the Alchemical mysteries of the cosmos tomorrow, Drake. Off to bed. Go. Shoo. You too, Falkor." The dragon puffed smoke from his nostrils, but he already knew well that when Laurelin said it was time to sleep, she meant it.





Drake bid his scaly friend a good evening, Falkor thanked him again for the pizza, and then he and Rose returned to their room, where she locked the door with a sigh. Drake was already sitting on the bed, smirking. "Fell in love with me again, did you?"


Rose's face and ears turned crimson again, and she hid under her hair as she walked towards him, and collapsed into his arms. She pouted up at him. "Can you blame me? All I could think about all day was that…thing you did with your tongue…"


"I love you too, Rose." Drake said, smirking as her face somehow turned a darker red.


"How can you be so sure?"


"This isn't my first time around, remember? It's…been a very long time…but I know what it feels like…and this is the real deal." He leaned in and kissed her, and as things got steamier, he suggested they shower, before they sleep. Once more, Drake drew on his skill in the sacred art of Lingua Adorare, with similar results.





Rose refused to let him go to sleep standing at full attention, and after confirming her desire to truly be with him, they decided to finally cross that line together, losing themselves in each other until exhaustion, amongst other things, carried Rose into a deep sleep. As he meditated, Drake wondered if that decision was a mistake, for while it felt right in all the ways, it was how others would react that worried him. He settled into his trance trusting that no matter what transpired as a result of their choices, he was properly smitten by the woman who was still clinging to him even in sleep.


The morning brought two more rounds, one in the bed and one in the shower, and Drake was once again glad they'd crossed that line. His mind had never been clearer, and apparently, Laurelin had made sure Rose knew the spell to prevent poorly timed pregnancies. Compared to what women had to deal with on Earth to achieve the same effect it was almost unfairly easy, but it was also likely a large contributing factor to why 'love and the making of it' was so free on Arcadia.


Since Laurelin was busy today, along with Galdurath, Drake made breakfast for his lover, and then they departed back to the Academy. Despite Laurelin's words, Nymera took one look at Rose, and reaffirmed that she wanted nothing to do with Drake. He saw her trying to convince her on the flight back to Primus, but the Alicorn was resolute. They made quite the spectacle as they landed, but by now, word that Drake had a friendly dragon as a familiar had spread like wildfire through the campus. Nymera, disliking crowds, took off immediately, while Falkor greeted the students, and started answering their questions as he sat rather majestically in the Academy's courtyard.





Seeing his size compared to when they'd left several days ago, Drake realized his partner was getting quite large. About five minutes into the impromptu Q&A from his peers, the crowd had grown quite large, but not so large that he did not immediately notice the blood red crimson mane of his Instructor, striding beside the scowling figure of the Academy's Headmaster, Veydris. "Drake Long!" Aslan boomed, to the apparent irritation of the Headmaster, who'd wanted to do things more subtly, "Join us, if you would."


Drake nodded. It wasn't a question. He trotted over quickly. "Instructor. Headmaster." He inclined his head to both. "What can I do for you?"


Veydris began, cutting off Aslan as he opened his toothy maw to speak again. "In the space of one week, you have almost achieved level seventy. I trust you understand that…is unprecedented. And yet, despite my monitoring your efforts, your experience gain has been legitimate…and it seems your taking up of other Jobs while you were away has leveled you even further."


Drake felt a premonitory chill run up his spine, as the Headmaster crossed his hands behind his back, and continued. "In light of this…Blessing the Gods hath bestowed upon you, you will no longer be spending your mornings Adventuring with Class Seven. You have the level of an Adamantine Rank Adventurer, and the rank to match, something no First Year easily achieves. However, you also have a crippling lack of knowledge about this world, and the Lord of Magic has informed us that this is because you come from beyond it. So, from tomorrow forward, you will report to our remedial classes we typically offer to younger students, and gifted children of the elite. You will Party up with them, and if possible, help them level up as well. Should you prove competent in your basic courses, we will then be having you adventure with the other Classes in your year, as you did with Class One. Your afternoon classes will still be with Class Seven. This schedule will continue, until the disparities in level between Classes One and Seven and the rest of the first years are rectified."


Aslan spoke, once the Headmaster finished, and Drake did not stop them. He knew he had not even the illusion of choice in this. "There is also the matter of hitting level seventy." The lion man rumbled. "Typically, that threshold is where one unlocks key Skills for their chosen Class. However, you have long passed the point of choosing an advanced Class, which was level thirty, and we believe that you should do so immediately, lest your growth become stunted. However…we do not have any recorded knowledge on what Monks can choose to become, so the choice will be one you will have to make without foreknowledge. We will be departing immediately to the Tower of Knowledge, where those who reach level thirty typically choose their specialization."





The Headmaster left that task to Aslan, and with a sigh towards Falkor's majestic figure, and the crowds around him, returned to the academy's main building. The Tower of Knowledge, as it happened, was almost directly across from the academy, which was likely on purpose. Drake also had a feeling it was where Galdurath had his office. In short order, with no less than five scribes following them, Drake was guided to an arcane altar, and told to step upon it. Then, his perspective shifted. He sensed Galdurath's presence, and saw before him his Status screens, and his list of items.


"You've been busy since I departed." Galdurath's amused voice was omnipresent in the ethereal, starry blue void that Drake currently occupied. "Your Class…has been a bit skewed, as I'm sure you've noticed. You're clearly following the Path of the Elements, and yet your Dragon Style knowledge from Earth has unlocked Quivering Palm for you, a skill which has become central to your style of attack. Know this, Drake Long: there will never be another Monk like yourself. Those you teach Ki manipulation to will not walk the paths that you have."


There was something like a heavy sigh, then that filled the space. "However…you still need to formally choose a path, and to keep the system intact, along with your skills, and in recognition of the knowledge you brought with you to my world, I shall allow you to walk a second path, or in your terms, acquire a second Monastic Tradition."


Drake nodded. "I understand your meaning, Lord of Magic. What are my options?"





"The Way of the Ascendant Dragon would make the most sense…however…between your knowledge and your Boon-given companion, the abilities it would give you are…redundant. You already walk the Path of the Elements, and your Dragon Style knowledge is, with your abilities, essentially the same as the Way of the Open Hand, whose key skill you already have access to. Thus, your most logical choices are as follows."


Drake smirked, as it seemed Galdurath, who was apparently, but not surprisingly, the architect for how Classes functioned in his world, had drawn heavily from table top monk path choices. There was the path of Kensei, which focused on mastering many weapons, the Way of the Long Death, which was a bit to obsessed with murder for his tastes, the Way of the Astral Self, which had promise since it manifested extra arms for him to punch, or do other things with, the path of the Burning Soul, that would apparently turn him into a fist paladin with light and fiery abilities, the Way of Mercy, that would give him an almost uncomfortable amount of control over dealing life and death to those around him by manipulating the Ki of others, the path of Tranquility, that was appealing but simply too pacifistic for the destiny he had been tasked with fulfilling, and finally, the Way of Shadow, which would allow him to conjure darkness, cast Silence, step through shadows, unlock the Stealth skill, and give him access to Sneak Attacks, and the absurd damage they could deal. It was like multiclassing into Rogue without actually doing so.


Aslan had told him to wait before choosing, so that the Tower's scribes could write down the specifics of the monk class for future monks to make use of, foreknowledge that every other class already had access to long before this choice, and as he felt Aslan's shoulder tap signaling the scribes had finished, he spoke to Galdurath.





For Drake, the choice was obvious. He was literally wearing a pair of Hidden Blades. "I will walk in the dark, to serve the Light. I choose the Shadow."


He heard Galdurath chuckle, and then his vision turned white, before it cleared and revealed him standing back in the arcane circle he'd been guided to. "An…interesting choice." Aslan rumbled. "Take stock of your Status…and then you shall be free to enjoy the rest of your weekend. I will see you tomorrow, Drake Long." With that, Aslan left the building with his long, confident strides to go do whatever it was he did when he wasn't teaching.


Drake noted the scribes shamelessly peeking as he brought up his screens, and just said, "Guys, if you want to look, just ask." They did so, politely, and he let them peek at his Boons, blessings, and stats. He did note, perhaps on purpose, that his Epic Destiny became blurred in that moment, though he didn't have to guess who'd censored the information. Regular Arcadians would not react well, initially, to the idea of one as strong and blessed as Drake trying to redeem literally the most evil being on the planet, one responsible for countless atrocities inflicted upon its people.


Drake found his choice neatly shoved into a special skill, with one new additional daily ability that, in the context of his chosen path, made sense. The Way of the Inevitable Fist was a once-per-day Buff that would guarantee his usefulness, and as he exited the Tower of Knowledge and spied Rose, Falkor, and now several other members of Class Seven, he felt more confident than ever that he'd be useful to their party.

---

I updated our boy's Job now, but it will be the first thing we get to, next chapter. Here's his status.

​

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 9: A Song of Fists and Fabulous Hair

---

Magic Sciences Room, G.A.W.A. - Primus​

Magic circles surrounded by runes flared up around the iron ore, and two pieces of Blackstone. The circular cast iron setup they were in, built into the center of the classroom/laboratory, was designed to take the heat that the alchemically fused ingredients were producing. Light and heat flared white hot, and then just as quickly as it began, the magic ended, leaving a single steel ingot behind. Drake Long smirked, and his newest classmate, Souma Rishin, a young man with a disturbingly sharp intellect, cheered Drake's efforts. "I told you! Alchemy is exhilarating!" His young eyes were on fire. "All it takes to make Mithril is magic, and more Blackstone! You've got this, Drake."


Souma had what Drake referred to as 'anime protag hair'. It was platinum blonde with oxidized copper green tips, and for some reason, stuck straight up, like a paintbrush. Drake blamed it on the terrifying intellect the ten year old had, like his hair was trying to escape his powerful mind, but the going rumor was that it had gotten stuck that way in a magic accident when he was five, and despite his parent's attempts to fix it, it refused to go back down. Drake raised his hands again, and again, the magic circles appeared around the hole in the floor, but after a solid minute, nothing happened. Twice more, he tried, and failed.


"I'm just…not understanding how Steel becomes Mithril, Souma. And infusing magic isn't doing much…nothing I can see, anyway. You said Alchemy operates on the law of Equivalent Exchange," Which was a dimensional echo he was very familiar with, "So how am I supposed to exchange Magic power for Mithril Ore?"


Souma chuckled, and snapped his fingers, forming a single 'finger gun' that he brought up under his chin as he smirked at the monk. "That's not what's being exchanged. What you're exchanging is the Steel, and your Magic. Magic, is Power. You need it both to power the Transmutation, and the Exchange. Lucky for us, you have ridiculous amounts of it!"






Once again, Drake focused, this time splitting his magic, and sure enough, he felt the Transmutation begin this time. Galdurath had deeply undersold Alchemy as just 'people make potions with it'. With Souma's help, Drake now understood that Alchemists on Arcadia could do quite a lot within the laws of reality, provided they had enough magic. Most regular Alchemists needed magic crystals charged with magic power, and lots of them, to pull off Transmutations like steel into mithril, otherwise everyone would've done it. Drake was the exception to that rule, thanks to the intelligence stat being directly linked to one's magic pool. Souma whooped as the energy faded, leaving an azure ingot in place of the steel one, and the two nerds high fived.


Drake crouched by his work then, and the smaller human joined him. He smirked at Souma. "Whaddya think? Should we attempt Adamantite?"


Souma chuckled, and rubbed the back of his head. "Let's see…if we break Magic power into numerical units, it takes about four hundred for five seconds to Transmute, add another two hundred for the Power cost of changing Steel into Mithril…such reactions usually double the cost, so Adamantite…" The kid trailed off, and then smirked. "You said you have over eleven K, on your Status?"


Drake nodded. Souma grinned. "At your ridiculous recharge rate, you could…you could probably get it to Orichalcum! I've never seen real Orichalcum!"


Drake smirked. "Would you like to?" The paintbrush hair bobbed as he nodded eagerly. "Alright then…" Drake, for his part, did his own math, and felt like testing his limits a little bit. It probably wasn't smart, but Souma had told him that chaining Transmutations could ultimately lower the total cost of magic power needed.






"Alright then…" Drake muttered as he mathed out how much coal he'd need to reach orichalcum. Adamant ingots needed six. Runite needed eight. It followed then that orichalcum would use ten pieces just to become malleable enough to shape into an ingot, from an ore. "Souma! When I say 'mark', I need you to toss in eight pieces of Blackstone, and then ten! Think you can handle that?"


The kid nodded again, and Drake smirked. "Just don't miss. A Transmutation like this would probably explode pretty hard if we screw up the required materials. Alright. Here we go!" Souma fished out the required Blackstone, pretty much all Drake had left after his efforts in Eldarheim, and crouched by the Alchemy basin, ready to act.


Magic circles burned to life around the single ingot, and Drake knew them to represent actions in the smelting process. Heating, mixing, forming, and cooling. He'd have to use all of those, three times in a row, to reach orichalcum level. The classroom began glowing again, the only sign of what they were doing visible through a small window in the classroom's door. First, came the change to adamantite. The blue ingot shifted to green as it reformed, but Drake wasn't done. His uniform started flaring behind him, as the Transmutation shifted to a higher tier and the magical forces involved grew more potent. Souma quickly tossed in eight pieces of Blackstone, and Drake heated them, then added the required magic to convert adamantite into runite. Sure enough, through the blinding light, he saw the green shift to that high tier sparkly light blue. "Alright! Now ten!" He shouted over the humming energy.


Souma acted quickly, completely focused as ten pieces of coal joined the Transmutation in progress. Again, the circle rune for heat flared, Drake added more magical power, and the basin sparked as the high tier Transmutation turned their runite ingot into an orichalcum one. Then, something else happened as well, as Drake's Alchemy level surged past thirty. Transmutation like this didn't actually give much experience, since it just required magic and coal, but going for orichalcum had pushed his Alchemy level over thirty, and thus, his Job skills fused together. White light surged around the new Omnicrafter, and Drake dropped on his bottom, panting, as the magic died down, but Souma was ecstatic.






"I've never seen a Transmutation that high level! That was exhilarating! Dude all I gave you was a piece of Iron Ore, and we made it into freakin' Orichalcum!"


Drake chuckled at his little friend's enthusiasm. "I'm just glad I had enough Blackstone left. Good job on the timing, Souma." They shared a fist bump, and Drake stood, then retrieved his prize, smirking at the ten year old. "Y'know, that last Transmutation turned me into an Omnicrafter." Souma's eyes went wide with a mix of awe and envy. "What did you say your Class was, my friend?"


"Artificer." Souma answered.


Drake nodded, and then used his newest skill, after checking his Status quickly. Omnimorphosis was almost broken in how useful it was. No more anvils, no more benches, no more poking his fingers with needles. All he needed was magic, and will. And he had those in spades. Souma's eyes went wide again, as Drake activated the verbal component of his new skill. "Omnimorphosis! Smithing!" The black ingot with orange-red veins running through it levitated before the Omnicrafter.






His design was simple, and to his amazement, as he pictured it, the skill brought the image of what was in his mind into reality, in a sort of preview screen that only he could see. Artificers were more inventors than fighters, but Arcadia was dangerous, and ideally, their main weapon would do both killing and crafting. At the cost of some more magic, Drake lowered the level requirement to wield what he was crafting, and then, he made his will into reality. Runic circles appeared around the ingot again, though this time there were hundreds, and they were all tiny and complex.


Arcs of magic, like white lightning, surged into the ingot, shaping it into what Drake desired, and once they were done, he grabbed his creation by the handle. It was a hammer, keeping that same color scheme of black with red-orange veins, it could rotate its head to be a pinpoint tool, a generic smithing hammer, and a sharper one, for bashing monsters that got too close. Drake highlighted this feature of what he created, and then handed it to Souma.


"Behold. The Multi-Hammer. It will keep you safe, and help you with your Artificing in the years to come."


Souma took the item, and then his eyes bulged as he saw how good it was, and that he could wield it. "Drake…this is…this would cost hundreds of thousands of Gil! I can't-"


Drake held up a finger. "It was your Iron Ore that I made this from, technically, and though I provided the Blackstone, the actual material it is composed of is one that you gathered yourself." Their class had gone gathering for basic materials earlier that day, the first day of the week, and all poor Souma had managed to mine was a single piece of ore. He hadn't let that bother him, though. "You can probably use the sharper head to do some mining, too. You won't end up with just one piece of ore again. Use this, and become a Legendary Artificer!"






Souma grinned, and then wiped his slightly teary eyes, meeting Drake's gaze with determination. "I will! I just became ten billion percent more effective!"


Drake chuckled. "I have to get to my other classes…but you can go find your Party if you want to gather more stuff. Just flash that Epic tier hammer, they'll probably want to see it in action too. And stay safe out there. Don't get so absorbed in gathering that you miss the Goblin hiding in the bushes."


Souma promised to be safe, and then scurried off, with a shout of, "Excelsior!"

Drake just shook his head, and eyed his new Omnicrafting level. It averaged his other Job levels together, which put him at level fifty, presumably out of two hundred. As Laurelin had predicted, Drake immediately got drawn in by the sheer amount of things he could now make. He was so drawn in, that he lost track of where he was walking, until a familiar voice called out to him.


"Oi! Drake Long!"






He looked up from his menu, to realize he was…somewhere he completely didn't recognize. The person calling out to him was Faelar, the friendly janitor from his first day. He trotted over with a knowing smirk on his handsome elf features. "Getting lost again, are we? You almost walked into the Instructor's Lounge just now."


Drake blinked. "I…wow that's a big room for a break room…anyway. I uhh…got caught up in reading my new list of things I can make. Just became an Omnicrafter, you see."


Faelar let out a low whistle. "Level sixty nine in a week, and already neck deep in Omnicrafting. I knew you were one to keep an eye on. Nice job, kid."


Drake chuckled. "Thanks, Faelar. I uhh…I don't suppose you could point me back to the classrooms, could you?"


Faelar smirked. "Back the way you came, and two right turns. Just uhh…be on the lookout, alright? I heard that the Top Five have taken an interest in the new so-called 'Highest Level First Year'."


Drake blinked. "The Top Five?"






Faelar nodded. "The five strongest current students at the Academy. Most of them are fine, destined to be great Adventurers down on Tharvoss, against Dagorath's hordes. The one you really want to watch out for…is Skalos. Skalos Lycaon (Lie-kay-on)." Seeing Drake's blissfully blank expression, Faelar continued. "He's a Luparyn. Black fur. Real mean eyes. Not a fan of people like us, either."


Drake blinked again, and tilted his head. "People like us…?"


Faelar nodded. "Non-Beastkin. He hates Humans and Elves specifically, and especially the races that combine both. Determines purity by how much fur someone has."


Drake's eyes narrowed. "I thought that was random though, even for first time interracial pairings."


Faelar nodded. "It is. He doesn't care. The Adventurers Guild keeps censuring him for his attitude, but his power…lets him get away with a lot. He's already Runic tier, and if not for his Beastkin Supremacy, he'd be Draconic rank. He's that strong." Faelar patted Drake's shoulder. "So watch yourself, yea? He's not the only one keeping an eye on you, either. Between your leveling and your Dragon…you have a target on you now. In fact, I'd have your Dragon sleep off-campus, and out of Primus entirely, if I were you. The rewards for materials from a Dragon are very high, and people aren't going to care, or believe, that they're from a good one." Much as Faelar personally liked Falkor, he also had ulterior motives in moving him off campus. Dragon turds were…quite large. And cheesy, for some reason.






Drake nodded again. "Right…I'll keep an eye out. Thanks again, Faelar."


"Stay safe, kid." The janitor replied, before shaking his head. He knew better. Once Skalos got his scent, he'd be taken out, one way or another. It had happened to promising first years before. Faelar would've liked to root for the kid, but Skalos was a literal force of nature.


As Drake rounded the corner to the hallway leading to his classroom, he found most of Class Seven arrayed outside, before a single figure. He was a tall, muscular, black furred wolf man who was in the process of snarling at his classmates. "...cking tell me where the little Monk is…I'm not interested in the rest of you furless wastes of Magic..."


Rose was in the front of the group, with Garret by her side. Lyria and Zara were behind her, as was Leif. The rest of Class Seven seemed to be inside already, or watching from the door. Leif had his ears back, and looked ready to give in to his instinct to flee. Seeing Drake, he pointed a finger, and said, "Th-there he is! Now leave us alone already!" Rose turned at the same time the wolf man did, hitting Leif with a look that made him understand he was dead to her.


The Luparyn, who could only be the aforementioned Skalos, stalked towards Drake, hands in the pockets of his Academy pants. His eyes were red, and practically glowing with power, and his ruff of black fur around his neck was breaking free of his uniform, along with his absurdly chiseled physique. Then, Drake understood why, as he saw the wolf man's level. Sitting at a daunting ninety eight, that meant he had the stats to match, if not more. Thanks to his Corestone Catalyst though, which he very much still had equipped along with his other items, Drake's stats were on par with his, probably. The gulf between them was not as great as the unimpressed Luparyn seemed to think.






Despite their similar stature though, those feral eyes and his gleaming, toothy maw still filled Drake with instinctual fear. Humans and wolves, at least on Earth, very much had a love/hate relationship. Some, probably in pursuit of food, had become loyal pets and friends. Others, with attitudes more akin to Skalos, had either avoided humans, or actively hunted them when they were alone. For the record, Drake largely blamed his fellow Earthling Humans for that relationship. They had no business hiking through wolf territory for fun, and what species wouldn't attack predators who often hunted their kin if they had a numerical advantage? Even the historically friendly Orca Whales had been fed up with humanity's bullshit, when he'd left.


Despite the instinctual fear, Drake met Skalos's eyes evenly, and he knew immediately, that this was a canid who had suffered great trauma. Probably at the hands of humans. He'd seen that look before in the shelter. Feeding those poor doggos, who had too much hate in their hearts for humans to ever do more than tolerate them, only went so far. They were the kinds of dogs that had to be handled with multiple people, and unfortunately, had often been put down for their own good after a set number of violent incidents. Seeing not fear, but pity in Drake's eyes made Skalos's hackles rise, and start sparking with electricity. It was then that Drake noticed the wolf man's class, and gulped slightly. He guessed, correctly, that a Stormbound Shaman would be not at all unlike an Enhancement Shaman, straight out of World of Warcraft.


That meant Skalos was probably devastatingly deadly in melee, decent at mid range, and could also probably heal himself, though, at his level, Drake had learned that most classes had some method of restoring their own health points. "As I thought…yourrr're Nothing…" Drake ignored his bait, but that only pissed him off more. That made the Human frown, as it meant anything was just going to make Skalos angrier. "When your classes are done…you and I arrre going to duel…outside, on the field behind the main building. Don't try running back to your room. Cowarrrrds receive harsher beatings…"






Once again, Drake said nothing, even as the snarling wolf man brought his deadly maw inches from his face, and throat. Drake's body tensed, ready to strike Skalos in his own jugular with a Hidden Blade, but he wouldn't make the first move. He trusted that his friends would keep the wolf from ripping his durable neck off, and that Rose would be able to heal him before he bled to death. As if recognizing the danger on instinct, Skalos drew back with a snarl, and stomped off.


Once Drake could no longer hear his heavy footsteps, he exhaled, right as his classmates, and mainly Rose, ran up to him. She hugged him tight, and he patted her back, as he felt her shivering. "I'm alright, Rose. Even if I wasn't, I knew you'd heal me."


She looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes, tainted now with worry, and that alone, set Drake on his path. He also knew what bullies were like, especially bullies who possessed raw power and didn't expect anyone to be able to stop them. "You know who that was, right?"


Drake nodded. "Someone whose going to get his ass kicked after our classes are done."






The looks on their faces, were priceless. All except Rose's who looked genuinely terrified. "Drake, no! This isn't like at the Guild! Skalos will tear you apart! He's done it before!"


Drake's eyes hardened. "And that's why he's going to get his ass kicked. I know his type, and I have a good idea about his Class…" His eyes shifted to Vincent then, who'd joined the group in the hallway. Other first years were peeking out of the other rooms now, and murmuring as they registered his words. "Vincent…please tell me you know about Stormbound Shamans."


Vincent pushed his glasses up, and they caught the light as he said, "He's not just Stormbound, and capable of heals, he's an Alpha Luparyn. They have their own set of irritating abilities and skills. Not to mention, as a Beastkin, his stats are naturally higher than ours, even as High Humans." He gave Drake a brief overview then, and thankfully, it was what he'd expected. Enhancement Shammy, but with a few tricks. He also apparently used metal clawed gauntlets as weapons, which actually worked in Drake's favor. If he could block the magic in the Luparyn's arms, his weapons would just be sharp, and lack any stunning effects. Thus far, Drake had used his Dragon's Fangs to inflict damage instead of going full Hyuuga and blocking his target's magic, but after sparring with the God of Magic, he was confident that he could disrupt someone's bodily energy network enough to make it temporarily not work.


Once Vincent finished, Drake stroked Rose's cheek, as she hadn't pulled away from him. "I'll be okay, I promise. Even if I lose…and I probably will, I have enough tricks to put up a good show…and I have a feeling that will be enough." Despite his attitude and reputation, Drake knew a good doggo when he saw one, and deep, deep down, Skalos had once been one. He knew it in his core. He just had to punch through the delusion about Beastkin being superior by demonstrating that Humans and Elves were the chosen races of the Gods for a reason.






They took their seats in class then, and sure enough, a minute later Aslan was there. By that point, naturally, the news had spread to every first year class in their hallway: the overpowered monk was going to fight the most brutal Beastkin at the Academy. Their class went by quickly, mostly because Drake found it interesting, as he always did when learning about the world's history. This time, they'd covered the last raiding party to ever clear a Dungeon: Vis Aeterna. Most of them had passed on by this point, but Class One's teacher was apparently a former member.


As Aslan mentioned that, the entire class gave him a look, and apparently Drake wasn't alone in wondering what their Instructor had done in his youth. Picking up on the unasked question, he said, "…As for myself…I was a member of one of the last serious Dungeon clearing attempts…at the Wardengrave Dungeon…and it did not end well. You can ask me about the details when you're Fourth Years."


As they broke for lunch, Rose approached their muscular mountain of an Instructor, and Drake didn't bother getting up, as he had a feeling he'd be asked to stay anyway. As Rose spoke in hushed, hurried whispers, Aslan nodded his mighty maned head and gestured for her to depart, then steepled his claws as his sharp eyes fell on Drake. They were both sitting, as Drake's desk just happened to be right in front of Aslan's, and the silence in the room grew, as Aslan pondered his words.






"You…have a penchant for overcoming higher leveled foes. This has, beyond doubt and belief, impressed pretty much everyone at this Academy, and no small number beyond it as well. I'm afraid it has also led to…an enlarged ego. Skalos Lycaon is a scion of, arguably, the strongest natural bloodline Arcadia has ever seen. From the dawn of Arcadia, his family has possessed one of the deepest ties to the world."


Drake scowled. "And what has he done with this power? From what I've heard, abused it for clout."


"Would that it were so simple…" Aslan rumbled. "Only two of his Dueling opponents didn't drop out of the Academy, and the two who stayed, had to get several essentially artificial limbs." Drake winced, as that was something he very much understood. On Arcadia, as on Earth, replacing shattered bones was not an exact science, but it could be done.


"Despite that," Drake said firmly, "It's long past time somebody kicked his ass."


Aslan sighed again, and gestured for him to leave. "Some lessons must be taught with pain. Tread carefully, Drake Long."






As Drake left with a soft sigh, he ran straight into Rose, who of course, had waited for him. His eyes went wide as he saw her on the verge of tears. "Are you going to back out?"


Drake shook his head. "I can't. When you back down from people like Skalos, they get fixated. What he wants is a spectacle. I'll make sure it's one he won't soon forget."


Drake made an 'oof' noise, as Rose tackled him, and clung to his uniform's front. "I don't want you to die, Drake…why do you care so little for your own safety? Do you have any idea how I'd feel, watching you get torn to shreds?" Tears finally escaped her eyes. "I thought I lost you once, and it…made me realize my feelings. I can't…especially after the Birthday weekend you gave me, I…can't lose you. Please back out. Just until you level up some more. At the rate you're going you'll hit one hundred by the end of the week anyway!"


Drake blinked, slowly. "Wait, it was your Birthday!? How did no one tell me this?"


Rose made a face, as he changed the subject, but it was too important to ignore. "Wh- You didn't know? But what about all the presents, and the trip to see the Gods, and the…" She shook her head, before she lost her focus. "It's why I'm seeing my parents tomorrow. At a party I was hoping you'd be Alive for!"






Drake smiled at her, though he hated seeing her so upset. "The gifts were because, as I told you, I love you, Rose. I realized the same thing when I was dragged into that Goblin pit, in the Wallow. The thought of seeing you again drove me to avoid dying, or getting captured." Eager to keep dodging the topic at hand he said, "So…your Birthday would make you…?"


"Eighteen. The number after seventeen. Why, does that hold some special Earth significance?" She asked, drying her eyes.


Drake nodded. "I mean…yes…but also no…? Cross-planetary norms are…murky…anyways." He had a sneaking suspicion Laurelin was one hundred percent behind that timing. It was too coincidental. Drake looked her in the eye, and wiped away the tear streaks on her cheeks. "I'm not going to die, Rose. I promise you, I will return alive…probably badly wounded, but alive. Goddess Laurelin made me very hard to kill. Even wolf fangs will have a hard time ripping me apart, but Skalos will never get the chance, and he needs to be stopped. If it's not me, it'll just be another First Year who can't handle him as well as I can."


She let out a shaky breath. "A-Alright…just…" She sighed, exasperated at the whole situation. So, she grabbed his hand, and started dragging him towards the cafeteria. "Just have lunch with me."






In short order, they had their meal, and a table with only four seats, relatively far from any of the cliques. That wasn't going to stop people, though. Two strangers approached them, as Drake had barely loaded his fork with mashed popotoes. "For fuck's sake…"


Seeing who was coming, Rose gasped, and set down her own utensils. "Those are two of the Top Five. Alvar Thalorian is considered the strongest in the entire Academy. And Florian Solemere is...well...you'll see." Ignoring his rumbling stomach, Drake followed her lead.


She inclined her blonde head to the golden feathered birdkin with blue streaks on the feathers above and below his eyes who looked closer to maturity than Ceyrin had, and had the bearing of a priest. His class was listed as War Cleric. "It's good to see you, Alvar."

She said the name of his High Human companion with a simultaneous sigh. "Florian…"


Florian was quite obviously a bard, and fit that description to a T. His clothes and headwear looked like he'd gotten them from a Ren Fair, and his waist length cape was just eternally blowing in a nonexistent breeze. Drake blinked, as upon focusing on a magic item, probably thanks to his Omnicrafting, he could see its name and attributes. The Cape of Billowing didn't add anything notable. Aside from a five point boost to charisma, its main feature, was that it billowed. Forever.

​

The bard just smiled a wide, almost creepy and yet somehow still charismatic smile, as Alvar continued. "This must be the Monk I've heard talk of. The entire Academy was set abuzz upon hearing you survived, alone, in the final phase of a battle against a Malblin King empowered by the God of Monsters. A Malblin Tyrant, on the precipice of becoming a Demon Lord. Then, we heard that Skalos Lycaon had decided to make you his next victim. And that you had agreed to his challenge."


Drake nodded. "I'm Drake Long. Nice to meet you both. You heard correctly, about the Goblin trash, and about Skalos. Rose thinks he's going to tear me apart. You two are also considered among the Top Five, right? What do you think?"


Florian opened his mouth, overjoyed to share his opinion, but Alvar silenced him with a single raised finger. "Shut up, Florian." The bard closed his mouth, but kept that smile. His time would come.


The eagle eye of the War Cleric facing Drake, sitting at a very mighty level ninety nine, pulsed with power as it grew clouded and stormy. "Interesting…" He said after a moment. A smile curved up, where beak met flesh. "Most interesting… Like Rose, I believed Skalos would be your end, thus we were going to offer you protection, but…your reputation lives up to the hype. So I will instead grant you Fourth Tier Buffs, and those shall even your odds considerably, enough for this Duel to be a fair one." The bird man leaned in close, then. "Find me, before your Duel, and I shall ensure a fair fight."


Drake nodded, and smiled at him. "I will, thank you, Alvar." His eyes shifted to Florian, and his billowing cape. "What about your thoughts on my chances, sir Bard?"






Alvar and Rose simultaneously facepalmed, and Drake blinked at them, before all three of them found their gazes inescapably drawn to Florian. Drake's brow furrowed as he saw magic swirling around him in a purposefully graceful spiraling flow around his entire body.


"Oh…I think he's going to tear you apart…but if he Doesn't…?" A lute magically appeared in Florian's hands, and he strummed on it with a graceful stroke of his fingers. The entire cafeteria looked their way as the note cut through the din of conversation. Those who knew what was coming, smirked. Those who did not, mostly the first years, had looks of confusion. "You might just become my latest Muse, Drake Long!"


Florian spun away from their table as he adjusted his instrument's knobs, and strummed again before the eyes of the lunch room. "How about a light song!? I'm feeling a Fight Song!" The students gave an encouraging whoop, and Florian grinned. "Dedicated, of course, to Drake Long! The latest victim of our canine Lycaon!"


And with that series of rhymes, the bard began tapping his foot, and soon, the entire room was copying him. Drake took this opportunity to finally eat, though despite his best efforts, his foot tapped along to the beat

"From a tale so Long, the Storm is drawn,


A challenge laid on the Academy lawn!


A brutal Beast, all teeth and hair,


In the halls confronted, by the maiden faiiir!"





Florian spun, gesturing to Rose, who followed Drake's lead. But the bard would not be ignored. He leapt upon a nearby empty table with a dancer's grace, and kept loudly thumping his foot, as his lute provided a jaunty backdrop.



"Skalos, drawn from his foul lair,


To savage her Love! So young! Such hair!


But to whom doth our maiden's heart belong?


Why, the Monk! The Hero! It's Drake Long!



Fearless before the Alpha scion,


Of the noble House Lycaon!


The Monk refuses to run, to hide!


He takes approaching death in great striiiide!



Oh! Though he may die to the thunder's pull,


His bones, broken, his strength made null!


He still stands, unafraid to fight!


But will the wolf fall to his might?





A bringer of Pain, a rising Fame,


But who will win this brutal game?


The Beast who scorns those lacking fur?


Or the Monk whose Class remains obscuuure?





Strike and storm, clash and cry!


One will stand, and one will die!


Flames will rise, sparks will fly!


And in the ennnnnd…fair Rose will cry!"​

Drake's eyes narrowed at the bard. "I'm going to end him…"


Rose shook her head with a sigh. "He's right, though…I probably will cry... Out of-"


She was interrupted, as Florian was still not done. He leapt like a fae ballerina from his table perch, to the floor near theirs, and strummed again, loudly, "But will they be tears of loss, or joy? Tell us! Tell us, lover boy!"


Drake dropped his fork, fists clenched, as he stood up. "That's it. You've chosen Death, Florian."






But the fucking bard was already prancing away, all too familiar with that look. "And so ends my jaunty tune! Until next time, my fuming Muse!~"


The cafeteria was abuzz with reprisals of the song, and outright laughter at the final taunts, and Drake's reaction. Jeers filled the air.


"So fierce!"


"Such hair!"


"That hair won the maiden fair!"


Then, came the chanting. Just two lines, since that's what people could remember, but Drake had a feeling Florian would spread his words to everyone before long. It was too catchy, too easy on the ears, to not eventually learn by the end of the day.


"Strike and Storm! Clash and Cry! One will stand and one will die!"





Seeing the chanting was getting to Rose, the two ate quickly, and hurried to their next class. The rest of the day became a blur of assignments, broken up only by the occasional random stranger, usually female, asking him if he was really going to face Skalos. One magic equivalent of physical education, a lesson on obscene monsters, and a lesson on Jobs that were not a part of Omnicrafting later, and Drake was very much ready to have this Duel. People all throughout the halls, even a few of his Instructors, had been humming Florian's jaunty tune. He found Alvar easily enough with Rose's guidance, and his pupils dilated, as he experienced higher tier Buffs for the first time. Apparently, the highest tier a Buff could reach was nine, but only those well above level one hundred and fifty had access to them, and casting them drained so much magic, even Drake would've had trouble casting more than one. If he'd been a caster.


When he emerged from the Academy's main building, it wasn't hard to find the field Skalos had mentioned. It seemed like the entire school had shown up. Fifth and sixth years were occupying the bleacher seats that ringed the blue and gold turfed field, while everyone else had to stand and crowd around for a view. Drake gave Rose a final hug in the entrance courtyard as Falkor arrived to help him with his dramatic entrance. This was to be a spectacle, after all. "I'll be okay, I promise. Have some faith in me, and Alvar's Buffs." She told him that she would, but her eyes were lying. She was terrified, and shaking, even though she was pretending not to be nervous.


With that, Drake hopped on Falkor, and the pair shot up high into the clouds, drawing looks from the crowd, who very much noticed the giant white dragon launching into the cloud cover. Once it was just them, Drake spoke with his draconic friend. "It's just me for this one, bud. I'll be okay."


"I know." The dragon rumbled, confidently. "You've handled those like Skalos before." Drake nodded. Handling angry canines had been his job after all. They had not all been like Falkor. He gave his friend another nod, and then slid sideways out of the saddle, falling through the clouds, and making them disperse as he shot through them, forward flipped in the air, and landed hard enough to make the field shudder with his earthbending.

Skalos was there, armored and ready in what looked like chainmail armor suited for a caster, once again in line with what he'd expected. Drake had also equipped all of his adventuring items. He was going to need every single one against someone this strong.


"Drrrake Long!" Skalos snarled. "I thought you'd run away on your Dragon. Pity. I would've enjoyed hunting you down."


Drake smirked, and shifted to airbending, causing the wind around him to make his robe flare up. "Skalos Lycaon!" He shouted, as the wind carried his words for everyone around to hear, "When I beat your mongrel ass today, you will Never harm another younger year Student, or lower ranked Adventurer than you again! Do you accept the terms of this Duel?"


Skalos snarled. "Only if you accept that I'm about to rrrrip out your fucking throat!" Lightning surged around him, and lit up along his body. Drake swore. Beneath the fur, were tattoos, probably similar to runes, that no doubt helped him control his natural power to a higher degree, and seemed to be acting as his chest armor as well. Such practices, he had learned, were considered dangerous to have implemented on one's body, but it seemed Skalos wasn't worried.


Drake fell into his martial stance. "Take your best shot, furball."


The glowing symbol signifying a Duel appeared over both their dominant hands, the crossed pair of swords gleaming brightly. A sixth year Drake did not recognize rang a handheld gong and shouted, "Begin!"

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 10: I Punched a Wolf, and I Liked It, Hope My Girlfriend Don't Mind It​

---

Somewhere in the City of Primus - Arcathis​

The room was a study in contrasts, lavish and gaudy in every visible inch, yet suffocatingly, unnaturally dark. The darkness was a heavy, malevolent force, swallowing even the faintest glimmers of light that tried to pierce it from the outside, and it existed in this space on purpose.


Gold plated furnishings that might have once gleamed with opulence were now tarnished and half-hidden beneath the oppressive shadows, the intricate carvings barely visible. The dark mahogany desk in the far end of the room was covered in arcane tomes, and stacks of papers written in a spidery, frantic script. Even the chandelier above, forged from blackened iron and shaped like twisted, grasping claws was doused by the overpowering gloom cast upon the room.


Ostentatious portraits of Eridion Pandarus, showing him in much better shape and as more classically handsome than he actually was lined the walls, half-swallowed by the darkness, their angry eyes above his universally grimacing expression glinting malevolently when the crimson light from the room's center hit them just right. A gilded mirror, far too large for the room, stood against one wall, its surface reflecting nothing but endless darkness.


The air was thick, stifling, carrying the scent of burnt incense and something far more foul, sulfur and the metallic tang of blood. The faint thrum of dark magic pulsed through the center of the floor, seeping up from the crimson star etched into the stone altar now occupying the space and giving it it's only source of light.





A black robed figure covered by a hood as black as the darkness that filled the room around them knelt, and began the offering. Said offering was simple, all it required, was a physical act that would aid the caster in reaching the high level entity they desired to speak with. In this case, it required the will to do as He had done.


To embrace savagery and darkness, and commit a murder, for the sake of murder.


The victim this time, was just a goblin. Beady yellow eyes rolled in panicked terror as the creature tried to look around, but even its eyes, adapted for darkness, could perceive nothing in this magical gloom. Nothing, save the flash of a knife.


The curved blade sank into the foul creature, ripping it from stem to stern as its bodily contents fell onto the circle below, activating it. A crimson star, awash with blood, began to power the connection to the farthest reaches of Arcadia. Unlike its past deaths, the goblin did not turn into black smoke, but rather, an ominous crimson energy drew in its blood, entrails, and then its still semi-aware corpse into whatever dark hell awaited beings sacrificed to the God of Monsters.






Normally, one might think monsters made for poor sacrifices, but their God actually despised those monsters who lived in Dungeons, and not under his direct influence, and thus those who wished to speak with him could do so, if they could isolate and capture something like a goblin, and knew the right spells. This one, naturally, had come straight from the Arcanomicon.


Dagorath himself appeared over the glowing crimson star carved into the stone altar below the spell, manifesting in an image tainted red by the blood fueling it. He was both handsome and hideous in equal measure, with a mane of platinum blonde hair to rival his mother's, a pair of black horns curving up from the front of his skull, pointed ears like his monster's, and unholy glowing red eyes that seemed…unamused. Bored, even. He was wearing full black plate armor, sitting upon a dark throne with glowing red runes that helped him communicate with his pawns across the world, when he could be bothered to reach out to them.


It was a fact well hidden from those who followed Life and Magic…but the God of War and Monsters had grown tired in recent centuries, not literally, as by this point the power he'd spent making Demon Lords had recouped, but mentally. The visceral thrill from slaughtering Arcadia's souls had dulled, and his creation's constant lust for brutality had grown predictable. Boring. But there were some, genuinely evil inhabitants of the isolated world that still managed to draw his interest.






"Eridion. It's about time. Even my patience has limits, but at least you found my Father's book."


The hooded figure drew back his head covering, and bowed it low, in respect. His hair was a brittle, over processed combed-over rat's nest, very obviously covering a bald spot, and dyed to be some shade of yellow or gold, instead of white. His aged face was square, wrinkled, and dumpy, not unlike a frog, and his efforts to hide his pasty liver-spot ridden skin only ended up, even with magical aid, leaving him looking like a wrinkled, orange scrotum.


"It wasn't easy to reach…my Lord." The proud narcissist managed to say, all but choking on the title his self importance caused him to struggle to verbalize. "But now I have it. The plan is in motion…all we need…is your end of the deal."


Dagorath let out a heavy sigh. "Your base lust for my Power is…so dreadfully pitiful. Obvious. Pathetic." Eridion quivered with barely controlled rage, but he kept his head down in faux subservience. "Creatures like you…are genuinely abhorrent. I've seen what you do in your spare time, you know. To the women. To the kids." A small smile cracked his deific visage. It still amazed him sometimes, the depths to which his parent's precious mortals could sink. "Do not disappoint me, Pandarus…and I will grant you what your aged, failing heart craves most." Dagorath sat up, both hands on the arm rests of his throne, now. "It has nearly been an Age since the last Demon Lord was slain…Break them. Remind them who truly rules Arcadia."






Eridion Pandarus rose, revealing a modern two-piece suit under his dark hooded robe, dark blue, formal, and not at all out of place on the homeworld of a certain isekai'd monk. On Arcadia, it was the bleeding edge of fashion though, one made immediately unpopular by the rich pig who wore it first. He'd tried hard to start a trend with such clothing, but even Pandarus's fellow magical elite disliked the uncomfortable, if fine quality clothes that he had begun forcing his servants to wear. Almost as much as they disliked the man who wore them.


"Your will be done…Dagorath."


The God of Monsters smirked. "A mere shard of my Power is more than Garbage like you deserves…but let's see how you do with it."


In the slowly fading light of the late afternoon, Primus City lit up with an ominous red glow, as Pandarus Tower was suffused with the power of the First Murderer. More magic than Eridion Pandarus could've ever fathomed flooded his being, along with a far darker power. His eyes bulged in primal terror as his flesh unraveled, dissolving before his eyes. "No!" He roared with infantile rage as his hands, chest and shoulders began to turn into smoke. "My…body…this…was not…the deal!"


"Pitiful Mortal!" Dagorath thundered with the authority of a being universes above the likes of Pandarus, "To Create…one must first Destroy. Carry out your task…or disappear in Failure."


Pandarus let out a silent scream, as the power of Dagorath, and the power of an entity far older than him, twisted the Wizard of Gil Street into something truly abominable.

Earlier, Galdurian Arc Warden Academy, Primus City - Arcathis​

With the sound of the gong, Drake Long was gone as Skalos Lycaon raised a hand to sear his flesh. His shocking burst of flame missed completely as the monk became a blur of movement and disappeared. Seconds passed, and the crowd began to murmur, but the monk did not reappear. That was fine, by Skalos. The fury of the wind surrounded his claws, granting his basic attacks even more speed. He ran his long wolf tongue over the tips of his claws, and they burst into flames that lingered, and would do so for about an hour, giving his sped up attacks fire damage, in addition to the lightning. The crowd rumbled with discontent as little happened.


Drake, for his part, had not been idle. Activating Stealth required disappearing from sight, and thanks to his frankly ridiculous Buffs, that had been easy. Greater Fortitude, gave him one thousand and five hundred extra health points, atop his own four hundred and forty. Arcane Intellect raised his brainpower even further with the boost to his Intelligence, which also meant he had quite a lot more magic, jumping from eleven thousand to thirteen thousand. Hero's Strength raised both Strength and Dexterity, and since they were all at tier four, the Buffs made him more than a match for Skalos, and their duration was quadruple that of the first tier. As was the magic cost.


Alvar, being a War Cleric, had used a magic restoring potion and claimed he was fine. He'd called it a worthy price to pay, to finally stop Skalos. Now the only question Drake had to answer, was how. Given his past life's knowledge, Drake had an idea of how to at least slow a shaman like Skalos, but it remained to be seen just how closely the Arcadian version mirrored the video game one.






In his underground hastily earthbended hideout, Drake Long split eight copies of himself around his main white cloaked body which was illuminating things with a small flame in his palm. Each one was smirking knowingly, and had a colored robe to fit the element they'd be using. Red, blue, green, and yellow would be handling fire, water, earth, and air respectively. Orange was on lightning redirection duty, purple Drake would be striking from the shadows, and black cloak Drake would, naturally, be teaming up with the white cloaked original for a flashy finishing move.


"You all know your assignments?" The original asked. As one, the eight Drakes nodded, and raised their hoods. "Good." White continued, "Stay calm, stay focused, and try not to burn our magic too quickly. Alright Green, bring us up!" With a crouch and hand raising motion straight out of Avatar, the green cloaked Drake brought them back to the top of the field, behind Skalos. "Alright, go!"


The wolfman whirled around, and snarled, as the crowd cheered with the appearance of the monk. "Therrre you are!" Purple Drake faded into the shadows, hiding from line of sight behind the others, while green wasted no time, slamming his already raised fists into the ground and sending a powerful wave of breaking earth towards Skalos. The wolf's burning red eyes dashed between the Mirror Images, looking for the white cloaked one. He was there, at the back, smirking next to black cloak Drake with their arms crossed, looking far too confident.






Skalos leapt into the air above the rolling earth attack, raised a claw, and tried to apply his Flame Shock, but red cloak Drake smirked, and dispersed it with a wave of his hand. Then, he and blue cloak Drake fired a stream of flame and sharp, heated waterbending tentacles at him, which hammered the wolf in the air. He took the hit and landed, largely unphased, but still damaged.


"Spirits of my Ancestors! Join me!" Skalos howled, and a pair of translucent spirit wolves manifested beside him, one surrounded by flames, the other by sparking electricity. A spike of painful earth slammed into red cloak Drake, sending him flying, as blue cloak went to catch him. As they charged, brown cloak Drake, who was on wolf spirit bashing duty, descended from above, having perched on one of the columns surrounding the field.


"Green!" He shouted, as he activated Duel in the Heavens, hammering one wolf with the first two strikes, while the third sent the other wolf flying towards green cloak Drake. He'd also activated their Buff, Fury of the First Dragon, which sent every foe brown touched soaring in the air, or prone onto the ground. Green cloak Drake shouted as he struck the wolf coming towards him by hammering the ground with a fist of flame and a fist of stone. "Dragon's Pillar!" A surge of flame and rock rose to engulf the spirit, dissipating it.


Brown cloak had also backflipped back to his first quarry, punching it again, and dispersing it, and ending the damage bonus and energy boost the wolves presumably gave to Skalos. Skalos, however, did not seem to care. He just hadn't wanted to deal with all the Drakes at once. Arcs of lightning formed a shield around him as he charged, and the first Drake he met, was orange.






Lightning Crashed into the monk but, for some reason, it was diverted from hitting him. Furious as yet another part of his rotation was foiled before it could combo with his other moves, Skalos tore into the orange monk, who dissipated before his fury. "Eight left…" Skalos snarled, lunging forward at the next closest Drake, yellow robe, who was defending white and black as they respectively powered up their Ki. A torrent of focused wind slowed Skalos to a walk, but the enraged wolf shaman would not be stopped. His burning claws reached for yellow, which was when purple finally struck.


Stabbing a Hidden Blade right into the unprotected armpit of his chainmail armor, Skalos howled in pain, and a Flurry of Blows followed, each one stabbing into his muscular form, as well as a pool of energy along the Luparyn's torso. The damage was small, but it was going to add up. Losing orange this early was bad, but they'd expected to lose one clone at least. Purple Drake hit the stunned Skalos with Silence then, and shouted, "Brown! Lightning duty is yours!"


"On it!" Brown cloak Drake answered, as he summoned his Ki lightning, and shot it into Skalos's back. The shaman snarled and whirled on brown, while purple faded into the shadows again once the wolf's eyes were off him. "Red…Blue! Any day, guys!" "On it!" They replied in unison, merged their fire and waterbending to cover the immediate area around them and brown cloak Drake with steam.


Purple struck from the shadows again, taunting Skalos with a dark smirk as he spun away from the enraged claws of the wolf, only to return a moment later and stab him again with his Dragon's Fangs. Red and blue fired Ki Blasts repeatedly, as they cost so little magic they could basically be used indefinitely, and when Skalos tried to stop them, they faded back into the mist, made more of it, and then struck again.






Skalos did eventually corner purple as he got in yet another trio of small but deep stab wounds on Skalos's body, but then brown cloak was there, catching the wolf's claws and once again, diverting the Crash Lightning from landing. With an enraged snarl, Skalos held onto the Mirror Image, and hit it with his Flame Shock, at which point, he followed with a rapidly conjured and cast Lava Burst straight from his palm. This combination, which he'd wanted earlier, applied his burning damage to every Drake nearby, and allowed him to sense them. Then, he called the storm, as the silence spell faded.


A powerful lightning bolt came down not on the Drakes, but on Skalos, who sent it rippling through the ground, stunning and slowing the Drakes around him within ten yards, which was red, blue, brown, and purple. Surging with power, he finally landed Crash Lightning, which arced to every Drake but purple, and the following Storm Strikes cut down brown, red, and then blue, as Skalos got lucky, and gained a third Storm Strike. By the time Skalos turned to find purple cloak Drake, he was gone, but he shouted from stealth, "Now, Yellow!"


At that point, yellow cloaked Drake drew away the steam cloud, revealing white and black cloaked Drake, each crouched low from the sheer weight of the condensed Ki Blasts they'd formed.






"Positive!" The original Drake shouted.


"Negative!" Black cloak Drake mirrored.


"Kaaaa meh!"


"Haaaa meh!"


"HAAAAAAAAA!" They shouted in unison, as they brought their hands forward, and fired their respective beams at Skalos. The Luparyn didn't have time to react, as the positive and negatively charged Ki blasts fused together in a spiral, naturally spinning around the other as they shot across the field with incredible speed before slamming into Skalos, driving him back across the field as he struggled to hold the attack off, before they finally exploded in a massive detonation. The crowd erupted in cheers, as they realized Drake might actually have a shot at winning. Black and white cloak fist bumped, and balanced out their respective energies as they did.


"Images reset!" The original Drake shouted, and black, yellow, purple, and green melded back into white, who fell into his Dragon Stance, and began patiently honing his defense, as he attuned to the air. Absorbing the images would significantly reduce the cooldown time on his Mirror Image Mirror, and as he checked it, all he had to do was survive the next fifty four seconds.






Across the field, a smoking and severely depleted Skalos chuckled. "And then there was one…" He muttered, shaking his head. He hated to admit it…but the first year was living up to his hype. His tactics were sound, and brutally effective. He hadn't survived the Malblin Tyrant with luck. In only a day, he'd clearly done his homework on how a shaman's abilities worked and flowed into each strike. It was hard to disrupt that flow, but the monk's Buffs and light armored speed were more than enough to do so. Louder, he shouted, "Not bad at all…First Year…but playtime has Ended…" Lightning sparked around Skalos's form, and the wind began to howl like his ancestors once had. Storm clouds formed above him, and lightning filled his eyes. "Time to get serious! Elemental…ASCENDANCE!"


"Oh…Balls." Drake muttered, very much familiar with what came next. Patient Defense wasn't going to cut it. He shifted to his Dispelling Fist stance instead, as his only realistic chance of surviving the cool down window became disrupting whatever attacks the Ascended Stormbound Shaman threw at him.


The students whooped and cheered as the Luparyn's body became the wind. His red eyes shifted to bluish white lightning that burned with the same hatred. The only part of him that still looked somewhat solid were his hands, bound to form by magical bracers of some description that were different in appearance from his gauntlets. Lightning crackled around him, and Drake knew what came next.






The monk took a steadying breath and focused his Ki. He'd faced down the God of Magic, and this trick had worked. There was no reason to think it wouldn't work here. Skalos struck first, a Lightning Bolt arcing from his swirling wind palm, only for Drake to spin to the side and punch through the magic forming its tip with his Fists of Far Reach. The crowd watched with a stunned expression as the bolt simply dispersed in a sparking wave of power.


They cheered, as Skalos's 'eyes' seemed to narrow. Another bolt of plasma came, and again, was dispersed. Then another. A fourth. With what could only be described as a furious windy howl, the elemental form of the Stormbound Shaman started using its melee skills, which were increased to mid range attacks by the form he was in. Lightning Crashed, and dispersed uselessly around the monk. The Storm Struck, over and over, but the damage Drake took was minimal as the lightning arced into the field.


The monk wasn't smirking, and dispersing these powerful attacks seemed to take all of his focus, but it turned out that an Energybending monk was actually a solid counter to an element wielding shaman. All the while, through his defensive efforts, Drake counted down the seconds. Until he hit zero. Then, he smirked. He was confident that he and his clones could win.






Furious, and running out of time as an Ascended Shaman, Skalos hammered Drake with as many lightning attacks as he could. Had he used a different element, like earth or ice, he might've overwhelmed the monk, but he was single minded in his determination to overpower the weak, furless Human with the power of the storm.


It was here that Drake began acting. Instead of dispersing the lightning, he spun it around himself and pretended to struggle to stop it. Skalos, running out of time and fully tunnel visioned, fell for the display and increased the rate of his attacks, and then, quite suddenly, burned through his power. His wolf like form appeared again and dropped to the field, as he watched Drake, panting hard from exertion and Ascendance. Then, he frowned in disbelief.


The monk was spinning, keeping the summoned lightning around him in graceful spirals as he guided the volatile energy, and shouted, "Mirror Images! It's a Lightning Party! Everybody grab a piece!"


With a flash of light from every color of the rainbow, along with brown and black, appeared again in their various robes, with identical smirks. Skalos tried to move, but found his legs rooted in place by green, as all the other Drakes readied their lightning. Green cloak Drake joined them quickly, and then as one they spun gracefully into guiding the lightning into ten Ki-infused bolts that sped towards Skalos in a flash.






The Stormbound Shaman tried to control the bolts as Drake had, but Drake's Ki infusion prevented him from doing so, and all ten struck in succession, only half a second between each. Once again, Skalos was smoking, and despite having healed himself with a surge of magic while an elemental, the rainbow of Drakes brought him right back down.


"You know what to do!" White cloak Drake shouted, as he and black cloak flew into the air to ready another Balanced Kamehameha. Skalos used his Astral Shift to mitigate the coming damage, but it could only delay the inevitable. Purple hit him with Silence again as every color from red to brown charged at Skalos. The crowd ate it up, sensing what was coming, and the shaman's heals were useless without the ability to speak.


Drake had activated Fury of the First Dragon again, as it had come off cooldown with his Mirror Image, and now each of the clones hammered the Luparyn with a pair of elemental fists and kicks. Skalos could only raise his burly forearms and snarl as each Drake got into a circle around him and ping ponged his sturdy body sliding across the field between their attacks. It was a credit to his power, that their attacks didn't send him flying. Then, his Astral Shift wore off, and the circle of Drakes unified their strikes into an upwards kick from seven directions at once.






This proved to be enough to send Skalos soaring, and the crowd roared as they saw the combo coming. Skalos looked into the eyes of the white cloaked Drake, and gave a subtle, begrudging nod of recognition, and respect, as he resigned himself to the inevitable finishing blow. All the stabbing, bleeding, and punching had finally culminated, and while Drake was at about a quarter of his Buffed health, Skalos knew this energy beam thing he could do would decide the match.


Sure enough, the positive and negative energy spiraled, slamming Skalos and spinning him into the ground with a thunderous explosion, definitively ending Skalos's career as a bully. As smoke rose from the crater, Drake landed shakily, stumbled to the edge, and then turned to face the crowd, one fist raised in victory. The mirror Drakes melded back into him, and he fell onto his ass, panting, scorched, but alive and smirking.


Rose was the first one onto the field as the students erupted in cheers and applause, and Drake sighed in relief as she soothed his burns. "You definitely would've lost without the health boost…and I'm still mad at you." She said, seeing he was fine, then standing and turning away with a huff.






Gently, Drake stood up as well and turned her around. Guilt gripped his heart as he saw she'd been crying. Though she'd tried to hide it. "Listen, Rose, you know the task Laurelin gave me. You've seen my Status." She nodded. She'd asked him if he really intended to try saving the God of Monsters after their first time together. He'd answered that even Dagorath had once been decent, but warped by a powerful darkness only Laurelin seemed to fully understand. For all she'd done for him and Falkor, he at least had to try getting her little boy back. "I'm going to end up in dangerous fights. And I need you to understand that I'm very motivated to live through them. So long as I have you…?"


He let his inflection turn the statement into a question, and she finally nodded. "You will always have me. I just…don't like watching you get hurt, and not being able to stop it."


Drake smirked at her. "Then I won't battle without you again. We'll make it a…Double Duel next time."


Rose smirked up at him, unable to resist that charming face. "That's…not a thing."


"Has anyone tried it?"


"Well…no, I don't think so, but-"


The rest of what she said was lost as Drake leaned in and kissed her. It was a tender moment…right up until the crowd started cheering again, reminding them of where they were. They sighed softly, in unison, simultaneously muttering, "To be continued…"






Then, the cheers died, as a giant black claw gripped the edge of the crater, and Skalos Lycaon used it to leap up back to the field. Drake stepped in front of Rose, as he stalked towards them, but the anger in his eyes was lessened. "Drrrake Long…I admit defeat. You won, and did so fairly… with some help from your Upper Classmen." He held out a claw. "I am a wolf of my word…no more thrashing the weak, as agreed."


Drake gave him a small smile, and nodded, taking the hand, and shaking it. "You'd grow more from opponents at your level, anyway. I hope next time we can fight as allies, Skalos."


The Luparyn snorted. "Unlikely…but not impossible." He raised his voice then, as he turned to depart the field. "Enjoy your victory, Strongest First Year."


The crowd erupted again, reveling in the sportsmanship and the lack of skullduggery from Skalos, and Drake took in his cheering peers as the lighting of the sky shifted to sunset. Class Seven joined them on the field as he and Rose walked off. As they discussed what to eat to celebrate Drake hitting level seventy, a voice entered his head.






"Drake Long. I must speak with you. Depart from your group, and join me by the bleachers. I have information that will help you with Purging the Wallow."


Drake went quiet for a moment, though only Rose noticed, and he excused himself, jogging over to where whoever had contacted him desired to meet. It wasn't exactly subtle, as there were still tons of students around, and his white robe gave him away, but Lena had waited too long already.


"Are you the one who contacted me?" Drake asked. "I thought interpersonal mental communication spells…didn't exist."


"It's new." The hooded figure said. All he could tell was that she was an elf of some kind, and a high level, at one hundred and five. "Listen, I have to be quick. Eridion Pandarus is planning something with the Final Boss of the Wallow Dungeon, and the Final Boss of the Wardengrave Dungeon. It involves the God of Monsters as well. I don't know the exact details, I just know things will turn bad, very bad, if nobody stops him."


Drake's brow furrowed. "Pandarus…why does that name ring a bell…look lady, I don't know who he is, and…I was planning on dealing with Chronogrin anyway. Soon. It sounds like Pandarus's plan will fall apart once we purge the Wallow, so…chill. It's just going to take some time to prepare." Time, and at least a few inventions, he thought quietly.


She shook her hooded head. "There's no time! You have to stop Pandarus first, before he-"






Suddenly, the sky's warm sunset orange hues bled into an ominous crimson, covering the city in an ominous red tint, and the majority of the Academy's student body, along with the entirety of their faculty, felt it. The unmistakable presence of a rising evil. The sensing of this evil was not limited to the Academy though, powerful figures all across Arcadia's capital city felt it at the same time. Those who'd been alive through the last Demon Lord's invasion, the few who yet lived, recognized it immediately.


"Oh Gods…no, it's…it's too late! I waited too long!" The hooded woman said, shuddering, as from the spire in the cityscape glowing with ominous power, a dark, grinning silhouette formed behind it. Everyone above level fifty, who was looking, stared in shocked awe, including Drake Long.


Dagorath, God of Monsters, level ??? was floating behind the tower as a dark, incorporeal shadow, grinning maliciously.


"So Ends the Era of Dungeons! The Age of Eradication begins now!" His dark, rolling laughter echoed across the city. "My gift to You, the people of Primus… Enjoy!"


And then, as quickly as the shade of the God of Monsters had appeared, it vanished, leaving something arguably just as bad in its wake.






Rising up from the glowing tower, as power stopped flowing into it, was a massive pair of leathery demonic wings that were familiar at least to Drake, and those who had faced those blessed by Dagorath before. The creature they belonged to was still transforming. He seemed at first like a corpulent man wearing…a two piece suit? But then, his form expanded violently, ripping apart into smoldering, exposed orange muscle. Black metal bands appeared around the swollen wrists of the grotesque monster, and four curling demonic horns sprouted from his new, enlarged, and hideous visage.


Whatever Dagorath had spawned, it seemed consumed with pain from its transformation, and its roar of agony echoed over the city, as its stats solidified. Its level jumped from seventy eight, to eighty five, to one hundred and fifteen, before it finally stopped, and Drake gulped. That, even for him, was out of his league.


Finally, it solidified from its transformation, its stats on display for all to read. Eridion Pandarus, Supreme Madjinn, level one hundred and fifteen, with what seemed like a title above his head, one that, as people seemed to read it, caused panic to spread throughout Primus.

Demon Lord.

​

Drake watched in disbelief, and grimaced, only looking away when he felt Rose running over and clinging to his arm. He wrapped it around her, and could feel her shaking slightly, her eyes wide in genuine terror. Drake muttered under his breath, though both of the High Elven women heard him.


"...Fuck."

 

[phinjo]

Spoiler: Illustration Remix -Demon Lord.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Spoiler: Illustration Remix -Demon Lord.

Click to shrink...

A solid attempt. But he's actually orange skinned, and his lower body is smoke, cause djinn. Not bad for a literal demon though.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 11: This is Fine


I'll be writing the next part all at once, and then breaking it up, so it may take some time to prepare. Three-four weeks at most.

Enjoy.
​

---

Primus City - Arcathis





"Break them."


​

The command repeated over and over within the mind of Arcadia's latest Demon Lord. Absolute. Undeniable. Impossible to ignore, or disobey.


Thus, the empowered Madjinn focused his magical might on the nearest target: Pandarus Tower. Sitting in a somewhat populated downtown area of Primus, the tower was, in the words of those who had to walk by it every day, a 'gaudy eyesore'. A giant, golden P was emblazoned on its center, and gold trim lined the tower's edges and windows. It wasn't real gold though, just plated with painted metal to appear to be gold. A wealthy pretense covering up something that was objectively worthless, like every product the Pandora Organization produced and sold.


Pandarus Tower was a monument to everything Eridion Pandarus had spent his life scheming, backstabbing, and deal breaking to achieve after inheriting and greedily stealing his family's entire fortune for himself, but it was, at its core, a facade. Even on the inside, anything golden, had been painted to be so. Anything that looked like silver was actually a lesser metal, polished by the underpaid magicless lower class maids to shine like silver. Even the seats weren't bound with leather, but rather a magically conjured material designed to cheaply imitate the work of skilled Leatherworkers for a fraction of the price.


Despite being a monument to objective evil, and a house to thousands of unspeakably morally abhorrent parties of the sexual nature, good people did work at the tower, and as the Madjinn Demon Lord lifted a massive, muscled orange arm and then swiftly brought it down, most of the people within died. As did a piece of Pandarus's soul, as his command from Dagorath, entirely on purpose, forced him to destroy what he'd built with his own hands. He was being made to watch it crumble to dust and debris right after gaining the power he'd so desperately craved.


This in turn, again entirely by design, made the newborn Demon Lord enraged on a core level, and the Madjinn could've sworn he heard the amused chuckle of the God of Monsters within his head. Pandarus had no doubt Dagorath was watching his every move with, at most, mild interest. Now properly enraged, the titanic genie raised his orange arms, and the remnants of his tower rose into the air with them. As expected, his narcissistic mindset had led to one conclusion: If he could not have and rule Primus, nobody would.






As the city held its breath, waiting for the untold destruction, chaos, and death a magically propelled sky-scraping tower of Primus would inflict on its people, a lone figure appeared in the sky. He shone with a bright blue radiance, his royal blue robes woven with celestial patterns and trimmed in gold flaring out around him, with an unmistakable white mane of hair. His form grew larger, not nearly the size he had been when he had crafted this world, but just large enough so that Pandarus and his son could see his expression: the face of a God who was, in every way, Done with their bullshit.


In all the long ages that Dagorath had unleashed his Demon Lords and monster armies upon Arcadia's people, Galdurath and Laurelin had not intervened, as they feared their son would leap at the chance to confront them in combat. To do battle on the scale of God was to ensure that nothing on Arcadia would survive that battle, and neither Dagorath nor his parents wished to restart everything from scratch, with just the three of them. As depraved as the God of Monsters was, he enjoyed the comforts of Arcadian society, their inventions, their foods, and the idea of being alone on a ravaged world with just his parents…genuinely terrified him.


Though he would never admit that, he did worry that in such a scenario, they would not hold back against him, likely choosing to lock him away on Arcadia, remove the device powering the planet's core, and begin their long search again for a new world to start over on, leaving him to rot, floating on the ass end of the Multiverse, forever imprisoned and forgotten.






The tint of the sky above Primus shifted from red to blue, as Galdurath summoned his staff, banished his son's influence, and with a wave of his hand, and then forced the debris around Pandarus to form a series of circular platforms made of stone and metal that surrounded the orange genie's massive frame, and held it there, unable to flee. Once the pitiful Demon Lord was bound, he used his awesome power to guide the souls of his deceased tower staff back to their bodies, and with a bit of minor time manipulation, rewound them to a living state, and teleported them elsewhere. Manipulating time was something only the strongest wizards and sorcerers ever attempted, and only with great need, but Galdurath had long since mastered it, and could do this much at least with no major consequences. Like a Weaver with fabric, he restored the flow with the lives of those who did not need to perish here, in his wayward son's latest tantrum.


In the ages since the last Demon Lord was slain, Galdurath had warned his son: the next Demon Lord he raised would be slain immediately, and he intended to keep that promise, as he had all the others. The promise to fight his monsters with superior heroes. The promise to shatter his armies with a single modification to the planet. He had made good on both of them, and the likes of Eiridion Pandarus would not make him a liar.


With his interfering finished, Galdurath addressed his city, a city that had been his home for more ages than he had spent anywhere else in his long existence.






"People of Primus! Return to your homes. My power shall keep them protected, and intact. Not one of you will be left to the Demon Lord's mercy…however I cannot guarantee your safety if you remain outside. Proceed calmly and orderly to the nearest roofed residence, and await the all clear."


Then, in the minds of every capable adventurer in Primus, Galdurath addressed them directly. "Heroes of Arcadia. Arc Wardens and Adventurers over the hundredth level…lend your city your skills. The Demon Lord dies today. I have entrapped him here, and it is here that he shall die." To their credit, and despite their standing, not a single Arc Warden, draconic, or runic ranked adventurer denied his call. Even as corrupt as their society had become, they yet answered the summons of the God of Magic. That boded well, for young Drake Long's mission.


Almost as an afterthought, Galdurath addressed Drake Long as well as those destined to venture with him into the depths of the Wallow Dungeon against Chronogrin. "The time has come to purge the Wallow. Gather your materials and your allies. The Goblin Emperor is tied to this scheme. End him."


It should be noted, that for all his wisdom and insight, the God of Magic had missed that the Final Boss of the Wardengrave Dungeon was also involved, but their methods and contributions had been more subtle, and thus they remained hidden. Galdurath returned to his own Tower of Knowledge, and with a pulse of powerful magic, a protective blue barrier appeared over every single dwelling of Primus, allowing the denizens in, and keeping falling debris or spells out.






Back at the Academy, Drake and Rose shared a look of relief, and also nervousness. It was comforting to know Galdurath was taking a comparatively active role for once. It was less comforting that he'd given them a mandate to purge the Wallow. Class Seven slowly formed up around them, and the mysterious hooded woman who'd approached Drake disappeared as his focus was taken by Vincent. "Everyone…heard that, right?" The enchanter chuckled nervously. "L-looks like the God of Magic himself wants us to clear a Dungeon…no pressure…"


"It's not just you guys." Came a familiar voice.


Rael Astorius, already in his armor, was striding towards them at the head of Class One, who was also equipping their gear. "We too received the order. As did Class Two and Class Three. Instructor Kang and Class Four are leading Classes Five, Six, and Eight in a Goblin purge around the Wallow. We don't want them becoming empowered by the Demon Lord, and going on a rampage." His logic was sound, as Drake recalled from Aslan's teachings that any monsters that managed to approach a being blessed by Dagorath immediately grew in level and power, often becoming a higher class of monster as they did.


Behind Rael, came the respective student leaders of Classes Two and Three, and their twenty or so other members, all of whom had just watched Drake beat the lightning out of Skalos Lycaon. Drake tilted his head at Rael, as the two clasped forearms in the manliest of greetings. "What about the other Academy students?"


Rael smirked. "Anyone below level one hundred is going to the Filthpit. They don't want the Orcs there breaking free. Students that are Third Year and above are probably over one hundred, and since they're technically ranked as Arc Wardens…" His gaze shifted to the giant orange genie in the distance. Flashes of light and magic were already rolling over him, and his massive, magical counter attacks were typically either knocked skyward by somebody Drake couldn't see at this distance, or dodged, and left to Galdurath to deal with. True to the God of Magic's declaration, the city did not break under the wayward spells.

Class Two

Class Three

As Class Two and Class Three joined their growing group of powerful teenagers, Drake greeted them personally. Nobody in Class Seven argued with him taking charge, at that moment. He asked for their names, and classes one by one. It was, without a doubt, a diverse group of teenagers, all on the verge of level fifty. Every single one of them seemed very unnerved, and Drake empathized. For them, the arrival of a new Demon Lord was practically a fairytale. There hadn't been a new one in an entire era of their world.


The current era, or perhaps the most-recent-but-now-ended era, the Dungeon Era, had seen the rise of their safe society, an exploding population on the planet, rapid advancements in magical technology, and the cemented status of magical nobility as the rulers of said planet. Many here had likely expected a free and easy ride to luxury like their parents, grandparents, and great grandparents. Now…the God of Magic wanted them to clear a Dungeon with a time-wielding Goblin Emperor waiting at the end.


For Drake…he'd honestly been expecting this since he learned Demon Lords were a thing. So far his new life was checking all the standard isekai boxes. Dagorath's actions weren't exactly a surprise, at least to him.


There was something that bothered him though…dropping a Demon Lord on Primus, literally the strongest concentration of highest leveled warriors on the planet, all but guaranteed his servant would be slain quickly, and his power wasted. If he was the child of the Gods that Drake knew, Dagorath was no fool. Which meant one of two things: Dagorath had been able to empower this Eridion Pandarus with minimal effort and cost, and was doing this to cure his boredom, or, after recouping his power from past Demon Lords, he was alright with wasting it on a very big, very flashy distraction, while his minions within the Dungeons put whatever their plan was into motion while the Arc Wardens were all distracted. He wondered if more than one Demon Lord had ever appeared at one time, but as he started to ask the question, he saw the faces of his peers, and decided to save it for a later time.







Once Drake had the vaguest of ideas about Class Two and Three's capabilities, he nodded, and spoke up. "What we need to do first…is prepare. Quickly. Each Class, have someone assigned to gather those of us who aren't here. Classes One, Two, and Three, gather as much food as you can from across the campus. Buy it if you have to, even from the vendor carts. Raw ingredients are also fine. We need to be able to last as long as possible in the Wallow."


Most of Class Two and Three split off to do just that, as did a few from Class One. Rael gave Drake a nervous smirk. "What about you guys?"


Drake gave him a confident wink. "Oh, I got plans. We've uhh…subtly been planning to clear the Wallow for a while now. We were going to wait to ask you guys in Class One to help during our exam, but…it seems our timetable has sped up."


Rael chuckled, despite the situation. Of course Drake had been planning to clear a Dungeon. As a first year. He shook his head at the absurdity of this day. "How can I help?"






Drake smirked at him. "Head to the Guild. Gather as many low level Adventurers as you can, and post a quest. Anyone who wants to level up, and level quickly, should meet us at the Wallow's entrance." Rael nodded, following his logic, and started moving towards Primus's Adventurers Guild at a quick pace. Drake turned to Vincent, then. "You have the materials? And the thing?"


Vincent nervously pushed up his glasses. "I have the new Bag of Holding, and the food we've gathered already has been transferred over." The usually calm, cool Enchanter kept glancing with worry at the giant orange Demon Lord across the city. The battle would not wait for them, but once they were in the Wallow, they might manage to exit again before the Demon Lord was slain. "I also brought your freshly forged toy…though I don't see how a construct Familiar is going to help in this situation."


Drake chuckled. "It's going to save our asses from being expelled, Vincent. I'd have thought you'd like that. Clearing the Wallow, even on Galdurath's orders, is not going to be a popular move…unless we show Everyone what those wretched little rape monsters really are. Right now, too many people think of Goblins as cannon fodder for low level Adventurers. We're going to show them all exactly what they've always been." As Rose handled getting Class Seven to gather supplies, like potions, for three classes worth of healers and spellcasters, Drake began Omnicrafting.






He was, once again, borrowing a tactic straight out of an anime, one that, he realized sadly, he would now likely never see the conclusion of. But it had given him an idea, and given that Arcadia had seen nothing like this before, it might just save them from the fury of the powers that be from stripping their adventurer ranks or expelling them from the Academy. The Wallow was considered a vital resource for low level experience by Primus and the Adventurers Guild, a fact that Drake had only confirmed after resolving to clear it. In fact, many people, usually always lower caste commoners, had been begging the Adventurers Guilds to do something about it. For centuries. Their requests had been logged, and summarily ignored.


The problem was, those commoners were always silenced. Either bought off, disappeared, or unable to garner interest because there was simply no framework with which to reach large groups of people in Arcadia's society, and make them spare a fuck for the people getting captured and brutalized around the city's Dungeon. Much as Drake had despised social media back on Earth, it had managed to link people together and share information when shit hit the fan. As long as he revived that aspect of it, and not the useless food pic snapping, vile commenting, stupid trend starting nonsense, he reasoned it was worth bringing to Arcadia. Of course, he knew in time those things would probably arise as well, but he would not be creating them. Just the means to record them.


Arcadia's Artificers had actually managed to create something akin to a personal robot. They were largely inventions for rich people and successful adventurers to use for menial tasks like counting Gil and folding laundry, but, anyone could bond with one, and they were magitech creations, which meant they had the core functionality that Drake required: advanced magitech recording devices in their eyes that captured both image and sound. Typically used to prevent thieving by desperate servants against their rich employers, Drake would now put the rather intricate magical devices to use for a cause that was actually noble.






With his Omnicrafting, he bonded a Surface Link to the flight-capable construct. It had once looked like some kind of gaudy bird, but had yet to be activated as a bird. Thus, before its highly complex magical 'brain' core could identify itself as a mechanical avian, Drake altered its form completely, to something that someone from Earth's modern era would easily recognize.


Four tandem rotor blades for balanced recording, two omnidirectional eyes now mounted both above and below on rotating metal housings, three high capacity magic storing crystals that would recharge from the ambient magic that permeated Arcadia, and one Surface Link, which would allow them to send recorded visual and sound data across the leylines, to the surface of Arcadia. Vincent watched him work, with interest. "What…in the fuck did you do to that bird Familiar?"


Drake cackled with fake maniacal laughter. "It's no longer a bird…it's a Drake Recording Omnidirectional Network Expositor! A Drone! Say hi, D.R.O.N.E.!" He had, of course, left the intelligence matrices and communication functions intact. He really hadn't even altered too much of the original design, the parts were essentially the same, they were just in different places. He half expected it to break anyway once he turned it on, but Arcadian technology, he had found, tended to be a lot more reliable than the tech back on Earth. Magic was just unfair, they even had spells to stop natural entropy of materials. This construct would likely outlive him.


The rotor blades started humming, and those of Class Seven who hadn't departed watched in shock, as the strange magitech familiar floated into the sky. "Greetings, Owner. Please assign a designation." Drake repeated its name, and the acronym. "Understood. This unit will be known as Drone. Please designate primary function." Once again, Drake repeated what the drone's task would be, namely, recording their heroic exploits in the depths of the world's Dungeons, and streaming them live for all to see.


"Error." Drone said. "No receiving device has been paired. Cannot complete primary function."






Drake chuckled. "Stay tuned, Drone…that's coming next." Since the Surface Link, typically a device attached to a Resonance Crystal to call for help from within a Dungeon, was capable of compressing sound, and with a little alteration from an Omnicrafter, visual images as well, the hardest part of encoding and transmitting such things from the depths of a Dungeon was already done for him. Now they just needed a screen capable of receiving and playing back the visuals and audio while adjusting for any time distortions.


A circle of glowing runes surrounded the pile of materials Vincent had purchased earlier that day. They'd been planning to test the TV setup first, but now they had to hit the ground running and hope it all worked out. First, he engraved runes into the sheet of glass they had, which would convert the condensed visual magic data back into color images. Then, behind the screen, noise cancellation runes and magically enhanced diaphragms surrounded by enchanted copper wire would reconvert the condensed sounds back into waves. Crystals to power the device and regulate distortions like lag and time dilation. And finally, a platinum antenna, enchanted by Vincent for extremely long range receiving. He claimed it could receive signals from across the entire planet, so a Dungeon should be no problem.


As the crafting finished and Drake exhaled, wincing at how much magic that had drained, the only question that remained, was where to mount this thing. As he tiredly voiced that concern, Vincent smirked at him. "The Headmaster gave me permission earlier to use the side of the boy's dorm building." With a tired groan, Drake lifted the heavy magitech television and headed for their dormitory. In short order, they had it mounted to the wide side of the building facing the rest of the campus, at which point, Drake powered it on.


Drone chirped as he did so. "Device recognized. Pairing. Pairing successful. Shall I save this device for future use, Owner?"


Drake nodded. "Please do so, Drone. Begin streaming audio and visual data."


The drone sat silently for a minute, then, its two eyes burned to life with blue magic, fading after the initial surge of power. "Audio and visual transfer confirmed. All systems are functional."






Drake smirked up at the TV, as he saw Vincent looking between it, and Drone, on the screen, in full color. "We only fucking did it…now then…Drone! Can you tell what your limit is with transmitting to this device? Like in terms of distance?"


"Audio and visual magic recordings can be sent so long as there is Magic between this unit and the paired device. Estimated range…infinite." Drone answered, in its mechanical deadpan tone.


Drake blinked. "Infinite!?"


Drone chirped again, probably a leftover from being a bird. "Affirmative. Magic is omnipresent on Arcadia. Unless this changes, transmission range distance is calculated to be infinite. Addendum: Longer distances will take longer amounts of time to transmit data. Calculating maximum amount of time based on maximum distance…maximum transmission from furthest planetary point calculated...receiving time with the paired device is eight standard Arcadian hours."


Drake whistled. Drone copied his whistle, and that made both him and Vincent smirk. "Well uhh…tell me if that changes, Drone. Rest, for now." As Drone powered off and Drake shoved them unceremoniously into the Bag of Holding, the TV screen didn't turn blue or get static and fuzzy, but rather started giving off lights like an aurora borealis screensaver, causing both Vincent and Drake to watch in awe.


"It's…got to be the Leylines." Vincent murmured. "Until it connects again…I guess this is the visual it's picking up." Seeing Drake's posture was sagging from a lack of magic, Vincent hit him with an enchantment that would speed up his magic recovery rate, which helped.






At that moment, Varan Kasra, the Olephan elephantine humanoid who served as Class Two's primary tank, approached them. Like his elephantine ancestors, his frame was massive, covered in crimson and gold trim runic tier armor, and enhanced by the similarly crimson shield he carried, emblazoned with the Arcane Eye of the God of Magic. In his main hand, was a massive spear that connected to his wrist with a chain. As a Dragonslayer Knight, this allowed him to deal with flying enemies very effectively.


"Drake Long." He rumbled, setting down a large bag of food and ingredients with his long gray wrinkled trunk, "Class Two is heading for the Wallow Dungeon. I am to deliver these, and inform you to meet us by the main entrance."


Drake nodded, glad that someone among them was taking initiative. "Very good, Varan. Ahh, actually, before you go, take this." He handed the elephant man one of the walkie talkies. "If you hold this button and speak, we will hear your words from a great distance. Its range is greater than the Party Comms. Even in a Dungeon…theoretically. I have one, and Vincent has two more. We'll pass them out to each Class once we rendezvous."


Varan looked at the device, and then at the screen, and a smile pulled up his elephant lips, below his trunk. "For one who is not an Artificer, you are quite adept with creating magitech, Drake Long. I will give this to our Class Leader, Elorin."


Drake nodded. Elorin Alden was a White Wizard, the main healer of Class Two, and one vowel away from another White Wizard that Drake was very familiar with. If he led Class Two, they were in very good hands. Probably. "Let us know if the situation changes at the Dungeon."






With a final nod, Drake's eyes widened as the massive Olephan crouched, and then leapt what had to be fifty or sixty feet in the air. He had wondered why a heavy and presumably slow tank had been used as a messenger, and now he had his answer. Apparently, Dragonslayers had mad hops. He noted that mentally, for later.


Drake turned to Vincent then, "I'm going to go check on Rael. Get the Class to the Wallow for me. Rose and the others should be back soon."


Vincent nodded. "Go on, I can handle it. I'll see you at the entrance."


Having partied up before splitting off, Drake had a vague sense of where his raid group was, and the fact that Rael was still alone at the Guild worried him. Any new willing participants should've joined the party by now. Drake hopped on Falkor, and the pair watched the battle with the Demon Lord as they hurried for the Primus Adventurer's Guild.






Suddenly, their eyes widened as a fireball, one of many aimed presumably at one of the adventurers fighting Pandarus, arced towards them after some kind of deflection. Sharing a look, Drake leapt off of Falkor's back, landing in the dragon's palm, before being flung towards the oncoming fireball. Drake put the level disparity from his mind, focusing his Ki into his Dispelling Fist. It burned through quite a lot of his recovered magic, but the monk came through mostly uncharred, and the fireball dissipated harmlessly. As strong as Galdurath was, blocking all these spells had to be draining him.


Drake returned to his dragon, as they floated before the guild. "You should probably head back to Laurelin, bud. I have a skill that should send you back there."


The doggo-turned-dragon snorted a cloud of smoke at him. "I will help Galdurath. Even a God must have a magic limit. I can break fireballs as easily as you can. I've been practicing."


Drake nodded, not inclined to stop him if he wanted to risk his safety to help. "Alright. Just be careful. And try to stay out of that thing's sight line. And don't go near it, either. When we need you in the Dungeon, I'll summon you. Good luck!"






With that, the pair split, and Falkor almost immediately got his chance to barrel roll through another stray fireball, dissipating it with his own mastery over fire, before hiding behind a building. Drake meanwhile, landed by the guild's entrance, and headed inside. The sight he found was not encouraging.


Most adventurers, it seemed, had taken shelter here, alongside several civilians, the majority of whom were lower caste. Rael was there, with several seasoned warriors behind him, arguing with a man who had to have been a noble, who was in the middle of a pompous tirade. He was well dressed in a dark brown high quality overcoat with purple accents, over an equally fine crimson vest. His ascot was loose and disheveled as was his slicked back brown hair, and his face was flushed red as he was shouting at Rael.


"…ill Not be leaving the premises! We need them here, to protect the people taking shelter! Every Demon Lord in history has had minions! I will not let some student deprive the good people of Primus of their protection!"

"Rael." Drake interjected as he entered in a hurry, robe flaring behind him, "We need to get moving. Things are getting dire in the Wallow District by the sound of it." Even with four full classes of students further bolstered by Classes One, Two, Three, and Seven, the entirety of the Academy's first year classes seemed to be having trouble, going by what he could hear over the telepathy based communication partying up granted. Apparently, the goblins were out in force, further reinforcing Galdurath's words.






The nobleman huffed. "Great. Another one."


Rael ignored him, giving Drake a look. "These Adventurers behind me offered to help, but this…aristocratic gentleman won't let them depart. He's afraid the Demon Lord's minions will come knocking."


Drake raised a brow and then glanced at the lower level adventurers. "And the lower level Adventurers cowering behind the commoners?" Rael simply shook his head. Apparently, nobody wanted to risk fighting empowered goblins at a low level.


"They're too weak to defend us!" The bespectacled noble all but shrieked, his nasally tone tinged with panic. "We need to stay here! With the Adventurers we have! You can't seriously prioritize the Wallow District over us!"


Drake got in his face, staring him down. His level was one hundred and two, and his class was listed as Ranger, yet he wore no armor and had no weapon. "And why wouldn't we prioritize them? They're the ones currently in actual danger." He floated above the noble then, ignoring him entirely as he addressed the commoners in a calm but authoritative tone.


"Listen up! Rael Astorious and I are the strongest First Years at the Academy! With us, and the other high level Adventurers protecting you, we're going to move everyone to the Academy grounds! The wards are much stronger, designed to repel Monsters, and there's a lot more room, and supplies! Currently, there are no Monsters outside, and with Adventurers around the Dungeons, there probably won't be any! Pack up what you can carry, help each other if possible, and get ready to move! The Guild is not a fortress, and the Guild Master isn't here. He's fighting right now, to keep us all safe."






The noble was fuming now, and grabbed Drake's leg, trying and failing to bring him to the floor. "I am the authority here! Not a couple of teenagers with no clue! We are NOT leaving!"


Drake's eyes narrowed, and he spun rapidly in the air, kicking the man's wrist tendons and freeing his foot. The nobleman sputtered indignantly, "How Dare-"


Drake cut him off. "Oh I'll dare, Asshole. Hold us up any longer and I will personally tie your cowardly ass to the support beam, before we leave. The God of Magic asked for everyone above level one hundred to fight the Demon Lord. That includes You, at one hundred and two. And yet here we find you, cowering with the women, children, and novice Adventurers."


The room filled with murmurs and chuckles, and the man flushed harder, before attempting to save his pride, "I-I'm just a crafter! A producer! My level reflects my crafting skills! They're not for combat!"


Drake nodded. "Good. Then you can use them to help your fellow citizens. At the Academy. Look, I understand you're scared, and that this hasn't happened in Primus before, but you're not safe here. Galdurath's barriers won't stop Monsters from coming inside. The ones at the Academy will. And we can get you there."


At that point, Kelista, the guild's clerk, chimed in as well. "I'm leaving with Drake Long, and the others." She declared, and Drake blinked, as his name inspired more murmuring. His reputation was preceding him apparently, though he had no idea how. He didn't think he'd done nearly enough yet for name recognition. She addressed the nobleman then. "They may be First Years, but Mr. Long and the young Lord Astorius are both Adamantine Rank, and have actually been in combat, Lord Wyrmstrag." When he indignantly opened his mouth, she added, "They fight Monsters, they don't just shoot scared wildlife for sport, and yes, there is a difference."






Kelista was the crack that broke the dam, and the nobleman fumed quietly, a vein in his temple visibly throbbing as the commoners passed him by without acknowledging his presence. Drake took the initiative, saying, "Rael, guide them at the front. High levels, watch our middle, and leave the rear to me. If any spells come our way, do not panic. I can Dispel them. Under no circumstance should anyone run from the group. Stay close to each other, and call out any enemies you see!" He glanced at Rael, who nodded, and said, "Alright people! We're power walking! Quickly and calmly, let's move!" As they filed out of the guild, Drake looked at the nobleman. "Are you coming with us or not, your Lordship? There probably won't be Monsters around this district, but I can't guarantee your safety here."


The purple-eyed man took a deep breath, and then finally nodded. "Fine. But…Drake Long, was it? You will be held to account for your disrespectful tone to a Noble of Primus!"


Drake stared at him incredulously. "Right now, you should be more worried about whether that Demon Lord has the magical power to level the city, not my fucking tone! Now move!"


It was only a few blocks to the school from the guild, and nothing interesting happened on the way. Once they were within the safety of the Academy's wards, Drake addressed the adventurers, as Lord Asshat led the commoners towards the main building. Drake let tem go, having had more than enough of the man's pompous cowardice for one day.


"Any level twenty or above should come with us to the Wallow entrance! For reasons I can't disclose…this may be the last chance you'll have to level up off the Goblins there, and as I'm sure some of you have heard…I have an experience boost that applies to my allies." He saw the hesitation in their eyes fade, as he said that, and smirked, as his guess at the reason for his name recognition was all but confirmed. Experience boosts were apparently very difficult to acquire. Grinding early levels was notoriously hard for most classes, and Drake had heard it was hard to find a party that would bother taking on a newbie. "We have enough higher levels to break into parties of four. Stay close to your leader, and shout if you run into something you can't deal with. Who's coming?"






A sea of eager hands rose, and they managed to form roughly nine parties. One of them had two rather strong adventurers, a steel and mithril rank, so Drake had them bring along a few level tens as well. They wasted little time in heading for the Wallow, which sat between two districts of Primus, Steelspire, to the west, and Stoneward, to the east. Almost immediately, they could tell this part of the city, the Wallow District, was essentially abandoned, but not uninhabited.


A single crossed street, and then very suddenly, the buildings were ramshackle and barely structurally sound, the people, what few were out and about given the rampaging Demon Lord in the distance, were wearing scraps of clothing, and had an all too familiar lightless look in their eye that Drake had seen from the hopelessly destitute in New York City. He'd hoped he'd never have to see that look again, but it seemed even Arcadian cities couldn't support all of their citizens.


He also noted that the usual route to the Wallow Dungeon had avoided areas like this. The houses lining that one were at least functional. This time, they'd taken the shortest route, cutting through areas and small city neighborhoods that were more akin to a ghetto. Drake now regretted letting the others lead the way here last time. The closer they came to the Dungeon, the worse things got.






Then, they heard it. The unmistakable sound of large scale combat, and the telling screams of unlucky victims to goblin perversion. "Join the others! Low levels, stay out of the Dungeon!" Having not taken on a group himself, Drake sprinted ahead towards the nearest screams with his airbending, and sure enough, found the goblins doing what they did, a hapless woman in their midst.


"Fucking Goblins…" Drake snarled, shaking with rage, and upon hearing him, the rapey little green monsters turned toward him, and then chuckled, seeing he was alone. One of them however, didn't stop. He was positioned above their victim, his foul green appendage in his tiny, foul green hand. Then, as Drake became a blur and vanished from sight, the goblin became a foul green smear on the wall, and parts of Drake's fist. The goblins babbled in confusion, then turned, as they heard Drake inhale.


He could've used the whole Shout, but that would've burned more of his depleted magic and likely hit the unconscious woman as well or at least burned her from the intense heat. In that moment, all he desired was Fire. Change given form. Power, at its most primal. Paarthurnax's words echoed in his head, straight from Skyrim.


'What will you burn?'


The goblins.


'What will you spare?'


Their victim.


He embraced these thoughts, as he inhaled deeply.






"YOL!"


The ruined structure of the building frame erupted with a loud boom and concentrated flames, reducing the goblins to ash and black smoke.


Panting from fury more than being spent, Drake turned to the woman, only to find her bleeding out from multiple stab wounds. Somehow, his revulsion for the goblins grew. There wasn't even a purpose to this, their only goal had been filling her last moments with the worst pain they could inflict.


She was human, and judging by her clothes, what was left of them, she was a local. Probably just too close to the fighting when it began, and judging by the drag marks now covered in goblin ash, her captors had brought her here recently. They didn't seem to have defiled her already, and he hoped that was true. Drake frowned, not having a healing spell, or the potions in the Bags of Holding that were with Vincent and the others. What he did have however, was Ki.


"Guess we're going full Kung Fu Panda…" He muttered, as he shifted his hands through the air quickly, separating positive energy from negative within his body, and guiding the positively charged Ki into the poor woman's body.


Or at least, he tried. But nothing happened. No golden glow, no stirring instrumental music, no miraculous mending of wounds, nothing. He took another breath, and focused, not giving in to panic. First, he reviewed what he knew about Ki, Chi, Qi, or whatever one wanted to call it. Universal Energy also worked too. From what he'd seen, it existed everywhere, even in magic, which was probably why his Dispelling Fist worked at all. Then, he mentally reviewed how monks in the mediums he was familiar with managed their healing.






World of Warcraft's had used mist as a medium, probably mostly for cool visuals, and because it was literally in the name of the expansion they'd been added in, but the concept was what mattered. Monks, as he recalled, had a rather potent instant heal that, lore wise, had them enhancing the Chi of the person they'd targeted, to speed up the body's natural healing process with their own Chi infused mist. Though Po hadn't healed anyone as far as he could remember, the concept from his universe was actually similar. He hadn't manipulated other people's Chi like Evil Bull Guy, he'd drawn it from around him, and others, and guided the flow. It wasn't about positive or negative energy, in fact, balanced energy was probably more important.


Opening his eyes again, Drake narrowed them, as he realized he was running out of time. The poor woman had lost a lot of blood already. He stayed focused, and raised a hand again, this time, kind of like he did while airbending, guiding the natural energy of their surroundings into his palm, and then into his target. Not to force her wounds shut with Ki, but to speed up her body's recovery process. It was working, but too slowly, so Drake added some of his own magic to the mix.


Sure enough, the magic reacted strongly with the focused Ki, and her body started mending quickly. Once again, Drake drained his already depleted magic, and though his Corestone Catalyst and Vincent's spell had recovered much, healing the goblin's victim had once again left him quite low. Then, suddenly, her body shone with a bright blue light, and vanished before him. Drake panicked as he wondered if that was his doing, but then stopped, as a familiar baritone thundered in his skull.


"You continue to impress me, Drake Long. I will make sure the woman receives the care she needs. Go, with my Blessing. Your allies will need you."






Drake suddenly gasped, as a torrent of magic, directly from the leylines, was focused around him in an innervating blue cyclone of magic restoration. Slowly, Drake understood why Galdurath could seemingly protect a city as large as Primus indefinitely. Firstly, he was a God, but even Gods had to have a limit of some kind. With the ability to draw on the leylines, Galdurath was essentially invincible, with an infinite pool of magic and a divine grade spell list.


"Mirror Image." He intoned, and his rainbow of ass kicking clones separated from his main body in a circle around him. "You all know what to do?" He asked, double checking.


As one, they answered him. "We slay all the Goblins!"


Drake nodded, and then, his eight copies launched out of the building, into the air. Drake joined them, and red cloak was already getting to work with a focused stream of firebending from both fists, and his mouth. Goblins died, rapidly, but the scene before him was nightmarish.






A surging green mass of monsters from the entrance of the Dungeon was clashing with a struggling defensive perimeter being enforced by the entirety of the Academy's first years. His clones made an immediate impression on the goblin's numbers, and he heard Garret's cheering roar herald his arrival as green cloak slammed into the middle of the horde, and sent hundreds of spears of earth through their foul bodies. Yellow cloak used his airbending to force them back from the beleaguered students into a manageable clump, while blue cloak flew into the clump of healers, shamelessly winked at Rose, and then started channeling Ki from around them, into his water-tuned network, and then into their healers. The natural mana regeneration of the stance was heightened, and the mostly female healers straightened up, as their magic recovered quickly.


The other Drakes floated above the sea of little green assholes firing off smaller Ki Blasts, and before they were even needed, the other Classes made brutal use of their enemy being forcibly clumped by the wind. One of the healers, a wind user of some sort who looked like a doe to Drake's eyes, helped yellow cloak keep them clumped with wind manipulation of her own. Then, came the tanks. Garret was flanked by Varian, Sethis and Bjorn at the tip of their wedge, with a whole host of diverse and bulky races beside them.


Varian ordered them into the Dungeon entrance, knowing numbers wouldn't matter in the smaller tunnels. Drake recognized a few, like Vasari, the turtle man, but he also saw Varan, the crimson clad Olephon from earlier right alongside them. Where his spear struck, entire lines of goblins were impaled to death. But there were always more surging forth from the mouth of the Wallow.






Just as they were about to take the entrance with the damage dealers helping their tanks with ranged attacks, the composition of the goblins changed. Hobgoblins suddenly charged forward over the dead and fading corpses of their kin, forcing the tanks back with the sheer amount of bodies. The hobs at the front became battering rams, all too willing to take the damage to avoid a permanent end in the Wallow.


Drake was contemplating a costly multi Kamehameha, when suddenly a knight in full plate armor that he hadn't really noticed before now formed a golden storm of death as they leapt over the wall of burly beastkin, and straight into the ranks of the hobgoblins. The figure shining with what had to be Laurelin's divine light buried a glowing goblin axe in a hobgoblin's skull, and then drew the giant golden greatsword on his back. It lit up with intricate runes along its length as the plate armored warrior intoned, "Retribution Aura…" A golden rune appeared below him in a large circle, catching the full entrance of the Wallow perfectly, as if it had been made for the purpose of covering that exact space.


Drake got a good look at him, in the moment before the hobgoblins surged towards him. He'd been with Class Three earlier, but hadn't really stood out at the time. His name was listed as Aegis Bryllon. Class, Divine Slayer. Level forty two. Unlike most, there was also a title below his listed name: The Green Reaper. Titles like that were usually given only by the system, and only after killing an absurd amount of specific types of monsters. Drake didn't have to guess what he'd killed to receive that one.


As the hobgoblins leapt at him, the armored knight flared with holy power, shouting, "DIVINE STORM!"

And that was exactly what erupted around him. A storm of swirling golden divine energy reduced the hobgoblins, and the lesser goblins among them, to ash as the raw energy touched their foul forms. Much like the variant of the move Drake was familiar with, the more enemies it hit, the higher chance Divine Storm had to activate again. Aegis advanced relentlessly, beheading any hob that came near him and didn't immediately die. The tanks were right behind him, and seeing their momentum, the damage dealers and healers followed, forcing the goblins back into the Dungeon, and giving them a permanent end. Drake puzzled over the man's name, in his head, as his copies advanced with the group.


Aegis Bryllon.


Having one hundred and ninety intelligence made rearranging the anagram the man's name hid quite easy, and a wide smirk appeared under his hood. In his head, assuming the Goddess could hear him, he said, "Laurelin…you did say I was the only person you isekai'd other than Galdurath, right?"


He heard an amused giggle from the Goddess. "I've been known to guide a soul or two to a new life on Arcadia, from across the Multiverse…when their time in their own Universe comes to an end, of course. It's not technically what you two nerds would call 'isekai'. They were simply guided into rebirth here, and not in their own Universes."


"Of course." Drake said, "And I'm guessing he's not the only one?"


"You'll just have to traverse the world and find out how many there are." Laurelin answered with her amused tone.


Chuckling darkly, Drake followed after the man who was, quite possibly, the most ideal person one could want in a party dedicated to destroying a Dungeon full of goblins.






The classes chosen by Galdurath broke into their parties of four as they advanced down each tunnel. The other classes of first years and the lowbies from the Adventurer's Guild remained outside, dealing with the goblins that had managed to escape in the fighting. Aside from their usual dark deeds, they could also potentially dig new tunnels into the Wallow if they had enough time and energy. Two parties guarded the entrance with Class Four's Instructor, as his level was in the high nineties, and they would keep those inside from being overrun.


Tunnel by tunnel, they followed the established maps of the Wallow's top level, and used their skills to block off cleared out dead ends. Drake's clones all benefited from his Battlefield Awareness, and called out goblins wherever they found them. Eventually, they found the Floor Boss, and it was decided that the lowest level party would take them, with help from a Drake clone.


The Floor Boss wasn't too interesting, just a slightly stronger than normal hobgoblin sitting in front of a rather shoddy treasure chest with his giant axe and bad attitude. Apparently, this meant the loot was the worst quality. Aegis wasn't content to just sit and wait for them to finish, so he took the original Drake, and one other volunteer, a foxy female called Koreia, whose Dancer Class was able to synchronize with and even heal melee damage dealers like Drake and Aegis.






The other students were quite amused by the colorful cadre of Drakes, as the original departed with the other two to look for more goblins. They'd all agreed to go in groups for one more thorough sweep of the tunnels, and Drake entrusted Rose to black cloak while everyone else picked their favorite color of Drake. He personally wanted to probe Aegis for knowledge.


"You kill Goblins well." The knight said, after a brief awkward silence, looking towards Drake, and not their vixen companion. "I heard about the Malblin Tyrant. I've only seen a Malblin down here once. At a distance. We didn't have the supplies to kill it."


Drake looked around with his perception skill again, but found nothing. "It was tough." Drake admitted. "I thought for sure that I was dead when it pulled me under the fortress."


Koreia's twin white fluffy tails swished as she leaned closer to Drake and stared at him with her big orange-brown eyes. He blinked but didn't otherwise react as she said, "You really faced the final phase of a Floor Boss infused by a shard of Dagorath all alone?"


Drake nodded, and allowed himself a confident smirk. "I did. I can actually punch things and heal sometimes, and that managed to keep me alive down there."






Aegis cut in then, after confirming Drake hadn't sensed anything. "The underground part of the fortress…I've heard you say that they had extensive tunnels down there. Do you remember how many?"


Drake thought for a moment. "I was focused mainly on trying not to die, but…hmm. Let me think for a moment." Drake closed his eyes, and focused on blocking out the panic and fear in his memories as he recalled his fight. Once again, his enhanced brain helped him do this quite accurately, and quickly. "At least ten…and a large main one that seemed to head directly down at a sharp angle."


Aegis stopped in his tracks. "You're sure it headed downwards?" Drake nodded, and he swore. "The levels of a Dungeon are supposed to be choked by small but universal points. These are usually what keep the higher level Monsters in the lower levels."


Drake's eyes widened. "If they're just tunneling past them…much stronger Goblins could be at the second level by now! Who knows how many years they've had…"


"And where else they've tunneled…" Aegis said, looking downward.






As if waiting for that revelation, a booming, omnipresent, and malicious laugh echoed through the tunnels. The three of them shared a look in the brief silence that followed. Drake blinked, and then looked down at his feet, as he felt a tremor through the ground, and as the Floor Boss team confirmed they had taken it down, one second later, the floor of the first layer began to collapse under them.


They tried to cling to the sides of the cave tunnels, but found them to be covered with some kind of foul, clear ichor they hadn't noticed earlier. Almost instantly, the entirety of the three classes scattered through the tunnels of the Wallow's first level were free falling to the second level. That might have been bad enough for most adventurers in the Wallow, but these were pretty high level, and the Final Boss was well aware of that.


Thus, to ensure their death, the entire second level of the Wallow had been reformed. Drake, who'd been there before, likened it to Mordor at the height of Sauron's influence. The air was thick with heavy smoke, the overpowering stench of goblin filth, and the distant echoing howls of their canine mounts. Four large black metal keeps occupied the cardinal directions of the level, with one massive black iron citadel in the space where the ruined fortress they'd battled the Malblin Tyrant had once been, guarding the entrance to the third level. Various smaller structures dotted the landscape between the fortresses. Whoever their blacksmith was, they'd clearly been improving.


Then, as they fell further and people started flying and catching those who couldn't, Drake saw it. Despite the apparent hour being night time, he made out what awaited them below in the ominous and unnervingly familiar glow of a large, green moon that hadn't been in the sky the last time. What he'd mistaken for the rolling hills of green that had comprised the second level of the Dungeon were still there, but instead of grass, what awaited them at the end of their well over a thousand foot drop was a teeming horde of Goblins that filled the entire level of the Dungeon.

---

If there are specific characters you want to see in action (or you have an OC of your own in mind) say so in the comments, and I can give them a role in the unfolding shitstorm awaiting our heroes​

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 13: The Wallow, Part 1: That's 692,412. One Left.



Class One

Spoiler

Class Two

Spoiler

Class Three

Spoiler

Class Seven

Spoiler

Dungeon Level Two - The Wallow​

"Green!"

"On it!" The earthbending Drake shouted, as he slammed his forearms together, and forced a large amount of the rock that had formerly comprised the floor of the Wallow's first level to fuse together, black cloak landed immediately after, with Rose, and the main Drake exhaled in relief. Then, he started giving commands. "My Mirror Images can grab nine! Lyria! Cast Fly on Vasari, Brammoth, Garruk, Orlok, Valen, and Kalen!" Activating her staff, the plummeting Dark Elf did so with impressive focus, saving the heaviest among them with a timely spell, along with herself.

"I can cast it on four others!" Rael shouted while plummeting, and he saved his party, namely Varian, Elara, Ceyrin's wolf Draug, and Varan, the Olephan. Ceyrin and Merle, being flight-capable, each caught one of their peers, and following their lead, the rest of the magic casters also used Fly. Luckily, they had almost exactly enough power for fifty falling adventurers, and two pets.

Galadhon, the Earth Sage who was built and looked like a moose, helped green cloak Drake draw together a massive amount of earth for all of them to stand on, and by the time they were done, they'd created a small floating island above the heaving hordes of goblins below out of the majority of the rock and stone that had once been a Dungeon floor. A few pieces of the first level had managed to impact below, leaving large craters, but the goblins filled them, surging towards the floating island from all across the second level.




Drake let them, as that would just make it easier to end them later. "Well done, everyone…" Drake said, once they'd gathered in the center. "I'm really glad you guys invested in Pegasus Feathers…we'd have lost a few people if you all weren't from wealthy families…" There was an awkward chuckle, then silence, at least until black cloak Drake rejoined them.

"It's like you thought, White. There's some invisible barrier preventing us from just flying back up. I tried going through the entrance to the first level…but the gravity suddenly increased, and dragged me through back to the second. The Final Boss isn't going to let us leave and call for backup."

The original Drake nodded. "Alright then. We continue as planned." He fished Drone out of his reclaimed Bag of Holding, as a stunned silence and low murmurs filled the air.
"Drake…" Rael began, diplomatically, "You can't seriously think we can take all of those Goblins down there…"




Aegis Bryllon stepped forward, clearly ready to declare that they would, in fact, be slaying all the goblins, but Drake held up a hand for him to wait, and the knight did so with a slow nod. They'd only known each other a brief time, but in that brief time, they'd killed a lot of goblins, which meant the paladin now had legitimate respect for Drake. Their purposes were aligned.

"I know some of you are intimidated. Scared. Terrified of just how outnumbered we are, even though there's about half a hundred of us. Especially the women…" He looked down for a moment, then looked back up, as Drone floated into the air beside him, its omnidirectional eyes taking in their situation. It let out a low toot of concern as it scanned the sheer amount of goblins below, dodging away from the edge as a shoddy arrow whizzed past it.

"All I see down there, is a bunch of moving sentient Experience points! They're Goblins! And now that they're trapped here with us, we are going to scour every inch of this Dungeon…until every single Gobin is dead. Permanently. We couldn't leave even if we wanted to, people. So…in light of what may be our final respite before diving into that green Hell waiting for us, I can have Drone here record messages for your families, in the event of your deaths." There were several gasps of shock, but Drake cut through them, "I have no intention of letting anyone die down here! But Chronogrin is going to make this a long, grueling, arduous process before we ever get close to him. He could make us die of old age before we ever even get within sight of his layer…but I have a theory." Drake paused, for dramatic effect, spinning as he addressed every teen present.

"I've mined in this Dungeon before. I've gotten all the way to the barrier between the levels…and I'm telling you, the only thing that could erode those, is Chronogrin's time magic, and a very skilled digger. Its likely taken him quite a lot of his power to dig from this level down, and to collapse the first level with us in it. I asked Galdurath himself how Time Magic works, and from the God of Magic's explanation, it will take years up above, in real time, for him to recoup all that power. He's not weak by any means, and ending him won't be easy, but we can reach him! And people up top are going to see us do it, thanks to Drone here! We're going to be Legends by the time we're done! Whose with me!?"




There was a pregnant pause following his short speech, and then, Aegis stepped forward, raising his shield. "We don't stop, until we slay ALL the Goblins!" His party cheered with him, and the rest of Class Three was in agreement. The goblins had to die. Some, just wanted to see what Aegis would do, once the Wallow was purged, namely, the buxom redheaded artificer who was his party's healer and kept making obvious smitten eyes at the armored goblin slayer.

Rose stepped up next to him. "I'm with you…always." Drake hugged her close, and enjoyed the blush that caused.

Tala was right behind her. "I'm in too!"

Garret stepped forward, and nodded. Sethis joined him, as did, eventually, the rest of Class Seven. The fox girl, Koreia, also stepped forward. "You're a sharp leader, Drake Long. You had your party's Sorceress save our heaviest friends first, instead of your own Classmates. I'm in too."

Varan was next, and then, one by one, all forty eight members of Classes One, Two, Three, and Seven agreed to keep going. Then, one by one, they entered a raised earth shelter for privacy, to record their final wills and goodbyes, if they died. Drake went first, and was done the fastest.




He looked down, as Drone started recording. "My name is Drake Long…and I have no family on Arcadia. That I know of, anyway. So I'll address this to those who matter most to me, in no particular order. Rose…you stole my heart in record time, and though it's breaking mine to say this…I can't condemn you to an immortality of loneliness just because I fucked up and died. I'm not that selfish. Grieve as long as you want…but move on from me, eventually. I won't be able to rest in peace, otherwise…"

"Laurelin…Galdurath…if you're seeing this, then I failed you on my first attempt to shift the structure of your wonderful world. I'm sorry. Apparently…Fate was wrong to guide you to me…but I enjoyed every second of my Arcadian adventure, so…thank you, for giving me a chance…don't give up on your dream, and keep that little one safe."

"And finally…Falkor, be a good boy, and don't immediately follow me into death. Get Laurelin to make other Luckdragons, so you're not completely alone. Who knows, if you stick around long enough, with your abilities, you'll probably be able to find whoever I reincarnate into. Stay safe, don't eat too much pizza, and…live long, and prosper."




Drake wiped his eyes, stepped out, and quietly hoped he could delete that message soon. The Gods probably didn't need one, but he felt better having his thoughts on the record, just in case. Rael went next, followed by the rest of Class One, then Two, Three, and Seven. It took about thirty minutes in total, but by the time Zara had finished recording, there were quite a lot of puffy but determined eyes, ready to slay some goblins.

They gathered by the edge of the floating island, and looked down on the teeming, clumped mass of goblins. Drake grinned at the sight. "Idiots…they're making this almost too easy. Drone! Activate the stream!" Every single female among all four classes, and no small number of the males, started fixing their hair and adjusting their clothes as they heard him.

Drone chirped in acknowledgement. "Streaming active, devices are paired."

Drake turned with a dramatic flourish of his cloak, and smirked confidently up at the magical recording device.




"Greetings, people of Arcadia!" He started loudly, hoping that would draw at least someone's notice. It'd be very awkward if nobody above was actually watching their stream.

"We are here, on the second level of the Wallow Dungeon, giving you fine people up above the chance to see us clear this stinking cesspit once and for all! We are Guild-trained Operatives Butchering Low Intelligence Nuisances while Systematically Leveling Arcadia's Young Elite Raid Strikeforce!" There were a few chuckles around him, and in the back of his head, as his clever classmates realized what he'd named them. "That's right, folks…we're the Goblin Slayers! And we're going to slay ALL the Goblins! Drone! Show the fine people up above just how many of these little green rape monsters we're dealing with."

Drone cautiously approached the edge again, taking in the view below, and in the distance. Hundreds of thousands of goblins were marching towards them, and their giant black metal citadel in the distance was limned by a full, green moon against a night sky. A few people whooped, Aegis drew his greatsword, and Varan punctuated his declaration with a loud trumpeting elephantine cry. Drake wasted no time. "Alright people! You know the plan! Into the air! Everyone with access to Meteor…do your thing!"




Galadhon, who'd been keeping them aloft so far alongside green cloak Drake, now shifted focus to a smaller chunk of rock for him to surf on. The casters worked in unison to form the chunk of the former level one Dungeon floor into a large, wide, dense circle, and Drake smirked, as he saw some goblins below realize what was about to happen. "They're onto us!" He called out, and suddenly, the casting sped up dramatically. As intense waves of visible magic swirled around their sorcerers and wizards while they readied the spell, the massive, wide meteor rose into the air with their combined efforts.

Elandar, Class Two's Dark Elven artificer, threw several bottles at it coating its surface as he flew around the meteor, and then Class One's fire sage, Elara, set it aflame, right as the casters finished chanting, and the meteor had all but reached the height of the floor it had fallen from once again.

Lyria called out the spell, finishing the chant and becoming its central focus in the final moments of it. "Grand Meteor!" The gathered magic surged into her, and then into her top tier staff, shooting upwards in an intense white beam of energy, and then vanishing into a swirl of suddenly formed magical clouds above the focus of their casting. As the meteor began to succumb to gravity, the white beam hammered it from above, infusing it with power and magically enhanced momentum.

And with that, the massive stone slightly shifted its trajectory and began its arcing descent towards the ground, close enough to the massed goblins to crush them, but also in the same general area as their citadel. They'd subtly floated their platform towards the citadel while they'd prepared, and the idiot goblins had followed them, guaranteeing they'd all probably die together.

​

The others had not been idle, while the casters did their thing. Near the former exit to the level, in a still somewhat uninhabited area the goblins had ignored, or not developed for some reason, they'd dug deep into the ground, over three hundred feet, with Drake and Galadhon's earthbending prowess, with help from the three Greater Earth Elementals that Lyria had summoned to make sure they could dig deep enough to survive the massive impact that was rapidly approaching. The flying casters made it back in time to watch their handiwork, and just before impact, everyone flew into the hastily made bunker.

"Wizards, we're going to need a Shield, probably!" Drake shouted as his clones arrived, flying down the massive tunnel and into the fortified earth bunker. "Red! Handle the heat!"

Reality shook as a massive meteor on par with what had scoured the Dinosaurs from the Earth smashed into the second layer of the Wallow, incinerating every single goblin on the level, the forts, their loot, and the top levels of the goblin's citadel with the initial rolling surge of the super heated impact.

Intense heat surged down their tunnel, and said tunnel collapsed as stone melted and the earth became unstable.

"I think we overdid it…" Leif muttered, as the aftershocks, kept to this level of the Wallow thanks to the Dungeon's magic construction, violently shook their underground bunker.




The shaking didn't immediately stop though, and a few people hurled. Drake had a guilty look, as everyone was quite uncomfortable, and the only thing keeping them from being tossed around too much was Galadhon and his earthbending clone. Finally, after ten minutes, he shouted, "Drone! How long are these aftershocks going to last!?"

Out of all of them, Drone was doing the best, as floating made it immune to the violent shaking of the earth. "Given the enclosed nature of the Dungeon, my estimate is…two to three hours, and six to twelve of lesser aftershocks."

Everyone groaned collectively, and Galadhon spoke, "I can't last that long, my magic will run out long before they end."

"And we can't fly indefinitely…" Drake said quietly. "Alright, the best strategy is to descend to the third level, There will be a lot less shaking down there…probably. Galadhon, take a potion, and then we'll fly to what's left of the citadel, kill any Goblins, and head lower."




With careful focus, they ascended with their bunker to the surface, and then into the still blistering hot air. Red cloak Drake continued diverting the heat around them as they moved. "Holy shit…" The real Drake muttered, as Drone bleeped out his swear with a chirp, and they took in the devastation. Everything was gone, either burnt to a crisp or collapsed in the visible rolling aftershocks ricocheting through the second level.

"Oh Gods…" Rose murmured, as the rest of the party stared wide-eyed at their handiwork. "I hope they didn't have prisoners up here!" She said, slightly panicked.

Aegis chuckled darkly. "Don't worry…they're all kept on the lower levels, near Chronogrin and his Generals." He slapped Drake on the back, and chuckled louder. "Well done spellcasters! One spell, for at least a few hundred thousand Goblins!" He brought out his greatsword then, practically radiating vengeance as it lit up with golden runes of holy power. "Let's Purge the rest…"




As they flew towards the citadel, or what was left of it, it was Tala who noticed first. "Good Gods!" All eyes shifted to the buxom bunny girl. "Our Levels! I'm fifty three now! That's…"

Aegis broke in. "The combined Experience from every single dead Goblin…heh, got me to forty six. The Gods are generous, for our good deed."

Drake checked his own level, and had gone from seventy to almost seventy two. Whatever they killed in the citadel would likely make him ding.

"It's not just Experience…" Class Three's elven enchanter, Emrys, Drake believed his name was, said as he checked his own status. "Every dead Monster on a Dungeon's level contributes to the quality of the chest behind the Floor Boss."

"Drone." Drake cut in. "You saw the horde. Give me your best guess of their numbers."

Drone booped, as it spoke. "Recalling image. Calculating number of visible Goblins. Accounting for Goblins underground or within structures at time of impact. Accounting for dead Goblins in the citadel. Final number estimate: six hundred ninety two thousand, four hundred and twelve. Slightly less than seven hundred thousand dead Goblinoids. Congratulations. You are all prolific mass murderers."




The students largely ignored Drone's jab, too preoccupied with the thought of loot. "Seven hundred thousand…" Leif said, a grin on his foxy face, "That chest has got to be as good as the one that Falkor empowered for us…if not Better." The desire for loot was clear amongst the adventurers, though Drake quietly doubted, even with such a kill count, there'd be something for everyone. They'd probably have to leave it to the class leaders to figure out who got what.

"Speaking of Falkor…" Tala said, elbowing the real Drake, "When is your fire-breathing powerhouse joining us?"

"A Dragon would kill a lot of Goblins…" Aegis added with eager malice in his tone.

Drake chuckled. "He'll join us when things turn dire, and we need a little luck…and not a second before. He's helping Galdurath keep the city intact. Now get ready…we're nearly there."

Galadhon and green cloak Drake earthbended them up through the thoroughly shattered goblin citadel. The ramparts were covered with dead goblins and shattered walls, while several curtain walls and chambers had collapsed and continued to do so as waves of seismic force continued to roll through the ground.




They entered the shattered citadel through one of the fallen walls closer to the center of the structure. Aegis leapt off first, and took the lead. "Stay close, watch the ceilings, and call out targets. Spread out by Class. The Goblins will be near the back, by the entrance to the next level, hiding like cowards."

Systemically, room by ruined room, they investigated the citadel. Drake couldn't even tell where the fortress they'd fought the Malblin King had once been, despite this being the same land. They found mostly ruined barracks within the structure, and they realized most of those now incinerated goblins had probably bunked here. They seemed to have hammocks and not much else, signifying a spartan lifestyle that had ended in fire, and yet Drake felt no pity.

As minutes ticked by, he eventually muttered, "Battlefield Awareness…" and quickly, he understood where the Floor Boss was. "Guys. It's Drake. If there were any Goblins here…they've all fled to the lower levels. The only one left is the Floor Boss…and he's sitting on our loot. Literally."

"Ugh! Rush him! I don't want my rewards to stink of Goblin ass!" One of the girls shouted over their shared raid party comms, and sure enough, the other parties began moving to the point Drake chose to rendezvous.

Fifty powerful adventurers promptly converged on Class Seven's location, and made their way to the Floor Boss. He was, of course, sitting within a circular chamber that, before the Grand Meteor, could have actually been called opulent. Drake frowned, as opulence was not something that goblins cared for…usually. But, there were remnants of hand-weaved cloth rugs, now scorched, and piles of humanoid and beastkin skulls adorning the walls and what looked like a goblin's imitation of a fireplace. Drake eyed long-charred human bones within it, and his frown became a grimace. Of course, monsters had no idea what fireplaces were for. So they'd used it for torture, disposal, or both.





The target of their raid was level sixty eight, and listed as a Bugbear Warlord. Behind him, and the sagging chest he'd been sitting on, was a large fireplace, and apparently they'd have to crawl through that to get to the tunnel leading presumably to the third level. The 'usual' entrance to the next floor had been abandoned, and according to Varan, who'd poked his giant elephantine head out of it, the goblins had it covered the other side with archers. Too many to realistically fight, as the opening had led into a maze of some sort, with high walls and well placed snipers.

They probably had the tunnel trapped too, but it was at least wider, so they'd opted to go through that instead, despite not knowing if it actually led deeper than the third level. It was also where their loot was. The warlord stood up as the adventurers rushed in. He was massive, hairy, and had two long curled goat horns growing out of his skull, along with several fairly well crafted pieces of armor adorning his muscular frame, the most ornate of which depicted a grinning, obese goblin face on his belt. He held a massive double bladed axe in one hand, while the other was covered in a clawed gauntlet that could parry, and stab his enemies. He was an older bugbear, hardened by age, with a cunning intelligence shining in his aged eyes.

The tanks spread out as the giant bugbear grimaced at the large number of adventurers who had ruined his level of the Dungeon and obliterated his army with a single spell. His punishment for this 'incompetence' was to stay behind to face them. Not that he could leave anyway. Floor Bosses were magically bound to the floors they were given, and that binding gave them power. Against half a hundred high level adventurers though, even the low intelligence bugbear knew his fate was sealed.

That didn't mean he was going to make things easy for them, though. Buffs flared up around him, at what Drake recognized as tier three. Strength, enhanced speed, and vitality for a larger health pool. Drake frowned, as it was similar to what he and the other damage dealers were using. Alvar's Buffs were still on him, and the others had Buffed up while they'd been flying over here.

Koreia, the fox girl dancer he'd gone goblin hunting with along with Aegis, came up to him as the damage dealers got in position. "Drake. I'm choosing you as my dance partner." Drake opened his mouth to say something, and glanced at Rose, who was glaring at her newest apparent rival, but Koreia was already raising her hand to her mouth, palm up, and blowing on him. Magic swirled around him, and he blinked, as he saw a new Buff on him, one that apparently shared their active Buffs, in a way that stacked them. Koreia's pupils widened as the potency of the magic of the Academy's strongest cleric affected her, as well. "Wow…Fourth Tier Buffs are…potent." She focused then, and formed a pair of magical chakrams above her palms. "Let's spread them around!"




The two tailed fox girl started dancing around him then, twirling and shamelessly winking, before she leapt away to the other side of the party. A pulse of green energy surged from both her and the main Drake, spreading across the entire group. There were quiet murmurs as the potent power ups were shared through the dancer's magic, and then a new surge of magic flowed into Drake, this time from Vincent. He pushed his glasses up and smirked confidently. "Alvar's gift to you will last even longer, now. We should be ready."

Nods were shared among their twelve tankiest members, and the bugbear glared at them as the tanks started confusing their target with multiple taunt skills. Confusion was a serious debuff, but as it took effect, a line of purple magic shot into the aged bugbear's skull, his eyes focused, and he swung his axe through all three of Lyria's earth elementals at once, as a shockwave of energy drove the line of tanks back.

Drake focused on the fireplace from whence the beam had come. Murder holes opened around the chamber, and poisonous goblin bolts rained down on their healers. Leif snarled at Drake. "You said it was alone!"

Drake grimaced. "They must've been hiding beyond my range…maybe an upgrade would change that. Rogues, handle the ones in the walls! I'll deal with the Shaman…" Drake cast Invisibility, one of his few actual spells, and then shifted into Stealth when out of sight.




The damage dealers began hammering the bugbear with their attacks. Aegis slashed him with his greatsword, and then spun behind his party tank, Thalondor, as the bugbear retaliated. Thalondor was a Vireolith, essentially an Ent by Drake's understanding, and he was also a druid who preferred shapeshifting. The bugbear's axe sank into his bark, and stuck fast as Thalondor became a massive hardwood bear with glowing light blue eyes and runes engraved into his wooden body. He mauled the bugbear with sharp ironwood claws, making him drop his axe, and then further stumble back as Aegis, supported by the spellcasters, hammered him. Hard.

Drake saw a flash of movement beyond the smoldering fireplace, and moved, Hidden Blades out as he somersaulted through the fire, and buried them in the shaman's neck, and brain. There was a cry of alarm from in front of him as the shaman fell over, and a dark grin came over his face as he stepped through the shadows and created a spectacle of goblin slaughter worthy of the assassins he was shamelessly copying.

His swift strikes broke through their guards, and his parrying consistently saw him ending the lower level goblins. One tried to flee, and got a Ki Blast to the spine for its cowardice. Drake guessed that the small tunnels in this dank hidden room behind the fireplace led to the murder holes out in the chamber, and sure enough, at the back of it, he found the large descending hole to the lower levels, dark, ominous, and not yet for exploring. He left a pile of very dead goblins slowly turning to smoke, and returned to the fight.

The scene he arrived at, was pure chaos. Several dead lesser goblins littered the floor, and another one joined them as it opened its murder hole, only to be impaled by a long arrow from Class Three's sniper, a panther beastkin Drake didn't remember the name of in that moment, new as these acquaintances were. The bugbear was going blow for blow with Varian, who switched with Garret, who switched with Sethis, and so on. They had so many tanks, they could effectively trade blows and take little to no damage.




The damage dealers were also joined by the healers, and as Vasari used his Tollan turtle shell to parry the bugbear's latest blow with a flashing rune that caused him to stumble back and he was further thrown off balance by another shockwave that dangerously shook what remained of the citadel. As he lost his guard, the bugbear was again hammered by fire, ice, stones, lightning, arrows, and Ki Blasts from Drake's clones.

Draug's dire wolf fangs tore through the bugbear's leg tendons, making him kneel, while Class One's Tollan tank, switched off with Kalen, the dire bear who was partnered with the Shieldbow Ranger centaur known as Valen. A magic arrow almost comically propelled the armored dire bear forward with magic as he rolled into the bugbear, knocking him prone.

At that point, the damage dealers descended upon him, stabbing, burning and striking while taking full advantage of the Floor Boss's weakness. The bugbear refused to go down without a fight though, and instead of giving in to despair or death like a mortal might have, pure rage clouded his typically clear vision. His orders to stay here and die had come from Emperor Chronogrin. They could not be ignored. Even if he'd wanted to parlay with the adventurers, they didn't speak the garbled nonsense that was the goblin's language, a tongue only monsters could truly comprehend, thanks to meddling from the God of Magic. Of all his many acts, making sure adventurers and monsters could not communicate, aside from speaking in Galdurian, was one of his more morally gray acts as a God.

The tongue of Arcadia's denizens, while once spoken by many who'd since turned into monsters, was quite hard to speak for those like goblinoids, who'd been created of pure darkness by the God of Monsters. But, there was one word that the aged bugbear had heard the surface dwellers, particularly the women, shout when they finally reached their ultimate fate in the lower levels. A word spoken with the kind of despair, pain, and anguished rage that made the Dungeon spawn more goblins. It was short, simple, and the only Galdurian word he knew.




The warlord gritted his teeth, muscles tensing as his lifeblood spilled onto the stone. Even surrounded and heavily wounded, his battle instincts refused to let him die a coward's death. An ominous red aura surrounded him, not empowered by Chronogrin or Dagorath, but by the bugbear himself, a skill of his own, derived from his warlord class. His left arm moved suddenly, spearing the irritating bear in the chest with the claws built into his gauntlet. A wave of repulsing energy sent every adventurer lower than him in level soaring into the surrounding stonework as he leapt to his feet and shouted, "NO!"

The Bugbear Warlord narrowed his eyes as he realized several adventurers had not been blown away by his aura burst, or rather, several copies of the robed adventurer that seemed much stronger than the others. He looked up as one of the copies with a black cloak returned, with one of the healing elves clutched close to him.

A dark smirk crept up the bugbear's bruised visage. The warrior may have been stronger in terms of level…but he had a weakness. "Your despair will bolster my kin…" He growled, despite knowing the surface dwellers wouldn't understand him.




"Kag majagga nowunnawunga min kizeer…"

Drake didn't understand the beast, but language was fifty percent tone, and he recognized the look in the monstrosity's eyes as he saw Rose. "Brown… join black. The rest of you…help me kill this abomination." Drakes red through purple stepped up and joined white, as brown fell back, and Drake chuckled darkly as he glanced at them. "This fuckers about to taste the rainbow…"

That got a chuckle from perhaps the only other 'people' on the planet who would get that reference, and then, as one, the rainbow brigade blurred forward, with their Fury of the First Dragon in full effect. Original Drake went straight for the rock-encased roundhouse kick to the face, which managed to knock the bugbear prone. Red started burning the parts of him that were already scorched, while orange combined fire and stone on his hands, and dripped magma on his face, specifically his eyes. Yellow drew the air out of his lungs, and green bound his limbs in rock, then encased his weapon in stone as well. Blue manipulated the water they had on hand to repeatedly stab him with ice spikes in the abdomen, and purple cloak melded out of stealth to cut his throat.

Or at least, he tried. The bugbear shifted his head down to cover his neck, causing the X shaped slash to dig into his face instead. He headbutted purple, sending him flying back towards their slowly recovering raid party that was getting progressively more stuck in their surroundings as another aftershock rolled through the chamber and caused more of the citadel to fall. The Bugbear Warlord grabbed for orange cloak successfully, and started squeezing. The original Drake was there though, and once again leapt and used his momentum to roll into a spinning downward kick on the bugbear's arm. This time, the stone on his heel was sharpened into a vicious point, and it dug into the monster's forearm tendons, forcing its grip on orange to falter. Angrily, orange cloak then leapt for his face, pushing both magma covered hands into the bleeding X that purple had left.




With a roar of pain and rage, the bugbear's other hand smashed orange cloak with a punch, sending him flying as well, as he let out another pulse of aura and intent. For reasons he couldn't understand, as he could no longer see, the elemental assaults suddenly ceased. This was mostly because Aegis had finally pulled himself out of the stonework he'd crashed into, charged up a shining holy attack, and went for the kill. Drake knew they'd all get more experience if one of the lower levels got the blow, so the Mirror Images shifted to helping the party to their feet instead.

The bugbear didn't realize his head had been removed until he felt his face hit the ground, and then heard his body collapse beside him. He tried activating his skills, but without his body, he was already disappearing.

Aegis walked over to the fallen head as it started dissipating, still radiating holy rage. "You took that word from your victims…" He plunged the greatsword into the bugbear's skull. "Now I'm taking it from you…" With a wheezing growl of anger, the bugbear dissipated completely, and Aegis sheathed his greatsword.




The party coalesced around Aegis after that, and congratulated Drake as well. Seeing his Mirror Images were almost at their three hour time limit, he recalled them, and they'd be ready to go again by the time the loot was distributed. The slightly sunken chest in question, now focused on by almost fifty pairs of eyes, was checked for traps, and then opened by one of the rogues. As expected, despite being quite high tier, there was not enough armor and trinkets for everybody. There was also a solid ten minutes of bickering, at which point Drake suggested that the Class leaders deal with the distribution on the basis of those who needed the loot the most.

Obviously, this couldn't be applied to every piece, so for the armor that would help multiple people, they brought out a set of Dungeons and Deities dice belonging to Vincent, and using his dodecahedron, whoever rolled higher on the twenty sided semi-spherical die would get the loot. Leaving things to chance thankfully forestalled any more arguing. As those who beat the boss, Drake and Aegis both received items as well, despite Drake being the highest level and not really needing one, he still had an open trinket slot, and this newest acquisition promised to make him even more overpowered.

As he stared at his item, Rose, Tala, Koreia, and Vincent crowded around him. Rose abused her gorgeous eyes, and her hold on his heart as she batted them at him. "Can we see what you received? We're all curious."

Drake chuckled, and lightly grabbed her chin. "You don't have to persuade me, Rose…there's nothing I'd keep from You." Satisfied with the blush that caused in her cheeks, Drake glanced around. Some of their plate armor wearers had taken the bugbear's armor, but nobody had wanted his axe, because of the curse upon it, which had appeared once he'd died, and his loot had reached the appropriate tier for wiping out over half a million goblins. Apparently, many legendary class items had drawbacks like that, but Drake could find none, with his own. The axe was shoved into the Bag of Holding, to be deconstructed later and used by the two Omnicrafters among them. The majority of the Classes were watching him eagerly, and Drake sighed.




"Alright, fine." He lifted the trinket, a circular device resembling a sundial, made of black stone or metal, with a white triangular gnomon jutting up from its center. He paused, as he remembered where he was, and over their mental raid party comms, gave the verbal equivalent of shift clicking a sweet drop in an MMO. "Behold, the Chronognomon (chrono-no-mon). First, the passive effects: It renders its bearer completely immune to all forms of Time Magic, and their natural Health Point and Magic regeneration are increased with each Class level gained. This passive regeneration is even faster while resting, so needing eight hours would probably change to four."

Drake already only needed four hours thanks to his Healing Trance skill, which meant he could likely get a full long rest in minutes, maybe an hour at most. "When activated, the obelisk it sets down creates an immobile fifty foot sphere of complete Time Magic nullification for all designated allies. It lasts until I cancel it, or move one hundred feet away. Only usable once per day. Also, very important to note, under no circumstance should you guys touch the obleisk. It should be fine for all of you, but…enemies who touch the obelisk, or attack it, have their remaining lifespan drained from them, and stored in the obelisk for me to use how I please."

Vincent's mouth was agape, but he still responded silently, over the raid telepathy. "It's…like the Dungeon wants us to clear it…"

Drake nodded. "I can also upgrade it…I need a lot of rare stuff, but if I do…it'll gain the power to stop time as well, in the same radius, once per day. For everyone but myself. I could pummel a Final Boss at my leisure."

Aegis was practically radiating excitement. "With this…Legendary item…we have a real chance against Chronogrin...and his minions. Let's get moving. There are still more Goblins to kill."




The raid party moved with some difficulty through the fireplace hiding the goblin-made tunnel to the next level of the Wallow. Many of their tanks and larger members had to crawl through the ash-stained structure, and even with Prestidigitation, some stains had lingered.

By the time they were at the edge of the tunnel, Drake's Mirror Images were up again, and a solid thirty minutes had passed, allowing the magic casters to fully recover and cool down their spells and magic. This time, Aegis briefed them, his large sword sheathed now on his back.

"This is very likely a trap." He stated plainly, "The Goblins have probably filled this tunnel with secret holes and entrances designed to separate us. Luckily, we already know we can all fly, but don't assume that means we're safe. They could have a Mass Dispel waiting from one of their Shamans or Priests. If you Do get separated, and you end up alone, try to hide. Don't fight. We will find you. It's unlikely that this tunnel extends to multiple levels, so stay alive and try to stay hidden. Use the Raid Comms if you're in trouble, and if you can't use them for whatever reason, stay calm. Our maps still work, and we Can find each other."

Drake stepped forward then. "My cloak isn't a Fly spell and probably can't be dispelled, so even if we do lose our magic, the Rainbow Brigade and I can probably keep most of you near us with the rope we're all tied to. The Goblins will try to cut it. Don't let them. If anyone does end up getting dragged elsewhere, I'll try to send a Mirror Image with you to keep you safe, or alive."




With the debrief done, the party cast their flight spells and then headed down the tunnel as fast as they could. Sure enough, the laughter of the goblins began echoing around them, and they flew faster. Green Drake punched the tunnel walls, sending multiple goblins falling past them as the earthbending shockwave made them lose their grip.

As Aegis predicted, goblin snipers and spellcasters popped up from holes in the tunnel walls, but the raid party's snipers and archers were on point, and fate smiled upon every single one of their attacks. Class Three's enchanter, a high elf called Emrys, even Counterspelled one that they missed, and an arrow swiftly followed the spellcasting, burying itself in the shaman's skull. The rainbow of Drakes also contributed, with fire, ice, and even air yanking goblins out of their murder holes, to their deaths, and green cloak continued to force the ones stealthing on the wall to keep falling down into the darkness. They never got anywhere near their lifeline rope.

Despite the goblin's best efforts, the raid party made it to the bottom of the tunnel without losing a single member. There were noises of disgust as some landed in the foul muck and dead goblins that seemed to be at the bottom of this level of the Dungeon. "Someone give us light!" Someone shouted, and a moment later, Class Two's leader Elorin lit up his white wood staff, sending forth a bright blue light into the cavern before them, revealing what waited in the darkness.

Yet another horde of goblins grinned at them as they approached en masse, but these were different. Black or dark blue skin, beady red eyes that practically glowed with the light, and a common level range of sixty to sixty five. As if that wasn't enough, they each had shortbows, and were mounted atop giant spiders. Then, one of them stepped forward from the horde, a large, partially armored midnight blue goblin with glowing red eyes, and a long, jagged black metal spear.

"The fuck even are these…" Black cloak Drake muttered.

"Night Goblins…" Aegis said with a mix of excitement and rage. "And that thing leading them…is a Nilbog…"

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 14: The Wallow, Part 2: By Fire, Be Purged​

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This chapter, and the following one, will potentially get a bit more graphic in terms of rape and torture. I won't be describing the acts in detail, mostly just the aftermath, but that still triggers some people, so, be warned.
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Guild Master Solus was having more fun than he'd had in years. The last Demon Lord had risen when he'd been too young to face it, and every threat since had been nowhere near as fun. Of course, the tanks were having the most fun, it was the healers and damage dealers, frantically running and leaping out of the area of effect spells the warped genie was launching at them that were actually sweating from exertion.


Solus knew of Pandarus, of course. He knew everyone with powerful magic in Primus. He'd also heard rumors of the underaged debauchery he and all of his equally slimy associates engaged in, but dealing with monsters? Worshipping Dagorath? Turning into the next Demon Lord? He had underestimated just how far the rich tyrant had fallen. In the business world, he was infamous for having gone almost entirely bankrupt five times, but his fortune persisted thanks to his second rate magic, and scams he'd run on gullible adventurers.


He had been a thorn in the Adventurer Guild's side for a long time, and Solus was more than eager to finally make him pay. "Right here, you pedophilic Trash!" Solus's voice cracked across the battlefield, amplified by his Taunt, "You're not a Demon Lord. You're a greasy sack of impotent Garbage! Every word you spew reeks of insecurity, every Gil in your vault is stolen from Adventurers you robbed with shameless Cons! You didn't rise to the top of Primus, you floated, like scum on a shit-choked river! And when history remembers you, it will not be as a brilliant business leader... It will be as the gullible, gilded Dumbfuck that sold his soul for power, and died immediately after!"

Solus grinned, as he saw the Demon Lord turn his gaze to him. Most of the haphazardly formed raid party was looking at him as well. Then, they started laughing. That, more than the taunt, made the loser-turned-Demon Lord grimace with rage. Pandarus raised a red-orange finger towards the golden armored Guild Master, who recognized the spell he'd chosen immediately. Disintegrate.


His grin grew wider as he raised his artifact tier greatsword above his head and angled it down over his front. Magic flared around him, and he shouted, "Full Parry!"


The beam of brilliant green death magic rebounded as Solus struck it, and sent it right back at the looming Demon Lord. Part of his orange muscled shoulder simply disappeared, and the Madjinn roared in pain and rage as blood started to gush from the wound.


A magical deluge of high tier spells slammed into the Demon Lord, and the melee fighters among them did not hold back either, further cutting into his visible health, finally dropping him to exactly half. Then, as the high level warriors expected, the Demon Lord flared with power, and his form began to shift.


An omnipresent dark chuckle echoed around the raid party, as the sky turned to an ominous fusion of black and red.

Meanwhile, in the Wallow Dungeon…'s Second Level

Theron Faelcrest, better known as Class Three's Instructor and the mind behind what the Academy's students faced in their magical equivalent of gym class, looked out over the sheer devastation of the second level of the Wallow Dungeon, and was just impressed. Beside him were Faelon Luvion, Eryndis Hollowbranch, and Aslan Claudus, of Classes One, Two, and Seven respectively.


Faelon's flight magic had brought them this far, and after the Instructors saw the devastation left in the wake of what could only be their students, they continued on towards the entrance to the next level. Eryndis stared in shock at their surroundings, as Aslan and Theron smirked at it, just impressed. "This…devastation…I haven't seen it on this scale in an age."


Aslan, who'd been smirking since he saw the devastation, rumbled, "They must have combined their Meteor spells…into a Grand Meteor. Nothing else could cause this. Nothing else would still have aftershocks."






"There were Goblins everywhere…" Theron said, looking at the few remaining traces of their army. "They must have been overwhelmed…and then decided to destroy them all at once."


Faelon sighed deeply. "And with Drake Long's boost to their experience…they're going to end up being the highest level First Years in the Academy's history."


Eryndis looked around constantly. The total destruction of the land deeply bothered her. "I do hope there were no recent captives down here…"


"Unlikely." Aslan rumbled. "I saw the hordes that were trying to push to the surface. They didn't have the time or space to capture and drag anyone down. And any that were, probably were taken deeper immediately."






"I agree." Theron growled. "This was a level dedicated to their army to take the surface. They always keep their prisoners deeper. That's why we're here. The kids aren't going to be able to take anyone back. We can." He turned his white wolven head back to look at their unexpected reinforcements. Multiple Dark Elf Mages were flying a small army of their kin behind them, though they hadn't been willing to explain how they'd known a raid to clear the Wallow was underway, or how they'd suddenly acquired multiple pegasi feathers to learn the coveted Fly spell.


It was clear there were some divine shenanigans afoot, but Aslan hadn't seemed surprised at their appearance, or concerned that, despite being above one hundred in terms of level, they were not helping against the Demon Lord. For whatever reason, Aslan, Faelon, Eryndis, and Theron had heard all three of Galdurath's proclamations, and had thus chosen to aid their students. Primus was in good hands, with the likes of Guild Master Solus leading them.


Seeing the smirking red maned Leonid looking his way, Theron spoke again. "You don't seem concerned about the potential blasphemy we're committing by ignoring the Demon Lord, Aslan." The cat-like eyes widened, as he saw understanding in the canid's. "If you know something we do not…now would be the time to tell us."


"I would like to know, as well."






One of the dark elves, their 'champion' for lack of a better term, a renowned adventurer from Morchan'tano's Adventurer Guild, joined them as the ruin of the goblin's citadel, what little now stood after so many successive aftershocks, grew larger before them.


"Very well, K'sar Khalzeth. I will tell you, and my contemporaries, what the Goddess Laurelin herself said to me: 'Put your faith in Drake Long, and we may yet see a return to the Empyrean Age.' I believe her. In a mere few days, he has ascended to the highest level of strength among his peers. He is an Ally of the Gods…" Aslan smirked, as he brought up his Status, "As you will see, if you check your status."


K'sar's lavender eyes widened. "So he is…a proper Chosen, then. The first in…eons."


Aslan nodded. "We must ensure that he grows strong and true…but I am not worried about his character. His sense of morality is as strong as his fists. No…his greatest weakness is that, sometimes, he has strange assumptions about our world…sometimes they are spot on, eerily so, and other times…they are very, very wrong."

Floor Three - The Wallow Dungeon

"Healing Spells damage it! Damage heals it!" Aegis Bryllon shouted, as he unsheathed his greatsword and it flared to life with divine light. "It has a tendency to reverse anything it touches…and no matter what you do…" The entire raid party looked at Aegis, as divine light flared up around his entire body as well. "Don't laugh!"


He leapt, somersaulted into a downward strike on the Nilbog, and their weapons crashed together. Blade met spear haft, but then, Aegis was in the air again, his gleaming greatsword aimed at one of the massive spiders behind their General, and its rider. He bisected both rider and beast with a flash of light, and a moment later, Varan landed beside him, crushing several night goblins under his elephantine feet as he did so. The tanks engaged the enemy and spread out, drawing the army away from their General, and their healers, but the giant blue goblin didn't make any move to stop them. Drake didn't join in though, as he realized quickly that too many of their members were splitting off from the healers, who according to Aegis, would be the main damage dealers against whatever a Nilbog was. He could also tell much of the night goblin horde was focused on them currently, which did not bode well.


Drake had heard of this kind of monster, of course, but the Earth D&D variant was…absolutely nothing like this one, whatsoever, so he threw his assumptions out the window. The Nilbog didn't seem concerned that they were splitting his army up, though. He just stood there, chuckling, his towering muscular blue body heaving slightly as he stared directly at Drake, and the healers.


"Drone, make sure you get all of this." Drake murmured. Drone chirped in response, "Power reserves at eighty percent, continuing visual streaming of Goblin related slaughter."


Tala struck first, becoming the epicenter for a massive healing spell as Lyria had for Grand Meteor.






A ray of golden healing light shot into the Nilbog, who grimaced as it cut into his shoulder, and down his arm. He looked back at his army and shouted. "Durzagga! Thrak, miesayy!" Despite being engaged with the tanks and damage dealers, several night goblins clinging to the ceiling via their spider mounts started attacking their General as they shouted, "Thrak! Thrak! Thrak! Thrak! Thrak! Thrak!"


Poisonous arrows started consistently damaging the Nilbog over time, healing him thanks to the damage they dealt, but Tala quickly used a Cleanse Poison, which managed to work, and cure him. His wound had healed however, and the darkly grinning Nilbog was now appropriately wary of the latest adventurers to attempt to slay him. More arrows slammed into him, from previously hidden spider-riding archers still clinging safely to the ceiling. Various Debuffs empowered the Nilbog, as it shifted their effects one by one, its red eyes didn't blink and they never moved from the group of healers.


Seeing this happen, Drake met the eye of Vincent, who'd stayed back behind the fighting, and the two nodded. Drake spoke first. "Do the thing. I…think I can damage it. I'm going to try something new…"


Vincent chuckled. "I was wondering what your plan was. Alright then." Vincent pushed up his glasses and raised his hands. His voice echoed out over the raid comms. "Full Status Monitor!" Magical indicators of all four Classes and their parties appeared before him, and he started shifting them around. "Alright people! Reorganize as displayed! Drake! I'm not tying you down anywhere specific. Handle the General."


A grin appeared under the monk's white hood as he focused his Restoring Palm to give life to others, instead of taking the damage he dealt, and healing himself. Normally, taking a target's health with a hit from this stance filled his own health pool, and even though taking it just to give it back was, mechanically, ineffective for causing any actual damage, the healing his fists gave used his magic to turn the damage into health. It also healed more than it hurt, but in the Nilbog's case, that made it viable for use as an attack. The only one he could use. His elemental moves and martial arts were useless against an enemy like the reality-warping night goblin, and while he could still defend with the elements, he left that to his Mirror Images. Despite their efforts so far, the night goblin archers couldn't get a hit on their healers-turned-damage dealers with the rainbow of Drakes intercepting their missiles.

(It's been a minute since we saw our boy's stats, so here they are)

Spoiler

By the time the Nilbog had turned all of his Debuffs into Buffs, Drake was in his stance, and blurred forward with Step of the Wind. Fury of the First Dragon was also active, and as expected, as Drake spun into a Healing Elbow aimed for its abdominals, instead of being sent soaring sideways, the Nilbog shot upwards. It turned and landed on the smoothed ceiling easily, crouching and leaping back towards Drake with its dark metal spear radiating foul energy. Then, somehow, the Nilbog split into multiple copies of itself, grinning wide as they all aimed for Drake. The monk quickly understood; the chaos goblin was moving so fast it seemed to be in multiple places at once, likely through the combination of one of its Buffs, and a skill of his own. And yet he smirked.


Sure enough, as the Nilbog came within range, the night goblin's form melded back into one. The Chronognomon negated even the Nilbog's reality warping nonsense, and Drake struck. Aiming low and horizontally had sent the Nilbog upwards, vertically. Thus, as he masterfully spun through the air into a Rejuvenating Roundhouse Kick to the Nilbog's face, the General smashed into the ground, just as the healers prepared their next spell, and let it go. Pillars of light surrounded the Nilbog as it slowly stood up from being knocked prone and filled with potent healing Ki. Since they affected the area around the Nilbog and not the creature itself, they worked as intended, creating a containment zone around him.


Then, the healers surrounded the entrapped Nilbog. Marise Huskum, the buxom redheaded artificer from Aegis's party struck first, throwing a glass vial at the creature. The vial did minimal damage, it was the magic-amplifying healing concoction that, thanks to the Nilbog's nature, nullified the magic infusing it, and hit it with a fresh damage over time effect. Elara, Aella, Galadhon, Caelum, and Rose, sages of fire, wind, earth, water, and light respectively, struck first, as Olorin, Merle, and Tala, their clerics, prepared the finishing blow.






The elemental healing spells, further amplified by four Drakes and their bending, absolutely brutalized the entrapped Nilbog. Like a butterfly in a jar, the Nilbog tried to escape, but the barrier easily repulsed it, not with damage, but by returning the creature to the exact center of the light-based prison that Veldra, and the dark elven Soul Mender known as Kairen, were responsible for creating. This left the snakekin shaman, Zaeris, to heal the tanks and damage dealers currently embroiled in fighting the night goblin's spider-riding army.


Thanks to Vincent's spell, they were able to use this brief window in time to maintain their fighters with a single healer, and remove the Nilbog as a threat. Vincent's voice echoed in Drake's head. "You've done what you needed to do! Get in there and help our frontliners. I need your images in the following places." He saw a rainbow of dots light up in his field of vision, and chuckled. Even in the midst of this large-scale combat, the enchanter had color coded them.


White was, naturally, at the front of the wedge carving into the night goblins. Drake turned to watch the cleric's spell, as he flew towards his position. A sphere of divine light formed above the Nilbog, and no less than several circular golden floating rune circles formed beneath it, each one presumably empowering the divine beam of healing that was about to fall. It happened quickly, and without the fanfare of an attack spell. The simple radiant healing light fell, increasing in speed in power seven times, before it utterly incinerated the Nilbog, leaving nothing behind but a faint circular scorch mark on the stone.






The reaction among the night goblin army was immediate. First, both they and their mounts let out an ungodly mournful shriek, and then, thousands of eyes narrowed in anger. Vincent saw what was coming thanks to his spell, and shouted orders immediately, "Healers, chug your potions Now! Drakes! I need earthbending on the exits, leave only one open! The rest of you, start killing! I need Varian and Garret defending the healers! Snipers, target anyone trying to flee! Leif, status on the other leaders?"


Leif's words, lacking their usual snark, quietly crossed the raid comms as he said, "It's as you expected…two Night Goblin Champions…and a Night Goblin Lord. He's definitely the one actually leading this horde."


Vincent swore. "Right, real Drake, Rose, Lyria, Thalondor, Aegis, and Zara, rendezvous with Leif. Give Drake and Leif an opening to Assassinate the Lord."


"I can handle a Champion." Aegis said, as he suddenly diverted from his current path wading into the horde of spiders and goblins, turning very suddenly towards the far back north-eastern part of the cavern. It was still dark there, but the paladin's light easily fixed that. Each attack was both brutal and quite literally flashy, which often dazed the night goblins around him. Drake was right above him, flying close overhead, one arm holding Rose close as he dodged and caught arrows from midair, snapping them in his free hand, or kicking them into goblins below with a timely barrel roll.






The cavern rumbled as green cloak did what he did best, and started sealing off the other exits. He also regularly hammered the smooth ceiling of the cavern, forcing those clinging to it to lose their grip and fall to death, or at least injury. Very few spiders and riders were in sync enough to right themselves in the air. Red cloak began burning through their magic, emulating Falkor as he shot flames from his mouth and expanded them with his arms across the battlefield. He was moving from left to right, as green cloak was, incinerating or badly burning any goblin in his range. The few that survived his 'dragon breath' were dispatched by the damage dealers on the ground, and very quickly, the momentum shifted.


"MAHG! KIN ZOM TIRNADAZ!"


The guttural call rang out from where Drake, Aegis, and the others forming the impromptu strike party were heading, and with a surge of coordination unseen in other goblins, the night goblins reorganized themselves, heading for their Lord's location, all but cutting the strike party off as they did so. Vincent swore again, and shouted, "Varan! They need-"


"Already on it!" The elephantine dragonslayer answered, from sixty feet in the air. He came down hard behind the party, diverting some of the aggro behind them from the mass of wood and bear claws that was Thalondor, who was once again in the form of a massive, mighty wooden dire bear. "Go!" Varan trumpeted, "I have your backs!"


Vincent's next orders were obvious, but needed. "All parties, push towards the strike team! Do not let the Night Goblins cut them off!"






Varan's chain-bound spear made that quite easy as he swung it in a large arc, beheading goblins and bisecting spider legs. Between him and the other damage dealers, they were able to burn, bash, shoot, and slash their way through the horde and their mounts, with the healers, Garret, and Varian covering the rear. Vincent was between all of them, keeping his eyes on the rest of the battlefield, for while green and red Drake had done their tasks well, there would undoubtedly be stragglers. Sure enough, he saw Garret move from the corner of his eye as a night goblin playing dead dropped the act and tried to gut Elara, their fire sage. Garret skewered it, and the vengeful sage turned it to ash on his sword with vengeful flames, the magical shieldblade the Guild Master gave him taking the fire without so much as a singe mark.


Vincent watched, his attention drawn back to his spell, as the hasty but likely well matched strike party made contact. Aegis leapt in first, bashing one of the champions to draw its attention. This one had a massive warhammer, but the paladin matched it strike for strike, giving damage even as he took it. With the horde now bisected by the raid party, Varan had used the second of his leaps, which he was now out of for a time, to land before the other Night Goblin Champion. His shield easily tanked its axe, and his spear was long enough to counter-strike it. Almost immediately, he took one of its eyes.


That left Thalondor to fearlessly barrel into the Night Goblin Lord, who stood above the two champions, at twelve feet of height at least. He looked like every other goblin, save that there was some sort of bone crown adorning his blue skull. Another bone, this one piercing through his nose for decoration apparently, obscured part of his face, or at least it did, until Thalondor's ironbark claws dragged across it, leaving the facial organ a bloodied mess. The lord and the wooden bear snarled at each other as the goblin actually grappled with him. Being level seventy, he was quite a bit stronger than Thalondor, who despite having leveled several times was, like the majority of the raid party, still around fifty eight.






Zara and Lyria followed up, with Zara forming a powerful lightning spell, as Lyria summoned a pair of earth elementals to help Aegis and Varan with their champions, who similarly outleveled them, and had begun to win their bouts with brutal blows. Lyria then poured her own lightning into Zara's, and the war mage's braided hair flared wildly as the attack crossed the space in an instant, striking the Night Goblin Lord, with a thunderous boom following a moment later. The dark blue skin on the muscled torso was burned away, revealing the goblin's still-beating heart below.


Snarling in agony, the lord threw Thalondor into the casters, which was when Drake and Leif struck. Leif had insisted on going first, and since Assassinate was a new skill that Drake had only gotten upon hitting seventy, from his chosen path. He let the lower level but more experienced assassin go first, choosing instead to help them pass without a trace to get in range of the Night Goblin Lord. Leif was a blur of crimson strikes, and cut deep along the lord's jaw and neck, wrists, and thighs, all home to vital blood vessels in most creatures, but as he went for the exposed heart, the night goblin caught him, by the neck, snarling as he started to squeeze.


That, was when Drake struck. For him, being the first time he used this rather powerful skill with an equally long cooldown, time slowed to a crawl. He didn't feel obligated to attack in any particular way or pattern, but he did see various points along the lord's body light up in his field of vision, and a powerful surge of energy, almost too much to control, took over him. He likened it to depictions of what the Justice League's lightspeed hero, the Flash, saw when he moved at super speed.






From his spot behind the lord, he struck, deciding to combine this trio of enhanced speed and perception, Hidden Blades, and a powerful finishing move into one straight from the Monster Hunter series. He was, technically, hunting monsters and he did, technically, have a pair of blades that were long enough to be considered swords. Thus, he zipped behind the Night Goblin Lord with his Shadow Step, and started rotating, once he leapt upwards. Once, twice, thrice he spun-slashed up the tall goblin's frame like a deadly vertically ascending Beyblade, and his Assassinate-enhanced perception continued as he was in the air.


Continuing his shameless ripoff of Demon Flight, Drake channeled Captain Levi from Attack on Titan and spun straight back down the tall goblin's front side, right down his left shoulder, exposed heart, stomach, waist, and thigh. He landed flawlessly, blades extended, and then recalled them with a twitch of his wrists. Blood spurted behind him, and Leif was released from the dead lord's grip, as the first Assassinate had managed to do enough damage to bring him to exactly thirty percent of his health, meaning the second Assassinate was an instant kill. Drake smirked, as he felt himself ding to seventy two. Overall, it seemed Assassinate gave him six strikes with that amount of enhanced speed, though the cooldown and single target limit were likely what balanced out the sheer amount of damage it did, it would undoubtedly prove useful.


"Requiescat in luto." Drake muttered to the corpse of the monster as it turned to smoke. He offered Leif a hand up, and the two shared a nod, before turning to the others who were fighting. Aegis had taken full advantage of the timely earth tackle from Lyria's elemental, and since it had drawn the champion's aggression and focus, he'd been absolutely tearing it to pieces since it appeared. The goblinoid champion managed to do similar damage to the elemental, but Lyria let it return to stone as the champion died to Aegis's blade being driven into its skull.


Varan had a similar experience, as his half-blind champion flailed wildly with his axe when the elemental tackled it. A few well-aimed stabs from the long lance had it bleeding out quickly.






With their leader dead, the assault party turned on the remaining horde of enemies, and from that point on, the night goblins were caught between the two parties, and Drake chose to try out another of his skills, that had been too powerful and wide area to use before now. The Dragon's Pillar combined fire and earthbending into a glorious explosion of burning earth that sent many of the surviving night goblins to their permanent ends. Between that and the various other attacks from the raid party, the leaderless goblins were exterminated, and yet another of Chronogrin's amassed armies was reduced to smoke by the adventurers.


Being quite a bit higher level this time, most of the raiding party had gained two to four levels after slaying an entire army, its general, its leader, and the two champions with the leader. This wealth of experience made everyone level up, with the majority of the raiding party now above level sixty. Class Seven and Class One were all but caught up to Drake as Rael, Varian, Rose, Lyria, Garret, and several others hit seventy, and unlocked new skills as a result.


After a brief half hour rest, the party continued on down the only open tunnel leading from the cavern. They came upon an intersection, where they found quite a few dead, smoking night goblins who'd fled the battle and had apparently been killed for their cowardice, but of their killers, there was no sign.


Four large tunnels led from this new, smaller chamber, but from his earthbending, Drake confirmed they did not loop around. All the tunnels that had led to the cavern connected to the open spaces that these four led to, alleviating Aegis's concern that they'd missed some goblins. Those tunnels had now collapsed thanks to the earthbending monk, and in the raid's wake, no goblin was left breathing. Instead of resting, Aegis had opted to stab the slowly vanishing corpses to ensure they were dead. Sure enough, quite a few had been faking, but their trickery only ended up getting them killed anyway.






With four tunnels and four Classes, the choice on how to split up was obvious. They'd all be within range of Drake's Buff, and they'd agreed to call out if they ended up finding the Floor Boss. Whatever monster led the night goblins, it was sure to be strong, and well-hidden. Aegis had named him as 'Grinmal, the Agonarch', the head torturer of Chronogrin himself.


When the goblins had a particularly unruly prisoner who constantly, if futilely, fought against being raped or tortured, they were sent to Grinmal, who had a reputation for breaking them, and sending them back to the Goblin Lords, and Chronogrin himself. Wherever they found Grinmal, they would also likely find a direct route to the next level, and the prisoners they kept there.


As Class Seven advanced through their tunnel, they came upon not goblins, but three more tunnels, at which point they confirmed that Chronogrin had to understand how the Academy structured their classes. It wasn't entirely surprising, since the Wallow was fairly close to it. Thus, despite their reluctance, the Classes split again, and bravely continued onwards into the depths of the Wallow.

(From this point on, we'll be following the Classes and parties, a few of them anyway, based on a D12 roll, and people's preferences. The rest of the chapter and a bit of the next chapter will be split by their respective PoVs.)


Enjoy.



Class 3, Party 3​

Leander Vaelorian and his party made their way into their assigned tunnel. He was a young Leonid, with a majestic chestnut brown mane and leonine features that had just enough human in them to make him handsome enough to appeal to everyone. His class was Sword Saint, the western Arcadian version of what easterners called Kensei, and instead of being a katana wielding tank like his eastern counterpart, he was a damage dealer, a melee to mid-range fighter that controlled multiple swords at once, with either his hands or floating in the air around him, with his magic.


Their 'tank' or more accurately, tanks, were Valen and Kalen. Kalen was a dire bear, and Valen was his centaur ranger. Unlike most rangers, Valen had chosen to become a Shieldbow Ranger, which usually used two pets to help them tank, but Valen could also be a tank if the party needed him to, as well as their ride. His long equine lower body had enough space for all of them to mount up. It was rare that Kalen couldn't handle things though. Nerissa, their Elemental Shaman, could also summon elemental tanks and damage dealing elementals for support.


Their final member was a female Cervari, resembling a doe, though she did have a small pair of antlers. She was their healer, Aella, a Wind Sage. Though their party was strong, they weren't exactly stealthy thanks to the six pairs of hooves, and the giant grunting armored dire bear. Despite their lack of stealth, the party didn't encounter any goblins.


At first.






As half an hour passed, they checked in with the rest of their class in the sub-comms specifically for Class Three. The second party reported finding a dead end, and the first party's situation was reported by Aegis.


"We found a large barracks with thirty two Goblins. They're all dead."


Leander nodded, as Aegis lived up to his reputation as the weirdo obsessed with slaying goblins. "We haven't reached the end of ours yet." Leander rumbled. "Rendezvous with each other, and then join us, if nobody else needs help."


They acknowledged, and once again the only sound was their walking. After ten more minutes, Class One and Two reported dead ends, and Class Seven remained silent. Nobody was too worried about them, though. Each of their parties had a few Drake clones, and his Mirror Images were gaining a reputation for being hard to hit and quite useful.






Then, finally, as the tunnel began to widen, Kalen growled, and the party stopped. Valen drew an arrow, and took several deep breaths as he used it to focus, and zoom in his vision. It was a skill all rangers had, but it burned through their magic if they aimed with it for too long. With the party now in the high fifties and low sixties in terms of level, that wasn't too much of a concern anymore. Finally, he exhaled and lowered the shieldbow. He tried to speak quietly, but his deep voice still echoed far too loudly for Leander's liking.


"I count at least forty Night Goblins…this seems to be where some of them fled…there are also…prisoners. Still alive…if you can call such a state living…" Whatever Valen had seen had clearly disturbed him, judging by the look on his handsome features.


Leander rumbled over the comms. "Class Three party three has contact. The Goblins here have prisoners. Still alive. Move to reinforce us…we're going to end their torment now."


A few voices from Class Two told them to wait, but Aegis shouted over them, encouraging goblin murder as he started sprinting towards them. His party could keep up with him, as they all moved around the same speed, but only Aegis would still have the breath to fight when they arrived. Of course, by that point, they'd be done.






Valen drew back his shieldbow with three arrows knocked at once. "Kalen…tear them to pieces." The dire bear growled, and began running rather quickly once the large bear got going. The arrows shot ahead of him, bolstered by a timely wind from Aella, and the party advanced. Though Aegis and his sorcerous lizardman partner, Vyran, were quite adept at dealing damage, it was their party that currently held the record for being the most deadly in Class Three.


The arrows tore through six different goblins, and before they had time to cry an alarm, the party was on them, their base movement speed again enhanced by Aella and her wind manipulation. Lightning arced from their mermaid shaman in a chain of electric death that left behind nothing but goblin bones, and then came Leander, and his storm of swords. He waded into the largest group of them, dual wielding and guiding the swords floating around him in a dance of death that saw a goblin dead with each movement. Despite their high level, their lack of armor and close quarters made dispatching them quite easy.


Kalen took the other clustered group, tearing into them almost as effectively as Leander did. Valen shot at the high ceiling, and brought down a number of stealthed assassins and archers who'd been clinging there. A hobgoblin of the dark blue variety lumbered out of a side room, and roared in shock and rage as he saw half his workforce already decimated, and in pieces.






Leander guided multiple swords to bury themselves in his large body, which made him stumble and bleed, but it was the lightning chain that jumped between the quite conductive blades that reduced him to a skeleton mere moments after he'd appeared. It was a tactic Leander and Nerissa used quite often on tougher foes. Despite the remaining goblins in the room, Aella went straight for the prisoners lining the walls of the now blood-covered stone cavern. To call them brutalized was an understatement. Their clothes were gone, as was the light in their eyes, and not one of them was male. Men tended not to last as long as women, in goblin captivity. Their despair usually tapered off after the first few demonstrations of what the goblins did, and at that point, they were just killed and used as decoration.


The fight lasted maybe a minute, but the goblins had fallen quickly, despite their numbers, to the superior area damage dealt by their ranger, shaman, and blade wielder. The teens looked around the cavern, and confirmed that there were no other usable exits, just small tunnels for use by the lowest tier of goblin. The path to the next level would be much larger, and the tunnels here only connected to the other passages. This room seemed to have been where they gathered, away from the cavern. The cavern where they'd faced the army had also been where they had reared their spiders, but now, their eggs were ash and the goblins were less than dust. The party was presented immediately with another problem, as the combat ended.


Twenty two nude, brutalized women of varying races, but predominantly human, were now in their care, and they had no method of bringing them back to the surface. As Aegis and his party arrived, their healer, Marise, treated their malnutrition with supplements that healing spells simply couldn't provide. The two parties chatted for several minutes about what to do, when finally, one of the unfortunate elves caught by the goblins stepped forward, with hate in her eyes.


"We…know you're here…to raid the Dungeon. Just leave us. We'll be fine…as long as you kill them…all of them… Every. Single. Goblin."


The teens shared a look, but it was Aegis who stepped up to her, heedless of her nudity. The two burning, golden eyes within the plate visor didn't so much as flicker downwards. They were locked on the redheaded elf maid's eyes with honest intensity.


"We will. We'll kill every last one of them. I promise." He meant every word, but he had no intention of just leaving them. Eventually, they agreed they needed to rendezvous, as Class Seven was now just not answering, but their health bars seemed green, and Drake's Buff was still in effect. They headed back towards the convergence of tunnels slowly, surrounding the women in case more goblins appeared.

(I shit you not fam, I rolled a ten. So here we go.)


Class 7, Party 1​

Drake, Rose, Garret, and Lyria moved down their tunnel with grim reminders of Zemkarth flashing in their minds. Sure enough, the deeper they went, for the tunnel curved downwards, the wider things became. Black and Yellow cloak were with them, red, orange, and blue were with Class Seven's magic-dependent second party, and green, purple, and brown were accompanying their third party. The Mirror Images had dropped their bending stances in case one of the parties needed them suddenly.


On their class-specific party comms, each party in Class Seven confirmed that their tunnels arced downwards, and after about twenty minutes from when they began, the second and third party's tunnels converged in a small cavern where they found yet more goblins. Young goblins. Tala, Caelum, and several others wanted to ignore them, but Drake chimed in then.


"We came here to Purge the Wallow Dungeon. All the Goblins die. Even the young ones."


Tala's voice echoed in his head. "Even if they're begging to be spared? Because they are, Drake. They're just…children."


"They're Monsters, Tala." He said, panic slightly rising in his voice. "They will literally try to murder you the second you turn to leave. They probably have paralytic poison weapons. And you know what they'll do to you once they paralyze you. Kill. All. The Goblins."






"Right." "Good enough for me." Came the affirmations of Sethis and Bjorn, and Drake sighed, as he heard the girls telling them to stop.


Then, for a time, there was silence, until Tala said, "I don't care that they're Monsters…that…was wrong."


This time, Garret spoke, surprising everyone, as he rarely did. "Drake is correct, Tala. Even the young Goblins rape and kill. I've seen them do it on the upper levels. It's how they grow. Clearing a Dungeon is not easy, and not just because of the high level Monsters one finds the further one delves. To properly clear one, you must search every inch of it, and kill every single Monster you find within. Even their juveniles. Every raid that saw success before us has done the same."


Tala's response was silence, and finally Drake spoke again. "The least they deserve is a quick death. They would not give you the same. Double back and head down our tunnel. I think this might be the one we're looking for."






Caelum gave them a brief acknowledgment, and they continued onward. Time continued to pass. Eventually, their tunnel opened up into a wide space, not nearly as large as the second floor, but larger than the cavern they'd landed in. Drake stomped the ground, and reached out with his earthbending, finding that several of the tunnels in the walls and ceiling of this chasm led back to the tunnel they'd descended from. He raised an open hand, then clenched it, and though the earth seemed slower to respond, the empty tunnels collapsed and filled with solid rock.


There was an ominous lack of goblins, even after the loud rumbling from his earthbending. Garret raised his weapons with a frown on his face as his sharp lion eyes looked around the area. "We're not alone…" He growled.


Rose spoke next, panic creeping into her tone. "The comms aren't working…none of my magic is!"


An ominous chill ran up Drake's spine, as a deep chuckle echoed around them, identical to the one that preceded the collapse of the first level's floor, Drake quickly drew his Mirror Images back into his mirror, and tried flying up a second later, but he was already caught in the antimagic field of their next foe.

Descending from the ceiling was a floating form that Drake was very familiar with. It seemed the spawn of the Great Mother had made it to Arcadia, as well. Ten tentacled stalks jutted up from its spherical body, each one with a slightly different colored eyeball at the end. One massive, cyclopean glowing purple eye in the center, and below that, a razor-sharp toothy maw.


"That's not a Goblin…" Lyria murmured, sweating slightly as she realized her magic was being suppressed, effectively making her useless. Even her armor and weapon weren't working. None of their gear was, then.


"It's a Beholder…" Drake murmured, "Fuck. We might be screwed. Lyria, Rose, stay back and dodge the eye beams. Garret! You're the only way we can survive this thing." His palm started quivering, and a nervous smirk appeared under his hood, as the Way of the Inevitable Fist did still activate, even under the oppressive gaze of a Beholder. It seemed Ki continued to be the loophole in this world of magic.


"Drake…that's an Eye Tyrant…the fuck is a Beholder?" Garret answered, taking his spot at the front.






"A massive, deadly pain in the ass." Drake answered. "Your skills should still work, it's spellcasting that should be suppressed. Once I hit it, keep the girls covered. If you get the chance to counter, hit the main eye. Once that's down, all we have to do is dodge."


"Right." Garret rumbled. "My tank skills are working. Some of them, anyway. Leave the girls to me."


Drake took a deep breath, as the Beholder's eyestalks started glowing in an ominous rainbow of death. It was then that he remembered these things were intelligent enough to speak, usually. And on Arcadia they only had to learn one other language, when dealing with surface dwellers. The white robed monk dashed from behind Garret, and advanced on the Beholder. As expected, all of the eyes tracked him. Three beams fired at once, one yellow, one purple limned with black, and one blazing purple one that left a trail of destruction in its wake.


Drake stepped past all of them, appearing behind the cyclopean monstrosity. He saw several of its eyes immediately clock him, and widen in surprise, but he'd already struck with his Quivering Palm. He followed that with a Flurry of Blows, and then fell into a pink ray fired seemingly randomly from one of the Beholder's eyes. He knew it was Charm, as he felt the effect begin to wash over his mind, but such things did not easily work on monks. It was a powerful effect, but he just managed to break it with his mental focus, and launched into a proper Duel in the Heavens, as the Beholder turned to face him.






Two of the blows managed to hit, directly in its central eye, while his third, a kick, whiffed entirely, and sent him falling out of the antimagic cone of his eye. He'd succeeded in his goal, however; getting the bastard to turn and face him, not the party. Thankfully, Rose hit him with a Levitate spell, while Lyria wasted no time. Flames erupted around her, as she fired off a derivative of the Meteor spell, Cometfall. She was quite familiar with how the monk's Quivering Palm worked by this point, and the storm of high velocity stone shards exponentially grew the amount of damage the Beholder was taking internally.


By that point, Garret had moved away from the girls, and as the Beholder turned towards Lyria, he shouted, "All those eyes, and still no balls! Right here, you floating, paranoid tumor!"


The Beholder shifted past the girls quickly, turning in the air, and focusing on Garret as the taunt took effect. Three beams fired off again, as he raised his shield. The first, electric and yellow, surged through the shield and his armor, but Garret fought off the paralysis. The second, one designed to induce fear, also failed, but the third actually took effect, though as the pink Telekinetic beam surrounded Garret…nothing happened. Because it had a three hundred pound weight limit, and the muscular Leonid topped that without his full plate and kite shield.


He might have gone flying in a tabletop scenario, with pen, paper, and nonsensical rules, but the weight limit in reality was universal, thus, all Garret felt was a slight tingle, that made him smirk as he saw his white robed friend taking a familiar stance behind the floating eyeball abomination.






Without the antimagic cone on him, Drake had it all back, his time-enhanced Buffs, his gravity-defying cloak, and his element bending. Lightning arced along his Hidden Blades as he unleashed the Dragon's Fangs. Two, six, fourteen, thirty, ninety four blows in total all landed in succession on the Beholder's backside, ending in a final stab that activated the ripples beneath the cyclopean abomination's smooth black skin, causing it to ripple, and then explode from the eyeball in a truly disgusting wave of eye gore that, thankfully, Garret managed to block with one of his magical shield skills.


Drake got to work tearing the creature apart, as there were few parts of an Eye Tyrant that weren't useful in some way. From the naturally formed crystal foci in every single eyeball, to the petrifying tough stone skin, brain, and heart, Drake took it all, assuming it'd be useful later. It was as he finished turning the monster into parts, that the rest of Class Seven joined them. Vincent frowned, looking at the carnage. "What...the fuck is an Eye Tyrant doing in the Wallow Dungeon? They've only been seen in Blackspire, or Wardengrave. Not with Goblins..."


Caelum also looked worried. "If Monsters can enter other Dungeons...that does not bode well. Eye Tyrants are arrogant, this one probably floated away from where its supposed to be. Presumably, near Chronogrin."


"It doesn't matter what other Monsters the Goblin trash have gotten to join them, Bjorn rumbled, moving on, axe on his shoulder. "We kill them all, and become Legends for doing so."


Tala looked uncomfortable, but Drake was there, along with Rose, who patted her shoulder. "I know that was disturbing...but Drake and the others are right, Tala...even baby Goblins are Monsters."


"I know...I tried sparing one and it...went immediately for my breasts. I know. I just...I don't want my legend to be born from murdering juveniles..." She murmured.


Drake patted her shoulder too. "The other parties who cleared Dungeons, including Instructor Faelon, did the same thing, Tala. I'm sure they didn't like it either. You're right to be upset by it, but...we give them a quick and hopefully painless death, and we move on. Don't forget how they spawn, either...the emotions that the Dungeon created them with...came from somewhere." That, truth, knowing the source of the juveniles, steeled her resolve.


Class Seven continued on as a group from that point, though they did notice, for whatever reason, their raid comms had stopped working. All attempts to contact the others were met with unnerving silence that they hoped was due to distance, and not Chronogrin figuring out how to royally fuck them over as they got closer and closer to him.





They decided to continue onwards anyways, since the others had an arcane walkie talkie with them, and there was still terrain to cross. Drake recalled his images, and after they entered yet another super long tunnel, he asked to rest. Both to recover his abilities for the Floor Boss, and to give the others time to catch up to them again. They camped for an hour, which was all Drake needed for a long rest with his Healing Trance and the Chronognomon speeding it up from four hours to one. They tried contacting the others again, but once again, met only silence. Thus, they advanced down the tunnel with most of the class much more confident now that the monk had his death palm skill back, along with his guaranteed hit.


They heard the screams, first. Cries of pure agony that signaled they'd found the end of the tunnel. It opened up into a massive vertical hole with a spiraling slope that went down hundreds, if not thousands of feet to the bottom. Holes were carved into the side of the tunnel, and after checking with his earthbending, Drake confirmed that it went all the way to the next level, the level that, according to Aegis, was where Chronogrin and his Generals, the Goblin Kings, awaited them. Moreover, he also discovered that the holes in the tunnel were home to prisoners, living prisoners.


Then, after their gawking and sensing, they saw him. Perched atop a worked stone pillar that looked out over the tunnel of despair and broken humanoids, most of which were women, judging by the cries, was a grinning blue goblin, staring directly at all of them. His eyes were red, his maw was toothy and sharp, and a pair of glowing red daggers was in both of his hands. He wore heavy armor, for one dressed like an assassin, as well as a hood, but there were clearly several glowing red magic items on his person as well. The topmost part of the tunnel was worked stone, part of some structure that had long since been converted to natural stone, and the gaping chasm below.


Vincent realized it first. "It's...the floor entrance...between three and four...they turned it into...this. That has to be Grinmal. The Agonarch."


Grinmal lived up to his name as he heard Vincent speak it. "HYUUMAAANNNZZZ!" He shrieked, garbling the word, and using it incorrectly as many of them were not even remotely human. "Hel...lo. Me...Grinmal! You...keeled...my Brother! Prepare...to...DIE!"


Drake grimaced inwardly as the mass torturer butchered the iconic line, and then devolved into laughter that echoed loud enough to inform the entirety of the torture tunnel that they were here. "Drone...pause the stream...and get back in the bag." The construct chirped an affirmative, and wished them good luck as a massive horde of goblins, of the blue and green variety, not one below level sixty, began swarming up the walls towards them, filling the tunnel with that nightmarish, echoing laugh.

---

It'd practically be a crime to tease you with Aslan's armor in that derpy attempt at a 4 character image and not show it off in all its proper glory, so, Enjoy fam.

​

 

[BusterMemelin]

Hey, I have no clue if it was already said or not but I'm in the middle of chapter 2 and so far I'm liking it.

However I noticed a couple paragraphs in chapter 1 and 2 that could be seen as inflammatory regarding politics and religion and while qq tends to not be as triggers happy as SB and SV I reccomend you change the dialogue to be less inflammatory and specific. When it comes to references modern politics and religion u kinda want to be non specific and generalize.

Try not to name specific political parties or any 1 religion, when you downplay them you wanna include all of them. Instead of saying republican say both parties tend to disappoint the common person. Or instead of saying the Abrahmic God is a mass murderer perhaps state that most if not all theologies and religion tend to have Gods that by modern standards aren't good people

Just try to tone it down before a comment war starts. But otherwise I'm loving the world building

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Hey, I have no clue if it was already said or not but I'm in the middle of chapter 2 and so far I'm liking it.

However I noticed a couple paragraphs in chapter 1 and 2 that could be seen as inflammatory regarding politics and religion and while qq tends to not be as triggers happy as SB and SV I reccomend you change the dialogue to be less inflammatory and specific. When it comes to references modern politics and religion u kinda want to be non specific and generalize.

Try not to name specific political parties or any 1 religion, when you downplay them you wanna include all of them. Instead of saying republican say both parties tend to disappoint the common person. Or instead of saying the Abrahmic God is a mass murderer perhaps state that most if not all theologies and religion tend to have Gods that by modern standards aren't good people

Just try to tone it down before a comment war starts. But otherwise I'm loving the world building

Click to shrink...

Drake's views are his, and his alone. I'm not going to change them to avoid people's fee fees. I agree, both parties, and governments in general, disappoint people, but that's not what Drake thinks. He's hard left, which is lowkey one of the reasons Laurelin's sight focused on him. That's what Arcadia needs. They are conservative to the point of stagnation, and in need of some Balance. So the universe said, 'here, have a left leaning dude with strong Taoist overtones'.

As far as Yahweh goes, no, you drown a planet, you are objectively a mass murderer. That's not my or Drake's fanfic or opinion, that's Drake quoting the cult's own lore to interested parties. Any rational person would agree with that statement, and it's not MY fault that the Abrahamic religions chose to portray him as a mass murderer, and still worship him. I refuse to sugarcoat reality. The Earth references die down the longer we stay in Arcadia, but the entire point was taking someone in modern day Earth (or an alternate universe of our modern day with very similar outcomes, yay multiverses) and yeeting them into a world literally pumping with magic.

And honestly, if there was going to be a comment war, it probably would've started already. We established who he is, more or less, on Earth, and then we go from there. Glad you're enjoying it. I would've replied sooner but I didn't see this until just now.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 15: The Wallow, Part 3: The Lion, the Drake, and the Harem




The raid to Purge the Wallow, forever, has begun.




Through fire and feces, four Classes of the Galdurian Arc Warden Academy's first year students have risen to the God of Magic's divine call to end Chronogrin, or die trying.




The Grand Meteor has been dropped. The second Floor, cleared, the third Floor's Night Goblins, mostly cleared, and now with Class Seven MIA and their Instructors on the way, our heroes will face Grinmal, the Agonarch, and the horrors he has perpetuated for thousands of years.
​

---

Floor Three - The Wallow Dungeon
​

---

Aslan Claudus looked around at the tired but determined first years, and grimaced. As expected, Drake Long's Buff had helped them level up quite quickly, but his own Class Seven was nowhere to be seen. Once his fellow Instructors had a moment to reconnect with their charges, he approached Rael Astorius, and the blue haired Sword Mage stood a little straighter. In the presence of a Thunderan Royal.


Guessing what Aslan wanted, he said, "None of us have heard from Class Seven since we split, sir. But their health bars are still green."


Aslan growled softly. "Never make assumptions in a Dungeon, Rael Astorius. Always rrrememberrr…this is the domain of a powerful Monster…and Chronogrin is among the most vile of the Final Bosses." With that, Aslan took off, shifting to the rarely used stance Leonids could take that allowed them to make use of all four limbs to move faster.






K'sar Khalzeth dashed after him, along with the other dark elves. "Sure, run ahead, we'll just take care of the score of victims!" Faelon shouted at his leonine colleague, but Aslan wasn't stopping. He had a bad feeling about the silence from his students. It reminded him too much of his last foray into the Wardengrave Dungeon. Faelon, Eryndis, and Theron deliberated a few moments more, before they left the hostages in the care of Class Two's Instructor. Being a Druid of the Land, Eryndis was able to fortify that tunnel junction and keep them safe. Once four Treants, smaller sentient tree cousins of Vireoliths were guarding them, the remaining classes and their Instructors followed after Aslan and K'sar.


Aslan did not wait for any of them, only pausing long enough to briefly examine the petrified remains of an Eye Tyrant that should not have been in the Wallow. His unease grew, and he sprinted forward again at an impressive pace, for being in plate armor. By that point, the dark elves were keeping pace with him. As they sprinted down the tunnel Class Seven had taken their break in, K'sar noted the traces of a temporary camp.


In the silence that followed his words, Aslan caught the sound of chanting goblins, and the shape of the situation his students were in. With a snarl towards K'sar, he growled, "Handle the ropes…the Boss is mmmine…"

​

Class Seven had, despite their tactics and an impressive body count, simply been overrun and overpowered by the horde of goblins around Grinmal, and his secret weapons. Luckily for them, the vile little rape monsters had only had time to tie them all up at Grinmal's order, bound to his pillar in the center of the deep vertical chasm, the same pillar that Grinmal had been perched on when they'd found him awaiting their arrival. A very bruised Drake Long looked up as he saw new names suddenly added to their party, with one in particular approaching them rapidly. Despite being very low on health after being swarmed by the goblins, he shouted through bruised, purple lips, "Eye Tyrants!" And the goblins nearest to him made him pay dearly for that warning with the beating that followed. It was worth it though, as he heard an echoing snarl of confirmation.


Rose, Nyara, and Tala were in tears, Zara was furious, along with their tanks, who despite their strength, were unable to break their bonds. With their prey secured and at their lack of mercy, the goblins went immediately for the teenaged girls to do what they did, only to pause as a furious roar echoed through the area, magically drawing their attention to its owner. A swarm of arrows flew towards the golden armored form of Aslan Claudus as he leapt towards Grinmal, who was grinning victoriously from his perch, but the armored Leonid drew an extending longsword from where it was sheathed within the golden plate armor gauntlet on his left claw, and sent the arrows scattering with a single sword stroke. The goblin torturer blocked Aslan's next strike with his crimson daggers, but much like Aegis against the Nilbog, Aslan used the parrying of their weapons as a springboard, masterfully twisting and leaping through the air and coming down with a brutally critical slash on a previously invisible Eye Tyrant.


This one was more purple than black, and it shrieked, its eye hemorrhaging a fountain of foul ichor in a diagonal spurt as Aslan followed with three more powerful strikes, heedless of the gore coating his armor, the last of which looked very much like it was imbued with a divine Smite. Drake still hadn't figured out what exactly the 'Hero' class was, but so far it seemed like a mix of a warrior and a paladin. Drake briefly wondered if he was hallucinating as the Eye Tyrant died to Aslan's onslaught. The higher level hero wasn't finished though, as he leapt off of the petrifying corpse straight towards another orange Eye Tyrant, which had descended from the worked stone area above Grinmal and fired its beams at the armored Leonid all at once. Aslan's gauntlet launched what looked like five grappling claws, but Drake didn't see what happened next.






A handsome dark elf with lavender eyes filled his vision as he landed on the precarious ledge they were bound above, and drew a pair of scimitars. "Hello there."


One lit with a tiny sphere of orange flame at its tip and ran along the other. Runes of light blue lit up as the blade became coated in ice. The other properly lit up completely with fire once the icey one was activated, and with an effortless twirl, the level ninety five dark elf, classed as a Shadestalker Ranger, sliced through their ropes. The goblins surrounding them converged on the handsome dark elf, but he dodged them easily, gracefully spinning through all eight of them with a mere two rotations that left them in smoking chunks.


But there were already more. The ranger raised a tiny statuette of what looked like a cat of some sort, but before he could throw it, the score of goblins climbing towards their newest teenaged captives fell to a similar number of arrows in the back of their heads. Drake, Rose, Caelum, and Lyria had dark grins on their faces as they recognized Lyria's father, at the head of a platoon of high level dark elves. Some were high level, anyway. Those who weren't high level were from Zemkarth, and had clearly been grinding some levels to get to fifty and above since the goblin raid.


More goblins poured out of numerous tunnels in the vertical chasm, even as their fellows fell to their deaths. Lyria's father and the higher level rangers they'd recruited were already reloaded. "For Zemkarth! End them!"






Arrows swarmed down the large vertical stone tunnel, often with a single arrow taking out multiple goblins as they fell. By this point, Aslan had killed the other Beholder, and was in an impressive sword duel with Grinmal. The head torturer of the Wallow was confidently holding his own against the higher level hero.


Lyria's father, and all three of the dark elven clerics he'd brought along leapt over to Class Seven as the sword clashes grew more intense. Grinmal was trying not to show weakness, but Aslan was relentless, and unnaturally fast with his weapon. It was less like a sword, and more like an extension of his claws. The dark elf with twin scimitars had also gotten involved now, and despite being able to hold off the two much higher level adventurers, Grinmal couldn't meaningfully damage them. The dark elf never came close to his crimson blades, and Aslan grapple-clawed away from his counter strikes in the somewhat enclosed space at the top of the chasm, using it to his advantage.


Drake went to check Rose, but kept his eyes on the Floor Boss. He'd used some flashy speed-echo BS to take out his clones in a single move. But Drake had managed to absorb enough of them for the cooldown to reset quickly. Even tied up, he would've broken free, at the right moment, and freed everyone with some firebending. The Deus Ex Lion Hero was an unexpected, but welcome boon, one he suspected Galdurath had sent their way.


Once he'd comforted a slightly shaken Rose, who insisted on healing him even without her staff, Vincent spoke up. "We could use a larger platform…and our stuff."






Drake nodded, and once again, his rainbow of ass kickers appeared, flying into action as Drake earthbended their platform outwards, giving them all room to stand, and heal. The goblin trash who'd taken their weapons hadn't gotten very far thanks to the sheer size and weight of Sethis's sword and Bjorn's axe. Black and brown cloak retrieved the weapons and stolen trinkets, quickly redistributing them while the rest of the Drakes took a page from their mages and their healers, combining their Ki beams into what could only be classified as a Super Kamehameha. Aslan and the dark elf saw this, and started utilizing their skills to give the Drakes an opening.


Aslan's fighting style shifted trading speed for sheer power, as he shouted an intonation that seemed to be part of some sort of three-strike skill of his. "Thunder…" Lightning started flowing off of his blade with each strike, and Grinmal's eyes widened in fear. "Thunder!" Even both of his crimson blades simply couldn't stop the amount of force in Aslan's swings. Once, twice, thrice in a row he hammered through the night goblin's guard and Grinmal's illusory copies of himself as lightning sparked around him. "THUNDER!" The third strike sent Grinmal's blades upwards and outwards, leaving his chest exposed, but instead of taking the chance to cut the torturer in half, Aslan launched his gauntlet's grapple-claws at him, binding him to the comparatively thinner top of the chasm's worked stone walls.


The dark elven ranger leapt, spinning no less than eight times in mid-air as he rapidly reduced the Floor Boss's health, and then springboarded off of him for good measure, into the horde of goblins approaching his fellow rangers on the ledge the students had been overwhelmed on. It seemed the Wallow had been redesigned to funnel adventurers to this spot, to be ambushed and overwhelmed. He tore into them with a surprising amount of rage for a dark elf that seemed composed and focused.

​

Aslan smashed the Floor Boss into either side of the chasm's walls several times via his grapple-claws, and worked stone proved stronger than the heavily bleeding night goblin, who was properly dazed after the beating. The blood-drenched Leonid skillfully swung his dazed body over the center of the chasm, and right under the Drakes. "Now!" Came a shout from Vincent, and Class Seven struck in unison. Caelum's water magic guided their mage's lightning spells into Grinmal and further lowered his health, before Vincent bound him with rings of magic, and gravity began to make him fall.


Drake was there, his own attack now supercharged, and purely in homage to the Rule of Cool, he changed his own shout, for no other reason than that he wanted to, following off Aslan's strikes.


"HO!!!"

The Super Kamehameha launched as Drake brought his hands from above his head, where the Mirror Images had charged the attack at serious cost to his magic, to directly in front of him, perfectly aligned with the bound and falling form of Grinmal. The attack landed, obscuring Grinmal from sight as the massive Ki beam hammered him down the entire vertical length of the stone shaft, before exploding at the bottom, and catching many goblins in the final blast. "Go…" He said to his copies, "Free the prisoners…Imma need a minute… Drone. Get out here and resume recording."


His head swam from burning so much magic so fast, but between the Corestone Catalyst and the Chronognomon, he would, literally, only need a minute. Even as he stumbled, Rose was there to prop him up, and seeing the state of their monk, Vincent hit him with a spell that would rapidly restore his spent magic. By the time Drone was streaming once more, he was able to stand again. The Mirror Images had gone a bit derpy with his wooziness, many flying inexplicably into walls, but as they snapped out of the daze with their original, they moved to do as ordered.






"You overdid it, again." Rose said, looking down at his attack's smoldering wake.


Drake waved her words away, and straightened up. "I'm fine…" He turned to the stream camera. "Sorry about the delay folks! We got overrun for a minute there, but the cavalry has arrived. The stream will continue until we take a proper break." Drone recorded the visages of Aslan, the dark elven melee ranger, and the other Instructors.


"Battlefield Awareness." Drake said, as he grimaced, and became aware of the surrounding enemies above them, if not by sight, than by presence. Monsters were incarnations of the darkest emotions. They weren't exactly hard to sense.


"I'll be right back…" He muttered to Rose, and then shot upwards, into the space above Grinmal's perch. Flames lit the small chamber, as Class Seven joined the dark elves in killing the seemingly endless flow of goblins climbing up the chasm walls. Once the goblins hiding above were torched, Drake descended again, having enough magic by that point to help incinerate the goblins. He turned his fists into a pair of literal flamethrowers, and that gave them the momentum they needed. Lyria, Nyara, and Zara copied him, using their own fire spells, which red cloak was able to expand with very limited firebending.


By flame and arrow, they descended on the goblins, but every inch was bought with more wounds. Stray, lucky arrows drenched in poison that cost magic to cure. Drake had his clones take and deflect most of those, since they were immune to most poisons. More and more of the ascending goblins were hobs, the closer they came to the bottom. There was also no small amount of enemy magic wielders, and of course, the sneaky ones who hid in stealth, waiting to strike. Each foot downwards was bought with effort and magic, and despite their higher levels, most of Class Seven had maybe half Drake's magic capacity. They could not sustain the concentrated flames forever.






Just as it seemed like the now entirely hobgoblin based horde was going to overwhelm them near the lowest carved ledges running in a large spiral around the chasm, the other three classes, and their own high level Instructors, joined the battle with the momentum of a meteor. And several actual Meteor spells that curved, and flew into the far distance of the next level, eradicating nothing but goblins and hobs in the distance, courtesy of Class One's Instructor. Theron Faelcrest appeared in their burning wake, spinning through the air and decapitating hobs wherever his sword landed.


"Clear the entrance!" Aslan roared. "Drake, use that beam thing to push them back, and then seal it up!"


Drake nodded, following his line of thought. The vertical chasm behind them was large, and likely had hundreds of captives, as well as more than a few goblins who'd no doubt hidden away. With their line of tanks holding steady, Drake had all of his clones but green use the Kamehameha Wave in conjunction with each other. Eight large energy beams carved a swathe into the hobgoblin horde, and then green cloak sealed the entrance to the next floor with hardened layers of granite. It wouldn't hold forever, but it didn't have to.


Theron took over, at that point. "Alright students! This is now a search and rescue operation! Find every prisoner they've taken! Take out any Goblins in hiding! Groups of two, and maintain constant communication! How long will this hold?" The white furred Luparyn growled at green cloak.


"Long enough, sir…" He said, already frowning. They've already got something large smashing against it…but I can make more. Reinforce anything that's broken. Just…hurry."






The white wolf nodded. "Right…someone give the Monk a magic potion, then get to it!"


Vincent offered one of his, and with the combat over and green only actively drawing on it, Drake's magic once again began to recoup quickly. Drake prime went with Rose, leaving his clones to assist as they saw fit. Earth Sense was occupied by green, but Battlefield Awareness made finding the captives much easier.


The work was grim, and slow. After two entire hours of searching, freeing, and ending any goblins in hiding, the four classes had found no less than five hundred captives who'd been brutalized at the hands of the goblins. Most of them were women, but there were a few men still alive…though one could not call them sane. From what they'd been able to get from them, each had seen someone they cared about, or multiple someones, brutalized before their eyes, over and over, until any sense of sanity snapped. The goblins needed their pain to continue though, so they kept them just sane enough to have an emotional reaction to the sights they witnessed daily, and their derangement and despair gave rise to plenty more goblins.


Naturally, Drake had Drone blur their faces and wounds, ordering it only to film the sheer number of victims from afar, once they had spare blankets, courtesy of Aegis and his party, to cover themselves with and begin the long climb to freedom.






Drake approached Aegis, once the captives were guided to the entrance of the fourth floor, and sent back to Instructor Hollowbranch with an escort. "You've said that Goblins spawn from despair and dark emotions…" Drake started, jolting the paladin from whatever internal monologue he was having. "But where exactly do they spawn?"


"I've only been there once…" Aegis murmured. "It's the final point before the descent to Chronogrin's lair…overseen by a Malblin Lord. You faced a newly ascended Malblin King up on the second Floor, but this Lord…from what I saw, he might just be one of the oldest Goblins in this cesspool…save Chronogrin and one or two of his Kings. He is the one who shapes the darkness into stronger variations of Goblins…but the higher up those with traumatic emotions go, the harder it is to make anything. Our main goals for this next floor need to be eradication of the troops first. We can handle any Champions or Lords later, the way we cripple them, permanently, is by removing their hordes. Without numbers…they're Nothing."


Rose shuddered beside Drake, and he tried to comfort her. It wasn't easy though…the images of the state in which they'd found the prisoners…had deeply shocked and unnerved everyone. Even the most stoic among the raid party were fuming with a new, righteous anger. "There are more, though, aren't there? Like Grinmal? Chronogrin's Kings…"


Aegis nodded. "With the Agonarch's fall…there are four left. We'll discuss them below." The paladin radiating an aura of retribution turned, only to see his classmates heading towards them.






Seeing Drake and Rose speaking with Aegis, Class Three approached them. Emrys, their High Elf enchanter, spoke for them, as it seemed he was their representative. "Aegis…we…owe you an apology. You've tried to warn us many times about how dangerous Goblins are, and we…you were right. You have proven beyond the shadow of doubt that they are a pestilence like no other…and myself and the others wish to apologize for our…ignorant comments. Any sane person would want to eradicate every single one of these…barbaric creatures. We understand that, now."


Aegis looked over his classmates, briefly. His party, Thalondor, Marise, and Kyran, gave him subtle thumbs up, but looking over the rest, his eyes narrowed. They still didn't get it. They'd seen the horrors first hand, but they still lacked his resolve. Perhaps they never would fully understand. He wondered if their words were even truthful, but then decided it didn't matter. The fierce, golden gaze shifted to Emrys beneath his helmet. "I don't need your thanks. What I need, is your help in exterminating every single Goblin. Do that…and I'll forget whatever you've said in the past." He left out that their past words and comments had about as much worth to him as dirt.


With nothing else to say, Aegis shouldered past his comrades and began descending to the bottom, where green cloak Drake was still holding the goblins off, with increasing difficulty. Aegis's party members sighed, but then followed him, along with Class Three. Seeing they were converging again, the students gathered. In addition to the fifty or so that made up their initial raid party, they now had K'sar, and his fellow rangers, as well as three Instructors, all above level one hundred. Lyria's father had taken the lower level elves back, as from this point on, there were only Boss Monsters left, and their armies.






Aegis started, uncrossing his arms once they all gathered. "What comes next in the Wallow is commonly referred to as the 'Shit Pit'. It's a gauntlet, home to four of the most vile Goblins to ever exist. They call themselves the Grinwardens, and yes, that's to mock the Arc Warden Academy. For eons they have lived right under the noses of the Guild and the school. They'll find our presence here amusing. Which leads me to their first…and perhaps most dangerous member."


Aegis let out a heavy sigh. "Harlegrin, the Madgrin Monarch…is absolutely insane. Even for a Goblin. He speaks perfect Galdurian, but don't let his idiot act fool you…he is clever. He will win at any cost, even if he takes damage himself…and he'll laugh as he does it. He's the only Grinwarden I've personally faced before…do not underestimate him. He may be the smartest Goblin that ever spawned in this shithole."


Aegis continued, and Drake noted the looks of discomfort and disgust on the faces of his party. Even the stoic Thalondor had a grimace on his wooden face. "Slaggrin, the Wallowgrinder is the oldest Goblin alive, except for maybe Chronogrin. He's the one responsible for turning this Dungeon into an ungodly mess without checkpoints or proper Floor Boss areas. Chronogrin has a bad habit of slowing time around Slaggrin, so he can accomplish his tasks in a comparatively quick manner. Breaking through a Dungeon's Levels is…was…thought to be impossible…but we have recorded proof, now. It can be done." He gestured at the walls around them, and indeed, there were faint traces of massive gouges in the stone, but they were worn, as if millennia old. Drone dutifully recorded them.


"Grinjaw, the Iron Maw is probably the Wallow's strongest warrior. At least over level one hundred…we will be in deep shit if we encounter him. He's been known to summon hordes of Goblins with his abilities, willing them to manifest as an army from the collective suffering and negative energy of the Wallow's former prisoners. He will run out of material shortly…and he will be very pissed off."


"Finally…there's the worst of all of them. By far the most vile Goblin in the Wallow…Grinmoire…the Woeweaver. This specific Goblin trash is a Necromancer…and he…" Aegis shuddered, with what seemed either like rage, or sorrow. Maybe both. Either way, it was a raw emotion, and it didn't take a genius to guess that Grinmoire had resurrected someone the paladin had been close to, once.






Drake broke his monologue's silence after giving him a few moments. "But…Monsters turn to smoke when they die…" His face fell, as he realized the only other source of bodies…and why they hadn't found any in the prisoner holding area. "Don't tell me he-"


Aegis's head snapped up, his golden eyes literally flaring with divine rage. "That's right…you get it. Of course you do. You've understood from the start, Drake. This…fucking Goblin raises the corpses of the men who die in despair here…and the women who were brutalized to death. After suffering the most agonizing end these Monsters can inflict…this Trash brings them back from their rightful rest at Eldarheim, to serve his whims in this muddy shithole. Forever." Aegis practically snarled his next words. "If we see that one…he's Mine…"


"Not that this isn't fascinating, and useful info…" Green Drake spoke up, "But they are…really close to breaking through over here!"






Everyone quickly fell in behind their Instructors, with Elorin leading Class Two, since theirs was handling the former prisoners. Within moments of green cloak flying back, the wall was bashed down by a pair of big, grinning, and apparently freshly made Goblin Champions, sitting at a comparatively low level of fifty five. To the waiting raid party of skilled warriors, they were easy experience points, boosted by their Monk's Buff.


"Take down as many soldiers as possible!" Aegis shouted, after jumping into the horde of hobgoblins. "The less soldiers the Kings have, the more likely we are to win!"


With that command, it became almost depressingly easy to take down their foes. There were no other champions among the hobs, and the further they fought on, the lower level, in general, the goblins became. The real problem, was their sheer numbers. If the second Floor had been a sea of green, this was a proper ocean. Nothing but screaming goblins marching towards almost certain death for as far as they could see, in the flat expanse of underground before them.


"Drake!" Rose finally called out to the genuine article in his white cloak. "We can't sustain this forever! Not if we want to beat the Kings!"


Drake winked at her. "If only we had a large, dangerous, fire-breathing ally, waiting on his wings to join us." Despite their combat situation, he could tell he'd stoked the flame in her, as he'd subtly been doing for a while now. They'd both agreed to not engage in le romance while in the Dungeon, since Chronogrin seemed able to see everything, but Drake was fine with that. He didn't particularly care for extended build-up and then release, but it had, historically, been quite effective for him.






Drake took a deep breath, and examined their situation. Fourteen tanks, with the addition of Aslan, who could apparently also function as a tank and draw focus to him, were spread out in a wide wedge that was systematically carving through the goblins on this large, straight tunnel, from wall to wall. Their snipers made sure nothing got through, and Leif was solely focused on finding those who got through anyway, and ending them with an assassin-only skill that apparently allowed him to sense the stealth skill being used. The sneakier goblins had no trouble sneaking through the hob's feet, and he had no shortage of targets.


The healers and casters were burning through magic though. Drake recalled blue, and had him start channeling his waterbending to help restore their magic. Each of his clones was on arrow duty, which meant firing Ki Blasts, and catching and often throwing back bolts and arrows launched by the goblins.


Agreeing with Rose's assessment, that they could not sustain this to the end of wherever this passage led, Drake inhaled, and channeled Atreyu caught in the wild, entropic winds of the Nothing as he shouted, "FAAAAALKOOOOOOR!" and activated the Ring of Draconic Friendship.


Behind him, appearing in golden, majestic glory that both lit up the dark Dungeon and briefly blinded the goblins, appeared first a pair of massive wings, whose webbing was black as the abyss, then, a draconic form armored in white scales almost turned golden by the light of his divine arrival manifested between them. Falkor appeared in all his draconic glory, and roared, and the sound magically rolled over the raiders like a whisper, before hitting the goblins with Unrelenting Force. He flapped in place majestically, flames already rising in his toothy maw, as he spoke.


"For every scream in this pit…I bring a thousand flames…"

The original Drake landed on his neck crest then, and pointed heroically at the stunned, mostly prone goblins. "Falkor! Purge them." The monk watched with interest as his dragon summoned the fire with his own will, in a condensed, swirling orb that, with thunderous crack of the Dragon Tongue, shot forward like an Imperium melta weapon straight out of Warhammer 40k. Drake, naturally, expanded the flames, and sent them forward over the goblins, as Falkor began his aerial charge forward as well, maintaining the stream of burning death.


"Forward! Kill the stragglers!" Aslan roared, already tearing into the few severely burned but not quite dead goblins left in the dragon's wake.






While Drake was very much fulfilling a childhood dream, to his compatriots, it was a stark reminder of what Falkor was. Dragons, under Dagorath, had possessed similar, if not greater fiery prowess, and for those who knew, Falkor was barely a few weeks old, technically, if high level. His power would only grow.


Rose, for her part, was focused on Drake, fully taken in by the heroic palm he had outstretched to expand Falkor's flames to their full potential, hair waving wildly in the superheated air. Tala trotted by her, purposefully bumping her shoulder. "You're drooling, Rose."


Koreia brushed past her other shoulder, purposefully swatting Rose with her twin white fluffy fox tails, as she quipped back at Tala. "Can you blame her? He does cut a…striking figure."


Zara was behind them, angrily launching cantrip level flames into the goblins who hadn't died. "I can't believe you people are bantering about this…after all the shit we've seen today. Good Gods…"


Then, of course, Nyara came by as well. Dirty, exhausted, dangerously low on magic, and probably the person most in need of a long rest in the entire raid. She'd also leveled up the most, and had gotten an impressive number of kills. "Oh they…won't stop, Zara…that Monk…has insanely high Charisma. He even got me to cook for him…" She tiredly stabbed a resilient hobgoblin that'd somehow survived both Falkor's fire, and Zara's, and still hadn't died, stabbing his scorched face with her magical rapier.






Rose hit her with a spell for restoring both health and stamina in general, and handed her a magic restoring potion for good measure. Nyara almost refused, but she was literally too tired to do so. "Don't push so hard, Nyara. You've already done a lot…"


The cat girl shook her head, and stared at the now rather far off figure of Drake Long atop his gleaming white God-empowered dragon. "I can't, Rose…if I just hang back unnoticed…I'll lose for sure." She ran ahead then, catching up to the others.


Rose blinked, and followed her. "Lose…what?"


Koreia spun by, her magically conjured chakrams fresh from finishing off a pair of goblins. "A chance at your Hero's heart, of course. You know how big the harems of the God's favored can get. I saw you looking it up." She teased, spinning away with another giggle, that ended in goblin death.


Rose chuckled, confidently. "Oh…is that all? Sorry girls…you've already lost that race. My Drake has no intention of starting a harem." She summoned her own mount then, and though the moody alicorn did not like the space she was in, Nymera obliged her rider, with clear distaste, as she rode up beside Drake, and kept pace with him and his scaled companion.


"You can't hog him to yourself!" Tala shouted, as Rose flapped away.


Koreia trotted up beside the blonde bun conspiratorially. "You know…if he's not going to start one, that means Rose is our only option…" She glanced around, noting Nyara not so inconspicuously listening in.


"So? What do you have in mind, then?" Tala said with a smirk.


Koreia giggled. "We're roomies, are we not? We can…convince her. Y'know…when we get back…after this…" She sighed, the levity leaving her voice as the hobgoblin horde finally turned and ran from the unstoppable white scaled behemoth that had incinerated thousands of their kin in the space of minutes. Before the girls was a literal field of burned goblins and smoking corpses fading into nothing.






The green version of Drake raised another set of granite walls, even thicker than before, bisecting the tunnel that, from their perspective, just kept going on and on. "Time to rest!" Theron Faelcrest shouted in his teacher tone. "You're all exhausted, low on magic, and twelve of you were recently prisoners. We rest here, for eight hours, and then we continue on to the Grinwardens."


Aegis and Drake in particular wanted to keep going, but even the goblin killing aficionado could admit when his party needed to recover. Thus, the students split off, usually by class or by party, and had a rest. Drake stayed with Rose the entire time, and after a quick meal prepped from the Bag of Holding and his Omniforging, she was the first to fall asleep.


The firelight flickered low in the small stone alcove Drake's earthbending had carved into the tunnel wall where he, Rose, and Garret had set up to rest. The rest of the raid party was scattered in clusters, wrapped in blankets or leaned against walls, sleeping off the hell they had carved through, and the nightmares of the state the goblin's victims had been found in. One wrong move this deep in the Wallow, and that would be their fate as well. It made restful sleep hard to achieve, for those not gifted with the confidence combat brought.






Drake sat cross-legged near the flame, one hand stirring the pot of Omniforged stew to keep it from burning. Rose was asleep beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, her breathing slow and peaceful. Her healing spells had taken more out of her than she would admit.


Garret was nearby, shield propped up behind him, running a cloth over the blade of his sword. He wasn't watching the fire. He was watching the camp. His head tilted, slightly, when Lyria stepped into the light.


The dark elf sorceress moved like mist. Not silently, but smoothly, deliberately. Her white hair was tied back in a loose braid, her gaze flicking briefly to Rose, then to Drake, then to the flames. The boys greeted their fourth party member in unison, but Lyria just quietly nodded in response.


She sat down across from them, knees up, arms folded loosely over them.






Garret cleared his throat, eager to break the thoughts that were undoubtedly swirling in the dark elf's head, with the amount of fire, goblins, and trauma they'd seen today. "So…I think I'm in…trouble."


Drake raised an eyebrow. "Again?"


"Not like that. Errr…romantically." Garret stared at the sword Guild Master Solus had given to him, like it might help him word things. "I think I've got a thing for someone outside our Class."


Drake smirked, sipping delicious broth from his bowl, as Lyria quietly grabbed one. "You going to tell us who, or make us guess?"


"Nalia. Class Two." Garret finally looked up. "She flattened a Hob with her bare hands earlier, and then threatened to break my ribs when I tried to help her up."


Lyria snorted softly.


"I'm serious," Garret said. "There's…something about her. She doesn't flinch. Not at pain. Not at blood. She's just…an unstoppable murder machine…and those claws..." The teenaged Leonid let out a low rumble from his gut, or perhaps, somewhere deeper.






"She sounds like a good fit for you," Lyria said. "If you can somehow manage to romance Thunderan Royalty, you'll be in. Perhaps Aslan could help."


"No...Aslan would carve me up himself." Garret looked over at Drake. "Do you think I have a shot, my friend?"


Drake shrugged. "Who cares about bloodlines? You've got a thick, luscious mane, a thick, Runite shield, and more strategic sense than most of our casters. That's got to count for something."


Lyria watched him as he spoke. There was no teasing smile on her lips, just quiet thought behind her light green eyes. After a moment, she asked, "Do you think people fall for power, or for presence?"


Drake glanced at her, then down at Rose. "I think people fall for the one who chooses to stay...especially when they didn't have to."


Lyria's expression barely changed. But her gaze lingered on him. "You chose to stay in Zemkarth, instead of going mining. You didn't even hesitate when you heard Goblins were taking my people." She said quietly.


Drake met her eyes. "No. I didn't. I...had a bit of an otherworldly inkling as to...just how bad things were. Seeing it in reality was...a lot."


She nodded, slowly. "It was. But I'm still glad you came to Zemkarth. That's all."






Garret looked between them, then stood, stretching his back with a long groan. "Alright. I'm going to do rounds. If you see Nalia, tell her I don't actually have a concussion, no matter what Leif said."


He thumped off into the shadows in his heavy plate armor. Drake looked back to Lyria. "Are you doing okay?"


She looked down at her soup. "I'm… trying. There are a lot of burned corpses between me and okay."


Drake nodded. "I know the feeling."


There was silence for a few heartbeats as she finally started eating. Then she smiled faintly, and said, "You didn't have to punch that Goblin King that hard, you know. That Skill has to be draining..."


Drake smirked at her. "It is. But I really wanted to punch him. That's kind of my thing. Like you, and launching Meteors at people."






Lyria chuckled softly, and looked at the fire again. "That's what I mean. You chose to stay and fight, even when you saw how much higher level the Goblin King was. You punched him so hard, he exploded." Drake stayed silent, as their eyes met. Despite his intentions, they were, he realized, very much having a moment.


Lyria stood a few moments later, setting down her empty bowl and brushing off her robe. She paused, just before stepping away. "For what it's worth," She said, "if Rose ever needs backup…"


Drake raised an eyebrow.


"I'm not saying I'd share," She added. "But I wouldn't mind competing."


She walked off before he could reply. Drake blinked and watched her go, then looked back at Rose. "I really hope you didn't wake up for that part." Rose didn't stir. But her hand tightened slightly on his cloak.






Lyria walked a little distance from the fire, not really going anywhere, just needing space. The echoes of flame and fatigue still clung to her mind, and the things she'd said lingered heavier than she'd planned. She stopped by a thick pillar of stone, one of the chasm's natural supports, and leaned against it, letting the cold of the rock ground her.


"Interesting…so she doesn't mind competition..."


The voice came from the shadows. Lyria whirled, but a gentle laugh followed, not threatening. Koreia stepped into view, her twin white fox tails flicking with amusement. Beside her, Tala leaned casually against the stone, arms folded, bunny ears twitching in time with her smirk.


"You girls always this sneaky?" Lyria asked, narrowing her eyes.


"Only when we're scouting for talent," Tala replied, grinning.


Lyria stared. "Talent for what?"


Koreia twirled a magical chakram idly on one finger. "You're not subtle, you know. That whole 'thanks for burning my trauma to the ground' bit? Very touching. And obvious."






"I meant it," Lyria said defensively, crossing her arms.


"Oh, we know," Tala said, pushing off the wall. "That's the point."


Lyria raised a brow. "What point?"


Koreia leaned in conspiratorially. "Let's not pretend Rose has this whole thing locked down forever. She might be the first to confess, but have you seen how Drake looks at, well, everyone?"


"He's a guy. But he's also polite," Lyria said. "And loyal."


Tala smirked. "You're not wrong. But he's also got the social skills of a heroic popoto. Which makes him vulnerable."


"To what?"


"To us." Koreia said sweetly.






Lyria blinked slowly in disbelief. "Are you two… trying to start a harem?"


"No." Tala answered. "Yes." Koreia said, at the same time. They looked at each other.


"…Maybe." Tala admitted.


Koreia shrugged. "Look. We know what Rose will say. Something righteous and monogamous and utterly Elven. But we also know what happens when you get close to someone with the Gods' favor."


"They accumulate partners." Tala muttered. "Like loot. Happens every time. And I do mean every time."


"You want in?" Koreia asked.


Lyria paused. "I'm not looking to… share."


Koreia smiled knowingly. "Not yet. But you'll come around."


Tala grinned. "Or we'll wear you down. Either way, eventually, we will convince those two to share their bliss."


Lyria looked between them, utterly incredulous.






"This is insane," She said. "You're literally forming a guild of girlfriends."


"We prefer the term Support Party B." Koreia giggled.


"Also," Tala added, "you're on the list now. Can't unlist yourself. The moment you all but confessed tonight, your fate was decided."


Lyria rubbed her temples. "Oh Gods... You're serious."


"Oh, completely," Koreia said, grinning.


Tala winked. "Rest well, future co-wife."


The two vanished into the shadows, their tails and ears the last things seen before the stone swallowed them again. Lyria stood there a moment, staring after them. Then, slowly…she smiled. "…Idiots." But she didn't walk away. She leaned against the stone, looked back toward the monk illuminated by the firelight in the distance, and let the warmth reach her again.

Eight Hours Later…​

The earthbended wall came down with a thunderous boom, and the small army of armed and ready adventurers raised their weapons…only to slightly lower them, in confusion. Gone was the vast tunnel from eight hours earlier, and now, in its place, a solid stone wall, and yet another vertical shaft into darkness.


Aslan narrowed his eyes, and beside him, K'sar murmured, "What…the actual fuck…"


"It's Chronogrin." Drake said, loudly. "He did this last time. Warped time while we rested up, to change what lay before us. And last time…what we faced was a Goblin King empowered by a Shard of Dagorath. Not a full one, either, but it almost killed me, anyway…"


"This is…obviously a trap." Vincent muttered. "Drake, can you earthbend our way to the old tunnel? If we're going to progress, I'd rather not descend into yet another dark shaft of death…"


Before Drake could even start, Aegis Bryllon spoke up. "There are likely Goblins down there…if we're going to kill all of them…we need someone to go into the obvious trap." When the raid murmured quietly in disapproval, Aegis snarled. "Fine! I volunteer!" He leapt in without fear or heed, before anyone could react.






Theron Faelcrest snarled in irritation. "Overzealous idiot! Class Three! Into the obvious trap!" He growled, leaping after his murderous student.


"Marise, you have the device?" Vincent asked the redhead in Aegis's party. She nodded. "If nobody responds on the Raid Comm, use it! Good luck." The redhead jumped in without a word, clutching the magitech device tightly. The rest of Class Three grumbled about following Aegis, but down they went. And then, there were three parties.


Drake did manage to earthbend through the sizable wall of stone that had once been a passage but all they found was dust, darkness, and a growing sense of going the wrong way. This culminated as they reached the end of the passageway, adorned with a massive, grinning, obese goblin face with the Galdurian words 'Not So Clever Heroes' carved above the mocking visage.


As they gathered by the carving, the floor rumbled, and a mighty roar echoed through the Dungeon, full of pain, irritation, and age-old anger. Three different tunnel shafts, what could only have been the work of Slaggrin the Wallowgrinder, deposited Classes One, Two, and Seven in three different circular rooms.






Drake looked up as he and his clones helped most of their squishy party members survive the drop, and he frowned. He was in a theme park, or at least, what a clearly insane goblin must've thought a theme park was. Arcadian society did have places to go much like the theme parks on Earth, but with magitech. This one…was not made with magitech however. Black iron covered everything, and it had been shoddily graffitied by the space's owner, undoubtedly.


With a loud cackle, he appeared, a goblin in poorly applied white face makeup, and an attempt at a clown costume, with limbs and proportions so long and lanky, he reminded Drake of a Troll from World of Warcraft more than any goblin. As Class Seven got its bearings, and noticed the goblin clown, who could only have been the aforementioned Harlegrin, the Madgrin Monarch, the lanky goblin reached into his long, purple patchwork overcoat, and pulled out something that seemed suspiciously like a grenade, or at least, a goblin's interpretation of one.


"Ahhh…da Monk! And da Hero! Heheheh! My lucky day…" He gave them all a sinister grin, as he pulled the pin from his shoddily made grenade. "Why do you all look so…serious?"

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 16: The Wallow, Part 4a: The Woe Weaver​

---

For these next chapters, we'll be going class by class, battle by battle.

Some of them are kind of long, so I've split them up. One a day, from today onwards.

Enjoy.



Class Three





Slave Sepulchre - The Wallow Dungeon



​

Driven by vengeance, or perhaps blinded by it, Aegis Bryllon jumped head first into the dark tunnel, sword held ahead of him for light, as it smoothed out and became flatter, but still slanted at a downward angle. He slid down it with his armored weight, his feet acting as skis, only to abruptly stop, as a massive white furred Luparyn landed in front of him. "Hold…" He snarled.


Within moments, the rest of Class Three joined them. Each of them started loudly berating Aegis, and Theron let them this time, as he'd earned it. Aegis reacted, as always, to none of it. Once they were finished, the white wolf rumbled, "Orlok, Kalen, Thalondor, form a wedge at our front. Valen, Sylvar, use your bows and take out any lurking Assassins or magic users. Nightscales! Summon your skeletons to help our tanks at the front. Leander, keep your swords around our sides. The rest of you, surround the healers. And you…" Theron snarled at Aegis. "You're in the back. With me. Where I'll be keeping an eye on you."


Aegis tried protesting. "I'm better at the fro-"


Theron smashed his helmeted skull with the hilt of one of his swords. "You're not good for anything if you're stupid enough to jump headfirst into an obvious trap without backup! At the back! Now!"






As they continued downwards, the tunnel eventually evened out, into a large cavern. The class gasped collectively, but Aegis started humming with golden power. "I knew it…it's Grinmoire…we're in the Slave Pit." Since starting this raid, this unholy sepulcher was actually exactly where Aegis had been trying to get to.


The massive, circular cavern was a pit of bones. Slick with slime, rot, and the stench of decay, there had to be over a hundred thousand skeletons of humans and other races, thrown here in a pile. Rib bones, massive ones, arched up and around the sides of the bone pit. This, was the final resting place for the bodies of the goblin's captives, once they were done raping, torturing, and degrading them to make more of their kind.


In the middle of it all, waiting, was the Woeweaver himself, standing upon a pedestal with the visage of an obese grinning goblin with ruby eyes carved into it. The Goblin King was clad in a long dark robe that glowed with shoddy goblin scrawled runes in the same green as the foul mist that filled the circular cavern. A hood covered his rotting face, and his limbs lacked any sign of muscle, or life. In one hand, was a black metal staff with a screaming face contorted in perpetual agony atop it. It was impossible to tell if it had been male or female, the only expression it had was silent, tortured pain.

(The Goblin Lich literally broke QQ with a cursed image)​

A dark chuckle came from the goblin necromancer, and Theron stepped forward, upon seeing his level, an even one hundred, and far, far above most of his students who were at sixty or slightly over it thanks to Class Seven's divine anomaly. Thankfully, nullifying high tier magic was what his silver sword did best.

"Ahhh…excellent…the wolf…the Paladin…and all his precious friends…"

A single eye appeared from under the hood to take them in as Grinmoire raised his head and spoke, and then, it started glowing with a sickly green color. "Let us continue to weave this tale of Woe…but where did I put her…" The necromancer shook with laughter, a grin spreading wide across his rotting features as he bared his foul visage to them properly, both eyes now aglow with his dark power. "Worry not…Green Reaper…I still have your sister here…somewhere…"

The light in the necromancer's eyes pulsed, and flowed into the skeletons below his pedestal. They started reanimating, clawing themselves up from the massive pit of bone, and Theron spoke low and quick to his students. "He's no longer a Necromancer…he's ascended to become a Goblin Lich. His spells are too strong for you all right now…leave them to me to deal with…focus on breaking his minions, and damaging him as much as you can." Theron knew it was a threadbare plan of attack, but what they really needed here was the rest of the raiding party.






The first wave of freshly raised skeletons shambled forward, and immediately Thalondor, Orlok, and Kalen felt the weight of their attacks. The Goblin Lich's minions ranged in level from sixty to seventy five, leagues above where their power had been in life. Almost immediately, claws of bone began tearing into the sentient tree, Orca beastkin, and armored dire bear respectively. The skeletal lizardmen at their sides were already breaking quickly, demonstrating the difference between a sorcerer using an old lizardman racial spell to summon his ancestors, and a Goblin Lich with a mass grave and eons of necromantic knowledge to draw upon.

Valen and Sylvar loosed arrows immediately, their shots crackling with elemental enchantments, but to their horror, some of the skeletons caught the lower level skills and their arrows in midair, with unnatural reflexes. "They're fast!" Sylvar hissed, already nocking another arrow. The Leonid sniper wasn't used to fighting this exposed, and close to the front line. He disliked being out of his element.

The wedge of tanks held against the undead onslaught despite none of their tanks actually wielding a shield, and Valen's second shot struck true, blasting apart a line of skeleton heads with a crack of lightning. Orlok found the skeleton's weak points, and used his orca strength to reduce them to bone meal. Kalen had the most trouble, thanks to his instinct to use his sharp claws, but as he fought more skeletons, he realized just bashing them with his paws or body was oftentimes enough to stop them. Behind the living wall of tanks, Kyran Nightscale's lizard claws danced in the sickly light, conjuring another squad of skeletal warriors from the scraps of cleaner bone. They weren't strong, but they could hold the flanks. Barely.






The bone pit churned. More skeletons rose, hundreds, then thousands, all crackling with the sickly green energy Grinmoire exuded. His laughter echoed through the cavern, a grating, hacking thing that didn't sound remotely sane. Aegis clutched his sword, trembling with rage and started forward, only to feel Theron's iron claws grip his shoulder.

"Hold…" The white wolf growled, shoving him bodily behind the shield wall. "You'll have your shot. But not yet."

A low hiss rippled across the bone field. Thin, glistening strands of green energy slithered through the piles, stitching broken skeletons back together faster than they could be destroyed. For every one they killed, two more rose in its place, and their source of fresh bones was seemingly endless.

Looming above it all, the Woeweaver spread his arms, staff raised high as the screaming, agonized face called out to the pit with waves of magic emanating from its mouth, and the Slave Pit answered. From the bone walls themselves, shapes began to peel free, larger ones. Giant, grotesque amalgamations of skeletal, tortured humanoids fused together, their forms stitched with green-oozing webbing. Hulking Bone Abominations.

Theron's eyes narrowed. "Shit."

Grinmoire tilted his head back and forced his staff to shriek, an awful, keening sound. Beneath the scream, Theron's sharp ears picked out the Galdurian words Grinmoire was chanting, some ancient, bastardized spell, probably older than the Academy itself. He recognized the effect instantly.

"Incoming Curse! Wards up!" He barked.






The healers threw up desperate counter-magic as a wave of despair smashed into them, a miasma of grief and hopelessness that tried to drag the students to their knees. Their tanks weathered the spell, as their Instructor aimed his silver blade at the spell's center, and fired off a magic bolt, or more accurately, an anti-magic bolt. The curse faded, but the Woeweaver still cackled, the glowing staff now thrumming with power. "Cry for me, little heroes! Bleed for me... Break for me... Die for me…just like the Reaper's sister…it is your Fate!"

The green light of his magic coalesced, and from the mass grave of the pit, a towering skeletal figure began to rise, stitched together from a hundred different bodies, each skeletal face had their mouths twisted open in perpetual agony and seated atop her rotting crown, laughing, giddy with madness, was Grinmoire.

Theron drew both swords and slammed them together with a clash that shook the cavern. "Form up! Focus fire on the Abominations first! If you can hit that rotting bastard while he's mobile, do it, but don't break formation!"

As the earth trembled under the rising mound of dead, Class Three charged into the Pit.







The first Bone Abomination hit them like a landslide, a wall of bones and claws slammed into Orlok's greatsword with an impact that sent cracks spiderwebbing through the stone beneath their feet. Kalen and Thalondor joined him in holding back the multi-limbed monstrosity, and held the line.

"For Primus!" Orlok bellowed, forcing the creature back with his orca strength, and then followed that opening with a brutal upwards slash. The blow made it stagger back as it lost part of its four fused rib cages, but then its eyes flared and it resumed its forward onslaught with the same tireless undead vigor as the skeletons below and around it.

The Bone Abomination twisted unnaturally, its mass shifting. A skeletal arm scythed sideways at Thalondor's head, and Leander was there, swords flashing in a perfect X-shaped block, catching the blow midair and shoving it wide. Since slashing didn't do much against enemies made of bone, the sword saint was on defense in this battle. He countered hard, aiming for the abomination's joints with more success than he'd had on the skeletons, since they were larger. Three of its arms fell to the ground, and it roared more in annoyance than pain.

"NOW!" Theron roared.

Valen and Sylvar answered with a volley of enchanted arrows, their shots hitting the cracks left in the bone from Orlok's upwards slash. Arrows encased in purple fire, shards of stone, and frost ripped into the creature's sternum, and the entire right side of the monster detonated in a burst of bone shards. The abomination let out a horrible shrieking sound like a thousand voices screaming through broken throats, but it did not fall. Its left arm, now reformed through Grinmoire's magic, swung again, and Orlok caught the mighty blow.

They were having real trouble with the level seventy five abomination, and more were coming. Five…ten…twenty of them, at least, were slowly wading through the horde of skeletons. Behind the front lines, the healers chanted furiously, hurling wards and minor heals to keep the formation from buckling. Kyran's skeletons were already shattering like dry twigs, barely slowing the tide.






High above them, atop the reanimated mass of bone slowly becoming more humanoid in shape, Grinmoire laughed at the mortal's pitiful attempt. It was a scene he was quite familiar with. They would reduce some small part of his bone army to meal, but in the end, they would end up replenishing it, and there would always be more victims. Grinmal might have been slain, but there were plenty of other goblins who could do his job. Torture was easy…Necromancy, was art, and far more difficult to master.

From his throne atop the skeletal giant, Grinmoire spun his screaming staff, weaving new sigils into the air. Above him, the green mist twisted into shapes, phantasmal specters of the women who'd died in this place, forcibly reanimated as Banshees. They shrieked as they dove toward the students like an ethereal ocean of agony and sorrow.

Theron's silver sword flared to life with magic nullifying runes, cutting a bright line through the miasma. He leapt into the air, spinning rapidly as he did so, and sliced through the sad souls as he intercepted the first wave of phantoms before they could hit his students. Each swing of his blade unraveled the magic woven into them, shredding the departed souls apart, and hopefully sending them somewhere better than this foul pit.

But he couldn't be everywhere.






A shout of pain tore the air as one of the specters latched onto Thalondor's wooden head, clawing at his eyes with incorporeal talons. Thalondor staggered, swiping at it uselessly with his hammer, and Aegis, despite Theron's orders, broke from using his limited healing spells in the back ranks to save his tank, and one of the few he regarded as a friend. He moved faster than someone in full plate armor had any right to, his sword gleaming with golden light as the runes along its length burned to life.

With a wordless cry, Aegis leapt and cleaved the phantom cleanly in two, his blade humming with the Goddess's light. The paladin hit the ground rolling, turning his momentum into another slash at a skeleton trying to gut Orlok from behind. Light infused their tanks, and Theron, who'd kept his aerial spinning maneuvers up by leaping off skeletal heads, saw him out of formation. He didn't bother scolding the paladin though, as he knew what came next. Without a heavy to guard their back, the casters would become overwhelmed.

Even with Aegis's retribution spells bolstering their charge, the fighting grew desperate. Skeletons swarmed the wall of tanks. Abominations smashed into their lines, but it seemed the Green Reaper's holy magic was the perfect counter to them, as his swords strokes kept their limbs from reforming thanks to his radiant damage. Specters dove from above, only to be slashed apart by the spinning form of their Instructor.

Every kill seemed to birth two more threats, but Class Three held.

At first.






As Theron had expected, the back buckled first. "Leander!" He barked out, and the sword saint, seeing the hole in their formation, moved to cover it…but not before one of their healers was cut off from them, dragged into the mindless, murderous horde. "No!" Theron detonated one of his anti-magic spells as widely as he could, and then landed on the shoulder of one of the remaining abominations, launching off of it before the undead beast registered he was there.

The healer in question, was their Soul Mender, Kairan, a dark elf with a dark vibe, who was actually quite kind under all the edge and black eye makeup. A good kid, in Theron's estimation, like all of his students. Not one of them, thankfully, was spoiled or entitled from their upbringing. Even Emrys, the one most likely to have such traits, was merely a fan of etiquette and proper manners, with a solid set of morals. It was a good class, and Theron's heart dropped as he saw one of his students now being mobbed by the skeletons.

He was just too far away to do anything.

As gravity pulled him down again, he also found himself being swarmed, forced to blast away the hundreds of skeletons around him before he could leap again.






A flash of purple light, Kairan's magic, erupted from where he was being mobbed, and Theron realized that, mostly in desperation, he'd summoned the unicorn that served as his mount. He was a black unicorn, and while that color of magical equine was indeed seen as an ill omen on Arcadia, that hadn't stopped Kairan from showing the creature kindness, and eventually taming him. He hadn't even given him a name, or a saddle, out of respect for his wild temperament.

The startled unicorn's shriek filled the cavern, but to his credit, he adapted quickly, smashing skeletons with his surprisingly suitable hooves, as well as blasting them with dark purple, but still divine magic. Unfortunately, something as unique as a unicorn also caught the eye of the Slave Pit's master. The entire chamber lit up with green magic as the Goblin Lich fired a Lichbolt at the unicorn. Theron, who saw it coming, leapt again, slicing through it, only to realize too late that the undead goblin had layered two bolts into one.

The other kept going, aiming for its mark, which was not the unicorn, but rather, its rider. As distracted as Class Three was, only Theron saw the bolt hit Kairan in the chest. Right in the heart. The black-clad dark elven teen gave his teacher a sad smile and a knowing nod, as blood dripped from both sides of his mouth. He leapt off of the unicorn, sending him charging towards Theron, who met the magical equine's charge, and kept him alive. He was too late to save Kairan, but the dark elf knew his teacher could at least save his friend.






In his panicked state, disoriented as he was, the unicorn hadn't even noticed his rider had hopped off, before ordering him to charge to rejoin the class. Only as he felt Kairan's magic, did he turn, and let out a heart-wrenching neigh. Purple light emanated from the dark elf, as he focused every ounce of magic he had left into rending the souls Grinmoire had kept captive, from his control. All at once, in a cascading wave of purple energy, over half the skeleton's eyes turned from green to purple, and then collapsed. Their remnant energy floated up, away from the Slave Pit, finally free to return to Eldarheim, and the cycle of life.

Class Three, of course, noticed this, as they were suddenly not surrounded by a horde of dead skeletons. What remained of the Bone Abominations had also fallen to the soul rending, but unfortunately, it had not reached Grinmoire, and his skeletal giant. Upon realizing the reason for their reprieve, Class Three had different reactions. Some of their eyes were hollow, or hard. Nerissa and Aella had expressions of shocked disbelief. Orlok, Thalondor, and the other males hang their heads in a moment of silence.

But Aegis?

Aegis approached the grieving unicorn, sword dragging along the ground, as the golden fire of retributory hate burned in his eyes beneath his helm.






"Unicorn…" He rasped, finding his throat dry. "Ride with me. Avenge him. Help me kill that fucking Goblin… Bane." He said, giving the unicorn a name.

The black unicorn's purple eyes met Aegis's, and in that moment, they shared an understanding. A potent bond formed by grief and hatred. Aegis mounted his shield on the unicorn's simple leather strap that served as barding, and seemed to have been enchanted, probably by Kairan. Aegis mounted up, and leveled his sword at the Skeleton Queen.

"For Kairan! For my sister! RIDE!"

And they did, as the remaining horde of skeletons rapidly advanced on the party, the dark purple of Bane's natural magic fused with and enhanced Aegis's power. They charged fearlessly into the skeletal horde, leaving a trail of broken bones in their wake.

(So did Aegis and Bane)

​

Above them, the Goblin Lich spun his staff higher, gathering more power into his amalgamated mount. The skeletal giant rumbled beneath him, finally beginning to move as its body, neck, and limbs had finally properly formed together.

"BRACE!" Theron shouted, sensing what was coming a second too late.

The giant stomped one massive bone foot composed of what had to be hundreds of bones, and the pit shook. From the walls, bone shards erupted outward like a hail of jagged knives. Screams tore through the class as shields and barrier spells rose in response. The white wolf cursed, slicing a dozen shards from the air, but a few got through. They caused minor wounds, but healing them would slow their progress.

Exactly what Grinmoire wanted. Above them, the Goblin Lich shrieked in triumph, his glowing eyes burning brighter as he summoned the majority of his power, very aware of the radiant avenger riding the holy horse charging at him from below. Bane might have been a black unicorn, but he was still a unicorn, and anathema to everything that monsters were.

​

The skeletal giant's towering form rose from the pit to its full height of what had to be eighty feet tall, but it was no random amalgamation.

Aegis's sharp eyes caught it first, as he was the closest. He cursed, low and vicious, as his hatred somehow grew even deeper for Grinmoire, and goblins as a species.

The skull at the center of the towering figure, acting as its head and face, was not bleached white like the others. It was newer. Fresher. Still covered with grimy scraps of light brown hair and skin. Still wearing the tattered remnants of a once-sacred paladin's mantle. Just enough of the armor remained, purposefully, so that the symbol of the Bryllon family was visible.

The core of the gigantic bone golem was Aegis's sister.

After losing their 'child prodigy' to 'weak goblins' their family had fallen on hard times, and with Aegis's obsession with killing only goblins in the wake of the tragedy, redemption seemed unlikely. But now, Aegis knew, it was finally here. He'd found her at last, and thanks to Drake Long's recording, everyone in Primus, and likely soon the world, would know exactly what goblins were.






"I found her!" Grinmoire crowed mockingly, his green eyes blazing with hate, and amusement. "Isn't she beautiful, little Reaper? You should be thanking me…for this family reunion…"

Aegis just stared ahead, as Bane continued to gallop. His grip tightened, the only visible sign of his increasing rage as the Goblin Lich let out a mocking cackle.

With a shuddering creak of bone, the Skeleton Queen took another step, and began advancing on the paladin, and his party. Aegis just kept staring, taking in what was left of her features, now misshapen and corrupted, her once kind eyes now glowing with the same sickly green energy as the rest of Grinmoire's army. Her jaw hung loose on decaying strands of flesh, twitching as if trying, and failing, to scream.





Aegis inhaled slightly, as he felt her gaze fall on him, and in that moment, he knew. Somewhere, deep behind the swirling green light in her hollowed eyes…he saw her. Trapped. Aware.

Begging for release.

A geyser of bones exploded upward beneath the tank wedge, throwing Orlok off his feet and scattering half the front line like twigs before a hurricane. Kyran barely managed to grab him, dragging the stunned tank back toward the group with his lizardman strength before the next strike landed.

The Skeleton Queen moved with horrific, unnatural grace. Her spiked, shaped bone armor scraped against the ceiling as she brought her skeletal fist down in a brutal smash aimed directly at Orlok.

"INCOMING!" Theron barked.






The orca and lizard beastkin needed no second warning. Orlok slammed his greatsword into the fist just before it landed, sending the strike wide, but the force of the impact flung him and Kyran backward across the pit like ragdolls, smashing through a forest of rib-bones that lined the pit's edges.

"She's not slow!" Leander shouted over the din, barely ducking a whip-like bone tendril bound by glowing green sinew that lashed out from the Queen's torso like a scorpion's stinger. Theron ground his teeth. This one was just full of fun surprises.

The Skeleton Queen rose to her full height, and shrieked, just as Aegis and Bane reached her gigantic feet. It wasn't a sound for mortal ears. Through the Woeweaver's magic, the noise produced was the sound of every captive that had died in the Wallow. Every life stolen. Every soul that had broken.

A ripple of green light burst outward from the Skeleton Queen's scream, and all around them, the bone pit itself began to shift. Spiked walls of ribcage erupted from the ground around the party, trying to pen Class Three in. As if that wasn't enough, the remaining skeletons Grinmoire had animated were mutating, fusing into larger, nastier shapes. One of them burst into black-green flames, becoming a skeletal Pyre Knight swinging a sharpened humanoid spine as a sword, wreathed in cursed fire. Another one appeared beside him, and they too advanced on the party.

"We have to move!" Theron snarled, cleaving through three skeletal heads at once with his steel sword, as he broke through the encasing rib bones and pushed toward the edge of the pit. "Fall back to the entrance! Don't cluster up!"

If they stayed clustered, the Skeleton Queen would likely keep trying to crush them all at once. The students broke formation, scattering into their respective squads, but discipline was fraying.

They were kids. Good kids. Brave kids. But this was horror the likes of which they hadn't experienced, and two of their parties were down a man.






At the center of the chaos, Grinmoire howled with laughter.

The Skeleton Queen stomped again, a ripple of force knocking Bane and Aegis onto their sides. The lone, prone paladin was now, in that moment, Grinmoire's sole focus. "Dis…miss…" He growled, pointing at the unicorn. Bane vanished in a flash of purple light, right as two sinewy stingers stabbed at where his heart and head had been a second earlier.

As he looked up at the dead face of his sister, and the cackling Goblin Lich atop her 'neck' mound, something in the battered Paladin snapped. Aegis moved, not with thought, not with tactics, but pure, blazing instinct. He dove, grabbing one of the sinewy stabbers as it retracted up and into the skeletal abomination. His armor sparked, bones snapping in the wake of his body as he held on with an iron grip. Pain blinded him. Somewhere far away, he heard Theron shouting. His classmates screaming.

But then, suddenly, he was dangling above it all, and the only sound in his head was her voice, his sister's voice, faint, tattered, but real.

"Aegis…"

The faint memory of her smile filled his mind as he dragged himself to his feet, bleeding, broken, his hand closing around his sword. He was at the top of the Skeleton Queen now, deposited roughly by the tentacle he'd grabbed. It seemed Grinmoire wanted to kill him up close. He coughed up blood through his helmet grate, and understood the goblin's misplaced confidence. Death was close, but his revenge would not be stopped by something like mortality.

In that moment, as the Goblin Lich rasped something he didn't bother listening to, Aegis understood what had to be done. He had to free her. He had to kill his sister, again. Or die trying.






Theron saw it, from below. The way Aegis stood, his front covered in fresh blood. Shieldless. Greatword trembling in his wounded hands.

But unbroken.

There was no doubt in the white wolf's mind. This was Aegis's burden to bear, but he was not alone. "Form a perimeter! We have to shift to defense!" Theron barked, his voice snapping through the chaos like a whip, as he violently flashed along the outside line of his tired, battered students. Aella had retrieved Kairan's body, bringing it with them, as they fortified against the remaining horde of skeletons at the entrance to the Slave Pit.

"Let nothing past! Hold the minions off! Buy him time! Emrys, we need Far Casting! Healers, he needs Buffs and health!"






There was no hesitation. Theron was betting their survival on Aegis now. The entire reason they'd charged was because staying at range would all but guarantee the lich would win. But out of all of them, only Aegis had reached their target, and mostly thanks to Kairan's steed. Aella set Kairan down behind them in the tunnel, and then focused on the faraway paladin as Emrys' enchantment flowed into her. Marise was a short range healer, and being a Medic Artificer, used potions and poultices. Kairan and she had been their magical, ranged healers. Thus, it fell to her.

Class Three drew the battle outward, forming a ragged ring around the entrance, turning the area into a death field for anything that approached them. Skeletons, and specters still pressed them, but now they fought defensively, carving out a bloody, desperate arena for their last stand.

A flash of white light surged across the battlefield, slamming into Aegis. White light became gold, and he gasped, as he felt the Heal take effect and bring him to nearly full health, alongside something else. A Buff that Aella didn't typically use, but as a Wind Sage, had access to, for moments like these. White wings composed entirely of air energy flared up from his back, turning gold as he reached for his own power. Once more shining like a beacon of hope, Aegis Bryllon squared his stance, and faced down the Goblin Lich, who was rapidly realizing his mistake in bringing a holy light user close to him.






"Come then, little Reaper," He crooned. "Come dance with your dearly departed... Let's see if your heart breaks before your sword does..."

Aegis said nothing. There were no words left to say. He simply raised his blade, and charged.

The Goblin Lich countered, as glowing tendrils of sinew and bone, no less than ten of them, erupted from under the Skeleton Queen's 'neck'. Aegis cut through all of them, without mercy or hesitation, in a perfect rotating spin of his sword, not at all unlike his Instructor's.

Grinmoire slashed low, a sweeping arc aimed to shear his legs from beneath him with his staff but Aegis floated over it, and struck. An arc of light slashed through Grinmoire, and this close, Aegis realized the Lich had apparently burned quite a bit of his considerable health points to raise his army, and his Skeleton Queen. He'd expected an easy close range kill by dragging the paladin up here, and that error born of the goblin's arrogance would prove to be fatal.






Aegis struck again, and again, five more times, each holy strike landing a lingering arc of light that bisected the goblin's dark frame. "PURGE!" He intoned, once he finished slashing, and the light magic erupted. Grinmoire's staff fell to the bone of the Skeleton Queen's neck, and Aegis stomped on the screaming face atop it, making it sigh in what sounded like relief as its agony finally ended.

The goblin cackled, and coughed up foul ichor that matched the color of his robe as he looked up at his executioner. "You may…have ended…this body…but I…am…Eternal!" Green energy surged within Grinmoire, and then Aegis watched as his remaining health drained to zero…and flowed into the Skeleton Queen. He beheaded the Goblin Lich anyway, kicking his corpse off the titanic bone golem, where it, purely by chance, landed below on the altar he'd started from, coating it in black ichor from the impact.

Aegis flew into the air then, and readied another attack, his strongest, as he floated before the face of his sister. She screamed at him in a renewed combination of fury and agony. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

He attacked again, slashing across her face, even as more bone tendrils struck at him. It became a dance, brutal, desperate, personal, as Aegis darted in and out of reach, searching for weak points in her twisted body.

"Gooo oooon!" She shrieked in a voice that was not hers, but rather, the cowardly lich who was now within her. "Kiiill yoouurrr Kiiiin!"






Aegis roared, a sound torn from the depths of his soul, and the air boomed around him with the force of his next charge. He hurled himself upward, blade blazing with holy light, fueled by memory and grief, and struck at her exposed sinewy throat.

The blow connected. The skeletal queen reeled back, large pieces of her form fell to the ground as he detonated the Purge on her face and throat, and everywhere he'd managed to strike her.

For one frozen moment, Aegis met her eyes, and deep within the swirling green light, for just a heartbeat, he saw her.

The real her. The green light faded from her eyes as Grinmoire's magic ran out, and what was left of her ravaged face smiled at him. A small, grateful, broken smile.

With tears streaming down his face, hidden under his helmet, Aegis drove his sword through her skull, felt resistance, and pushed through even further. Behind her face was a small black jar, ornate, metal, but clearly crafted by goblin hands. A memory from one of his lessons on liches floated up to his mind.

A phylactery. Grinmoire's phylactery. With a final roar he poured everything he had into his Divine Smite, and the gods of fate smiled upon him.






The phylactery's magical barrier cracked, his sword sank into it, flooding it with light, and as the disembodied voice of Grinmoire screamed, the Skeleton Queen shuddered, then crumbled. Bones fell like rain, clattering to the ground.

The green light in her eyes guttered out like a dying star, Grinmoire's laughter cut off, and his sister's face became buried in the thousands of bones that had been used to make the golem.

Aegis found himself on the ground again, as Aella's air wings faded, and he knelt there, gasping for breath as he watched what he assumed was his sister's soul finally depart through the ceiling, free from this goblin hell.

"I finally found you…" He whispered. "I'm sorry I was so late."

The battlefield around him seemed to fall still for just a moment.

Even the dead paused, sensing the weight of what had passed, before they too collapsed into freedom, and true death. The students and their Instructor rallied, bloodied, battered, but not broken, around the paladin as healing spells surged into him, and got him back onto his feet.

Class Three had survived.

But the cost of victory hung heavy in the air, and deeper in the Wallow, Chronogrin was still waiting.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 16: The Wallow, Part 4b: The Wallowgrinder​

---

Class One




Slagforge - The Wallow Dungeon​

As the floor gave out with a low rumble of stone and earth, there was no warning, no dramatic quake, just a slight tremor and then a sickening plunge as the trap was sprung, catching the remaining three classes in three different tunnels leading to three different traps.

One by one, the members of Class One crashed down into the abyss, their bodies catching in instinctive rolls or braced impacts. About eight of them, the heaviest, or those who could not fly, were saved by a pair of Feather Fall spells from their Instructor, and their resident spell nerd, Aeliana. Vasari was the first to hit, his armored turtle-like shell slamming into the cracked floor with a seismic thud that sent tremors across the blackened stone. He rose slowly from the landing, unharmed, and ready for combat.

Varian and Aldaron were next, landing hard with their shield skills up, absorbing most of the blow before pushing themselves upright and into a ready position with Vasari. Draug landed with an angry snarl beside Ceyrin, who had little trouble flying down and breaking his partner's momentum by catching him. The great wolf crouched low as his large paws touched the ground, and his hackles raised.

Elara rocketed to a halt, fire magic sparking off her palms and feet as she cushioned her descent with raw fire power. The twins, Miuli and Miulei, hit the ground almost in tandem, rolling smoothly into battle readiness as Miulei shifted from the giant bird that had caught her twin, to a white furred sabercat. Last came Rael, sword flaring with magic as he carved a slow descent.






Class One stood together, eyes adjusting to the gloom as they took in their new surroundings and realized they weren't under attack.

It was a forge, or at least, a goblin interpretation of one. An ancient, suffocating grave of bent black metal and anvils that were likely stolen from the surface. The walls were sheer black stone, twisted and half-melted, the ground was pitted with old scars where molten rivers had once flowed. Broken anvil-shapes loomed around the circular room like the gravestones. The air stank of burnt metal and unwashed goblin.

At the center of the ruin stood a massive figure. He didn't charge them, or roar. His only reaction to their arrival was to simply turn his head slowly towards them, the grinding of rusted spiked black armor plates covering his massive, muscular form filling the air like a death knell. Over his head he wore a black hood, and underneath it, they could see a blindfold over the goblin's eyes. His lower jaw's fangs were large, and one of them was cracked and broken off. His right arm ended in a titanic drill, its surface coated in old blood stains. The other hand still existed, and held a hammer as tall as Rael, simple in design, but heavy enough to crush bone into powder, or forge the black steel the goblins seemed to use in all of their construction.

(So apparently no new images can render on QQ now. No matter where you upload from. Apparently linking is the only thing that works now. Enjoy...?)​

As Class One organized themselves, they took in the Grinwarden's name: Slaggrin. The Wallowgrinder. The very being responsible for digging through multiple floors of the Wallow Dungeon, a feat previously thought to be completely impossible, but with Chronogrin's time magic and Slaggrin's endurance, they had made it reality.

Slaggrin's beady goblin eyes glowed faintly in the forge's half-light, not with rage or lust or madness…but with resignation to his fate. He looked at them without hope, and without anger. The only expression on his grim green face was the hollow patience of a creature who had watched too many failures fall before him. He exhaled once, in disappointment. It was a slow, grinding sound like a dying machine.

"No…" He finally muttered, voice thick with quiet disappointment as his hooded eyes ran over the finest Class of First Years the Galdurian Arc Warden Academy had produced in generations, if one judged by level. "Not enough… You will not be able…to break me."






The forge around them seemed to rumble in sympathy, as if the ancient stones themselves remembered every futile battle fought here. Class One tightened into formation, the weight of Slaggrin's depressed, unimpressed eyes pressing down on their shoulders.

This was not going to be a simple battle, it seemed, but a reckoning. It was Veldra, their sentient Stoneforged Scribewarden, who spoke first. "You…you want to be broken?"

Rael was the first to move, "Let us oblige him." He muttered. He took a step forward, his sword humming with gathered magic, and pointed the blade directly at Slaggrin. "We are not like the others you've faced." He declared confidently, voice cutting through the heavy silence like a blade through cloth.

Slaggrin's massive head tilted, almost curious, but the grim expression on what they could see of his face betrayed no hope, only calculation. The slow, methodical reasoning of a mind that had not stopped in eons.






Without waiting for a response, Rael charged. A blur of blue magic and steel crossed the broken forge floor. Rael closed the distance with terrifying speed, his sword trailing a whip of freezing water in his wake that then shifted to strike Slaggrin, as the Sword Mage slashed him five times in the space of a second. Behind him, Ceyrin loosed an arrow as he ordered his partner to attack, and Draug surged alongside Rael to strike Slaggrin from side, surrounding him, and giving their attacks the tactical advantage.

Elara unleashed a blistering wall of flame meant to pin Slaggrin in place, as Class One surrounded their opponent. They were coordinated, sharp, and tactically sound.

It was not enough.

Slaggrin moved like a living landslide. The drill arm screamed to life, roaring with an unholy shriek of metal, and swept the weapon sideways. It caught Rael mid-swing, deflecting his blade's next attack with sheer mass and the scream of rough metal grinding against the refined runite of his sword, sending him sliding across the blackened floor despite his attempts to stop his momentum. At the same time, Slaggrin shifted his weight and brought the hammer down. The impact shattered the forge floor.






Stone fragments the size of a man tore through the air, and then turned, willed by their breaker to strike the party. Varian was already there, shield raised, absorbing the worst of it with a grunt as he staggered back. Vasari anchored himself across from him, rune magic flaring to reinforce their party from both sides, and render the damage minimal.

Ceyrin's latest arrow found a weak spot near Slaggrin's shoulder, embedding itself deep into the joints of his armor, but the ancient goblin did not so much as flinch. Draug lunged for Slaggrin's flank, only for his attack to suddenly stop short, and slow to an unnatural crawl in terms of speed.

Slaggrin reacted quickly, quicker than a being his size should've been able to move, as he turned and slammed the wolf into the ground with his drill arm. Draug let out a painful whine as the drill's serrated edges tore into him, and Ceyrin furiously launched arrows in succession, but only one ended up piercing Slaggrin's joints. The others had been stopped before reaching him, despite Ceyrin's true aim, just like Draug had.






There was only one rational explanation: Chronogrin's twisted time magic was somehow tethered to Slaggrin. Ceyrin related this to his peers as he healed his pet, and Veldra's golden eyes widened in their stony sockets. "The Goblin Emperor has been using his power to speed up his personal time…he's probably existed for Ages…from his perspective."

Slaggrin grunted once, low and pained. Not at the attacks, but at the weight of still existing. Sometimes those he fought understood his situation. But they never empathized. Nor did he want them to. He'd lived so long, the concept of wanting things no longer existed for him. Only the next job for his fat swine of a leader, in a never ending, tortuous existence.

Slaggrin drove his drill into the floor at his feet, carving a defensive trench into the floor in a single, brutal motion. The forge itself seemed to groan in agony, old stones twisting and reshaping around the ancient general like a shield. Instructor Luvion stepped forward then, his eyes burning with cold intellect. Letting a monster control the field was never a good idea.






With a whispered word and a flick of his staff, a glyph appeared above the battlefield. It expanded outward, washing Class One in shimmering layers of magical protection. Spells of flight, reinforcement, speed, and resilience flowed into them all at once, enhancing and further empowering what they had already received from Koreia and Drake Long. Class One now radiated a rainbow of surging enchantments, and all twelve of them seemed very confident, now that their Instructor was actively participating.

"Focus your fire, students." Luvion commanded, voice sharp. "Break his footing before you break yourselves on his defenses." Slaggrin's head tilted slightly as he heard the aged elf. If anyone could kill him, it was that one. Perhaps this group had potential to release him after all. He wasn't going to roll over and just die though.

Elara responded first. The air around her warped as a condensed sphere of molten flame formed between her hands. With a cry of fury, she launched it at Slaggrin's trench. The explosion tore apart the outer layer of stone. For the first time, Slaggrin grunted in real pain as his slabs of spiked black metal armor heated up in the firestorm and seared his flesh.






Zaeris moved next, slithering forward with a grace that suited her snakekin frame. She whispered a spell in her people's hissing tongue, and streams of purified poison splashed across her allies, and Slaggrin. The frontline fighters felt the surge of vitality in their limbs, even as Slaggrin's drill arm smoked under the corrosive assault. She'd turned the streams aimed at him back into acid strong enough to eat metal.

The twins darted in next, Miuli as a blur of flashing daggers that went for his leg tendons, while Miulei used her sabercat's speed to get close, and then transformed into a massive white furred mammoth, easily as tall as Slaggrin. The ancient elephantine creature trumpeted loudly, and smashed into Slaggrin with the fury of a Rampage.

Slaggrin swayed, properly staggered by one of their blows for the first time as the mammoth pushed him a total of three steps before he held his ground with his hammer bracing against her sharp tusks, and slid no further. He raised his head, his tone just a little more hopeful. If nothing else…these whelps had potential, and knew how to coordinate. "Better…" He rumbled. "But Not enough."






The drill spun faster. The hammer lifted, forcing Miulei back with an impressive display of physical strength, the same strength that had broken through Dungeon walls thought by all to be unbreakable. The forge shuddered as Slaggrin shifted into a blur of motion.

Not with a roar, or manic charge, just the cold inevitability of a machine long past its purpose. Slaggrin aimed his shrieking drill arm and pressed it into the cracked forge floor. With a heave of raw strength, he hammered the drill into the floor further and the ground under Class One erupted. Geysers of molten slag and shattered stone burst from the fresh fractures, cutting the team into isolated pockets as they strove to avoid the rain of molten metal.

Ceyrin vaulted back, and Draug followed with a snarl as they avoided a pillar of superheated metal that scarred the ground. Vasari held the center, runes on his shell flaring gold as he absorbed the worst of the environmental chaos. Elara did the most though, as even molten stone and metal was subject to her control of all things fiery. The redheaded high elf's efforts earned an annoyed growl from Slaggrin, as she redirected magma his way, further damaging him.






Varian Rynn charged forward fearlssly through the burning slag, his lion-crested shield raised before him. He drove directly for Slaggrin, trusting his armor, his training, and his anger to help him reach his target. Slaggrin let him come. At the last moment, the ancient goblin slammed his drill into the stone again, sending a shockwave through the floor straight towards the charging knight. It caught Varian mid-sprint, lifting him into the air and sending him soaring into a broken anvil. The knight rose with a snarl, blood dripping from his brow.

"Hold the line!" Rael shouted, blade glowing with cold water magic, steaming in the suddenly rather heated goblin forge. He swept his sword in a wide arc, releasing a slicing wave of water that cleaved through the molten slag, giving his teammates breathing room.

Aeliana began to chant, pulling magic from the very air around them. Complex runes spun around her hands, forming an intricate spell matrix that promised to be a devastating attack if completed. Slaggrin sensed her efforts. The massive goblin general moved as a blur and he swung his hammer in an upwards arc, not at her, but at the ceiling above her head.






The impact sent another hail of broken man-sized stone shards plummeting toward the young wizard who was still casting. Without hesitation, Miuli tackled Aeliana to the side, taking the brunt of the falling debris on her lighter frame. Miulei, in her white mammoth form, smashed apart the rubble pile and dug out both of them with a few frenzied strikes of her tusks and trunk, before she turned her hateful eyes back towards the Grinwarden, enraged at the state her sister and her friend were in. His slag attack had burned her form quite badly, but mammoths were unstoppable sacks of health points, especially when enraged.

Veldra's magic surged through Aeliana and Miuli a moment later, runes of healing stitching torn flesh and shattered bones back together. Miulei trumpeted again, charging at Slaggrin, and though Chronogrin's time fuckery slowed her charge, it could only delay the force with which she struck Slaggrin.

The ancient goblin smith took the blows, moving with each of them as they struck, and while that didn't mitigate the damage much, it lessened the overall amount, and left Miulei open to a counterattack. With a blur of movement, Slaggrin holstered the hammer, and used his good hand to grab one of her tusks. With the loudest grunt he'd yet uttered, he threw the titanic shaggy elephantine beast across the forge, where she smashed into more old, broken anvils. Her form faded into a gray mist, but despite all the damage, Miulei was still fine, her base form's health points still untouched.






For every attack Class One made, Slaggrin answered not with rage, but inevitability. His fighting style was patient and remorseless, and while he took damage, he gave wounds for every hit he took. Vasari's runes ended up shattering under his drill, which then tore into his shell until Aldaron, who had been purposefully avoiding attacking the Grinwarden, as he did in most of his battles, finally proved to be slightly better than useless. The golden paladin shield he created was simply impenetrable, even to the likes of Slaggrin. The Dungeons wall may have broken before him, but Goddess Laurelin was something else entirely.

With Miulei's mammoth down, on Luvion's orders, Brammoth Ironhorn finally properly entered that fray, and the dual-wielding Fury Warrior went blow for blow with Slaggrin, drawing his focus as the healers tended to their wounded. The ancient goblin finally cracked a slight smile. "Finally…one of you that can actually fight…" Runite axe met shrieking drill and sturdy hammer over and over, the concussive force of their clashes rippling across the forge.






As Brammoth held Slaggrin's attention, exactly as planned, Instructor Luvion finally shifted the tides. His voice rose, a spell spoken in a tongue older than the Wallow itself, and this time, the goblin was having too much fun to notice. With a pulse of blinding light, five great chains of starlight lashed out from the air above, anchoring themselves into Slaggrin's drill arm, his hammer, his legs, and the cracked remains of the forge floor.

The giant lurched, pinned, if only for a moment, and in that moment, Brammoth raged, roaring as his axes struck the pinned Grinwarden with increasing speed and fury. His black metal armor finally began to break. Serious wounds landed on his arms, neck, and the joints by his shoulders, but Brammoth was only the first.

"Now!" Luvion roared.

Elara thrust both hands forward and a column of searing flame erupted beneath Slaggrin, engulfing him in white-hot fury. He let out a low roar as the flames heated his armor, and burned his flesh. Varian charged again, shield first, while Vasari did the same, hammer raised horizontally. The two charging tanks came from opposite sides, and Slaggrin coughed up dark crimson blood as their skills landed, stunning him, and ceasing his attempts to break Luvion's bindings, at least for the moment.






Draug circled, snapping and tearing into Slaggrin's legs where Miuli had slashed them with poisoned daggers. Blood spurted, and Draug savaged his right leg, making sure it would not support th giant goblin when the binding spell ended. All the while, Ceyrin rained arrows into any exposed joint or flesh, and every single arrow struck home.

Miuli and Miulei struck together, a blur of knives and claws as Miulei had once more taken the form of a saber toothed white panther. Zaeris whispered a venomous prayer to her shamanic ncestors, her magic eating away at the metal armor binding Slaggrin's form, turning them into instruments of corrosion and severely weakening his armor.

For the first time, Slaggrin faltered. Pieces of his drill cracked and fell away as Varian struck it with both his sword and shield, paying off on the acid Zaeris had covered it with earlier. Bram struck with both of his mighty axes, and the massive plate of his breastplate split down the middle, exposing raw, burned, corrupted flesh beneath.






Luvion's spell ran its course, fading to nothing, and Slaggrin fell to one knee once he was free, leaning on his hammer like an old man with a broken crutch as he forced himself up again, and regarded his would-be killers. The faintest hint of a smile carved a line through his ruined face.

"Good…" He rasped. "Finally…worthy enemies…"

He lifted the ruined drill arm, and goblin runes glowed bright orange around the base, where the stump met metal. The forge responded to his will. The anvils around the battlefield shuddered. Twisted, forgotten constructs, half-formed golems of slag and stone, rose from piles of discarded metal and broken weapons.

Slaggrin refused to fall easily. If they wanted to end him, they would have to end everything he had ever built. And he had built it all to last.






The forge came alive with motion. Across the broken battlefield, the shattered remnants of Slaggrin's work twitched and lurched to life. Twisted golems, half-fused with rusted anvils, broken swords, and hunks of melted stone, staggered towards the party. They moved with erratic, violent jerking motions, pulled by the same grim will that had built this place, and now summoned them to 'die' for it.

Ceyrin cursed under his breath as a lumbering creature made of fused hammers and molten chains staggered toward him, dragging a tail of broken forge scrap behind it.

"Incoming adds!" He shouted, already loosing arrows at the nearest monstrosity. Those focused on attacking Slaggrin, shifted priority, leaving Varian and Vasari to face him while the damage dealers took out the trash.






Rael barked orders, shifting to take on the nearest slag golem. "Spread out, small groups! Focus down one at a time. Leave the big one for last."

The twins were already moving. Miuli darted forward, knives flashing like a viper's strike, carving deep into the joints of a smaller construct, and then twisting, forcing it to fall apart. Goblin-made golems were about as shoddy as everything else they'd made. Miulei, still in her panther form, slammed into another, her massive paws breaking apart corroded plating, and then slashing through the shoddy runes giving the construct 'life'.

Elara unleashed a cone of searing fire that melted one of the constructs mid-lunge, and the golem was reduced to a puddle of slag. She turned, seeing Aldaron, alone, and facing down the biggest golem, as Varian and Vasari were occupied trading blows with Slaggrin.






Aldaron Sunsong stood alone, shield up, as he took the brunt of the charge from the largest golem. His polished golden armor rang with every brutal impact, but he held firm, unyielding, thanks mostly to the divine shields of light he could use. He wasn't the type to seek battle, very much preferring the status that being at the Academy granted, but he did know how to fight, if one could call hiding behind the multiple divine bubble shields he had fighting. Varian considered it cowardice, and strongly disliked the high elf, not because of his personality, but because he had obvious skill, and preferred to squander it. There were many like him, in Primus.

Aeliana, freed from the earlier collapse and now healed, finished her previously interrupted chant. A web of glowing arcane runes spread from her hands, snapping into place across the battlefield.
The slower constructs immediately slowed down, their feet barely moving, as the multi-target Slow spell took effect on them, and on Slaggrin. Zaeris hissed a prayer in her native tongue, hurling a cloud of toxic mist into the densest cluster of enemies, and her acid quickly ate through their lesser metals. The creatures crumbled under their own weight. Draug tore into a smaller golem with savage glee as it waddled towards Ceyrin, ripping at its seams until it fell apart.

Faelon Luvion hovered above the battle, his robes billowing with unseen power. Every so often, he would point his staff and a blast of pure force would shatter a construct advancing on the flank of one of his otherwise occupied students, the pieces scattering like sand. Despite their efforts, the numbers began to press. For every fallen construct, two more rose from the wreckage, animated by Slaggrin's lingering will.






Veldra Stonerune moved calmly through the chaos, laying healing runes across her allies. Where she passed, burns closed, broken bones mended, and exhaustion faded like mist. Still, it was a war of attrition. Slaggrin watched the field as he easily toyed with Varian and Vasari. His ruined face showed no satisfaction, no malice. Only the grim determination of a goblin forced to defend a legacy he despised.

The forge rumbled louder, as if the entire Dungeon above them groaned under the strain of his power. Vasari bellowed a war cry and shattered a golem who'd come up behind him with a thunderous hammer strike that he followed through on to bring around on Slaggrin. The Goblin blocked him with his own far simpler hammer, and rumbled. "Nice hammer…good skills…far too slow." He swung their locked hammers upwards, and then with a blur of motion, sent the head of his hammer into Vasari's somewhat softer undershell. The Tollan gasped for air as it was literally pummeled out of his lungs, but thankfully, Varian got his attention.

Slaggrin gave it willingly, blocking his sword strikes with his stump of a drill. "Too rigid." Another parry, another hammerstrike down on the lion crested shield. "Too inflexible." The goblin blurred again, this time, striking with a heavily armored leg, sweeping Varian's own legs out from under him and sending him onto his ass. With the state of his upper armor, Slaggrin's legs were comparatively untouched, and thus made excellent weapons. "You all focus up here…you ignore the threat below…typical…of those from the Academy." Varian grimaced. Slaggrin was not speaking only of his legs. Seeing the Wallow as intimately as he had, Varian had begun to understand just how massive of a failure both the Guild and the Academy had made by treating the Wallow like a low level adventurer training camp.

It was a Dungeon, and every Dungeon was home to truly depraved, abominable monsters. Slaggrin probably understood that better than any of them. He served one, and had done so for more years than his goblin brain could fathom.







Bit by bit, golem by golem, the tide shifted. Class One, battle-hardened and leveled up to the mid sixties by the horrors of the Wallow, began to push back. The golems started to fall faster, as more of them became free to join the group focusing down the tougher constructs one after another. Their puppeted movements became more desperate, more chaotic, as the ancient spells binding them unraveled.

Slaggrin exhaled once more, that same long, grinding sigh of rust and regret. "You are not the first to get this close…" He rumbled, his voice low, but somehow echoing across the space of his circular forge.

His shattered drill somehow spun once more, flaring with the runes engraved into it and the ground beneath him cracked open. From the heart of the forge rose something older than even Slaggrin's armor. A core of pure power, contained within a time-locked sphere, the very core of the ever-burning forge that Chronogrin had created himself as a source of endless power, to fuel it. Faelon Luvion studied it with great interest, and immediately cast Identify.






Slaggrin's shattered drill-arm sank into the sphere of roiling energy without hesitation, and the runes burned and expanded as the energy sphere fused with his ancient weapon. Molten orange racks raced across what was left of the drill's surface, but instead of shattering further, it reformed, layered with veins of black fire and molten iron. The forge shook violently as the last of the summoned constructs fell, their lifeless bodies crumbling into dust and slag.

Class One tightened ranks, at their Instructor's order. Rael planted himself at the front between Varian and Vasari, sword glowing brighter, his breath misting with cold in the overheated air. Varian flanked him, shield battered but steady, blood trickling from a gash above his eye. Vasari loomed at the other side, runes blazing across his shell in a language older than his species.

Behind them, Elara, Zaeris, Aeliana, Veldra, Ceyrin, and the twins formed a tight circle, ready to support or strike as needed. Draug growled low, muscles coiled for a final leap.






Slaggrin moved, faster than before. But this time there was no hesitation, no mechanical slowness. Only pure, unstoppable momentum now doubly enhanced by the Goblin Emperor's powers. He blurred forward, drill spinning with a roar like a volcano that made the forge itself scream in protest. Varian barely managed to deflect the first strike, his sword clanging against the corrupted metal with a shower of sparks. Vasari absorbed the next blow, the force lifting him off his feet and throwing him into a broken pillar.

Rael intercepted Slaggrin's hammer swing with his sword, in a brutal two-handed block, the impact sending fractures racing through the ground around him, and likely through the bones in his arms as well. Class One's leader held, gritting his teeth, his slender form the only shield against the unstoppable advance of the empowered goblin blacksmith.

Elara struck back first. Twin pillars of fire lanced toward Slaggrin's exposed flank, but the enhanced drill simply absorbed the flames as it spun, and began rotating even faster. Seeing that, Aeliana changed tactics instantly. A veil of humming purple arcane missiles appeared above her head and both shoulders as she unleashed a barrage of pure force that could not miss, driving Slaggrin back a step, despite the bolt's individually weak power.






Zaeris hissed another prayer, green mist curling around Slaggrin's joints, eating away at the ancient bonds of metal and magic. Miuli and Miulei darted in again, the rogue aiming for the back of Slaggrin's knees, the druid shifting into a massive white ram, to slam into his side with a bleat of raw fury. For a moment, it worked.

Slaggrin stumbled, his hammer missing Vasari's prone form by a hair's breadth. Rael seized the moment, leaping high, as he channeled every drop of his water magic into a spiraling strike that froze the very air around his blade.

The gods of fate smiled upon the Sword Mage, as the blow struck true. A deep gouge opened along Slaggrin's shoulder, frost spreading rapidly across the ravaged and rent armor, seeping into his green skin, and turning it black as the frost overpowered even the heat of his drill.







The ancient goblin staggered as he looked down at the wound, then at Rael. Something like satisfaction flickered across his face. "At last…" He rumbled. The empowered drill pulsed with volatile magic, as the frost magic began to slow the goblin's heart. The ruined forge floor cracked, and the cracks began to spread to the walls.

Sensing this, Slaggrin drove his hammer into the stone, and the world fractured. The entire forge began to collapse inward as the force from the strike rippled through the shattering sanctum, spiraling into a gravity well centered on Slaggrin himself.

He wasn't content with trying to kill them, he was going to take the entire forge with him into nonexistence. Chronogrin would never use his space to further his goals again.

Rael gritted his teeth, and he drew his blade back for another strike. They had minutes at most.






"End him!" He roared. No one, not even Aldaron, hesitated. Vasari rose from the rubble with a roar, hammer leveled at Slaggrin, leading the charge.

Varian once more moved opposite him, charging shield first as they once again caught Slaggrin's frost-coated frame between their enraged charges. A crack ran through his blackened green flesh, but the expression on his face had, finally, shifted to a grin

Elara gathered fire until it burned white, overloading the drill as it tried to consume her flames, and failed, thanks to Slaggrin's dying power. Aeliana's staff blazed with dozens of stored spells, all unleashed in rapid succession as the Grinwarden's health continued to dwindle. Ceyrin and Draug hunted from the flanks, arrows and fangs finding every weakness in Slaggrin's ruined form. The twins struck low, crippling his knees and further splitting his frozen torso.

Zaeris whispered a final prayer, weaving power into the strikes of her comrades. Veldra cast a healing wave so potent that the very air shimmered around them, pushing their bodies beyond mortal limits and healing their most recent injuries all at once.






Slaggrin met them head-on, a dying titan defending his grave, even as his body split apart. His hammer once again caught Vasari, as this time he'd thrown it, and the force and weight of the massive weapon briefly had the Tollan pinned. The first stones of the forge's ceiling began to fall.

Slowly, inevitably, Slaggrin's strength began to fade along with his life.

The drill spluttered and finally died. Slaggrin fell to both knees as his leg muscles could no longer support his weight, having been slashed apart by poisoned daggers, and the ground cratered beneath him.

Rael stood before him, sword raised, the weight of the Academy, of their friends, of every fallen adventurer behind him. Slaggrin looked up, a ghost of a grin on his ruined face.

"Free me…" He said, quietly.

Rael did not hesitate. The final blow was swift, clean, merciful and most of all, accurate as it arced through his face, his heart, and then his smoldering drill arm, the collision of potent ice and unstable fire made the limb explode. The forge imploded a moment later, and light engulfed them all.






Instructor Luvion raised purple arcane shields around them as the ceiling, already unstable from the tunnel drilled through it that had originally brought them here, collapsed completely. After three straight minutes of shaking, the rubble finally ceased falling, but Class One was alive, wounded, burned, but victorious.

They crawled from the rubble, one by one, and before they made to leave, they dug up the Grinwarden as well. His pulse was gone, his chest caved in by a boulder. Slaggrin, the Wallowgrinder, was no more. But in death, the sad grin was replaced with a soft smile, that began fading, as his body became black smoke, and started to disappear.

"Very well done, everyone." Aldaron said, breaking the silence, and the moment. Faelon pinched his brow, and Varian, along with over half the class, glared at the semi-useless tank. "So," He continued, clapping his gauntleted hands together, unphased by their disdain, as always. "How the fuck do we get out of here?"

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 16: The Wallow, Part 4c: The Iron Jaw​

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Class Two





Iron Arena - The Wallow Dungeon ​

The torches burned low around the circular colosseum Class Two had landed in, the dying flames cast long, wavering shadows across the bloodstained crimson sand of the arena. A thousand lesser goblins laughed at them from the stands, their voices merging into a single echoing cackle that rattled the bones. The heavy black iron gates slammed shut behind Class Two with a finality that left no room for doubt.


They were trapped inside the pit, and Grinjaw, the Iron Maw, was waiting for them. What was left of his mutilated lips were pulled up in an attempt at a grin. The warboss stopped near the center of the arena, his red eyes burning with a mix of hatred and amusement at the top of his massive hunched frame. Thick cords of muscle flexed beneath thick slabs of black metal armor that left not one joint open and made the act of moving a slightly comical side to side motion.


Each thickly armored arm ended in four long black metal Power Claws that sparked and crackled with red lightning, casting jagged flashes of light over his ruined face. Grinjaw chomped menacingly at them, the entire lower half of his jaw also a piece of thick jagged black metal.

Grinjaw, the Iron Maw​

He slammed his claws together with a thunderous clang that sent vibrations through the sand. "Come on then, Academy whelps! Come die like heroes!"


Elorin Alden stepped forward, his white robes glowing faintly in the dark. He planted his staff into the ground, drawing a line in the sand. His golden eyes burned with quiet intensity as he looked back over his class, and nodded.


Varan Kasra readied his chain lance once, the weapon started glowing with magic as it sensed an opponent in the size category it dealt increased damage to. Ragnar Whitemane cracked his knuckles and drew his frost hammer, icy mist billowing from its head. Tayo Shirogane, the white scaled lizardkin Kensei from the far east of Arcadia simply crouched low, one hand on his sheathed katana. Garruk Highmoor leaned forward, massive axe resting on his shoulder, eyes burning with battle lust. Nalia Claudus flexed her sparking red claws, a low growl in her throat at the taunt. Koreia Callis twirled her magic chakrams effortlessly between her fingers, dancing lightly from foot to foot.






Behind them, their foxkin sniper, Yumi Kazehana, already had her bow strung and drawn, arrow nocked and ready. Merle Corbin clutched his iron cross staff tightly, whispering prayers of protection and vengeance. Galadhon Taurhael placed his large hands against the ground, feeling the heartbeat of the earth beneath them and getting a feel for the sands. He grimaced. They had seen the lifeblood of countless creatures spilled upon them, not all of them humanoid.


Elandar Morvain tinkered with a series of metallic devices strapped across his belt, checking and double-checking each one.


Twelve warriors, the second strongest group in the Academy, barring the wildcard that was Class Seven, against the Iron Maw.


Elorin raised his staff high, a brilliant flash of light lancing into the corrupted crimson of Grinjaw's eyes.


"Form up! Varan, Ragnar, Tayo, front line. Garruk and Nalia, take the flanks. Yumi, you're on rear support. Elandar, traps out. Galadhon, do what you do best. Merle, Koreia, flexible support. You all know the plan. Trust each other. Trust yourselves. Stay alive."






The class moved in tandem, falling into a wide crescent formation. Then the drums began beating, low and fast, in time with the cackling goblin spectators. Ten Goblin Champions poured from the tunnels ringing the arena, each larger and more brutal than the last. Some rode snarling wolves, others hefted jagged axes, maces, and pikes. Behind them came a green tide of goblin grunts, screeching and howling with primal hunger.


Grinjaw laughed, a deeper, hollow sound not unlike what the lesser goblin's laugh sounded like. "Let's see if you're worth fighting, tiny heroes… Earn your deaths!"


The Iron Maw charged. The ground shook with each of his titanic strides. Sand exploded into the air around him. His Power Claws crackled with lethal energy, carving red scars into the air.


Varan met him head-on, launching himself skyward, chain lance snapping forward like a striking serpent. It hooked onto the arch of Grinjaw's pauldron, yanking Varan toward the monster. Rather than shy away, Varan embraced the momentum, shifting his titanic weight midair and driving his boots into Grinjaw's face.






The warboss staggered back half a step, more amused than hurt. "Good hit…" Grinjaw rumbled. "Now see how you handle mine! Try not to die too quickly…"


The eight claws tore through the air with an ominous hum, but Varan stayed calm, focused, deflecting each weighty blow by directing the momentum into the sands. Bits of blood red glass flew everywhere each time Grinjaw missed, but the Olephan was unfazed, and took little damage.


After the third miss, Ragnar charged in from the side, his frost hammer raised high, and smashed it into Grinjaw's comparatively lighter armored midsection. The warboss grunted, more irritated than injured as the blow did manage to knock air from his lungs..


The Goblin Champions struck from the left flank first, three champions bearing crude greatswords barreled toward Nalia. She dodged the first clumsy swipe, slashed open the chest of the second with a quick spin, and countered the third by hurling him over her shoulder and into the waiting axe of Garruk, who split the unfortunate goblin in two with one blow. The two highest damage dealers in the class quickly finished off the other champions, who were in the mid forties in terms of level.






On the right side of the arena, Tayo drew two of the champions at once with a pair of ranged energy attacks that did little damage, but helped draw their attention to him. He danced easily across the sand, dodging the greataxes they held with ease, and then counter-slashing hard on their joints. Without any help, he dispatched both, and then helped Ragnar, who was tearing through the lesser goblins like a destructive demigod, sending entire squads of them flying with each hammerstrike.


Yumi unleashed a storm of arrows from the part of the stands she'd cleared with her daggers, each shaft glowing with pale blue light. Goblins fell like wet sacks every time she fired, sometimes two with the same arrow, their brief screams swallowed by the rising chorus of battle.


Galadhon thrust his palms into the ground, summoning walls of jagged stone that trapped groups of goblins and had separated the champions from their horde as soon as they appeared on the sands. He twisted his hands sharply, and the stone collapsed inward, crushing the trapped goblins to pulp, and effectively wiping out almost half of their force. But there were always more lesser goblins.






In the chaos, Elandar sprang forward, planting a series of mechanical mines along the approaches to their position in the center of the sands. A goblin shaman charged blindly into one mid-cast and disappeared in a blast of white-hot lightning before the spell finished.


Elorin moved like a conductor at the heart of it all, directing spells with precision. He and Merle handled the majority of the healing, while Galadhon focused on increasing their class's already high damage output. Shields of light appeared just in time to deflect killing blows on Yumi and Nalia. Bolts of purifying energy seared goblin flesh, and reduced them to black smoke. His voice never wavered, even as blood sprayed the sand around him.


Grinjaw, despite dueling Varan, quickly identified Elorin as the true threat. He reared back, and then pointed and shouted at Varan. "WAAAAAAGH!"


A swarm of lesser goblins descended on Varan as the shouting skill stunned him just long enough for the swarm to overwhelm even his crimson full plated form before any of his classmates could react.







Grinjaw waddled menacingly through the chaos, charging straight toward Elorin. The general slammed his left claw into the ground, sending a shockwave of crimson lightning that blasted Koreia off her feet and cracked open the earth beneath Ragnar and Varan.


"Scatter!" Elorin commanded, as he freed Varan from the power of the WAAGH! skill. The class obeyed, splitting into pairs, weaving through goblin mobs, striking and fading like wolves harrying a great beast.






Varan erupted from the mob of weak goblin trash, leaping high and then landed so hard, the concussive force reduced them to goo. He turned and launched the chain lance into Grinjaw's back, then yanked, hard. The goblin general's relentless momentum fought the Painful Taunt of the Dragonslayer, and lost to the elephantine might of Varan, stumbling back awkwardly, his charge delayed.


But Grinjaw was not finished. He grabbed the lance, yanked it out of his armor, snarling as the opportunistic Sniper of their class nailed him in the fresh wound with an arrow. Grinjaw roared, a deafening blast of sound that stunned half the class, as it was focused on Varan. Before they could recover, he charged again, this time straight for the White Wizard.


Elorin stood firm, unafraid of the oncoming Goblin King. He raised his staff high and slammed it into the ground, summoning a dome of shimmering white light around himself. Grinjaw struck the barrier with all his strength, raising both arms and bringing them down upon the dome with an enraged roar.






The arena shuddered from the force behind Grinjaw's strike. Cracks spiderwebbed across Elorin's magical shield and the White Wizard gritted his teeth, forcing more power into the spell. Another blow landed, driving him to one knee, as parts of the poorly made arena began to crumble.


"You…shall not…win…" Elorin whispered. Grinjaw's crimson eyes flared with energy, and he raised his arms again.


Varan charged in from the side, chain lance hooking into Grinjaw's armored shoulder before he used the sturdy strike to pull him towards the general, and smash him with both elephantine feet. Ragnar swung in tandem, his hammer shattering a piece of Grinjaw's back armor as the two hits came in simultaneously from opposing sides.


Nalia got in close for a piece once there was less extra goblin trash around. Her adamantine claws slashed deep into Grinjaw's exposed back, her red lightning dancing across the wound and eliciting a snarl of real pain from the giant goblin.






The general turned, backhanding Varan, sending the Olephan sprawling in the sand as red lightning stunned him in place, for the moment, prone on the ground and vulnerable. Tayo darted in, katana slicing through along the back of Grinjaw's claws, before backflipping away from Grinjaw's enraged counterattack. The Kensei held his attention easily, moving like water, and countering hard whenever the clearly self-taught Goblin King made an error.


Garruk let out a rumbling grunt and hurled his massive axe with one of his skills. It struck Grinjaw in the ribs with a wet crack, knocking the warboss back two steps. Blood fell from the rent breastplate, but the rhinokin was not done yet. He followed the throw with a charge, and leapt onto Grinjaw, using his embedded axe as a grip. Being of similar size and weight, Garruk was able to knock him prone.


As the thunderous thump shook the arena again, Garruk looked up from where he'd pinned the stunned Goblin King, and smirked. "By all means, my friend."






Grinjaw tilted his horn helmeted head back slowly, and beheld a very angry Varan. At Garruk's invitation, Varan tossed his spear on the ground, the chain connecting him to it jangling as he stepped onto Grinjaw, grabbed Garruk's axe, and then in time with one of his feet, lifted the Goblin King over his head, bringing him down again hard on the sands. The impact was actually made worse by his armor, as the metal proved more durable than his body. Varan yanked his lance back to his hand, as Grinjaw rose slowly, and threw it once more, to sunder his armor.


As the last of the extra goblins died, the rest of Class Two focused on Grinjaw. Koreia unleashed a storm of chakram blasts, each hit slicing bloody furrows into Grinjaw's newly exposed under armor. Xena Kanda, their resident dual-wielding white Tigrid followed her efforts with a flurry of strikes. Ragnar was right behind him, and the polar bearkin kept the generals claws busy, forcing his off-balance frame to stumble backwards from the heavy assault. Right into a trap, laid by their Artificer.


Elandar's traps went off in rapid succession, each detonation staggering the Goblin King and lighting up the arena with bursts of blinding light. More of it began to collapse. The walls were now thoroughly cracked.






But even under this unified assault, Grinjaw did not fall. Instead, he laughed, blood pouring from a dozen wounds, lightning still dancing across his damaged Power Claws, he laughed.


"GOOD!" He bellowed. "GIVE ME MORE! SHOW ME YOUR BEST!"


The goblins in the stands howled in time with him, slamming weapons against the walls, chanting his name. Grinjaw slammed his fists together again, and this time, a storm of pure crimson lightning erupted from his body in a dome of death. It swallowed everything, as it expanded around the gathered group of students. Their sight vanished with a screaming red light. Then, the energy detonated, and the resulting explosion lifted Class Two from their feet and hurled them across the arena. Sand blasted into their armor and robes as crimson lightning arced along their stunned, prone forms.


Those in metal armor took continuous damage. When the storm finally abated, half the arena was scorched black, and patches of glass jutted where the sand had flash-melted under the heat of the plasma used by Grinjaw's weapon.






Varan rose first, battered, still sparking, but alive and determined. His chain lance was still intact, as was his armor. Nothing forged by a monster would ever compare to the kind of quality wealthy adventurers had access to. Ragnar emerged a moment later from a mound of stone debris, dragging his hammer free of a melted wall. His fur smoldered in places, but the bear's eyes burned with renewed icy fury. He roared, a deep bass note that shook loose gravel from the arena ceiling, and focused Grinjaw's attention on him.


Tayo rolled to his feet with a practiced motion, ignoring the wounds he'd sustained. His slowed gait improved, as Elorin healed him. His katana gleamed red with goblin blood and reflected the chaos around him. Silent, calm, he moved like a ghost and shifted to a stance more suited for damage than tanking.


Garruk smashed a broken goblin who'd been caught in the collapsing arena aside like a ragdoll as he staggered upright. With a mighty heave, the greataxe was pulled from the rubble as well, only slightly scorched by the attack. Nalia appeared on all fours as she leapt atop a cracked pillar, breathing heavily, claws arcing red sparks. Blood dripped from her side where a jagged piece of shrapnel was lodged, but her stance remained defiant.


Merle knelt beside Galadhon, chanting rapidly as divine magic flooded the earth sage's battered frame. Galadhon pushed himself upright with a grunt, as he drew strength from the arena floor itself. Elandar wiped soot from his face, checking his gauntlet. It flickered weakly, the last reserve of its charge almost gone. Still, he smirked. His satchel of tricks had barely been touched. Yumi had found an even higher above, and remained untouched. Her arrows found the wounded goblins attempting to crawl from the wreckage, each shaft ending a life with brutal precision.


It was as the foxkin archer was sniping, that she spied another form, a much larger one, evidently caught in the same trap as the humanoids. Suspended in a barbed wire cage high above the arena, was the Monk's Dragon. Falkor. Upon sensing her notice, the dragon met her gaze with big golden eyes and whined weakly. Yumi's heart broke at the sound. The arrows ceased falling, as she made her way to the poor creature.






Grinjaw emerged from the smoke, limping but grinning at the slowly recovering students. His eyes burned with madness. He pointed his remaining claw at Elorin. "No more games, wizard… You die first."


Grinjaw moved, this time, much faster. Almost too fast to see. Elorin had no time to finish another spell. Varan threw himself between Elorin and Grinjaw, swinging his chain lance wide. The weapon caught Grinjaw across the chest, cutting a new line of crimson through what little of the under armor remained.


The warboss did not even grunt in acknowledgement of the damage. Ragnar met him next, hammer swinging in a wide arc. Grinjaw caught his hammer swing, and with his other claw, batted him aside with a brutal electrified backhand, sending the bear sprawling.


Tayo blurred into motion, a flurry of strikes aimed at Grinjaw's wounded side. His katana bit deep once, twice, thrice, before he spun away from the Goblin King, and made an expert backwards strike that exploded in a flash of ice magic. Grinjaw roared and grabbed at Tayo, but the Kensei was simply too fast, and had figured out the goblin's rather simple attack patterns about a minute prior.






Nalia watched, sparking, furious, but with the patience of a huntress. Then, as Tayo occupied his attention, she launched herself from her perch, claws glowing bright with rage lightning. She struck Grinjaw across the face, gouging deep lines through flesh, bone, and then the metal of his jaw.


Grinjaw caught her arm before she could retract it. Like Varan earlier, Grinjaw used his grip on the Leonid's arm to hurl her over his head, as he smashed her from side to side, against the ground in a rage, and then, upon seeing she was essentially done, bloody and half unconscious, he dropped the damage dealer like a sack.


Only then did Grinjaw turn his full attention to Elorin. He loomed over the White Wizard, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his ruined body. Elorin did not flinch. He raised his staff high.


"The Goddess is with me…" He intoned. A white shield of magic formed around him again, this time with a golden tint to it. His eyes widened, as he realized his faith was being rewarded, and supported. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the God's eyes were indeed upon them.






Grinjaw snarled and brought his claws down on either side of the shield. The Power Claws began sparking against the shield, in a blinding clash of force and will. For an instant, the entire arena seemed to freeze. Then, with another incantation, Elorin's magic exploded outward in a searing shockwave, pushing back the relentless strength of Grinjaw's claws.


The Goblin King snarled as the light seared him, but he brought his claws down again, refusing to be denied this chance to take out their main healer. The rest of the class was starting to attack again, but Grinjaw ignored them. His focus was on the squishy wizard alone.


The ground around them cratered, sand and stone blown away in the swirling storm of colliding energies. Elorin was sweating, but nowhere near done yet. Galdurath was with him as well, and he had always worshiped both of Arcadia's creators equally. The light dimmed, then surged again, brighter and hotter, forcing Grinjaw to shield his ruined face with one claw.






With a shout that tore at his throat, Elorin unleashed one of the more potent spells in his repertoire. A beam of light shot from under the shield, searing the goblin genera's eyes. Grinjaw stumbled back, bellowing in frustration and rage, steam rising from his sizzling sockets.


"NOW!" Elorin shouted, his voice hoarse but commanding.


Class Two answered swiftly. Ragnar charged first, battered but unyielding, frost hammer raised high. He swung with both hands, smashing into Grinjaw's ribs. Ice spiderwebbed across the warboss's side, slowing his movements as flesh and blood stiffened from the cold crackling across his metal armor. Garruk was next, leaping into the air with a guttural roar. He brought his axe around in a two-handed arc, carving deep into Grinjaw's already wounded ribs, and forcing him back with a follow-up shoulder charge. He and Ragnar interposed themselves between Grinjaw and Elorin as the rest of the class unleashed their attacks on him.


Nalia, now healed by their Grave Cleric, fought with unmatched fury as she reached Grinjaw, her red lightning claws ripped into the tendons of Grinjaw's remaining good leg, hamstringing the beast.


Varan spun his chain lance overhead and hurled it into Grinjaw's thigh, sundering his lower armor now. The blade punched through the meat and hooked in, anchoring Varan to his foe. Tayo blurred into existence behind Grinjaw, katana flashing. His blade cut a crimson trail up the warboss's spine, opening a deep, gushing wound that, entirely on purpose, was angled so all the previous slashes and strikes were now connected in a grim portrait of ruined flesh and muscle.






Koreia unleashed a barrage of magical chakram strikes, the spinning disks carving into Grinjaw's arms and sides, each hit peeling away more armor and flesh. Galadhon raised a hand, and the earth beneath Grinjaw's feet shifted, dragging the warboss deeper into the sand, sapping his momentum. Elandar tossed a final gadget, a humming sphere of compressed energy, at Grinjaw's chest. It detonated with a concussive blast, driving the warboss to one knee as the smoke cleared. The entire upper half of his armor, save for his jaw, was gone. But even that was hanging askew at this point.


Merle, chanting quickly, unleashed a beam of pale light from his iron cross staff, searing through the foul energy clinging to Grinjaw, weakening the monstrous goblin even further as he tried to use a skill to heal. The energy filled Merle instead, and the raven black birdkin then unleashed it in a wide arc of healing that infused Class Two, and brought them closer to full health.


Up above, Yumi freed her newfound friend, and Falkor accepted the healing potion she gave him. To her amusement, the dragon found it quite tasty, and then, after bringing Falkor up to speed, and realizing dragons were, intelligence wise, on the level of any humanoid, if not smarter, he agreed to let her mount up on him. Now all they needed to wait for was the right moment to strike.






Below their perch, Grinjaw, the Iron Maw, snarled in frustration more than pain, struggling against the combined might of Class Two. "You... think this... is enough? That I'll fall so easily!?" He roared, blood and spittle spraying from his ruined mouth.


He roared and rose to his feet, even as his legs shuddered, straining to keep his frame up with all the damage they'd taken. He let out another sphere of electric rage, albeit a smaller one, it still broke the sand beneath him, shattered stone walls, and scattered the nearest students.


Nalia was thrown through the air. Tayo was sent tumbling, his katana digging into the sand to stop his momentum. Ragnar staggered back, barely staying upright from the force of the skill.


Grinjaw ripped the chain lance from his leg and hurled it back at Varan, who deflected it with his shield, and then easily retrieved the weapon. The warboss drew himself up to his full, staggering height, breathing heavily, every inch of his body a portrait of ruin and fury.


He slammed his remaining Power Claw into the ground, as one of them had ceased sparking by this point.






Cracks spiderwebbed through the arena floor, gouts of crimson light burst from the fractures in the arena, and from the cracks, goblins poured out. Hundreds of them. Small, broken, half-starved creatures wielding rusted blades and shattered shields, driven by desperation and madness. They were the lowest of the low, especially in terms of level, barely above thirty, but it was their number that made them deadly.


The arena filled with the screams of the goblins in the stands, who now joined the horde forming in the Iron Arena. The goblin horde screamed as one and charged, heedless of the corpses from the first horde of their kin that still lay on the sands, turning into black smoke.


Class Two however, was quite a bit stronger than the horde, and they had the tactics to stop them. The line held, as Varan and Garruk took the front on either side, weapons flashing in brutal arcs as they forced the weaker monsters to focus on them.


Ragnar stayed in front of Elorin, hammer ready to continue to break Grinjaw if he went for the White Wizard again. Tayo, bleeding from a dozen wounds, wove through the chaos, cutting down goblins in a deadly dance, even as their weak weapon attacks stabbed at him.






Koreia moved like a whirlwind, chakrams slashing through the mob in wide, glowing arcs. Elandar, who was running low on gadgets, switched to his pair of electrified gaunlets and managed to demonstrate a basic level of melee aptitude, though his success was largely thanks to his much higher level. Galadhon called up jagged walls of earth to funnel the goblins into killing lanes. Merle moved among them all, chanting blessings and weaving healing magic, closing wounds and bolstering failing limbs. Nalia fought viciously, lightning flashing with each strike as she tore apart the pathetic distraction.


Elorin, at the center of it all, became a beacon of light and defiance. His spells scorched the horde, his light barriers turned blades aside and protected Class Two from stray bolts fired by what few archers Grinjaw seemed to have under his command. They tore into the horde of weak monsters confidently…but there were too many.


The goblins swarmed like rapey green locusts, climbing over their own dead to reach the living. Varan took a spear through the side and tore it out with a snarl. Garruk almost lost his axe under a tide of bodies, but he did not break under their weight. With a loud bellow, he carved a wide arc of death through the goblins.


Galadhon went down under a wave of goblins, only to rise again, throwing them off with a roar. Sand rose around him, crimson and moving fast enough to 'burn' flesh, he turned the very ground the goblins swarmed atop into a maelstrom of pain, and the low level monsters simply had no defense. The large moosekin's irritation spurred the sand even faster, and many of his targets simply eroded to death against the harsh blasts of focused red sand.






Grinjaw watched it all with a mad grin, blood pouring down his face, teeth bared in savage delight. He staggered forward, dragging his ruined body toward Elorin. The goblin general was little more than a walking corpse, but hatred kept him moving. Hatred for these upstart children who had defied him. Hatred for the world above that dared to resist Chronogrin's will.


"Not one more step…" Ragnar snarled, hammer ready to strike again. Grinjaw growled and lunged, grunting in shock and pain as the ice hammer jabbed his very broken ribs, and then swung upward into his very broken jaw. Elorin raised his hand. His slightly scorched staff surged with magic. Lines of golden light etched themselves into the sand, forming a massive rune beneath Grinjaw's feet.


The warboss roared, struggling to move, but the rune held him fast. Magic poured up through the ground, binding him in place, a chains of light.


"NOW, Yumi!" Elorin roared.






Yumi had long stopped wondering how Elorin seemed to know everything. She gave Falkor a pat, and then held on for dear life as the dragon dove. Ragnar, Varan, and Tayo employed their shield skills as Falkor's landing had enough force to shatter most of the remaining arena.


He landed atop Grinjaw, pinning him with his forepaws, and the goblin seemed to grin as he saw the dragon. It was hard to tell though, as the lower half of his face was all but falling off. Falkor wasted no time, having inhaled on the dive down, and with the tanks shielding everyone, he unleashed his flames with an echoing roar.


Grinjaw tried to speak, but couldn't, and instead chose only to laugh as the flames melted his armor to his ravaged flesh, including his jaw. When the torrent of fire ceased, he was still alive, shuddering in excruciating pain, but just refusing to die.






Elorin stepped forward and raised the white metal his staff one final time. "You were mighty," Elorin said quietly. "But your time is over."


He brought the staff down on the mangled visage of slag and hate that was Grinjaw's face. The light that erupted blinded the entire arena.


When the brilliance faded, Grinjaw lay still. The Iron Maw, the strongest physical fighter of the Wallow, the leader of the goblin hordes, was finally dead. The goblins who had filled the sands were gone, reduced to smoke in their death.


Class Two stood over the fallen titan, breathing heavily, burned, damaged, but alive.






For a long moment, there was only silence. Only the rasp of breath, the crackle of dying flames, the slow drip of blood into sand as the class processed what had just happened. Elorin swayed on his feet but Merle was there, steadying him with a hand and murmuring healing spells and stamina recovery chants under his breath.


Elorin straightened slowly, looking out over the devastated arena, and then at Falkor. "We were lucky you fell with us, Falkor." He said, approaching the creature, sensing a kindred spirit in him. "I doubt Grinjaw would've fallen, even with the wounds we dealt."


Falkor humbly inclined his head. "I only briefly had the chance to influence where I fell. I sensed your Class would need me the most. I did not foresee becoming trapped, though…be wary. The end of Grinjaw may not be the end of this fight."






"Class Two, secure the perimeter." Elorin ordered. "Salvage what you can. Heal the wounded. Restore your magic while we can. I'll collect the loot, and we'll distribute it later. We need to move before the next wave finds us."


There were no arguments. Class Two moved with the discipline that had made them second strongest in the academy. They laid hasty wards around the arena's entrances, while the tanks guarded the three remaining entrances.


They had no illusions that this was over. This was only a single victory in the war to cleanse the Wallow. Chronogrin was still waiting.


High above, in the darkened tunnels of the Wallow, something watched Class Two. Something ancient, and unholy. Something that had felt Grinjaw's death like a blow to the chest. It shifted in the shadows, unseen eyes narrowing at the freed dragon.






The corpses of smoking goblins, now dead forever, lay thick as a carpet over the scorched crimson sand.


Blood pooled in shallow depressions where the lightning strikes had torn the earth apart. Plates of shattered armor, and scorched weapons were half-buried where they had fallen. Over it all, the massive smoking body of Grinjaw dominated the arena like a fallen titan.


Class Two moved quietly through the battlefield, battered but unbroken. They worked without needing to speak much now. Orders were short, clipped, understood without ceremony. Varan, Tayo, and Ragnar stood sentinel until the others were ready to depart. Merle healed anyone else who needed it, but eventually focused on Nalia, much to her annoyance. Galadhon quietly shaped the ground, smoothing the worst craters, and forming temporary barricades from shattered stone and glass at the entrances.






Koreia prowled the battlefield in quiet contemplation, slashing down any goblin stupid enough to groan or move to attack her from under the corpses of their kin. Being, at least in her opinion, the most attractive member of the class, and the only actual woman, since Nalia was more brute than beauty, she made the perfect lure for any of the horny little rape monsters that were still alive. Several did indeed try to jump at her, confirming her biases.


Elorin knelt beside Grinjaw's corpse. He stared down at the fallen warboss for a long time, saying nothing. There was no triumph in his expression, only grim necessity.


He reached out and, with a muttered spell, pried free the core from Grinjaw's ruined Power Klaw. It came away sparking and hissing, the foul energy within still pulsing weakly. Elorin held it up for all to see, gaining most of the class's attention.


"This," He said quietly, "was Grinjaw's symbol of power. Without it, the goblins will be weaker. Disorganized." He let the artifact drop into a small lead-lined box Elandar produced without needing to be asked.






The Artificer was definitely going to study it later. If they survived.


"Elorin." Varan rumbled after a time, in his rolling baritone, "We should take what we can. Grinjaw's armor. His weapons. There might be enchantments we can repurpose."


Elorin nodded slowly, packing the loot of Grinjaw's treasure chest, which appeared on the sands shortly after his death. "Strip the body. Anything not nailed down, we salvage."


Ragnar and Garruk moved with brutal efficiency, stripping Grinjaw of anything useful. His armor was heavy, but shattered into pieces that could be carried. His belt held a pouch of blood red stones, dark red and humming with faint magic. His ruined Power Klaws yielded sparking shards of lightning-charged metal and Elandar eagerly snatched up the broken one.


Koreia found a crude iron circlet roughly placed around the fallen general's helmet, a crown of sorts, hammered together with goblin symbols of power and dominance. She handed it to Elorin without a word. He stared at it a moment before tucking it into his satchel with the rest of the loot.






As they worked, a low rumble eventually filled the air. The ground trembled, and every grain of crimson sand in the arena. Small stones danced atop the sand.


Tayo's voice floated down from her perch, sharp and tense. "I've got movement! Lots of it."


Class Two froze. Then, Ragnar and Varan joined their less bulky counterpart at his tunnel, forming a semicircle of defense. From the tunnel's depths, fresh goblins began to emerge. Not the disorganized swarm of before. These moved with grim purpose, wore thick armor, and marched in rank and file order. These were probably Grinjaw's elite warriors, complemented by equally high level dark shamans.


At the center of the shaman stood a figure taller than any goblin should be, cloaked in shadow, his eyes burning with cold, intelligent malice.


Not a Goblin King or a champion. Something, arguably , worse. A Goblin Warlock.






"Defensive positions!" Elorin ordered, recognizing the darkness in their leader.


Garruk, Koreia, Senan, and Nalia flanked the wall of tanks, weapons ready. Yumi repositioned with Falkor and waited for Elorin to call on them, drawing a heavier arrow tipped with silver.


Elandar laid down traps as fast as his hands could manage, turning their containing wall into a proper kill zone. Merle stood at the ready, staff glowing faintly as he prepared healing spells. The goblins advanced slowly through the tunnel, chanting in a low, droning tongue that made the torches flicker and die.






The warlock raised a gnarled staff of blackened bone and spoke a word. Darkness fell over the defending students like a shroud. The very air grew cold, thick, heavy with the weight of ancient magic designed to completely obscure sight and sound.


The darkness was simply the absence of light. Elorin focused through the darkness, leaning tiredly on his staff. His eyes flared with golden light, a beacon in the gathering gloom. One that Class Two rallied around, without panicking.


"Hold…" He said softly. "I see them. Hold."


The goblin warlock lifted its staff high. Chains of spectral energy erupted from the enshrouded ground, clawing toward the students. Galadhon reacted first, slamming his hooves into the earth and raising a barrier of stone, intercepting the worst of the spell. The chains shattered against the makeshift wall with a screech that rattled teeth.


Ragnar bellowed and surged forward, hammer crackling with frost, but Elorin spoke quickly, "Not yet! We hold the line!"






The wall of tanks began engaging the elite goblins, only to find that they weren't too hard to actually dispatch. They came in lines of three, and the three tanks took them down with assistance from Koreia's magical chakrams, and Senan occasionally leaning in for a timely sword stab.


Elandar triggered the hidden traps he'd planted earlier, bursts of light and shrapnel shredding groups of the goblins at once. Yumi didn't stay idle, and her arrows found the warlock himself, each shot forcing him to raise magical shields to defend himself, slowing his advance. Merle and Galadhon worked together, layering protections over the front line, patching wounds, reinforcing bodies and spirits.


Through it all, Elorin advanced step by agonizing step, forcing the darkness back by sheer will, pushing it onto the goblins, and then, with Varan in front, they advanced down the tunnel. Ragnar aided his charge forward with helpful support from behind, and a matter of moments, their unstoppable momentum ended in a pile of dead 'elite' goblins, before which stood their warlock. As Class Two formed up behind them, Elorin dispelled the darkness with a Flare, and that stunning spell blinded every goblin left.






The warlock screamed once they were all close enough to him to be effected, the awful piercing sound reverberated inside their skulls as the blind and daze took effect, but Class Two was already moving.


"Now!" Elorin roared.


Varan hurled his chain lance and, with his giant gray ears covering his eyes, pulled the impaled warlock towards him. Tayo flashed forward, katana striking the warlock from hip to shoulder, with a spray of blood. For good measure, Garruk hurled a broken goblin shield like a discus, smashing into the warlock's face and causing his body to fall in two pieces.


Silence fell. Then, his shamanic allies shrieked in panic, and began panic-casting. Senan, Koreia, Nalia, Garruk, and Ragnar each took them out, and despite their high level, their health had apparently been drained by the warlock to empower that spell. They fell in single moves, but their experience points were full. Elorin had reached sixty eight, and Class Two was close behind him.






The heavy panting of the battle-tested adventurers filled the air. The deep, exhausted, final silence of a battle truly won. They regrouped slowly.


Varan leaned heavily on his chain lance as he helped Garruk up from the rubble caused by his charge into his Goblin Shaman. It had pulverized bit the shaman, and the wall of the small cavern they found themselves in. Ragnar sat hard on a boulder, laughing weakly, hammer across his knees. "They're getting easier to kill…" Tayo knelt quietly, cleaning his katana with slow, methodical movements, and just shook his head in silent disapproval. Underestimating goblins was what had created their current situation.


Class Two gathered around Elorin without needing to be called. Twelve battered, bloodied warriors and their White Wizard. Together, they faced the broken arena, the endless tunnels beyond and began moving through a path that would allow Falkor to follow with them as they attempted to rendezvous with the others.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 16: The Wallow, Part 4d: The Madgrin Monarch​

---

Class Seven





Grin World - The Wallow Dungeon




​

Drake Long looked around, and saw that Drone was also still with them, still intact and recording, as the Joker rip-off goblin pulled the pin on his grenade, and none of his classmates seemed to have the appropriate reaction to that. Meaning either they knew what it was, and he did not, or Drake alone knew what it was, and they did not, either way, only bad things would probably come from the small metal orb now emanating sparks in the lanky clown goblin's hand. "If he throws that thing at us, tanks, use your strongest shields!"


Drake looked around the arena that Class Seven, and their Instructor Aslan were now trapped in. He saw no sign of Falkor, but he could sense his friend, and saw his health bar, which meant he was okay, for now.


The room stretched around them in a perfect circle, too symmetrical to be natural and too theatrical to be anything but a stage. The floor was polished stone arranged in a checkerboard of dark crimson and bone-white tiles. Some were cracked, some were stained by questionable fluids, and a few pulsed faintly with unnatural light beneath the mist that hung heavy in the air.






The walls were lined with curtains, towering sheets of patchwork velvet in deep shades of purple, dark crimson that was likely old blood, and black. They seemingly hung from nowhere. There were no rafters, no rigging, no ceiling at all, just an infinite black void that Drake didn't like staring at for too long. The curtains simply descended from the green mist that coated the upper reaches of the chamber, swaying as if something behind them breathed.


Rows of balconies curved along the edges, stacked like opera boxes in a theater built by madness. Each one was filled with goblin mannequins, slumped in ornate chairs, all dressed in moldy patchwork clothes that didn't quite fit right. They wore face paint like Harlegrin, poorly applied and no two had the same expression. Some held instruments. Some held rusty knives. None of them moved.


Spotlights blinked on at random, carving golden cones through the green mist, always aimed at nothing in particular, but highlighting the various tents and sheets of cloth that surrounded the upper part of the mad scene. Sometimes they shone directly onto the party, sometimes into empty corners, and sometimes onto the stage in the center. That stage was a warped circle of bone and wood, ringed with gold-painted footlights that hadn't been lit in centuries. Or maybe they had. Time didn't feel right here.


It felt like everything in the arena was waiting for a cue. And Drake had the sinking suspicion the grenade was just the signal to start the show.

​

Harlegrin raised his hand as the grenade's wick burned lower, and then, staring unblinking at them as nobody bothered to answer his question, he tossed the grenade behind him, and cackled. Goblin screams of terror were cut short by the explosion, confirming for Drake that the goblins had gunpowder, knew what it did, knew how to use it, more or less. They had seriously technologically advanced recently. The construction of the arena still suggested the early Renaissance era, by Earth standards. Drake just hoped they hadn't figured out firearms.


The goblin explosion in the wings was still echoing when Harlegrin clapped his long hands together with a wide grin on his painted goblin face. In the balconies, the mannequins jerked to life, swaying and shuddering as if buffeted by a storm only they could feel. The curtains twitched, the spotlights sharpened, and the show began.


A massive, opaque white-gloved hand lined with veins of glowing green magic, descended from the mist above and Harlegrin stepped onto it, his expression unchanged. It lifted him effortlessly into the air, and the Goblin King threw his head back letting out a peal of insane laughter as the hand floated him above the main stage.






"Iiiiit's time for da warm-up act! Take your places, maggots!" Harlegrin crowed, and with a flick of his wrist, summoned a crooked, blood-red trumpet that immediately belched fire in a short, obscene blast. He blew a sour note through it, and a cone of burning green flames roared outward, forcing the party to scatter.


"Move!" Aslan roared, as the sheer power from his sword swing, and the amount of air it displaced, literally cut through the flames. Tala yelped and dove sideways, dragging Rose with her, while Leif vaulted into the stands, crashing into a crumbling chair and rolled out of the flame's area of effect with more luck than skill.


The stage itself cracked, tiles hissing and blackening where the goblin's fire touched them. The smell of burning bone filled the arena. Explosions from beneath the tiles forced Class Seven to keep dodging, and keep setting off new traps, all while Harlegrin cackled, watching them scurry and suffer.


Drake skidded to a halt on a tile that seemed inert, scanning for the real threat. "Images, to me! Black, guard Rose, Purple, back up Leif. The rest of you, in!" He knew this was just the opening act, and he wanted to be able to summon them quickly, rather than letting the goblin clown take them out one by one. With just that opening attack, they'd taken a lot of damage, in place of his peers. Sure enough, Harlegrin's grin widened even further, splitting his painted face as he pointed one clawed finger at the now empty center of the arena.






A ghostly violin materialized there, hovering in the air, and it was at that point that Drake realized the clown was some unholy fusion of a bard, and artificer. At level ninety five, he might've even had another class baked in that they didn't know about yet. As Harlegrin snapped his fingers, the bow of the violin lifted itself, and slid across the ephemeral strings.


The first note was a high-pitched shriek, so loud it was almost visible as it rolled over the scattered students. Hands clutched at heads. Ears flattened against skulls. The sound was loud yes, but also, fundamentally wrong. No instrument was supposed to be able to produce something that loud.


Garret roared and raised his shield. "Protect the casters! Sound attack!" But it was already too late for some of them Lyria dropped to a knee gasping, while Caelum flinched and stumbled. Blood leaked from their hearing organs, but Caelum countered it quickly, murmuring a flash healing spell, a surge of water that jumped from him to Lyria, to anyone else nearby.






Above them, Harlegrin pirouetted on his floating hand, laughing so hard his sides shook. "Ohh come on! What's the matter? Don't like music?" He cackled, and the violin let out another unearthly shriek, this time spinning to focus on Sethis and Garret as the beastmen barreled forward, protective skills glowing in front of them. Garret raised his shield, and Sethis leapt off it like a lion-powered springboard, slashing through the ghostly violin with burning darkness.


"Heal up!" Aslan roared again. "Form up on the tiles that exploded already! Area heals, save your magic." The students obeyed the veteran Dungeon diver, but one of them, a certain monk, was too far from the group, and that was what singled him out.


Harlegrin saw this, and pointed directly at Drake.


A spotlight slammed down around him blinding, golden, trapping him in place, and then just by shifting the light's focus, teleported him onto the main stage. There was an attempt at a microphone in front of him, and the light's magic kept him restrained. It wasn't Harlegrin's though, that, he could've punched. It was the Dungeon itself, keyed to the Madgrin Monarch's desires, an undodgeable lair effect that was forcing him to stay in place. Drake took a deep breath, and stayed calm.






The goblin clown's eyes gleamed, and began narrating in his raspy voice that, in that moment, Drake had to admit was not far from what Mark Hamill had used for his Joker, back on Earth. The similarity was unsettling. "Our first contestant in tonight's lineup! Give it up for da world's first Monk, ladies an' gentleman!" Harlegrin shouted. Drake heard Rose shout his name, but Harlegrin just cackled. "They know you! Mister Popular!"


Drake didn't answer, instead choosing to scowl at the goblin. He wasn't going to play these games, but his defiance made the Goblin King's grin grow wider. The ground vibrated. Pain started gnawing at his insides, a humming throb in his gut and brain that doubled the longer he stayed silent.


Then, he saw the status effect now active on him. Vicious Comedy. No doubt Harlegrin's amped up version of Vicious Mockery. Some skills apparently changed at higher levels, and it seemed that was true for monsters as well as mankind. If he ignored the joke, it would damage him severely. If he laughed...it would do twice as much.






Harlegrin leaned his lanky form in from atop his floating white magical hand. "Tell me, Hero, what do you call it when you're strong enough to fight a Grinwarden, but dumb enough to think you'll win?" There was an appropriate pause, before a chuckling Harlegrin delivered the punchline. "A skill issue!"


Drake just stared at Harlegrin, unamused. "Ha. Ha. Ha. Hilarious. But we all know who's going to die here, clown." The vibration faded, and as soon as Drake felt the Dungeon's mechanic release him, he was off the stage with a Shadow Step into the stage's shadows made darker by the focused bright lights.


Harlegrin's grin faltered for just a moment, his eye twitched, as no damage was dealt. For context, this had never happened. His humor always managed to elicit a slight chuckle from his fellow goblins, after which point they usually exploded. But not this time. The human had to have felt nothing, for nothing to have happened. Harlegrin was quiet for a long time, with his back to the raid party, but then he clapped again, and turned around with a delightful sneer.


"Ohoho! Very good! A round of applause for our brave little liar! My jokes are hilarious!"






The mannequins thundered their lifeless hands together at uneven intervals, the sound a dull thud that filled the arena with sick mockery. The hand carrying Harlegrin swooped lower, swinging him into a loop around the party and as he passed, he blew another blast from the flamethrower trumpet, setting several squares of the stage ablaze in green fire.


The party fanned out, regrouping around Aslan and Garret as the pair dispersed the monster's attacks with their own. Traps went off again, but this time, the raid was adapting. Harlegrin watched in disbelief as his attacks and traps were reduced to useless within minutes. His irritation began to turn into a much darker emotion.


"He's trying to split us up!" Caelum shouted.


"No…" Drake muttered, his eyes narrowing as the goblin now seemed to be…violently constipated. That was the only comparison Drake could accurately make. His facial veins were bulging, his face was a darker green, and he was shuddering in place either with truly mad glee, or rage. "He's trying to wear us down. Nobody laugh. It's just like the Nilbog."







Harlegrin's white gloved hand mount twirled again, swooping closer to Class Seven, and with an angry snap of his long spindly fingers, the spotlight snapped onto another target.


Lyria.


The silver-haired Sorceress flinched, raising her staff instinctively, but the magic of the Dungeon had already rooted her in place. The harsh spotlights burned down on her, locking her in place as she suddenly appeared on the center of the cracked stage.


"Ohoho! Hobs and Gobs, we have our…next contestant…" Harlegrin bellowed, spinning in a full circle atop his floating hand. "I present tonight's featured Academy captive, it's Lyriaaa! Let's get some…applause…" Harlegrin made a show of looking towards the stands, which had been empty before, but as the party followed his eyes, new spotlights appeared, highlighting a horde of hobgoblins and their lower level kin, faces painted, badly, in low effort imitations of their leader. They were even wearing very bad attempts at copying his Joker-esque attire.


To Drake's eyes they were grinning, and ready to fight, but there was a look in their beady eyes that Drake recognized all too well. The look of an employee, wearing something chosen by their boss, doing something decided by their boss, and spending the foreseeable future going along with their boss's ideas, many of which usually ended up killing goblins. Drake understood. Monsters on this level were simple, instinct driven. They wanted to fight, and take spoils, everything else held no meaning for them.


It was Harlegrin's ingenuity, and slightly higher intelligence, that had gotten him to his position under the Goblin Emperor, but he was probably the Grinwarden that the goblins hated serving under the most.





Harlegrin leaned low towards Lyria, grinning wider as he delivered his joke. "What do you call a Sorceress... who thinks her powers will save her from Goblins?"


The hobgoblins in the cheap seats cackled, pounding their fists against the railings. The magic of Vicious Comedy throbbed around Lyria, waiting for the punchline to drop, and her eyes darted back and forth as she read the effects of the magic now holding her in place. The pain started creeping into her chest as the silence continued. Lyria just blinked once, focusing her mind, and as Harlegrin opened his painted toothy maw to deliver the punchline, she interrupted him and said, voice cold as the void. "The last thing you'll ever see."


The magic snapped. The joke shattered before Harlegrin could even deliver his punchline. The audience of goblins fell silent. No contestant had ever dared to steal the punchline from Harlegrin, for good reason. Even the mannequins twitched awkwardly in the stands. For a second, the theater of madness teetered in awkward, broken silence.


Harlegrin's face twitched. Then, he snarled. "NO! No no no NO! YOU DON'T GET TO STEAL MY PUNCHLINE!"


With a screech of rage, he yanked the flamethrower trumpet to his lips and blew, sending a furious blast of green flame straight at her.


Lyria tensed, bracing herself as she tried to ready a Shield spell, but Drake Long was faster. He crossed the distance with a single Step of the Wind, scooping her up in his arms with just enough time to move her out of the inferno's path, and step again back to the relative safety of the party.


They slid to a hard stop along the cracked tiles, and Drake set her down. Their eyes met. "You okay, Lyria?" He rasped.


Lyria blew an errant lock of silver hair from her face, her tone utterly deadpan as she controlled her emotions, revealing nothing of the inner turmoil being held by the handsome monk had caused. "I... really hate Goblins." She didn't even acknowledge the glance from Rose or the subtle thumbs up Tala gave her.


Drake smirked, teeth flashing, even as more of Harlegrin's goblin horde began to howl from the balconies, turning back towards Harlegrin and falling into his stance again. "Yeah. This is deranged, even for them..."





But Harlegrin was not done. "Elves have no respect for Comedy! Let's try...YOU!" He snapped his fingers again, and the spotlights focused on probably the worst person he could have chosen for his routine. The gods of fate were not with him.


Zara appeared on the stage, her eyes holding murder, her face expressionless as she glared at Harlegrin, but like Drake and Lyria before her, she was immobilized.


Harlegrin grinned, wider, sharper, and desperately pointed at Zara. "What do you call a hero...who thinks they have a chance?"


The entire arena was silent, as the tension built, and Zara was, quite obviously, reading the same spell effect as Drake and Lyria had. The tiles at Zara's feet cracked. Drake tensed, ready to call out advice, but Zara acted first, right as Harlegrin confidently opened his mouth. The Madgrin Monarch couldn't conceive of someone stealing his joke twice.


She smiled. Not a real smile, a clinical, cold-blooded twitch of her lips, the exact opposite of amusement. Her eyes were dead, bored, and serious. Then she opened her mouth and said, flat as death, "The end of your act."


Harlegrin's spinning hand slowed, and even sagged a little in midair, confused, as Harlegrin's brain processed the joke, and his open mouth slowly fell towards a frown. The second Zara could move again, she raised her staff, and with that same coldness in her voice intoned, "Meteor."


The stage magic cracked, fracturing like glass before the oncoming low-orbit ball of stone and fiery death that Zara conjured out of thin air. Her feet became surrounded by mist, and she stepped off the stage, reappearing amongst the party, who had since been firing at the goblins and hobgoblins behind them.


And for the first time, Harlegrin's cackling halted, strangled halfway in his throat. "NO!" He shrieked, face twisting, the poorly applied, greasy paint around his mouth and cheeks running like blood in rain as his temperature rose with his rage. "You don't get to ruin the punchline! THIS ISN'T AN IMPROV ROUTINE!"





The goblin mannequins began to slip from their seats, drooping like puppets with cut strings. The theater, the script it was unraveling. Harlegrin's own goblins, now risking permanent death if they continued to just sit still and face tank the party's attacks scattered en masse, fleeing for their lives, and that's when Class Seven moved.


Purple Drake flashed across the seats in a flicker of magic, his purple body blurring past five goblin stagehands in clown wigs, running away and already slightly damaged. They barely had time to scream before he ended their sad existence with his Hidden Blades.


Leif appeared out of nowhere a fox-shaped blur slipping through shadows and slit the throat of the goblin 'director', sending his body tumbling off one of the opera balconies.


Tala and Rose linked arms, casting Barrier Ward and Bless in rapid sequence, fortifying the entire class in a flash of rainbow-hued light.


Garret roared and slammed his shield into a collapsing mannequin as it lunged from the balconies, crushing the wooden corpse into dust. Up above, 'Ironside' was rampaging through the stands, crushing puppets and goblins alike and by far causing the most damage, just in terms of breaking Harlegrin's set. Every axe swing cut heads and wires, every leap brought down a stone slab colored to be background, and all the cloth around it.


Caelum and Lyria, standing shoulder to shoulder, fired twin lances of water infused with lightning at the spectral hand Harlegrin was floating on, but as it exploded into shards of flesh and magic, and gravity controlled the goblin clown, his mind was focused on only one thing.






The show was off script.


The crowd was dying.


His set which had Not been easy to make was now in ruins.


"You were supposed to LAUGH!" Harlegrin shrieked, voice rising to a glass-shattering pitch. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PLAY YOUR PARTS!" He rage summoned the pieces of the shattering hand back into existence, but it was different now. The glove was in tatters, and the flesh…was radiating an aura of undeath.


Harlegrin gestured at his trumpet, summoning it to his hand, and began playing, badly, rapidly, blowing out notes in a discordant mishmash of effort and a complete lack of talent that ended with him raising his middle finger in their direction as he fired off another gout of green flame.






The trumpet belched fire, a furious, uncontrolled gout of that seared across the stands, and then the party on the spent tiles below, charring mannequins, props, even his own goblin extras as they fled.


Garret stepped forward, shield raised, roaring, "Hold formation!" The flames crashed against the barrier he summoned, roaring and hissing but they held.


Beyond the smoke and obscuring flames, Drake's voice rang out steady, cold, furious:


"Hey, Harlegrin."


The clown king whirled, hair and paint smoking, as the closeness of the voice made him stop attacking.


"You want a real joke?"


Drake was there, floating in the sky, Buffed and fists glowing with the steady, building white-hot fury of earth and fire.


The smoke clung to the tiles like mist, curling between scorched mannequins and goblin corpses. Harlegrin hovered above it all, vibrating in place. One eye was wide and bloodshot, the other squeezed shut in fury. The hand he rode flexed and curled like it wanted to strangle the air.






Drake gave the goblin a fake, grim, smirk.


"What do you call a King… with no stage, no audience, and no punchline?"


Harlegrin blinked. The Dungeon was holding him in place now. He started to sweat, as he realized he couldn't move. Not even his mouth. He raged silently at the unfairness, but he and his kin had forgotten…the Dungeon was, at its core, a construct of Galdurath. It was inherently biased against monsters. Of course, such arcane matters were probably too much for a goblin to understand.


"A FUCKING CLOWN."


Drake lunged delivering the literal punchline.


His fist connected with Harlegrin's jaw, and the impact of the force behind his fists cracked the floating hand, turning it to dust, and sending the Goblin King tumbling backward, pinwheeling through the air before crashing face-first into one of the balconies. Mannequins exploded around him like broken dolls.


The theater gasped.


Or maybe that was just the wind.






Harlegrin didn't move for a moment. Then, slowly, he stood from the wreckage of his stands and carefully hand-painted mannequins.


His hair was no longer styled, fizzed from heat, and still burning in places. His face paint was smeared, dripping down his green skin. His lips peeled back into a feral snarl, only to find the permanent dent from the impact of Drake's uppercut had forced the goblin to scowl, or frown, seemingly forever. That, was what broke Harlegrin.


"No…" He growled. "No no no no no no!"


The lights went out. The spotlights died. The footlights popped like bulbs under a boot and only a single circle of golden light remained right in the center of the stage, before the party. Harlegrin leaped into the light, landing like the meteor that had crushed his set, hunched, panting, his long fingers twitching at his sides.


"This isn't how it goes," He said softly. "This isn't the act. You're ruining the act. You're ruining it!"


Zara stepped forward, scarred and sharp-eyed, her staff still glowing. "It was never your act. This isn't your story…you're just a minion of the real Boss. A piece of Garbage that Chronogrin found entertaining."






The scream that followed was his, but it came from everywhere. The walls, the floor, the smoke. A chorus of grief and rage, bound up in every soul that had ever died laughing in this place.


And Harlegrin rose.


On a small circle of bones that grew larger as it drew on the smoking corpses of the hobs and their kin, he rose into the air, binding their remains to continue to exist, despite their death. Drake grimaced. Apparently, he was also part necromancer. A new violin appeared in the air behind him. Not spectral. Not magical.


Real.


Its strings were flesh. Its frame, carved white bone. Its bow was still wet with blood. Harlegrin grabbed it, and tried to grin again. He made it wider, but the very visible dent in his goblin jaw was still there and his grin was stuck in a scowl.


"No more jokes…" He hissed in irritation. "It's time...for my solo." He drew the bow, composed of what had to be human hair, across the strings of his carved bone instrument.

Harlegrin

​

The scream was worse this time, because it was real. An undeniably real cry of terror uttered by a real throat and recorded for moments like this. And then, as Harlegrin continued to play, another scream joined the first. Different. But still recorded, and real. The unhinged bard continued to play, and more screams joined them, a cacophony of utter terror and pain, and the barest fraction of the suffering endured within the Wallow Dungeon, recorded for moments like this, to magically and psychologically stun those who dared to fight the Madgrin Monarch, or any of the Grinwardens.


Class Seven staggered, stunned physically and emotionally as the Goblin King's music forced them to understand that each of these screams had belonged to a real person, a reality they couldn't deny if they tried, and as Harlegrin continued, it wasn't just women's screams, but men as well, each one somehow horrifically blending into a macabre song of despair and sadness.


Rose fell to her knees, eyes wide, tears running down her cheeks as she clung to her staff, and black cloaked Drake tried to comfort her, but even as an image, he was exactly as disgusted and stunned as the real Drake. Nyara screamed, her cry only adding to the symphony of sadness, and covered her ears. Even their stalwart tanks had wide eyes, weapons slightly lowered as comprehension and understanding were forced upon them. Even Aslan, stalwart as ever, was forced to lower his head and understand in that moment, just how much grief and pain the Academy and the Guild's inaction had caused. He'd always known, of course. Everyone knew where the poor souls forced by circumstance to live near the Wallow's proximity disappeared to.


But actually hearing it, struck him on a deeper level, and behind Class Seven, Drone recorded every second.


Drake grit his teeth and focused on a single goal: murdering the goblin. He let the screams fill his ears, turned their suffering into righteous rage, and with effort, forced himself to move.


But Harlegrin wasn't aiming at them. Not yet.


The balconies shifted. The curtains flared, and all across the theater dozens of stage goblins were rising up again, crawling from the curtains, slithering from cracks in the floorboards, their patchwork outfits stitched over raw, festering skin. Whatever process the Dungeon used to absorb them was delayed, but they were still secreting black wisps of smoke. Impermanent minions on a time limit, but such things hardly mattered, in a Dungeon ruled by a master of chronomancy.




Leif blurred, vanishing in an instant, flying through the rising horde of goblin zombies with Assassinate. Purple Drake noted it wasn't limited to six victims, but six strikes. How long or powerful each one was could be pushed, probably at the cost of magic. Purple Drake followed, Shadow Stepping between the goblins who persisted in Leif's crimson wake, hammering their heads into the marble before they could scream.


Tala and Caelum threw up overlapping shields as the theater itself began to shake. The Goblin King had stopped laughing. He wasn't even smiling now. He stood atop his floating hand, ragged violin in one hand, broken trumpet in the other, glaring down at the team like a director watching a dress rehearsal go horribly off-script.


"You want to hear real pain?" He whispered, raising the macabre violin once more.


Aslan's sword flashed, cleaving a hobgoblin zombie clean in half as he barked, "Hold formation! He's not finished!"




But someone else was already moving. A shadow flickered high in the mist above, riding the edge of a curtain like a ghost. Nyara dropped silently from her swinging momentum, her boots slamming into the goblin's spine as he wound up another blast. Then, came her blade. Her sword hummed not from power, but from speed and with a single fluid slash she severed one of the Goblin King's fingers.


The dismembered digit melted into green fire before it even hit the stage. Harlegrin spun on her, his eye twitching. "NO ENCORES FOR YOU!" Nyara didn't give him time to finish, as her follow-up slash flashed with lightning and carved a second line across his chest, and for the first time, he bled.


Not paint. Not mist. Blood. His blood. The crowd didn't laugh, and what was left of the mannequins were quiet now. Harlegrin stared at the wound, his face now embracing the scowl he was permanently stuck with. "No no no no! This isn't how it's written!"




A roar ripped through the Madgrin Monarch's whinging as Bjorn Bjornson came crashing through the mist like an avalanche on legs, slamming his war axe down so hard that as it caught Harlegrin's shoulder, it drove him and the hand back to the floor of the arena, a shockwave of debris launched three undead goblin stragglers into the void above them, and they did not fall back down. His brown-furred frame was streaked with blood and soot, but the grin on his ursine face was pure hate.


"You're going to die, clown…"


He swung again. Harlegrin tried to fly up, but Bjorn was faster than any bear his size had a right to be. The axe met Harlegrin's wrist mid-flight, cleaving through illusion and bone, and the Goblin King fell back to the floor with a pained shudder as he looked in disbelief at his stump of an arm.


"No more 'music' from you…" Bjorn growled. "Now it's our show."




Harlegrin's painted smile twitched again and finally snapped.


With a snarl, he vanished in a blink of theatrical smoke, reappearing atop the ruins of his center stage set, still smoldering, and still very much buried by a meteor. His breathing was ragged, paint smeared, and fury spilled off him in waves. "YOU THINK THIS IS YOUR SHOW?" Harlegrin shrieked. "You think you can RUIN what I BUILT? What I rehearsed? I KILLED for this STAGE!"


As he screamed at the students, the curtains behind him tore themselves open, revealing nothing but a black void, from which, came the visage of an obese, grinning goblin with glowing golden eyes. The same one that had been carved in stone before they'd fallen into this madness. From that visage's eyes, a pair of spotlights hit him, and Harlegrin froze.


His limbs began to twitch. His smile stretched too wide, and slowly, as if against his will, he raised his arms to either side. "I didn't want to do this," He whispered. "But you ruined the scene. You ruined everything! YOU THREW OFF THE EMPEROR'S GROOVE!"




Bjorn had charged again, but this time, with a flick of his remaining hand, the one holding the violin bow, he went soaring back into his peers. Sethis and Garret caught him, and the three tanks shared a nod of respect, before spreading out to cover their party from whatever new madness Harlegrin was unleashing. His health was in that magical final quarter, which meant it was time for a transformation, and the Madgrin Monarch did not disappoint.


His trumpet shattered, leaking fire that swirled around him. The violin screamed one last time and cracked in half, the soul inside finally silenced. The bow snapped in half, marking Chronogrin's displeasure with him, his performance, and his lack of dead students. The jester knew what came next.




Harlegrin began to split.


His body warped, arms elongating, legs bending backward, his back cracking as if he were being reassembled. A chorus of goblin voices rose around him not from outside, but from within his warped frame, as if a dozen beings were waking up in the same skin.


The arena went silent.Then, Harlegrin's voice echoed, but this time there were many versions of him speaking at once.


"Final curtain."


"No more acts."


"No more script."


"No more you."


"No more me."


His body erupted in a cyclone of green flame and bile, and when it cleared, hovering above the stage was not Harlegrin, but something built from him. A twisted, multi-limbed amalgamation of painted goblins, stitched together into a puppet-body of muscle, bone, and cloth. A madly grinning patchwork nightmare with too many faces, each one frozen mid-laugh, weeping greasepaint and ichor.




Its central head bore the remnants of Harlegrin's face, but it no longer smiled. It only stared, and when it spoke, it didn't shout. It whispered.
"No more laughter. Only the scream."


The thing that had been Harlegrin hovered silently above the ruined stage. Dozens of goblin faces stitched into its flesh all turned in different directions, some sobbing, some laughing, one silently mouthing "I'm sorry" over and over again. The massive puppet-form lurched as if unsure how to move its too-long limbs. Chains of black metal shot forth from Chronogrin's floating visage, embedding in his shoulders, dragging Harlegrin as he turned toward Class Seven.


There was no applause now. No laughter. Just the faint, slow, omnipresent tick... tick... tick... of some invisible stage clock running out of time. And then, all at once, his mouths screamed.


A wave of pain infused with the necro-bard's magic vomited forth as a psychic tidal wave. Hatred. Shame. Jealousy. Every goblin that Harlegrin had ever absorbed, every voice that had been silenced so his could be louder, now funneled into one soul-rending shriek.




The shriek rolled over the entirety of Class Seven, as it caught them in the area of its effect. Barriers shattered under the sonic force, healing Buffs and shields broke. Vincent, who'd been dictating from behind the entire fight, clenched his face as his glasses shattered. Even Aslan faltered.


But not Drake. He'd had an inkling some sort of wide, area BS was about to befall them, and thus, his main body had moved. He stepped onto the meteor beside the thing that was now Harlegrin, burned, bruised, but standing tall, his aura flickering with sparks of lightning that ran down his arms, to his Hidden Blades.


"You're not funny anymore. This is just…sad. Nobody likes a sad clown."


Harlegrin struck at him with several arms, but Drake dodged with Assassinate's supernatural speed. Six times he dragged his lightning blades across the 'goblin', and six times its form erupted in steaming blood and foul ichor. The final strike was actually a spinning earth-encased roundhouse kick that sent Harlegrin crashing into the ground before the rest of the class. Recovered from the sound attack, they readied their attacks.




The Goblin King screamed again and charged, limbs unfolding like blades, the spotlights from Chronogrin's eyes twisting to follow its erratic path. One arm swiped like a guillotine, carving a trench through the arena floor, but the students moved out of its path, some dodging it by inches before they countered with lightning, and attack skills. Another arm spun like a mace, catching Bjorn across the chest and sending him flying into a pile of shattered mannequins.


Garret was there before the next blow landed, shield raised, bracing the full weight of an arm that had been remade thicker than a warhorse. "GET IN THERE!" He shouted.


Zara moved first, launching a searing lance of heat directly into one of the faces on the creature's flank; it exploded like a boil, green flame and black ichor spraying across the tiles. Leif and Purple Drake circled from the shadows, one going high, the other low. Twin daggers and a pair of Hidden Blades limned with ice slammed into the puppet's joints, forcing it to stumble forward, off balance.


"NOW!" Aslan bellowed, his voice like a warhorn. "End this farce!"


Sethis roared, his greatsword igniting with shadow and steel. At the same time, Bjorn returned, meeting his contemporary in the air. They leapt impossibly high for ones clad so heavily in plate armor, and cleaved both of the puppet's spotlight chains clean through, in perfect unison, before they landed behind him.




The light died. The puppet screamed, staggering. Tala and Caelum channeled together a twin-cast of Holy Rain, water and light dousing the arena. The light suffused water healed the party, and made Harlegrin's form smoke where the drops landed. The floor itself also started smoking, filling the air with mist as the rain hit the bone tiles, and hissed against those as well.


Drake Long stepped through the mist with murder in his eyes, and lightning focusing around his Hidden Blades. His body was limned with an aura the same color as the lightning, white and gold and sparks, curling over him.


Harlegrin raised its arms on his own power, what little was left, and swung. Drake barely moved, but dodged the sharper arms. Those that came for him horizontally were caught with the Hidden Blades, and lightning surged into Harlegrin, making him smoke and sputter. Furious, he turned fully on Drake, raising the same arm that Garret had barely tanked.


The fist came down, and his peers reacted, but then paused. Drake hadn't dodged the massive fist, but had instead met it, with his own. The force of the collision cracked the tile around him, but Drake stood tall, bloodied, smirking grimly, and heedless of the damage he'd taken.




"I've got one more joke for you…" He said, raising his hooded head just enough for Harlegrin to see his expression, and his eyes, burning with quiet rage. The screams of those victims still rang too loudly in his ears, demanding vengeance. Drake obliged them.


Harlegrin's main face turned toward him slack-jawed, broken, barely coherent, but always appreciative of a joke.


Drake leaned in close, grimacing at the stench of the burnt, unwashed goblin. "You ever hear the one about the Monk who incinerated the Emperor's favorite clown?"


Harlegrin's eyes widened, but the monk had already moved. His fist sank into the foul blob of gore that was the Goblin King, and then erupted in earth and fire as he summoned a Dragon's Pillar from inside Harlegrin. Drake leapt back as the skill went off, and the Madgrin Monarch's final scream echoed through the arena as he finally died, consumed by the rising mound of earth and fire.


Still smoldering from being that close to the volcanic AoE skill, Drake channeled All Might, as he slightly turned to look at Chronogrin's still-grinning visage, pointed in his general direction, and declared, (Click the link)

 

[Sahqoreyth]

The ruins of Pandarus Tower, Present Day - Primus City, Arcathis​

Chaos roared above the remnants of the formerly posh room, preserved entirely on purpose for the amusement of a dark God. As usual, a being who thought itself Dagorath's superior played along with his machinations. The mirror which had once stood in Eridion Pandarus's study, black as the void and holding no reflection, rippled as the battle to slay the ascendant Demon Lord raged above what little remained of Pandarus Tower.


From within the inky darkness, she appeared, garbed in an ancient tattered red robe, and bandages, not at all unlike a mummy's around her limbs. Crimson eyes glowed in the dark gloom of the former room. The figure had the skeletal frame of a feline humanoid, but one that was extremely withered, and classifiably undead.

Spoopy Catkin
​

On a whim, Dagorath had allowed the Final Boss of the Wardengrave Dungeon to leave it through a shard of his power wielded by a trusted minon, and with that singular chance, they had decided to come straight here. The highly intelligent monster paused, inhaling deep, as the magic of Primus was everywhere, alongside Dagorath's own influence. "Such a feast…the Gods of this world throw their power around so freely…" The figure snarled softly, and began to feast. For eons it had not fed this well on such potent energy. Dagorath's was especially addictive.




Time passed, and as the figure heard a roar from above alongside the very faint calls, presumably from heroes, warning of a transformation, she got to work looking for what she had actually come for. She found it easily, right atop a pile of debris, as if it had been left there for her, pristine and untouched, but nothing more than a copy of the original.


The Arcanomicon, a book better known to some, as the Book of Omens.


The figure cackled with glee, and began chanting the spell used to clone the book, given to Pandarus by her minions, it now served its ultimate purpose, as the copy and the original swapped places. In an area so suffused by the energy of the Gods, this feat was quite simple, though she detected her swap had definitely set off the wards around the book, it was too late for its keeper to stop her.




The wrinkled, undead feline reached down to the book, and grinned. "Nobody home, eh Jaga? And yet, still it seeks…" Her burning crimson eyes widened. Her gaze turned towards the Wallow Dungeon. "Traitorous…Goblin…filth…it matters not…the War Stone will make its way to me..."


And now, as she pulled the Omen Stone from the book, leaving it dead, empty, and inert, Mumm'yrah (Mum-eye-rah) grinned wide at her prize. "Finally…you have returned to your rightful Master…" The feline lich croaked.


She retreated then, as the world around the cataclysmic battle above began shaking, her prize in hand. While the Omen Stone was useful, changed as it was by existing in Arcadia, it was now also a magical artifact of immense magical power. One that could be drawn on for more than just locating the other Power Stones, if one knew how to use it properly.




Silent as the grave, Mumm'yrah returned through the mirror's surface, back home, back to the Wardengrave, and there, a metamorphosis occurred. Gorging upon the power of two Gods, especially Dagorath, caused a change in her latest form's monstrous soul, as the power of the God of Monsters infused her with might they had, until this very moment, only been able to draw upon temporarily.
As the feline lich felt the power swell, she cackled. "Very well…as agreed…" She raised a hand towards the back part of her innermost sanctum, the highest point within the Wardengrave's final floor. Her minions gathered, watching, curious. Slowly, the statue of the God of Monsters rose, gaining the attention of every monster on the floor, and soon, the entire Dungeon itself.


As the dark stone statue of Dagorath's countenance finished forming, it flared with power, and purple lightning surged into Mumm'yrah, reworking her body into one that was cursed with living forever. Demonic, leathery black wings, the most common sign of Dagorath's followers, now sprouted from her back, and she summoned armor to cover her form from the chest the Dungeon had assigned to her. Doing this increased the quality of the chest for whatever lucky adventurer looted it, but there was a reason this Dungeon had been named the Wardengrave. No adventurer would ever come close to it.

Mum-eye-rah
​

Mumm'yrah addressed her subjects as her transformation, and obvious allegiance, drew the focus of her Dungeon's residents. "From this day forward, all Monsters wishing to stay within this Dungeon will worship Dagorath with unquestioning obedience. Arcadia has made it clear that they will not tolerate Monsters, of any kind! Whether we serve or not, we will always be targets for them! Prepare the Dungeon's Floors…we're going to have more visitors soon…"

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 17: The Wallow, Final Boss: The Time Tyrant​

---

A deep omnipresent chuckle echoed around Class Seven, as Chronogrin's visage faded from sight into green mist. Drake lowered his finger.


"Start looking around." Aslan rumbled. "We need his loot, and we need a way out of this pit."


"The chest is up here!" Came Leif's voice. It seemed the roguish foxkin had decided to fight from behind the scenes, literally, but now he was visible again, and standing by a now broken set piece, kneeling in front of a locked Dungeon chest. The padlock was roughly shaped like a wide grin, but Leif had zero trouble picking it, after disabling the traps. Purple Drake was still beside him as well, keeping an eye out for any shenanigans or goblin-spawning BS that would interrupt their rogue from getting them their well-earned loot.






Said loot was mostly gold, which was dumped into the Bag of Holding for later distribution. Unsurprisingly, the two actual magic items were most suitable for bards, as they were a replica of Harlegrin's trumpet, and a clown mask with Disguise Self baked into it. Not bad items, just not usable by anyone in their raid group.


Leif handed purple Drake a key at the top of the loot pile, and he brought it to the original, who'd just found what seemed like the exit door with Rose and Tala's help. Drake recalled purple when he arrived, and nodded, as his knowledge became Drake's. "We should gather everyone before continuing. Drone. You got all of that right?"


"Affirmative." The drone replied with slight sarcasm in its tone. "From falling into an obvious trap, to your stoic one liner, the battle has been streamed. Connection secure. Power and armor levels are optimal."






Once the class was gathered, they moved through the door with the key they'd found. The door changed as it was unlocked, leading to what could only be Harlegrin's workshop. Drake quickly determined that if Harlegrin wasn't close to a firearm, he was very close to one conceptually. The notes were in goblin and Galdurian, and as Drake realized what he was conceiving of, time slowed to his perspective. The members of the class in front of him suddenly seemed to reverse, and walk backwards through the door.


"Burn it." Laurelin's voice echoed in his head. "The minds of the Academy must not see even a hint of that kind of weapon."


Drake briefly considered denying her, solely out of human curiosity as to what she would do to him, but a moment later he obeyed, torching the room with a flamethrower not unlike the first magic he'd ever used. Being an American, he was quite familiar with what firearms could do, and that was enough to motivate him to obey the Goddess.


As components of the room started exploding, Drake suddenly found himself outside again, in the same position he'd started in just behind the front line, with the door shuddering from the concussive force of the burning black powder inside the room, no doubt dug up by Slaggrin at some point, it was clear Harlegrin had been the brains of Chronogrin's power base. Or one of them, anyway. It said a lot that he'd been completely insane.






"Maybe this isn't the right way…" Garret rumbled, seeming almost dazed.


"Just give it a moment. It should be fine once everything stops exploding." Drake said. "We still shouldn't look at or touch anything inside, though."


Aslan, who'd also been briefly time warped by the Goddess, nodded in what seemed like quiet understanding. "Right. Straight through, no detours. Especially you, Vincent."


"But Harlegrin could've made-" He started, but Aslan cut him off harshly, his tone serious and low.


"Nothing made by the hands of Monsters has any place in our world. Straight through. No detours." He nodded subtly at Drake, seemingly aware of the situation, to some extent, and then hurried his students through the exploded, still burning workshop and out the other side. They covered their faces going through, but the foul chemicals in the air still stung their eyes and scorched their throats. To the point that Caelum had to heal them with water before everyone stopped coughing. Drake made a mental note to vent the room the next time Laurelin bent time to make a request of him.






What lay upon the other side of Harlegrin's workshop, Grinmoire's library of dark tomes, Slaggrin's tool storage cavern, and Grinjaw's armory was a scene that was downright idyllic compared to what they'd slogged through so far. It reminded Drake of the second level, before being mined out and overrun with goblins. Except this was just a wide open green plain for as far as they could see, no mountains, just endless rolling fields, and a blue sky that went on forever.


One by one, the students emerged. Naturally, the rangers spotted Falkor first, with Class Two's foxkin Sniper, Yumi, firing up a flare from his back that got the attention of Class One, Three, and Seven. Drake and Falkor reunited first, and it seemed the dragon very much preferred this open expanse to the cramped tunnels of the upper floors. There was no sun, no mountains, no landmarks, just fields of rolling green for countless miles.


Drake got Falkor a well-earned meal, some stored leftover pizza. The dragon skillfully reheated and then gnoshed greedily and loudly on an entire pie, as Drone recorded the whole thing. Little did they know what the footage of a dragon using what could only be called Culinarian skills would do to the world above.






As the students rendezvoused, Drake was more interested in what the Instructors would discuss, but Rose ended up dragging him to her friends, namely her roommates, Tala, and Koreia. Lyria and Garret had joined in as well. Unfortunately, as the group recapped their own fights, Drake grimaced slightly, unable to hear much, but two words from the Instructors did make it through the din of chatter about fire trumpets and iron-jawed generals.


Dead student.


Drake went quiet, though Rose noticed his posture stiffen, and his sudden sweeping gaze. He hated himself for not immediately noticing who was no longer among them, but then, he saw. Aegis, his party, and most of his peers were gathered in a semi-circle around what Drake knew was likely the body. "Drone…" He said quietly, as the device was still on Falkor and hadn't shifted to the body yet, "Shut off the stream."






Naturally, the fucking machine complied immediately and loudly, announcing that the stream was now down. He felt the eyes of all the students, and their three teachers shift to him, as he excused himself from the conversation he hadn't really participated in, and headed straight for Aegis. Rose followed after him a moment later, catching up right as he reached Aegis, standing vanguard for Class Three.


Aegis took one look at Drake, and crossed his arms. Quietly, he said, "I know that look. You think we lost someone because of you, right?"


Drake slowly met the paladin's gaze, and nodded.


"There's more to this world than just you, Drake Long…though I admit…clearly, the Gods have plans for you, and nobody from your Class will tell us what they are." Hearing Rose gasp, as she started to understand what they were standing around, Aegis said, "Kairen died as a hero…and if anyone is to blame for him being in that death pit…it's me. I jumped in first, expecting everyone to follow us into an obvious trap…and it got my classmate killed. This is on me, Monk. I won't hear otherwise…"






Drake shook his head. "We were going to be split up either way, Aegis. Your instincts led you to the opponent you were best suited to face. Mine led us into a trap, and almost cost me Falkor. We both made mistakes. We should've jumped in with you. Taken them one by one. We…need to do better. I'm sorry for your loss." Drake walked away then, eyes on the ground. Aegis might have split the party, but if a class without a paladin had ended up facing Grinmoire, there likely would've been even more deaths.


This was bigger than that, though. Centuries of silence, and suddenly Dagorath empowered a Demon Lord weeks after he arrived on Arcadia. Eons of passivity, and with his arrival, Galdurath not only physically defended Primus, and still was, but had personally ordered the clearing of a Dungeon, something that, as far as Drake knew, had not ever happened before. The God of Magic's words on Dungeons had been clearly passed down from ancient days: they were nests of evil designed to create powerful warriors, warriors who could stand against monsters and win. They held great risk and great rewards, but raids on them were always voluntary. Until now.


But Drake understood why all this had happened. He was the catalyst. Was that not how isekai always went? The protags arrived in a new world, and usually, shit started hitting the fan in response, or conjunction with that arrival. Kairen Vyrethar was only the first name in what would likely become a monument-sized wall by the time he reached Dagorath's citadel of evil in the south pole, the fortress of Golgorrath. Drake wasn't the direct cause…but his arrival did guarantee that the fates of those around him would be altered. Many, likely towards an early death. He decided quietly right there, he didn't like that outcome. Like a Fire Emblem playthrough, he made the choice to get to his goal with everyone alive, intact, and incredibly OP.


As he felt Rose's touch on his shoulder, trying to comfort him, his heart fell. Her fate, more than anyone else's, was already altered. Willingly, for good reasons, but irrevocably altered. Rose Valcrest was not who she would've been had he not shown up a few weeks earlier. Her words did help, though. "Drake…we all understand what becoming an Arc Warden can cost…we swore an oath at the year's starting ceremony…though I guess you missed that. We all agreed to face Dagorath's Monsters, and pay whatever price was necessary to keep our homes safe." Drake looked up from under his hood, and blinked at the fire in her eyes. "If you want to honor Kairen…then eradicate every Goblin in this hole…and clear it. His name will be carved into history with ours…that's what they did for the others who cleared Dungeons, and lost people while doing so."






By this point, most of the students had figured out what had happened, with Drone shutting off the stream having gotten pretty much everyone's attention, thanks to how loud he was. Comprehension soon filled every student's face, and most of the men seemed to have the same expression as Drake. Wide eyes, and grim lines on their mouths. It was Aslan, and not Theron, who spoke first.


"You're all experienced Dungeon delvers now. The unspoken rule among adventurers is that you don't fully understand Dungeons until you've lost a friend inside of one. Let us take a moment to honor young Kairen, and his noble sacrifice. He died, as I understand it, buying precious time for his Class to avoid being overwhelmed, and this was after taking a fatal blow. He will be remembered for this heroism."


Everyone gathered hung their heads in silence, until Aslan broke it. "The Instructors and I have agreed…his unicorn, Bane, and the Adventurer K'sar shall carry him back to Instructor Hollowbranch. The path up to this point should be clear of Goblins. Before he departs…we will have a moment for each Class to say something. Choose your speakers, and your words."






Quietly, each class conferred, until Rael Astorius, Elorin Alden, and Aegis Bryllon stepped forward to speak. Aegis, naturally, went first, providing a much-needed if still somewhat vague accounting of Kairen's life. He had been quiet, a loner, a dark elf with a dark Class, but he'd ignored the stigma of the Soul Mending arts, determined to become a top rate healer. Everyone had thought he was all talk, until the day he'd ridden onto campus atop a black unicorn three days into the term. Only Drake's arrival had managed to upstage that with six pegasi, and a carriage worthy of a Goddess.


Rael went next, lamenting that there hadn't been time to know each other properly. He finished well. "...that's why, once we clear this Dungeon and sit in the high halls of the Gods for our deeds together…I wish to get to know you all much better. I believe this group, and the other First Year Classes, would make a formidable raiding party. The upperclassmen have had years to get to know each other, to fight and quest together, and then of course, to face off in the Tri-Warden Trials. Kairen won't get the chance to experience that with us, but…once we're out of here…we should make the most of our time here."


Elorin went next, and after a brief but relatable sentence about how he hadn't known Kairen well, but would have liked to, he let his magic speak for him, and cast a holy spell upon his body, one that would ensure that he didn't rot. It also cleaned his clothing of any involuntarily discharged fluids and smells.


Last, of course, was Class Seven who were, of course, having a heated whisper-war about who their speaker would be. Rose, once again, was advocating for Drake. Zara and Bjorn opposed her, and Leif kept dropping one liners to pour gasoline on the embers of rage.






As the whispering continued, getting absolutely nowhere, and embarrassing them before the other classes, Drake decided to act. He put a hand on Rose's shoulder, and then caught everyone's attention as Drone indicated the stream had resumed. His first words cut off Zara and Bjorn, their weight and tone stifling any resistance to Drake speaking up.


"Dagorath was right."


Like saying 'Voldemort' in the middle of the Ministry of Magic, all eyes shifted to him, and in them, even in the gazes he had come to associate with brave warriors of this world, he saw hints of fear. Theron seemed to snarl slightly, and Aslan raised a heavy lion brow at him. Drake continued.


"The Age of Eradication has begun…the Monsters have made their declaration. They desire our complete destruction. They will not stop until our cities burn, civilization is a crater, and all that is left is a monument to misery and sorrow that would spawn their kin for eons. I say…we co-opt that name for ourselves. We will Purge the Wallow, we will survive Chronogrin, and if you are with me, fellow students…we'll clear the rest of them as well. The Filthpit. Blackspire. Blighthollow. The Wardengrave. The Abyss. And all the others. One by one, campaign by campaign, profiting from our power, yes, but relentless in our cause: to clear Every Dungeon, to annihilate Every Final Boss, and return Arcadia to an era of true peace. A world without Monsters."


Drake stepped forward, and let his robe flare behind him as he finished. "We don't stop planning, training, and raiding, until every dangerous Dungeon is cleared, and Dagorath himself is at our mercy…much has been made of my blessing by the Gods of our world. I'll reveal to you now, my divine mission…is to deal with Dagorath himself." A quiet hush fell over the low murmurs from his peers, as he let them process that information.


Eventually, he continued, "I am doom-driven to face him. That is where this path of mine leads…and I'd like it very much if you would all join me on it. Of course…if you don't want to, I understand. It's a lot. One does not simply challenge the God of Monsters. Something to think about, as we press forward, and take that first step on the path to Annihilating all the Monsters."






Drake looked at his audience quickly as his words landed. Aslan seemed impressed with his resolve, Theron had stopped snarling at least, so that was something, Garret gave him one of his slow nods of approval, and Lyria mirrored him. The rest of Class Seven also nodded then, in silent approval, while Leif, Bjorn, and Zara all looked somewhere between shocked and disbelieving. Then there was his Rose, eyes wide, knowing smile on her face, and standing tall and proud. He'd expressed his reluctance to lead, and she'd called him lazy. Insisted he'd be a great leader, and now that he'd justified her beliefs, she'd never let it go. He kind of didn't want her to stop, though. The fact that she believed in him so…genuinely, was a really nice feeling.


Class One seemed all in, as did most of Class Three. Aegis in particular was silently burning with a new mission, a greater mission beyond just slaughtering goblins and avenging his sister. There had to be life after Chronogrin, and Drake Long had just given him the best, and perhaps most obvious answer: kill all the monsters, every single one, and return the world to the heights of the Empyrean Age.


Class Two was the hardest to read, and while the big boys, Ragnar and Garruk, seemed down to get rich, famous, and conquer multiple Dungeons alongside the God's Chosen, Elorin, their leader, was unreadable, but stared at Drake to his very core. Even Varan, who Drake had come to regard as a friend, if not a friendly acquaintance, was infuriatingly stoic, though admittedly, Drake had a hard time reading the emotion on beastkin faces most of the time, and the more beast they were, the harder it became.






"Enough talk." Theron growled. He nodded at K'sar and Bane, and the black unicorn began the long trot up to where Hollowbranch and the victims of the Wallow waited for them. Theron fell into a fast-paced jog suited for long travel over long distances. "We're going to keep this pace from now on! We're also going to be exercising even more if we don't come across any Goblins. Let's move!"


Most of the students fell into step quickly behind Theron and Aslan, while Instructor Luvion scouted from the air alongside Falkor, coated in a Shield spell that would, probably, stop incoming projectiles. The two seemed to be having an amusing chat, as Luvion chuckled several times at Falkor's rumbling answers that they were just high enough in the air not to be able to hear.


Eight hours passed. But it felt longer.


True to his word, after an entire day of fast-paced travel, Theron put the students through a physical wringer of a workout. Though some, mostly Drake and the tanks, managed to survive it with slight soreness, the casters like Rose, Tala, Elara, and so on were all on their backs by the end, gasping for air.


"Pathetic!" Theron barked, glaring at the heavily panting and sweat-covered teens. "You fools want to clear every Dungeon on the planet!? You can't even handle a day of running, and some light exercise!"






"Drake Long…" Aslan rumbled as he came up beside the students, seemingly unaffected by the workout despite having run in full plate armor, "You can still stand. Weakness has not yet set in. Good." The crimson maned Hero gestured for him to follow, stomped several yards away into the endless green expanse, and then paused, drawing his sword from his left armored claw gauntlet. "From now on…you and I shall be training regularly. If you desire to face Dagorath…you must learn how to actually fight. Bold one-liners and almost getting scorched in your own attacks will get you killed, down south. Prepare yourself. I will not hold back."


Drake gulped, and for the first time since coming to this world, he felt genuinely concerned about how well he could handle Aslan. The Raiju had made him pause, but he'd been willing to go all in against it. The Goblin King needed purging, and a clutch skill had saved him. Even Skalos, for all his lightning and fangs, had been, at most, an equal challenge. Alvor's Buffs still remained active thanks to Vincent's punctual restoration of their duration. Even with them, he had a feeling Aslan was about to roll him over. At level one hundred and twenty five, the imposing Leonid Hero had the aura of an unstoppable armored juggernaut, a holy fusion of tank and damage dealer.


Aslan lived up to his own hype, but Drake managed to guide his strikes away from him with great effort, and no openings for a counter hit. They clashed again, Aslan's sword clanging loudly against Drake's Hidden Blades drew the gazes of the exhausted students.






"Tell me, Drake Long…have you learned about my Class, Hero, yet? Do you have any idea as to how it works and what it means?"


Drake groaned inwardly. So it was going to be one of those lessons. Nothing like a beating and a lecture. "I…haven't…" He managed to answer. "You fight like a Knight…and something more. I assume the Hero Class has something to do with that."


Aslan chuckled. "You're closer than you know."


He didn't elaborate, though. He slashed apart Drake's defenses, and Drake only managed to dodge him thanks to his passive attunement to air. He saw his eyes reflected in the flash of Aslan's blade as it whooshed by at a much faster speed, but Aslan didn't stop slashing, and Drake couldn't stop dodging long enough to counter properly.






"Oh shit…he's beating Aslan!" Tala groaned softly from the ground, as every limb and muscle she had ached at once in a full body throb of pain.


Beside her, Leif was doing no better, but he was also watching the fight. Stomach down, head atop his paws, he was just trying not to move, and focus on recovering. "No…" He muttered, sounding snarky and bored, "he's just dodging Aslan. Which, while impressive, can be done. By me, for example."


"Only for about fifteen seconds." Came an antagonistic rumble, and Sethis gave Garret a fist bump, as the still-standing Leonid tank continued, "He's not using a skill, Leif. Just a stance. And his own Dexterity."


Leif looked back at the spar, which hadn't stopped. Aslan was a relentless crimson-gold blur, but the blur of white that was the monk kept one step ahead of the higher level instructor. He swore, after counting out fifteen seconds, accounting for any extensions of skill times, and he had to acknowledge Garret was right.


Rose just watched quietly, knees against her chest, as thanks to her own high level she could actually follow their movements, and see their faces. Mostly because healing classes gained both experience from using their spells, and slain monsters in their vicinity, and Drake's Buff had applied to both. Most of their healers were actually all but caught up to level seventy after their various fights, and the party-wide experience gained from four ancient Goblin Kings.






"Is this all that the first of the Monk Class can do!? I've seen you fight better than this!" Aslan roared, and an arc of searing plasma in the form of lightning smashed into Drake's dodge after avoiding Aslan's swing. Drake nearly collapsed from the pain, compounding his already rather rigorous workout, and by pure instinct he guided the surging energy the way he would while attuned to fire, into the ground.


And to his immense surprise, it worked. The lightning flowed down into the ground, despite his assumption that he'd been attuned to air. But he decided to put on an act anyway, and those watching him, including Aslan, seemed to buy it when he groan-yelled in agony. Without changing stances, he tried reaching for the earth around them, and to his surprise, he could sense it. Energybending had been the overarching term for his main combat stance for some time now, but Drake was realizing that until now, he'd still been bending the elements, and not the energy within himself.


His range was limited, but he was rapidly discovering that any element in that range had potential, and the tide began to turn. A pair of boulders hurtled towards Aslan, but he cut through them without so much as blinking. Another thunderous upswing flashed past the irritating monk, who moved like a dragon on the wind. Aslan suddenly found himself defending as often as he struck, and each strike remained as useless as the others. Shards of ice manifested from thin air, and rained down on him, but were blown away with a single slash. He dodged a gout of flame from the monk's palm, only to find his feet dragged by sliding earth into the path of the flames.






Aslan roared, and a thunderous wave of sparking force broke through the effects of Drake's attack in one demonstration of power. Drake gulped, likening it to finding an MMO boss whose level was just ?? and realizing he had no chance. Still slightly on fire, Aslan was grinning wide. "Better! But not nearly enough to bring down a Final Boss! Not even close!"


Drake visibly deflated. Hearing that on the cusp of facing one was not ideal. "How…how far am I from facing him, and not losing anyone?"


Aslan had a gleam in his cunning eyes as he answered, "We'd need to train eight times harder, at least."


Drake smirked. "How about a very mighty nine, instead?" He tapped the Mirror Image Mirror, and the cornucopia of colorful teenaged monks stepped out from their white robed original in a line.


Aslan chuckled. "Now that's thinking with spells…and it might just work, since you've upgraded them once…very well…" Aslan fell back into his fighting stance with a dark grin on his lion face. "Bring on the rainbow."






Even outnumbered, Aslan easily parried every single attack with almost ridiculous speed. Even with all nine of them Energybending, which took more magic than focusing on one element, they couldn't do more than lightly singe the Hero. Drake by Drake, he pummeled them back into the mirror, and then finished with the original. Drake had tried dodging again, in an attempt to give the mirror time to recharge, but Aslan was apparently done playing. The launchable claws on his gauntlet somehow homed in on Drake, bound him, and brought him back to Aslan, where the massive Leonid held his blade to his throat.


"I yield…" Drake muttered, frowning, and bound. The wires of Aslan's claw gauntlets had a familiar tinge of orange in their black metal, marking them as orichalcum. Attempting to escape them was pointless. He was properly exhausted after that. And irritated, though he repressed that emotion, and kept it from showing. He hated one sided duels, but he had gotten a lot of experience, at least. He was currently sitting at seventy five, when last he'd felt the sensation that he had come to learn occurred when he leveled up. It was like a brief jolt of adrenaline that got stronger the higher he went. Of course, the higher his level became, the more absurd the experience requirement for the next one was.


Aslan released him, and then waved him over to the tent serving as his bed, and they sat outside it. "You look ready to fall over, so I'll be brief."






Once Drake sat down by Aslan's fire pit, he launched into the lecture. "Across the Ages, at times, each of the Gods has elevated certain followers to a status higher than that of their peers. The coveted rank of Hero. I will not speak of Dagorath's, but Laurelin tends to choose a female Hero, usually her strongest Cleric, while Galdurath chooses one of the strongest fighters in a generation, and does so regularly. For reasons he has never disclosed to me…I became his chosen Hero. Laurelin has not elevated a new one for quite some time. But since you're here now…has she ever explained any of this, or dubbed you as hers?"


Drake had tuned out near the end of Aslan's words, recollecting all the times she had in fact named him her Hero. He just hadn't had a clue what that meant or entailed. He sighed inwardly. That was so like her. And yet he was still begrudgingly amused by her antics.


"Yeah… she has." He finally answered. "I just…didn't know what she meant by that." It might've sparked more interest, like something he'd look up in the Academy's library, but with how common of a trope it was on Earth, his nerd brain had classified it under the standard second life shenanigans he was familiar with. "So what exactly…do Heroes do? Damage? Tanking? Healing?"


Aslan chuckled, low but loud in his rumbling baritone. "That…depends greatly upon you, and your Patron. It will take time to master, but…" He looked out over the endless green expanse. As on the second floor, a massive green moon had risen over the grassland, practically burning as bright as a star, but also making their vision somewhat dimmed by the green light being cast upon the green plains. "I have a feeling we're going to be here a long time…do not underestimate just how badly Chronogrin does not want us to reach him."






Drake grimaced, but then, he noticed. The grassland seemed peaceful, but in the 'night' the vibe had changed, and he realized the grasses were just high enough to hide a standard size goblin in. Theron was already standing watch though, and apparently just because he was a Monster Hunter, he could stay awake for ages without consequence, though he did still need to eat.


As the students who were less strength-stat inclined started to recover, they gathered around Drake and Vincent, and their Bags of Holding. They'd agreed to store any and all loot for future fair distribution, and as Drake had his still-active clones prep dinner, that's what they did.


There was a problem, however.


Upon sorting and giving out all the loot from the five Grinwarden's chests, Drake found quite a lot of pieces nobody wanted, except to sell. They weren't bad items, they just had inferior effects or weaker bonuses, or were simply lower quality in terms of materials and tier. As he looked them over, he realized they weren't going to have enough space for the loot nobody wanted, and the food. The bags held quite a lot, and traveling in this space would burn through their rations, but the problem remained immediate. He could already see Theron forcing them to run and carry the loot simultaneously. No. He needed a solution.


Everyone seemed content with their gains, and Drake had lamented not seeing a single monk-friendly item. He had a feeling this would be the case many times, however. Without his Luckdragon to manipulate the loot tables, being the only monk was going to have the RNG screw him more often than not. As he understood it, Dungeons dropped something for everyone, especially against bosses like Grinwardens, and out of all five of them there had been zero fitting for an unarmored melee striker.


As he eyed the pile of mid to upper high end equipment, he wished for the fondly named 'Mystic Toilet' of Guild Wars 2. The genie-powered plumbing had been able to combine items into better items, so long as those being used were of the same quality. Four fine quality blue items? You got one green one back. Four greens made a rare tier yellow, and so on.






Out of curiosity and a desire for raw materials, which would theoretically be lighter, he activated his Omnicrafting, and blinked, noticing a new 'button' that hadn't been on this particular screen before. The 'main menu' of his Omnicrafting displayed what he was wearing, and what he had on hand (including in his bags) to craft with, as well as what could be made from said materials. But now, there was a shiny new square of possibility, slightly glowing to his eyes, that said 'Melding'.


He focused on it, the mental equivalent of pressing, and what could only be described as a tutorial flashed before his eyes. Evidently, Galdurath had figured any Omnicrafters this high level could handle understanding one. The concept was simple. Take an effect of a lesser item, and meld it into another higher tier one, at the cost of Gil, and the item, which would be reduced to a small amount of materials. Depending on the quality of said item, it could have multiple slots for such effects.


For example, the Chronognomon, a Legendary tier item, had four such slots, in addition to the special material upgrades that would make it even more brokenly overpowered. He only found one ability worthy of melding to the Chronognomon, a shield of divine light that would surround him when his health reached a certain threshold, and granted about eight seconds of invulnerability in the stationary shield. His next choice was adding Displacement to his cloak, which activated as a free action, instantly, or whenever something dangerous would've hit him. While active, his shadowy form was very hard to hit.






After that, he told the others what he could do, and Drake spent the next four hours kitting everyone out, and repairing their armor. Elandar Morvain, a dark elven Artificer of Class Two, and the only other Omnicrafter, also helped, and unlocked melding for himself as well. With the amount of loot they'd had, Drake had just had everyone dump anything they were holding on to to sell later into one pile, and trade by trade, the students got the bonuses they wanted. Drake also managed to get a bonus that would increase his attack speed by five percent per hit melded into his Fists of Far Reach. He tested out hitting a spell into dissolution with Vincent, and grinned when he realized that counted enough to boost him.


He even found a way to boost his attack speed to the maximum stack of five, for a twenty five percent faster attack rate, all at once, and fairly quickly. His rotation now had a solid opening skill, and more speed just meant more damage.


Tired and magically spent, he returned to his tent to find Rose already snoozing. He slid in behind her to assume his duties as big spoon, and she pressed into him with a happy sigh. Of course, after that, Drake was more awake for some reason. He slowed his breathing and focused on his real exhaustion from exertion, letting it carry him to sleep.






Light surrounded his mental awareness in a very familiar fashion, and not entirely unexpectedly, he beheld the Goddess of Life, smirking knowingly at him. "So…my Hero. You now understand what that means. The question is then, what will it make you into?"


Drake raised an eyebrow. "Is…this another Boon?"


Laurelin shook her golden haired head and the silver within it shimmered with the movement. She always looked radiant, but right now, probably thanks to the gestating Godling, she had a brilliance beyond Drake's ability to accurately describe.


"Think of it as a…oh, what did your game call it…a Hero Class. With Hero Talents. A boost to your abilities that will make them stronger. Strong enough to help you have a real chance at succeeding in your mission."






Drake's eyes widened. The game was, of course, Warcraft, and the aforementioned talents had turned the highest level players into combinations of damage and healing, damage and tanking, tanking and healing, and so on. Not completely, but enough to matter in their playstyle. His Feral Druid had always minored in the healing arts, as an example, and with the addition of said talents, he had been able to lean into that survivable combo of claws and casting even more.


Thus, the question became, what would work best with his Monk Class? What were his options? What did they even look like? He posed the question to Laurelin.


She answered with an amused smile. "Your options are your imagination. I would recommend choosing something that will help you in your quest. The beasts guarding my son in the South Pole are massive, heavily armored, and very high level. Even those without scales and wings are quite hard to hit, or effect with attacks, as a rule. But the Light has not faded from Tharvoss. Our Adventurers continue to hold back the darkness."






Drake went quiet again, and pondered. If the trope held, too much darkness would overpower light magic, and greater amounts of light would banish the darkness that spawned monsters and infused them with strength and a desire to kill.


He needed a boost that would allow him to banish said darkness, heal Arcadia's people, and be strong enough to reach Dagorath. He also needed to be convincing, genuinely, to the God of Monsters. Dagorath needed to understand, on a divine level, that his mother did still love him, and still hoped for his redemption. And Drake had to be the one to channel that connection when it mattered most. Ideally, Laurelin would be with him at the time, in a more tangible manner than she had been so far.


Drake nodded to himself. There was really only one choice that fit.


"I need the sturdiness, healing, and Smiting power of a Paladin." His smirk widened. "I need to become a warrior of both light and darkness. That is the path to Balance. And…hopefully, to Dagorath. With you as my Patron, Goddess, he will believe my words when we finally meet…and I might just be able to reach him through the darkness. This is how we accomplish your dream. Together."






Laurelin was quiet for a moment, and she lowered her head, wiping her eyes. He felt it in his very soul, the rightness of this path. He already was able to walk in the darkness, and the Goddess's light, being her Hero, would help him rework Arcadian society as well. He had noticed quite early on in his time on this world that Paladins were a bit rare, mostly because it took genuine conviction to become one. Both the Grandmaster of the Adventurer's Guild and Aegis were fine examples of such conviction, but they also wielded no small amount of influence, which was perhaps to be expected in a world shaped by literal, physically present Gods. Their divine warriors would naturally have an influence on society that not even currency could compete with.


After composing herself, Laurelin spoke, smiling at her Hero. "Drake Long, first of the Monks, Dragonrider, Shadow-Walker, Monster Slayer, will you accept the responsibility and authority that comes with fighting in my name?"


He nodded, or tried to. Moving physically was weird in a dream. Even a lucid one like this. "I will. I swear, I will use your power to help your people, your planet, and your son."


Laurelin beamed, almost too bright to look at. "Then I claim you as my Hero. I will be your Patron, your light when the darkness is all-consuming." She paused then, and her smile shifted to that all too familiar smirk, playful though it was. "In fact…the keeper of my light shall be by your side for all of your days...and all of your lives." He had a strong suspicion she meant Rose, but before he could ponder her words properly, she shone impossibly bright, and then, his eyes were open.






Rose was sitting up, sweating and panting and Drake sat up slowly as well. His body felt…tingly. Altered. The sensation faded, and he focused on Rose. "Rose? Are you alright?" As his hand touched her shoulder, they both went stiff, as flashes of their respective conversations with the Goddess of Life flashed into each other's brains. After a moment, the two blinked slowly, and Drake tried to process what he'd learned. Apparently, despite not technically being Laurelin's Hero, she had empowered Rose to some degree. Her role was to help him, give him a boost when the darkness was overwhelming, and all around them. And the symbol of this divine gift had manifested on the back of her right hand, a golden tree, not at all different from the one on Falkor's brow.


Examining his own hands, Drake noted a similar mark, but his was seared into the bottom part of his right palm, tender to the touch, but any pain was already faded. Falkor had been sent back to Laurelin, since the amount of food it would take to feed him was simply too large a drain on their resources, but as Drake touched the tree sigil now engraved into his hand, he could feel Falkor's mind. He was a bit salty, because Laurelin had not let him use her kitchen to craft another pizza before bed time. The mark and connection to Falkor gave him Eragon vibes, and knowing his patron, that was on purpose.


Seeing his distracted gaze, and the grooves now in his hand, Rose gasped slightly and grabbed it. "Drake, this is…" Their eyes both widened again, as her marked hand touched his, light surrounded his body, and a surge of energy filled him. He felt wide awake, focused, though the shock of the sensation caused Rose to let his hand go, and the sensation faded soon after. "Seems we're truly bound together now…" She said, after a moment. She took his hand again, and they both glowed, this time. It was a pleasant feeling, as it always was whenever they touched, but the Goddess's magic added a sense of euphoria to the act. With conscious effort, Rose made the transfer of power dim, along with the sensation, but it did not vanish completely.


She leaned into him, then. "I'll follow you to Golgorrath…but this Destiny of yours…clearing Dungeons, fighting the God of Monsters…are you sure there's room for a family in there as well? Is it right to have children when we'll likely be fighting all the time, instead of there to raise them?" She looked down and sighed lightly. "I don't want to do that to my children…it's not a pleasant experience, growing up with only serving staff for most of their lives."


Drake hugged her close. "You and I will live for a long time, Rose. There will be time for all of it. What matters…is that we survive. I…could not handle an eternity without you in it." They fell back to sleep after that, with Laurelin's blessing making it rather easy to do so.


Upon checking his status the next day, Drake found much of it altered. Oddly enough, he was listed as a Monk Hero, which made him wonder why Aslan was just a 'Hero'. He'd said he was a Knight, and as Drake pondered that, he figured that, for some reason, the lion man had lost his title of Knight, but not the skills. He guessed it had something to do with the oaths that Garret claimed they took upon choosing the class, and the tragedy he'd survived in the Wardengrave Dungeon.

Days passed, before they finally encountered goblins. Yet another 'morning' began, as the sourceless light of the endless green fields became bright again. The exhausted raiders groaned. The days were not consistent in length, and they had determined that this was purposeful. The light would get brighter and more oppressive the longer people tried to sleep through it, but when it was time to sleep at 'night' it would turn so dark that visibility even with magic light was useless.


The answer for these phenomena was, at least to their Instructors, quite obvious. They were already in Chronogrin's presence, and he needed to delay them after all the goblins they'd managed to kill.


Aegis said it the best, "Ever since we didn't just die from our first fall or his second Floor army of Goblins, Chronogrin has been growing more and more paranoid. He likely had most of the Dungeon's inhabitants on that Floor, ready to surge to the surface, until they discovered what Grand Meteor is like. A full purge like this has never happened before. Other parties came here to clear a Floor Boss, maybe two, and then return to the surface for their classes or quest rewards. With his Generals dead, he has to spend power creating more Goblins himself…and this will weaken his overall strength, until eventually, this trap breaks. That's when the battle will properly start."


That had been, by Vincent's best guess, two weeks ago, from their perspective. As the tired, but slowly hardening students gathered for another day-long run, Theron shook his shaggy head. "No running today…the stink of Goblin is on the wind. They'll likely begin to attack us. We must be ready for combat."






Two parties from each of their classes guarded the clustered healers in the center of their formation as they moved across the hills in a series of wedges surrounding the squishier members of their group. Theron was out front, nose high to the wind, scenting for their quarry, while Aslan guarded their rear, and Luvion floated above them. Drake's party had been paired with Sethis, Tala, Nyara, and Vincent. Despite the danger they were in, Tala was not focused on the goblins.


Nyara, Lyria, and she had, barely five minutes into the trek, started not so subtly trying to convince Rose to open her relationship. It was mostly Tala doing the convincing though, the other two, as far as Drake knew, were there to support Tala's efforts. The more he overheard though, the more it irritated him. Rose hid it well, but she was as tired as everyone else, and she wasn't making the best argument against polygamy. Tala, on the other hand, was relentless.


Once her antics started getting the other's attention, Drake appeared beside them suddenly, stepping like the wind as he did. "Enough, Tala. We're about to be raided by probably another army of Goblins. This is not the time or place to discuss this."


Tala smirked smugly at him. "I don't know what you think you heard Drake, but I was speaking with Rose, not you."


Drake's eyes narrowed, and Tala's smirk faded slightly as she realized he wasn't pretending to be irritated. "You were talking with her about me, and it's distracting people. You've also taken Lyria and Nyara out of formation."


Tala rolled her eyes. "I don't see any Goblins, and besides, we're discussing important things, like our future."


Drake facepalmed. "The only future I'm pursuing is one with Rose. We've already had this conversation. Just…stay in formation. We don't need Theron snapping at us over this nonsense."






As Drake led Lyria and Nyara back to their wedge, both Tala and Rose watched him go. The blonde bun spoke first, naturally. "He seems…tense. Have you two not…?"


It was Rose's turn to be irritated now, as her face flushed crimson. "Tala! It's none of your business! At all. You heard the Instructors, we're likely already in Chronogrin's lair. Everyone is tense. Except you."


Tala rolled her eyes, her voice rising. "Most boring Boss battle ever! What kind of coward even fights like this?"


A second later, Ceyrin's shriek of warning reached them. "We've got riders incoming! Class Seven, first and second party, they're coming from your direction!"






Sethis and Garret responded by taking point positions and falling into their stances, while the casters readied their spells. Tala and Rose moved slightly closer to heal, as they were responsible for that side of the wedge, but very quickly, they realized something was off. The goblins dodged the flames and lightning that came for them, and only Vincent's Magic Missiles managed to knock one of the goblins into the grass. Drake was over the goblin with a flash of movement, and ended it with a single punch.


The wolf-mounted goblins were in the mid fifties in terms of level, and as they saw Drake separated from the party slightly, they surrounded him. They also managed to force Vincent away from the group using their wolves and somehow ignoring the tank's taunt abilities. They were singularly focused on Drake and Vincent. Then, it clicked in Rose's brain.


"The Bags!" She shouted as the rest of the raid rushed to reinforce the split up wedge. "They're after our food!"


Drake, hearing this, agreed with Rose's assessment, and acted accordingly. An older looking goblin with a scarred mount, a pitiable creature who could only be described as mangled, pointed at him, and shouted something in goblin. Drake smirked, and then vanished, stepping with the wind again to Vincent, despite taking an opportunity attack from one of the goblins to reach him.






The displacement effect on his robe proved its worth as a spear struck at him and hit only empty air, and he stepped again, with Vincent, before the Enchanter was surrounded as well. They appeared in a flash behind their tanks, just as the forty other raid members charged to meet the goblins.


"Bagga'magga! Kin zan vangrin!"


The riders sneered at them, and then dodged away from their attacks. Maybe four in total fell to the long range attackers among the raiding party, but then, as quickly as they came, the goblins vanished into the grass.


After a few moments, Theron snarled, "They're gone. So is the scent."


Drake stomped the ground, Toph style, but his sense of things within the earth was nowhere near the blind earthbender's. Ore was one thing, sensing enemies was quite another. "I…can feel them digging, but they're closing the tunnel behind them…or it's collapsing…and…yea, they're just gone."






Theron, who was near him after scoring one of their few kills, raised a brow at the monk. "You can sense them in the ground?" Drake nodded, and Theron just shook his head. "Right then…have your images constantly checking for new tunnels. We can't rely solely on my sense of smell."


And that was what they did. For days, weeks, possibly even months from their perspective, they alternated between having a Drake stomping around their resting sites to sense trouble and hone his Earth Sense, and Theron's keen nose. Each time they encountered the riders, the goblins were improved somehow. Better armor. Higher levels. They eventually seemed stuck on seventy, and unwilling to risk losing their kin with their ambush tactics.


While the goblins got stronger, the adventurers only got weaker. Eventually, K'sar managed to rejoin them, catching a ride on Bane to do so. He confirmed that the expanse really did seem to stretch indefinitely. It wasn't just disappearing behind them, so there had to be another edge. He did reveal something interesting though, only about three hours had passed in the upper levels, meaning the victims of Grinmal wouldn't run out of food, and the time distortion on this Floor was so great, it could only be Chronogrin's lair.






More time passed, but the students made good use of their extra hours. With Rael making most of the effort, despite the fraying nerves and crankiness from sleeping rough for so long, they did get to know each other better. Mostly, it was sharing what their home lives were like, what master they'd trained under, and which families they had been groomed to grow up with.


When it was Drake's turn to share, he decided to reveal to all the others that he was from another world, a fact which they accepted surprisingly easily, even claiming that it made complete sense. Zara, who was lowkey Falkor's biggest fan, asked to see what he once looked like, and though she hid it well, Drake could tell she just wanted to reach out and pet the Minor Illusion he'd made to show them. Rose had asked to see his old appearance, but Drake had refused her.


That man was now dead, and dredging him up from the past would serve nothing.


The next goblin raid came with champions, and numbers, but they proved not to be a match for their raiding party. Between Theron and K'sar, they managed to trap and end every single goblin, though their wolf riding leader managed to stay alive the longest, his retreat seemed…blocked, somehow.


Aegis reached him before they had a chance to question him though, assuming he'd even been smart enough to understand Galdurian. Everyone else caught up to Aegis moments later, and after tapping the seemingly solid thin air, Instructor Luvion's eyes widened.


"This is it." He announced calmly. "Once I break this, we will face Chronogrin directly. Prepare yourselves."






"Fucking finally…" Tala muttered, loudly, and her sentiment was shared by all around her. Still though, despite the massive amount of time, they'd made good use of the trap to become physically stronger, and everyone present was ready to make Chronogrin pay for it.


"Four hundred twenty days, ten hours, and three minutes." Vincent added. "We'll all likely be a year older once we leave…assuming the time we spent traveling isn't somehow negated…let's make this scum pay for taking our time from us."


About two days into their trek, tired of constantly refreshing Drake's Buffs, Vincent had created something called a 'Buff Ball' with the materials left over from the extra loot items. This was not what Vincent had named it, but rather the name Drake had given it, which had stuck. Much to Vincent's irritation. It essentially stripped and stored Buffs, and could then later re-apply them with the same duration remaining as when they were stored. It was a genius creation, and he activated it, infusing Drake with the power within once more.






Koreia placed a hand on his shoulder then, shamelessly feeling up the monk's muscles, which had grown exponentially after over a year's worth of hard physical workouts, and training sessions with Aslan. With her magic she spread the Buffs around the entire raid. Drake pretended not to notice her antics, but by this point, he had figured out Koreia and Tala were up to something, and it involved him. He had more important things to worry about, though, like activating one of his Paladin auras. The aptly named Annihilation Aura made his fists radiant weapons, and made everyone around him deal increased damage to monsters. With everyone ready, Buffed, and in position, Luvion broke the barrier.


The scene before them was a bit disappointing, at least to Drake. A faint bronze tinge filled the air of a fairly simple looking throne chamber. The air was heavy with the weight of countless ages, essentially just another dug out stone cavern, though everything around Chronogrin's throne was well carved. The centerpiece, visible in the gloom, was Chronogrin himself. Clad in black robes that left his veiny, obese torso exposed for some reason, his flaring golden eyes fell upon them as they advanced towards his throne.


He wore tarnished gold pauldrons on his shoulders, connected by a half circle of metal that framed his head like an attempt at a halo, but what drew Drake's eyes immediately was his weapon. Chronogrin himself was massive, as was his staff. Similarly tarnished bronze, it bore the face of a clock, which also listed twelve numbers on Arcadia, but the center of the timepiece was radiating power, and was what drew Drake's disbelieving eyes.


Red as a blood ruby, split in the center by a thin vertical black iris, Drake stared in awe at what he could only describe as the Eye of Thundera, the titular and incredibly overpowered gem wielded by the lord of the Thundercats, fitted into the center of the staff. Aslan had a similar reaction, for completely different reasons.

​

His snarl filled the chamber. "Goblin SCUM! How did you acquire that stone!?"


Chronogrin let out a laugh that rivaled Jabba the Hutt, and then raised and lowered his staff with a loud thump. The entire room froze, mid charge. All of his would-be killers were immobile, frozen in their attack formation.


All but one.


Drake Long was a blur, flashing to the center of the chamber as soon as Chronogrin had begun laughing. By the time he realized Drake wasn't frozen, the monk was already in the center of the chamber, holding an object that Chronogrin was quite familiar with.


The Chronognomon.


"So…" He rumbled, "You are the latest to wield the timepiece? It matters not. No one has ever been able to properly acti-"






Drake gave the Goblin Emperor a shit-eating grin, as he did something obvious to activate the item. Obvious to someone from Earth, anyway. He made a show of raising it up, and turned the gnomon around the black metal base, like a cooking timer from Earth. Unlike most previous wielders, he had also tested out the device beforehand. It had taken ten days to fully recharge, which initially made him panic, but Aegis, who'd been with him for the test, had promised that Chronogrin would make them wait far longer than that before fighting him.


The Goblin Emperor grimaced, as the white stone obelisk appeared, nullifying his powers in a fifty foot sphere, essentially the entire center part of the chamber. "Irritating…but not unexpected from such durable surface rats." He boomed something in Goblin then, and the previously petrified prostrated figures before his throne turned from stone to flesh.


"Redeem yourselves." Chronogrin boomed, seemingly unworried about how close the killers of his Grinwardens were to him. "Kill these strangers…and you can return to the surface. Alive."






The formerly prostrated prisoners turned slowly, with grim looks on their entirely humanoid faces. They were adventurers, and the Gods only knew how long they'd been stuck down here, petrified…and how many times Chronogrin had made them that promise without fulfilling it. There were ten in all, fully geared, and around level sixty. As Chronogrin gave his orders, eight charged towards the students without hesitation.


Aslan cut down two in as many strokes, without hesitation, one some kind of face-painted Rogue, the other a Dual Weapon Warrior. They never stood a chance. Seeing their comrades dispatched so easily, and how strong Aslan, Theron, and Faelon were, the others previously petrified adventurers faltered.


"Redeem yourselves!" Aslan roared, mirroring Chronogrin, "The Grinwardens are slain! Chronogrin is spent, and the Chronognomon is ours!" He gestured to the stark white obelisk. "Join us! Take your chance at redemption and true freedom!"


Chronogrin channeled Jabba again as he laughed. "Pretty words, aren't they? Sound familiar? I can always make more Grinwardens. Your only chance at freedom…is slaying these intruders."






The two adventurers who had hesitated shared a look. Drake's eyes widened as he registered their classes. Time Wizard, for the dark elf, and Dark Knight for the…male Lapine, clad head to bunny boi toe in dark plate armor. The knight spoke first. "They may call me a Dark Knight…but killing kids is a line I don't cross."


The Time Wizard nodded in agreement, and reality blurred around them, or tried to, anyway. His dark blue brows furrowed, and then with a flash of mist, the pair appeared by Aslan. "We will take you up on your offer…Hero…" The wizard said, his purple eyes widening at Aslan's class. That seemed to cement his resolve. "Chronogrin will join his Generals this day."


As the other six adventurers saw this, they started murmuring among themselves as well, but before they could choose, Chronogrin chose for them.






A massive beam of crimson energy shot from the Goblin Emperor's staff and surrounded them. When the light faded, all that remained were six piles of ash. Spells started flying immediately. Three Meteors began falling towards Chronogrin. Lightning bolts and magic missiles followed, but as they neared the obese goblin, they seemed to stop moving, their momentum reduced to an imperceptible crawl the closer they got to him. Chronogrin chuckled again with that ominous, booming laugh. Then, probably for the first time in ages, the obese Goblin Emperor rose to his full massive height of at least thirty feet. His corpulent frame jiggled with each step towards them.


"Did you think I had never faced the Chronognomon before? That its power was absolute? The obelisk will not save you. Better warriors have tried, and failed. Die now, worms…and know that your women will suffer before they join you!" The great green swine licked his lips as he eyed the females of the raiding party with undisguised lust.


Another energy laser lanced forth from the Eye of Thundera set within his staff, but this time, the tanks were ready, as were their healers. The beam cut through every healer's barrier, and broke Sethis and Varian's skill based shields, before finally dissipating. The healers reacted immediately, but the entire raid was now very wary of that absurdly powerful attack. Most of them were not much higher level than those six petrified adventurers had been and they rightly assumed getting hit by such an attack would mean death.






Once he was closer to the white obelisk negating time magic, Vincent activated his Full Status Monitor, and attacks started landing but the effect on the Goblin Emperor's visible health, represented in the adventurer's eyes by a bar, was almost negligible. Then, suddenly, a large chunk vanished, as one of the time-slowed meteors smashed into Chronogrin's flabby backside. The glorified goblin turned his head, and spied the white robed irritation from earlier, brazenly floating above his throne. He dodged behind a second one of the meteors, and then with a combination of earthbending and a weak Dispelling Fist, launched it at Chronogrin.


The Goblin Emperor roared in irritation, turning away from the raid and raising a hand toward the meteor, but the giant flaming rock ignored his efforts to stop it, and smashed into him anyway, detonating in an explosion of flame and stone shrapnel. Drake didn't stop, though. The dust of the broken meteor, essentially sand, seemed to hone in on the giant goblin's golden eyes, temporarily blinding him. As Chronogrin wiped them clean, he was greeted with the third meteor, and this one had more speed behind it.


Drake expanded the flames, and guided the expelled stone shards into piercing the Goblin Emperor's flabby hide, as he dashed towards the goblin, his right palm visibly quivering. Chronogrin fired his laser at the Monk, but Drake dodged easily, and ran under Chronogrin's guard. Then, to the goblin's apparent surprise, he shot straight up into the air like a white rising comet, his Quivering Palm hammering the jiggling jowls of the great goblin.


Drake swore silently, as the goblin's jaw didn't give an inch, and he was reminded of an anime trope, where the protag would punch a much stronger opponent in the face, and they didn't even blink. The Goblin Emperor grinned, thinking the strike ineffective, and headbutted Drake, sending him soaring back towards his throne…but the Quivering Palm's effects were already active. The Way of the Inevitable Fist had guaranteed that the attack landed, and the rest of the party knew what that meant.


Dark blood leaked from Chronogrin's wounds, compounded by the fresh spells slamming into his backside. Poisoned arrows and daggers sank into his back and calves, Zara was literally floating as lightning arced around her, building in charge and potency the longer she was able to cast without interruption. Her attacks were further empowered as Nerissa, Class Three's elemental shaman, covered the oversized goblin with water in conjunction with Caelum.






It was a brutal beatdown of relentless skill usage, and every time Chronogrin tried to deflect or started to recover, there was another massive hit from their tanks or damage dealers to send him off balance again. Varan, Garruk, Ragnar, Bjorn, Brammoth, and several of the Drakes all kept him physically stumbling with their skills, or just their sheer bulk smashing into him, forcing his unsteady footing to stay that way, while the other tanks managed to catch and parry or deflect the attacks he did manage to make with his staff or the Eye.


Finally, after a solid three minutes of punishment, Chronogrin roared something in goblin, and a moment later, their magic suddenly stopped working.


"Eye Tyrant!" Drake called out, from his position atop Chronogrin's stupidly large throne, from which he'd been firing lightning bolts into the goblin's skull. He tapped his mirror, and the Drake rainbow appeared all at once, flying towards the Beholder, as they were out of his eye's anti magic cone.


Energybending was now a skill they also possessed, so the days of one Drake per element were done. Now, they could all combo together, and they did so, zapping the black skinned ball of madness with eight bolts of lightning, before closing in on him. Theron got involved as well, his magical silver sword easily slicing through the magic protection around the eyeball, and stabbing it. The Monster Hunter rode the Eye Tyrant down to the ground, where it shattered in death, and Chronogrin roared in irritation as the swarm of attacks on him resumed. Each landed hit made the Quivering Palm stronger, but Chronogrin had yet to even notice the subtle reactions rippling across his flabby frame after each hit.






The magic returned to the raid just in time for every shielding spell they had to form together against the overcharged crimson energy beam from Chronogrin's staff. He'd made the Eye of Thundera spin within the staff, and once it had ticked down until both 'hands' of the black vertical slit aligned with twelve and six on the clock face, it released an exponentially stronger beam. The overcharged crimson energy was aimed directly at their squads of healers, which Orlok, the orca beastkin, and Aldaron of Class One had taken over defending. They readied their shield skills as barriers from Vincent and the healers reinforced them.


It still wasn't enough.


Their shield skills cracked. The barriers shattered. The two tanks began to falter, rapidly losing health, when suddenly the Lapine Dark Knight lunged into the space between them with a roar, slicing through the charged attack with one of his high level sword strikes. His skill mitigated just enough of the beam's force to keep the tanks standing. The healers had survived intact. Barely.


For his part, the Time Wizard had levitated up to where the original Drake was watching the fight from, with both hands raised above his head, as he attempted his Ultimate Skill, a skill he'd only ever been able to use once, in their long trek across Chronogrin's trap. After a brief introduction and exchange, the dark elf agreed to help Drake's Ultimate charge more quickly via one of his class Buffs.






Down below, the relentless onslaught that was a product of a year's worth of planning brought Chronogrin to half of his health, at which point, he transformed. And cackled. The deep booming sound was broken up by his shouted words, which echoed with a weird reverb as if they'd already been spoken, and were being repeated right after he'd said them.


"FOOLS! This is not the only dimension I control! I am the Great Goblin! The Goblin Emperor! All variations of this Wallow are Mine!"


Chronogrin's grotesque, corpulent body rippled like a corrupted timestream, layers of fat shuddering and shifting then compressing, hardening into powerful muscle. His frame expanded to fifty feet in height, and grew broader. He was still overweight, but now he could move his fat ass with enough speed to dodge, and fight properly. The staff in his hand liquefied into golden light and was drawn into his torso, merging into his flesh. Where once he held the artifact, now the crimson gem protruded from his chest; a gigantic clock-face fused with the Eye of Thundera. The eye pulsed once, and reality shuddered, despite the dampening from the Chronognomon.

A giant, slowly rotating gear appeared in the center of the bronze 'halo' behind Chronogrin's head, rotating slowly, shifting every second, but whatever effect it might have had was nullified by the Chronognomon. The crimson gem now embedded in his chest flared with power, and one by one, alternate versions of Chronogrin's generals appeared around him, from timelines where they hadn't died yet, answering the summons of the Time Tyrant.






Grinmoire glanced around with a dark smirk, Grinjaw barely cared who he faced, and his power claws started sparking with crimson lightning. Slaggrin was quiet, glancing around with a deep frown on his aged face.


Then, slowly, came the realization, the understanding that this timeline he now inhabited was one where his curse had, finally, been ended.


Last but by no means least, a much more intact and put-together looking Harlegrin floated into the air atop his gloved white hand mount. "Ahh! Another summoning from another timeline! And a new stage with fresh players! Excellent!" He drew his bone violin, wasting no time on theatrical buildup. Chronogrin did not want a clown on a stage, if he was here, it was to slaughter. "Time to teach you surface rats what our Goblins are about to do to your precious Primus!"


Aegis answered him, shaking with righteous fury as Laurelin's light burned around him in response to his righteous desire for vengeance. "The only thing…that you stinking green vermin are about to do…is Die! AGAIN! Charge!"






Golden light flowed throughout the raid, filling each of them with speed and purpose. In seconds, they split into the same classes that had taken on the generals before, and won. This too, had been something Theron had made them plan for, since time was Chronogrin's to manipulate, the chance of facing the Grinwardens again was not impossible, even with use of the Chronognomon. Now, those long hours spent planning paid off.


Class Seven started with Lyria summoning a trio of powerful earth elementals, and then having green cloak Drake earthbend them up at Harlegrin, who was not ready for three heavy rock bois to ruin his soul solo. Before the wailing of his violin could even start, they dragged his hand to the ground, punching him in his painted face as they did so. Once he was on the ground and vulnerable, Class Seven fell on him in a tide of swords and spells. He tried to counter, but Zara and Lyria were both ready with Counterspell. Thankfully, this illusion was a lot less durable than the real Harlegrin, and within moments of being summoned, the extra dimensional echo was sent back to whatever timeline had yet to purge him.


Grinmoire was next, as without his bone pit, he had to conjure skeletons from scratch, which was much slower. Aegis and Bane didn't give him time to do so, surging through the manifesting bone warriors in an unstoppable storm of divine light. Grinmoire panicked at the speed of the paladin, and conjured an all too familiar bolt of darkness, firing it quickly at Aegis.


Aegis countered with a thick headed warhammer made entirely of light magic that manifested from his palm and smashed through the bolt of black death, straight into Grinmoire's chest, and heart. Right where he'd hit Kairen. This stunned him long enough for Class Three to do as their peers had, and get a bit of vengeance for Kairen. The pain and loss was obvious in their eyes as they stabbed, smashed, and spelled Grinmoire back from whence he came. Recognizing that look of loss in their eyes, the lich left their timeline, cackling, not caring about the damage he'd taken.


Grinjaw did not go down as easily, and it seemed this version was somehow even more of a fighter. Alas, once the other two classes of students joined in with Class Two, even the burly Goblin King could not survive long.






Chronogrin watched in pure disbelief as Grinjaw's titanic frame hit the ground, the force of it sending a shockwave through the chamber. Not only had seeing his generals emboldened his enemies, they'd fallen in seconds, as if the surface rats had somehow known he would employ them again. Shuddering in fury, he focused on Slaggrin. "Prove yourself more useful than the others! DESTROY THEM!"


The Wallowgrinder turned, slowly, a dark grin on his typically passive face. It was then, Chronogrin noticed: the raiders around him hadn't been attacking. A blue haired human and a sentient female made entirely of stone had been speaking to him. Chronogrin's eyes narrowed at the expression on his minion's face.


"NO!"


Slaggrin's form blurred with Chronogrin's own innate blessing as he roared his defiance for the first time in eons. The gods of chance smiled upon him, as he spun up his drill for the only attack he was likely to get on Chronogrin before the Goblin Emperor sent him back to his own timeline. The sharp metal implement spun, and struck true; right on the center of the Eye of Thundera. The stone's innate power repulsed the spinning tip from touching the gem's surface, but in that instant, Slaggrin found his weapon being forced downward by the stone itself as if it had a mind of its own, towards the edge of where it sat embedded within Chronogrin. Understanding filled Slaggrin's goblin mind. If he wanted to part Chronogrin from the stone that had made him Emperor, he needed to aim for its setting. A setting which he, naturally, had forged.


Time crawled, as Chronogrin mouthed the chant to end his skill, Slaggrin was unimpeded however, his blessing, his curse, ensuring that he could still move with great speed despite how wobbly time was in the presence of Chronogrin, himself, and the Chronognomon. With a circular flash, Slaggrin spun his drill around the Eye, and a gout of dark blood and energy surged from Chronogrin's chest as the Eye of Thundera popped free.






Through the last vestiges of Slaggrin's grinning, fading form came Aslan, who grabbed for the stone, and then pushed off of Chronogrin's open, reaching hand. A roar of incoherent rage ripped from the Goblin Emperor's throat, but Aslan had already landed a safe distance away. Tearing the Eye of Thundera from his chest had caused a significant drop in health points, bringing the Goblin Emperor to his final quarter of health. Only Drake could see the mark they had to reach for his Quivering Palm to annihilate what was left of his health, and despite being close to victory, nobody got cocky, or overconfident.


Bleeding heavily from the hole in his chest, Chronogrin roared out, "SCOURGEGRIN! Come to me! End these surface rats in your Emperor's name!" The silence that followed, was deafening, and the party assumed he was attempting to summon the Mablin King that Aegis had sighted before, the only apparently on constant goblin creation duty. Yet, no demonic goblin emerged. It seemed, despite the party's best efforts, one of them had managed to escape the purge. But despite the lack of aid for Chronogrin, the raiders did not let their guard down.


Theron had trained them to assume they could lose, or die, or have the tables turned at the last instant at any point in the fight, especially the end. From above, the original Drake shouted, "NOW!" And the tanks moved in tandem. Vasari and Varian shifted behind Chronogrin's now somewhat muscular legs, and charged into them, while Garret and Ragnar did the same from the opposite side. Hammer and shield paired with shield and hammer, catching the Goblin Emperor's legs between them with a sickening crunch of bone. Then, above them, the remaining tanks and the heavier members of the raid like Orlok, Varan, Garruk, Bjorn, and their new Lapine Dark Knight leapt together and hammered Chronogrin's bleeding chest, knocking him onto his back, and filling his widening eyes with the vision of what would be the last skill used against him.


A skill he hadn't even noticed was being charged.






Above him, Drake floated, arms raised, as the dark elven Time Wizard warped the flow of gathering energy around him to be much faster, as much as he could this close to the Chronognomon anyway. The Wallow wasn't exactly teeming with life, but the plains they'd just left behind were. From every blade of grass, every raid member, who now also raised their arms, and even from those in the upper levels, Drake drew their energy. Doing so burned through his magic, but with his Mirror Images chugging a few magic restoring potions, he'd be just fine.


Above his raised hands, was a massive blue glowing ball of Ki, a direct and shameless ripoff of Son Goku's own ultimate move, which had failed to kill its target more often than it actually succeeded.


The Spirit Bomb.


Drake intended to have a much higher success rate with it. Once Chronogrin was on his back, he yelled, "SPIRIT BOMB!" and with considerable effort, he hurled the massive Ki energy sphere downwards, but this was only one half of their plan to ensure the goblin died.






Time flashed behind Chronogrin's eyes as the oncoming ball of blue energy heralding his death came ever closer. His clever brain thought frantically.


When?


He needed to figure out when these surface rats had managed to best him. The fight replayed in his mind. He went through each move and counter move, but after reviewing, he determined that this giant blue sphere of energy he could no longer bisect or repel with his laser had been their plan all along. Thus, in the last moments before his death, he acted.


He burned about eighty percent of his remaining magical power all at once, forming a spell to crack the white obelisk inhibiting his powers. Sure enough, with enough focus, even the legendary tier item effect snapped like a bone before his magical might. The power to warp time returned, and Chronogrin raised a hand upwards.


He could only rewind once, with his remaining magic, and what magic he had left was not enough to shift to before he'd lost the crimson stone that had made him all-powerful. Right now, he just had to survive, and the tide would turn in his favor, as it always had within the Wallow. He focused on the Spirit Bomb, rewinding it to a smaller size, and back above the Monk Hero's hands.






He grinned as he saw the human's look of surprise, and then, their expressions flipped. The human had a wide grin once again, like he had when he'd activated the Chronognomon, and Chronogrin frowned, sweat beading on his flabby face as his instincts warned him that death was near. His beady golden eyes, their bright power now faded, shifted around frantically. The raiders had backed away after knocking him prone, to get out of the blast radius. Then, if not from them, from whence would his death come? If he could figure that out, his path to surviving this would continue.


Then, suddenly, the Monk lowered his right hand and, staring directly at Chronogrin, clenched his right fist. The bleeding wounds and the gaping hole in his chest had continued to sap his health points, and despite rewinding the Spirit Bomb, Chronogrin had not altered time around himself as well. He'd only had enough for the attack, after breaking the obelisk, thus he'd continued to bleed out.


His breath hitched, as he felt his insides burst. Ripples of pain rolled through every inch of him in a damaging cataclysmic reaction that tore his vital organs apart, and with a final scream of defiance, Chronogrin exploded in a rain of gore that would've been right at home in a Larian game, his shout cut short, as the Quivering Palm ended his existence. Drake grimaced at the bloody chunks of goblin coating the floor of the chamber, and let the Spirit Bomb dissipate. Since he'd never technically thrown it, he let the energy gathered return from whence it came, and descended to the ground.






Quiet fell over the chamber, punctuated only by the raider's heavy breathing. Despite not being the hardest fight, likely thanks entirely to the now broken obelisk, Chronogrin and his generals had managed to do some damage. But not nearly enough. With tactics, time nullification, and flawless coordination, they'd turned the Time Tyrant into a relatively easy encounter. Rose ran up to Drake as he landed, and stumbled a bit. He'd almost not had enough magic to activate Quivering Palm at the end there, but even now his images were meditating behind the raiding party, focusing on recovering their magic.


Conversation and murmurs rose, as the Monk and the Light Sage kissed, and congratulations were shared all around. Tala bounced up to the Lapine Dark Knight as his Time Wizard companion also floated down from on high. Behind them all, Aslan, Theron, and Faelon stood smiling, at their students. "This…is the start of something." Faelon remarked, a small smile finally cracking his legendarily serious countenance.


Aslan nodded. "The start of the Age of Eradication. Dagorath may have begun it with his Demon Lord…but this…this will be the victory that marks its true beginning, when the histories of this era are written." He looked at his fellow Instructors. "I intend to join them, on their noble quest."


Faelon chuckled lightly at the Leonid's unasked question. "I…will not. I am more suited to teaching…delving into Dungeons is not something I thought I'd be doing again…and that time we spent in the fields has…drained me."


Theron tilted his white furred head, finally speaking. "Your illness? Has it worsened?"


Faelon nodded, but he stood tall, if supported by his staff. "Do not tell the students. I won't have my infirmity marr their victory."






The Eye of Thundera still clutched in his claws, Aslan stepped forward, clanking loudly in his plate armor, as the other Instructors followed him. The student's conversation fell to a stop, and after he rumbled out an 'ahem', Drake and Rose paused their impromptu makeout session to regard him.


"You have all accomplished something…monumental, today. You have successfully Purged the Wallow Dungeon…and with victory…the spoils." He gestured at Chronogrin's throne, which had been slowly reshaping itself since the Goblin Emperor died. "Unsurprisingly…Chronogrin sat upon his Dungeon's treasure hoard, which I have no doubt is where he acquired this Power Stone." Aslan said, holding up the now much smaller Eye of Thundera. "Stealing from a Dungeon's treasurer chest, when done by a Monster, guarantees that the items within are the highest quality…and since this is the Dungeon chest of the entire Wallow…your rewards are likely to be artifacts on par with the weapons we have legends of."


The classes erupted into cheers, and whoops, and someone in Class Seven, it sounded like Leif, shouted, "Hey Drake! Have your dragon alter it further!" That brought more cheers, and excited murmurs, but Aslan held up his free hand for silence, and continued once the excitement lowered.






"While I will not stop you, I will warn you that such weapons are going to be taken, for safe storage, by the Triarchy of Primus. Whatever is in that chest is going to have immense power, power simply too great to leave against the wall of one of your dorm rooms. I myself have such an artifact…they will be kept within the Tower of Knowledge, under the God of Magic's care, where you will be able to withdraw and store them when you desire to train or adventure with such powerful weapons. I will also note…armor is considered to be different. Only items with truly destructive potential will be taken for storage."


Faelon Luvion stepped forward now, nodding at Aslan as he did. He coughed once and then raised his softer voice. "The experience, and the prestige of clearing a Dungeon will apply to all of us once we open the chest. I will warn you, students…it is…a feeling like no other. Prepare yourself, lest you become lost in it." He nodded at Drake then, and the Monk Hero summoned his partner.


Falkor appeared in a flash of light, flames lighting his maw, only to have them die down as he realized he wasn't in a fight. "Did…did you already win!?" He rumbled incredulously.


Drake nodded. "Turns out, Chronogrin wasn't so dire that we needed to risk your safety." He gave the Luckdragon underjaw scritches as his head lowered to Drake's level, and nodded at Rose, before focusing back on the Monk. "We were wondering though…if you could do what you did before to our loot chest." He gestured at the giant, ornately carved stone chest that had once been disguised as a throne.






Falkor chuckled, and glanced at the raiders. "You all desire my aid?" They answered with an enthusiastic affirmative. "Very well…but the next Final Boss you face is one I wish to join the fight against. I'll let this one slide, as it seems Chronogrin himself was not so powerful without his Generals or his armies." Falkor's thunderous steps echoed as he approached the treasure chest then, and examined it.


His white scaly eyebrows rose in surprise, and with a very minor flash of light that sank into the chest, he finished with minimal energy spent. With that, he turned to them. "This chest is already at the highest tier, guaranteed to drop the best loot…but I did slightly alter its contents to make sure our Monk got something as well." He winked at Drake, and the raiders chuckled, approaching the chest as a group.


"One of these days…I need to tell Galdurath to update these loot tables." Drake muttered, one arm around Rose. He looked around at the various faces he'd come to know throughout their delve. "All together, then!" He placed a hand on the chest, and it began to glow. The other students, Instructors included, did the same. The light built, becoming almost overpowering, as a flood of apprehension and excitement filled them. "Open sesame!" Drake needlessly shouted, and in response to those magic words, the chest obliged him, turning the chamber white with light.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 18: The Grandmaster and the Demon Lord​

---

Here's the map.

Drake sat beside Rose, just enjoying being close to her and alive, as they stared at their small pile of spoils. Small because these, were their new magic items, and the money, well, the money was being kept together by the Instructors, who would be apportioning it out as evenly as possible, with a mind for extra for those students who had shone during the hardships in the Wallow Dungeon. Drake reached for the interesting, but ultimately useless for combat magical item that he'd claimed by rule of finders keepers. It had taken effort to pry from the system of metal and magic that Chronogrin had placed it in, but upon Identifying it once he'd pried it free, Vincent had confirmed for Drake what it was.

Essentially, it was a pocket plane. A separate dimension of limited scope that, with some tuning, could be changed to suit the user. Typically, Vincent had exposited, such magic items were not used as traps. The settings they could create were supposed to be idyllic. Rolling fields. Beaches. Large mansion interiors. Jungle bungalows. The hardest the settings went was an entire castle-like fort, but it did not come with weapons, just obstacle courses, things to hit, a courtyard or three for training, and basic sleeping amenities and a kitchen area with no cutlery, just a stove, sink, even Arcadia's version of a dishwasher, which was magical, instant, and sorted the dishes and utensils automagically.

Chronogrin had used it as a place to slow intruders, as combined with his time magic, it sped up time within while he sent in goblins to pick them off, or force them to run out of supplies and retreat. Despite being a leisure item, and a rather insanely expensive one, Chronogrin had used it to stop every raid that had managed to defeat or bypass his Grinwardens before. Apparently, he'd simply run out of goblins to send at them, since his Grinwardens were dead, and their slaves had been freed. Now, the item they'd spent months in belonged to Drake, who'd already reconfigured the settings to 'beach side paradise'. Evidently, as a result of being used in such a manner for so long, Vincent said time within the pocket dimension moved much faster than time outside. He needed 'personal time inside' to investigate, and he'd brought Lyria along with him, along with their own sleeping items, and food. The plan was for them to spend three days inside, and then pop out, to see if removing the device caused any strange side effects on the people inside. After seeing the beach side resort building, Vincent and Lyria had bravely volunteered, nay, insisted, that they be the ones to try it out first. There seemed to be no limit on how many people could go in at once, aside from space for them, and Vincent had suggested that a victory party with the rest of their food would be a nice reward for the raiders, and a test of the item's capabilities.

The only downside to the orb, was that whoever held it could peer inside at what was going on at any given moment, another feature that Vincent claimed had likely either been added by Chronogrin, or by whatever unlucky adventurer had lost such a fun item while killing goblins. They'd both agreed that feature needed to be removed, and Vincent was looking into how to do that even now, though as Drake glanced at the interior, he saw the nerd and Lyria having some fruity drinks, and talking in superspeed. He couldn't hear them, at least, so that was something, though he had a feeling Chronogrin had a spell for that, which meant the goblin likely had to choose when to listen, and was not as omniscient as he'd pretended to be. A mere twelve minutes after entering, a refreshed Vincent and Lyria emerged from the sphere.

Naturally, Drake and Rose went next, immediately falling asleep, and then waking up rather comfortably. They hadn't lingered, though they'd both wanted to, the risk of doing anything too fun in an item people could peer into without being seen was too much for Rose. Even though Lyria had agreed to guard it. Drake fully intended to make full use of the item, and was now glad he'd had the child-level course on Arcadian Dungeon laws. If one lost an item in a Dungeon, by accident or death, it became 'ownerless', and usually, the Dungeon would put it into a chest automagically, or a resident monster of the Dungeon would pick it up, and use said item. Thus, adventurers who found such items, after hearing they were lost, could make quite a lot of Gil attempting to retrieve them. This item however, legally, was now Drake's. There was a whole clause specifically about singular valuable items found in mini puzzles or dark corners of Dungeons that guaranteed their finder's as their owners, regardless of party hierarchy. Others could offer to buy such items, usually at exorbitant prices, but some 'Hidden Items' as adventurers liked to call them, were insanely valuable. Or in this case, useful. He'd never not have enough time to study again. Making a computer from scratch was now actually feasible.






Aside from the Leisure Sphere, which was its item name, Drake had acquired three items from the Big Bad Evil Goblin's chest of ancient loot. The first, was apparently a Libram, or a holy book that contained powerful Paladin abilities…if one could but open it. Drake's was shut tight by a golden-blue metal lock, Vincent hadn't Identified it yet, and the key had not appeared in the chest, which was strange. Asking about what Librams did had launched Aslan into a spur of the moment lecture on extremely rare but useful items collectively referred to as Skill Tomes. Only able to be created by Masters of a particular skill, these magical tomes took hours of effort and tons of magic energy to craft. Just writing words in one was a draining process, but once read through completely, Galdurath's system applied the skill to one's class, regardless of whether or not it was typically used by said class. Naturally, just making one could elevate even the poorest mage to Gillionaire status, if the skill was good enough, and the price was within the range of what one found on Dungeon Raids.

Drake's other piece of loot, themed for his Monk Class apparently, was a weapon. Evidently, it was insanely unique, as it did not have a system-appointed name, which meant its owner would have to give it one, or it would earn one based on what it was used for. The weapon was, of course, a staff. It looked wooden, but closer inspection revealed it was actually orichalcum, and while usually black and orange, the orange on this weapon had been shaped into runes that started glowing when Drake had prepared to strike with it. Both ends of the staff were tipped in a heavier, completely white metal that had sparkle to it that, in Drake's mind, reminded him of Aurene, of Guild Wars 2. The tips also left a trail of their potent energy in the air when they were moved, fully cementing the vibe Drake was getting from the weapon.

While relatively simple in appearance, it was listed as an Artifact tier weapon, and Drake had discovered, almost painfully, that it was actually a chain staff, as it could shift into extended reach, or harder momentum-fueled hits by engaging the orichalcum chains within it that bound each section of the staff together. It could also form the prismatic white metal on the ends into sharp tips, and seemed to do so when Drake sent a thought into the weapon. From the few practice swings he'd been able to make with it, until Aslan stopped him, it had enough stabbing power to pierce dragonscale. His test target, Chronogrin's throne, was now rubble, and he'd been forbidden from making it form sharp tips unless in the presence of actual monsters. Several other weapons the raiders had acquired were being similarly restricted, though Drake heard nobody complaining.

For her part, Rose had also acquired a Skill Tome, and a new Artifact tier staff that was actually apparently quite old. Telperion's Bough, as it was named, had been wielded by an ancient priestess of Laurelin who had apparently simply gone missing one day, and never returned, causing quite a scandal. Instructor Luvion confirmed that the Bough had been placed inside the chest, not generated, which made the fate of the priestess obvious, and depressing. It made Rose even stronger in almost every way, as it was very much a weapon designed by and intended for a Light Sage like herself. Between the staff and the Skill Tomes, she was, by their Instructor's estimate, now on par with Veldra in terms of the amount of healing she could do with one spell. Drake, knowing the Bough's source, or at least its namesake, was once again drawn into a line of thought regarding his Goddess, and her own mysterious origins.






Thanks to the time dilation of the Leisure Sphere within the already out of sync Wallow Dungeon depths, they hadn't lost much time at all, though now that Chronogrin was dead, Instructor Luvion claimed that the Dungeon would likely sync up with the regular flow of time outside, if it hadn't already. This break was short, maybe six hours, and then they would begin the trek back, though thankfully, thanks to Drake's poking about, they would not have to cross the fields again.

Six hours ended up being three, when Luvion claimed the time dilation was completely gone, and they needed to return to the surface posthaste. With Fly spells, Falkor was able to pull them along with ropes rather quickly, and within two hours, the conquering Goblin Slayers were returning to the surface, brutalized victims in tow. Drake had Drone record the entire thing, including the loot, and they were met at the Wallow's entrance by the other First Year Instructors, and their classes.

Drake didn't go up immediately, as he was flight-capable, and could fly out, now that no goblin was left to stop them. He and Aegis had been thorough in checking every dark hole in the Dungeon, to the chagrin of his party, but he confirmed that no goblins remained once he joined back up with the party. They had indeed found stragglers, but no more than twenty. Both Aegis and Drake had agreed that would've been enough to eventually restart the Wallow, but now it was clear of monsters, and alternate exits. According to Instructor Luvion, the interior would recover with time, and given what had happened to past Dungeons, would slowly become home to other monsters. Cleared Dungeons were regularly patrolled though, and none of those monsters had ever grown anywhere near the power level of a Dungeon Boss.






The only goblins left were hiding on the surface in the ghetto around the Dungeon. Things were already moving quickly, by the time Drake made it up with the last of their raiding party. The Demon Lord on the horizon was gone, as was the rubble he'd been entrapped by, and apparently, Instructor Theron had been called on, along with other Monster Hunters, to track him down immediately. According to Vincent, the Demon Lord had transformed into a more powerful form that was more magic than flesh, thus allowing him to slip the bonds Galdurath put on him, and teleport away. Given how injured he was, and how low on magic, the Guild Master claimed he wouldn't get far, but the heart of Primus, at least, was out of danger.

As Drake, Vincent, and stragglers from Aegis's party landed at the academy, they were met with cheers, and congratulations. Apparently, at some point, a rather large crowd of civilians had gathered to tensely watch the raid on the Wallow Dungeon, even as their city was in danger of a Demon Lord's proximity. Drake heard Florian's dulcet tones nearby, but no sooner had his feet touched the ground, then he found his surroundings suddenly shifted.

With a low hum of magic he barely had time to register, he and Rose were suddenly somewhere else. He'd only been here briefly, once, but Galdurath's laboratory was as awe inspiring as before. The air felt ancient, the magitech devices humming and whirring around the room were interesting, but Drake didn't have time to take it in, as the room was hosting not just a God, but three figures whose individual bearings carried gravitas just by their auras alone, likely a side effect of how absurdly high level they were.

Standing before him were what he assumed was the Triarchy of Primus, given that Rose's father was among them. Galdurath, the God of Magic himself, was looming behind the Triarchy, standing several feet taller than any of them.








"Drake Long." Vaelithar Valcrest began, gesturing to the other two members of the Triarchy, "These are my contemporaries, High Logothete Denarius Talmar and Archiereia Meliora Elarion, my fellow rulers of Arcadia's government."

Denarius appeared to be man, human, tall and classically handsome, he sat at level one hundred and eighteen, and his class matched his title, 'Logothete', while the other was a woman belonging to the same race as Thalondor, a Vireolith, dressed in ornate white and green trimmed robes that bore the holy symbol of Laurelin's followers.

She was, to Drake's eyes, a sentient tree with golden leaves for hair whose eyes radiated ageless wisdom. Drake's eyes widened at her level, which was, unless the system was bugged somehow, two hundred and fifty. He'd been taught that the Triarchy had ruled Arcadia for eons, but two thirds of it were relatively new. Rose's father had ascended long before the last of history's Demon Lords wrought havoc, and Denarius was the newest member, having been appointed in the Age of Dungeons a few centuries ago. Denarius seemed to be sizing him up, and didn't seem too impressed, but Meliora instantly recognized him for what he was, though she hid her surprise well.






A smile, small but genuine, cracked Vaelithar's stern features. "First…congratulations. Both of you. I saw some of what transpired below, and Drake…I noted your black cloaked Mirror Image never left my Rose for very long. Thank you, for that. It…eased my nerves, somewhat."

Drake nodded in respect to Vaelithor, but his eyes were drawn to Rose. She reached for his hand, and he pulled her closer. "There's no need to thank me, sir. I…I would be devastated if anything happened to Rose. I know she can take care of herself, but…" He trailed off, as he got lost in her green eyes for a moment.

Meliora coughed politely, and Drake blinked back to reality, and the knowing smirks of four of the strongest beings on Arcadia. "Grandmaster Long…did the Goddess…speak to you, during your Dungeon Raid…? Your Class title is…different, from what we've been told." Upon hearing that, the other two members of the Triarchy peered at him, eyes widening. Vaelithar just looked impressed. Denarirus however, was in a state of obvious disbelief.

Drake blinked in confusion. "Erm, sorry, ma'am, but I…I'm no Grandmaster. But yes, she did. Since I arrived here…I assume everyone here knows the details, anyway, since I arrived, she's referred to me as her Hero. In fact…that was the first thing she called me, when we…erm, first met. It wasn't until I understood what that meant, thanks to Instructor Aslan, that she fully informed me, and properly upgraded my Class. I've been appointed as Laurelin's own Hero."






Meliora went quiet, murmuring, "That's…that's never…but…" and Denarius cut in.

His voice was smooth, pleasing on the ears, but his tone carried gravitas as he said, "The first members of each newly discovered Class have, always, been referred to as Grandmasters. Most Grandmasters have since passed on, but the Grandmaster of the Monster Hunters still lives, and now, we have you. Grandmaster Long. I expect you'll be receiving applications for instruction before too long. And now with this Dungeon cleared, you'll have enough Gil to house and train them." A square of blue mana crystallized in between his fingers, a skill apparently, that let him give out his business card. Drake took it, and it vanished, appearing before his eyes again as an address he could contact, and if he focused on it, he found he could sense what direction it was in. Magical GPS. Helpful.

The silence grew, as the words vanished, and Drake processed the Triarch's words. Him? A teacher? He'd been something similar once, in his old life, as a sort of after-school camp counselor. It had been part-time and had nowhere near the clout and paperwork of an actual teacher, but the duties of the job had been largely the same. Teach the kiddos about science or whatever inane and hilarious questions they thought of, keep them breathing, make sure they got home safe, and clock out by five.

This…was different, though. The students he was apparently expected to teach would go on to face actual combat. With monsters. Close quarters, melee combat, in minimal armor, and lacking the blessings that he'd been given which, if he was honest, were a large part of why he was even still alive. Without them, he would've died at least twice, and he'd still be quite low level.






"There's…there's never been a male Hero of Laurelin, Drake Long…" Meliora finally spoke, and behind her, Galdurath pinched his brow.

Before Drake could respond, the God of Magic mercifully spoke up, and everyone in the room turned to him. "Indeed, always have I chosen a man, and my wife, a woman of her devoted following…but these are strange times. My Hero has…fallen from the grace of his Class, and until very recently, been unable to restore his Oath of Honor as a Knight. The first Demon Lord in ages appeared in the center of Primus, and unless I've been misinformed…was a member of our city, working with Dagorath's Monsters. And, it should be noted, it was not only Drake Long, but also Rose Valcrest who was empowered by my Laurelin. They will work best together, alongside their Instructor, and this, my friends, is by design."

All three of the Triarchy bowed their heads in respect, and Denarius said, "Of course, God of Magic. As always, you and your wife lead us well."

"Indeed." Galdurath said, stroking his long white beard. "But, now that pleasantries are over, allow me to get to the point of my abrupt summoning, for which I do apologize, as I've stolen you away from your admirers, your victory libations, and your well-earned rest."






Galdurath straightened, and the weight of the room shifted, as his words now carried authority. "Drake Long. Rose Valcrest. You and your fellow Heroes have successfully completed the task I assigned to you. The Wallow Dungeon has been Cleared. You and your party have officially been elevated to the rank of Draconic Rank Adventurers, and upon completion of your studies, will be allowed to enter the hallowed ranks of the Arc Wardens, who even at this moment defend our civilization from the depravity of Dagorath's abominations. No one who participated in the successful Dungeon raid will be required to take the trials to become an Arc Warden, though they can do so if they wish to. Now then, as reward for fulfilling my abrupt Quest, I will grant you, and those you deemed exceptional, a Divine Boon. Though, I should note, as the direct recipient Drake Long, and by the agreement of our previous conversations, your Boon will be a greater one, while the others will receive lesser Boons. That includes you, Miss Valcrest."

Rose curtsied perfectly to Galdurath. "I am alive, my Drake is alive, and our peers are also alive…I require no Boon, but…I would ask that Kairen Vyrethar's soul be given the place of honor it deserves, in Eldarheim."

The entire room looked at her, as she raised her head, and then blinked in surprise. Her father was beaming, just proud, while Denarius and Meliora seemed genuinely touched by her kindness. Drake, somehow, had fallen even harder for her, as he had been every day since meeting her.

Even Galdurath had a kind, if sad smile, as he approached her, and placed a hand on her shoulder, gently. "He already has, and I can confirm that he is both proud of his sacrifice, and that you, his peers, completed the mission. If he ever chooses to reincarnate, he will be rewarded for his sacrifice, which as I understand it, came at a pivotal moment." Rose nodded, though it was clear the loss of a fellow student still weighed heavily on her. Galdurath continued, with a gentle tone. "Is there nothing you would ask of the God of Magic, dear Rose?"

His expression reminded Drake of Santa Claus, and as if to keep to that stereotype, Rose stood on her toes, and Galdurath leaned low, as she whispered something in his ear. The God of Magic chuckled, glancing at Drake, and then back to her. "That, I can do. It will appear as soon as you approach it. Now then…" He turned to Drake, "What Boon does our Hero from another planet desire?"






Drake looked down, eyes darting back and forth as he tried to decide. He recalled Laurelin's words, about the nearly limitless options he could pick, and how the boon would grow along with him. Falkor certainly had, as had his martial skills. His nerd brain kept putting up 'Lightsaber' as a choice, and while that would be insanely cool, and useful, he already had a weapon, and plasma swords had been done. A plasma chain-staff? That had potential, and, it fit with his aesthetic.

His mind drifted, naturally, back to D&D, and what the Monks of the fourth and fifth editions could choose at later levels as Epic Destinies or Paragon Paths. He'd had to make this choice before, back on Earth, and one path had stood out above the others at the time. It also, he noted, fit thematically with the time-bending Final Boss they'd just ended. He just didn't know if it was the right choice. As the moment dragged on from tense silence to growing awkwardness, Drake finally said something.

"For the task I have been assigned…I need to see reality as you and Laurelin do. It will…I believe, help me understand what to do when the time comes to face my destiny in this world." He looked Galdurath in the eye, and the God of Magic had a slight smirk on his aged face. "I desire the Boon of Godsight, if that's allowed."






The rest of the room turned to Galdurath, who hid his smirk, and nodded. "Your insight continues to impress me, Drake Long. Granted. From this moment forth, you shall forever perceive your surroundings as a God would…though I warn you…comprehension will take time, and practice. Both Laurelin and I will assist you, with this. The Triarchy will inform the public of your raid's exploits. Miss Valcrest, I assume you don't all want to be known exclusively as the Goblin Slayers, so broach the topic of a name, if you can."

With that, two thirds of the Triarchy shook their hands, while Denarius made due with mutual nods of respect. As they left, Rose was teleported back, and a few moments later, the radiant vision that was Laurelin appeared in the study. Drake recognized the look in her eye, a mother displeased with the filth her husband hadn't bothered to clean, but she beamed as she saw Drake.

"My Monk Hero. Already living up to your title. Well done, Drake."






Drake thanked Laurelin, and then Galdurath interjected. "He has chosen the Boon of Godsight."

Laurelin went quiet, at that. "I thought we weren't giving out Divine powers as Boons…"

The God of Magic nodded. "We aren't, however, I believe Drake will use it well, and his reasoning is logically sound. How better to understand someone you've never met, especially a God, than to see reality as they do. I believe it will also help him to…better comprehend Ki."

Laurelin smirked knowingly at her husband. "So you're bending your own rules to advance your own understanding as well. I see. Very well." She turned to Drake, and her tone changed. "For purging the vile filth in the Wallow Dungeon, Drake Long, you are given the Boon of Godsight. It will be passively active, for the rest of your days. Are you certain of your choice?" Drake nodded, and Laurelin sighed, before handing Galdurath what appeared to be exactly ten Gil. "Very well. See the world as we do, my Hero."

Above the cleared Greenchasm Dungeon - Primus Megalopolis, Arcathis​

It arrived like a black sandstorm, sudden and brutal, and painfully hot. The Greenchasm Dungeon, once home to a perverted race of Vireoliths who had embraced the darkness, was one of the few that had been cleared, in the past. No matter how dense and humid they'd made the environment, the monsters still burned before the literal firepower of the Arc Wardens. The Velstrom District sprouted up around the cleared Dungeon, and in time, even the locals forgot about the dangers of the dank, leafy hole in the center of their lives.

Monsters did occasionally sneak in and out of it, mostly goblins, orcs, or lesser threats, but they'd also learned, very quickly, that provoking the humans incited an immediate and fiery response. The district's Governor was also an Arc Warden, and she took it upon herself to personally purge the Dungeon when it became an active threat to her residents again. She had done so for centuries. She had not, however, set up magical wards. The government was too distracted with itself to spend effort on monitoring which minor monsters came and went.

Thus, the sudden intrusion of immense power, power granted by a God, went entirely unnoticed, as the world's latest Demon Lord reconstituted his foul form from ash and flame. The being once known as Eridion Pandarus had become something else entirely. Summoning his status, he saw the changes for the first time since transforming. The system glitched, as it briefly showed who he had been.






Eridion Pandarus. Eccentric Gillionaire and an accomplished adventurer. Or so he'd claimed. His status magic showed the truth. His class had always been 'Wizard'. Not Archwizard or Flame Wizard or even Hedge Wizard. Just Wizard. One of the most common classes on their planet, and that, the commonality of his class designated by the God of Magic's system, had always irked him. Through money and connections earned by his father's business sense, if one could call extorting the lower classes and being a slumlord 'business', Pandarus had paid high level adventurers to help him level up. Blighthollow, Blood Gulch, even the Blackspire Dungeon had all given him riches he'd made great use of, as well as magic items that allowed him to take his family business to a whole new level.

That level being bankruptcy. Five times.

Then, he'd raided the Wardengrave Dungeon. Ignored the naysayers, the experienced warriors who said entering that place was a bad idea, and not worth the cost. He wanted higher level monsters and better loot. He'd never considered the price of acquiring them.

He had been beaten. Broken, for the first time, as all his special weapons and magic spells were carelessly wasted on lesser monsters, and his protective guards stripped away by the darkness, dragged away screaming by dark, animated strands of cloth. Then, finally, he'd been alone, and that was when he'd met his first Final Boss.

Mumm'yrah was its name. He'd known from the start it was unspeakably evil. Not his kind of evil, which stemmed from privilege, excess, and the delusion of superiority, but true, genuine, soul-eating evil. A genuinely dark power derived from an actual God. It had left him in awe. It offered even greater power, to him specifically. Claimed he had 'potential' that Dagorath was always looking for. Magical Ability he couldn't even comprehend, if he would but pledge his soul to the God of Monsters.






Pandarus hadn't really believed in the religious concepts of their world, or given any heed to the Gods. They were rarely seen figures, entities that had feats that stretched back beyond history, entities caught up in their eternal struggle against each other. His world had always been Primus, and putting the lazy, magicless masses to use, namely, by making him rich. Now…he had stepped into the arena with the likes of Galdurath, and the Guild Master of the entire Adventurer's Guild. And lived.

The status screen surged with magic as it glitched, and shifted to a deep crimson, as it displayed his new stats, his first time seeing them, since his entire existence as he knew it was upended.

Spoiler: Status

Pandarus stared at the now crimson screen, unable to deny the truth his eyes were taking in. Ascending to Demon Lord had come with many perks…but it also had costs, several, and the system itself seemed to imply what they would be. His soul now listed as corrupted, and belonging to Dagorath, while expected, still sent a chill down his spine as he read it. There really was no going back, now.






Pandarus scrolled to his skills then, and grew irritated. Many would've been useful during his last fight, made even more powerful by the form he'd taken half way through it. Despite transforming, not knowing his skills had nearly killed him, and it was apparently thanks to one such skill that he'd even been able to escape. He knew the Guild Master was relentless, though. The Arc Wardens would order the guild after him, if they hadn't already. Which likely meant the Monster Hunters were now on his trail. His time was limited.

His Demon Lord's Call echoed through the ancient, long-cleared Dungeon, and the monsters within responded. Not by choice, but by force. Only a few stronger monsters recognized what was calling them, and refused. To these monsters, strong but hidden, they understood perfectly what happened to Demon Lords, and the armies of monsters they led. That instinct to survive overpowered Pandarus's call, but still, within minutes, the first Floor of the Dungeon was crawling with all kinds of species. Goblins, orcs, lesser monsters, like beasts and giant spiders, and larger monsters who knew what answering the call meant…yet couldn't ignore it.

Pandarus grinned at his new army, and without hesitation, activated his other new skill. Warp Monster turned the hidden trash of a forgotten Dungeon, into the slavering, maddened army that Pandarus desired. Goblins turned into lesser Malblins, the orc's skin changed from green to red, as their tusks enlarged, and their muscles bulged. The more natural monsters became large, dire versions of themselves, often newly equipped with spikes, chitinous armor, or both. One of the large poisonous salamanders burst into flame, becoming a Demonic Wyvern, the same species that had been used to create Dagorath's iconic and terrifying Greater Dragons.






Pandarus didn't stop there, though. He summoned a pair of Wishweaver spiders for good measure. Fifteen feet tall, covered in fur, and composed of opaque energy that resembled the night sky, these natural fauna of Arcadia were generally peaceful, unless disturbed, and many elves had managed to create trade routes with them, harvesting their high quality silk for things the spiders desired in return, namely, food, and safety for their little ones.

They had but a moment to process what Eridion Pandarus had become. Summoned creatures did not generally form an opinion about those who summoned them, but the natural creatures of Laurelin's domain immediately recognized they were now in a den of true monsters, and in the presence of Dagorath's corruption. But that realization was too late in coming. Their forms warped under Pandarus's skill, turning into another pair of giant chittering nightmares that, when unleashed on Primus, would do as their Lord's epic destiny commanded: bring Primus to ruin.

Seeing their lord was injured and his Magic Power was rapidly draining, the Wishweavers began to warp the threads of time and fate around him as only they could, speeding up his health regeneration, and the recovery of his magic. Pandarus eyed his newest summons, rethinking just sending them into the city. His new Madjinn form had powers, yes, but it notably lacked healing and meaningful defense.

Spoiler: Skills

Pandarus pondered his skills as he recovered, and his army of underlings waited for his command. Devil's Luck had apparently been used already today, likely in conjunction with the Life-giving Sands form that had broken even Galdurath's hold on him. There was one more skill he wanted to try, however. His health was still below half, and he considered himself to still be in combat. The hunt had paused, likely briefly, and Pandarus needed to make the most of it. The Monster Hunters would do the same, sharpening their weapons, chugging their enhancement items, all while moving relentlessly towards any lead on his location their mounts could find.

"Summon Servants."

Hearing his new voice was briefly disorienting. He no longer sounded like an aged old man with a Primus City accent, his tone was deep, echoing, and undeniably masculine. He felt the skill pause, as it waited for his input, on what kind of servants he needed. Pandarus imagined the many fabled horrors that were reported to live on the southern continents of their world, so naturally, he went for the nastiest combination he could conceive of.

"A Dragon…and a Vampyr Lord."






With a flash of deep crimson flame, two figures appeared before him. Pandarus narrowed his eyes in disappointment, but then assumed this was the result of being half his level. A level fifty seven Lesser Dragon, clearly an adolescent, appeared beside a similarly leveled Vampyr Lord. The ampyr were, supposedly, once elves of great power that had turned their coats to Dagorath's service when his monsters first rampaged across Arcadia. Supposedly, according to rumors from those who followed Laurelin and Galdurath, the vampyr had come to regret joining Dagorath, and many adventurers claimed that few, if any, reinforcements came from their legendary Castle Sanguivore, an iconic Dungeon Keep said to stand mere miles from the Guild City of Vaelroth.

Apparently, the adventurers rarely bothered with the vampyr nest, as doing so only angered them, and they were intelligent enough to form non-aggression pacts with. Pandarus grinned at them as they looked around in shock. The dragon flared his wings, snorting fire. "What isss this!? What-" His words stopped, as he took in Pandarus, who raised a massive clawed hand over them, and intoned.

"Warp Monster."

The results were immediate, and effective. Their levels rose to ninety five, their forms grew larger, and their obedience became unquestioning.






"You two…shall be my Generals." Pandarus rumbled, as his Health Points rose over the halfway threshold, and the two summoned servants did not disappear. "You have names? Speak them."

The Prime Vampyr Lord spoke first, because of course he did. His voice was softer, more inherently sinister, but had nothing but obedience for Pandarus. "Blood Viscount Vanger (von-gair), at your service, my Lord. Though with this power…I could become a Duke, I'm sure…" The thin face of the black leather clad and grey skinned creature turned towards his master, his eyes burning completely crimson. "I am here…to obey."

Pandarus nodded slowly, just enough to acknowledge the creature. Apparently, they were very concerned with their personal political standing in their Dungeon, but having someone of rank within such an untapped bastion of power would be quite useful…if Pandarus could make it that far south, to monster-friendly lands.

The initial compulsion to break Primus had faded, and it seemed Dagorath intended to let his newest Demon Lord choose in what manner he would best accomplish his task. Being as high as he had been among Primus's hierarchy meant he was quite familiar with their defenses, which Arc Wardens and Draconic Adventurers were still active and capable, and which were not. At the very least, he knew he would need an army ten times the size of these defeated Dungeon dregs. No, these would be fodder for his escape, when the Hunters eventually arrived. He turned his gaze to the dragon.






"Vargauthr (Var-gow-thur)." It snarled at him, making no gesture of loyalty, but no denial of it, either. He seemed to like not being a Lesser Dragon anymore, though he seemed to understand he could not handle facing Pandarus alone, and surrounded by loyal, mindless monsters. So he stood there, muscles tensed, seething.

Pandarus's smirk became a grin. "Right on time, Hunters…" He said, his massive form rotating in the foliage-covered circular clearing that made up much of the Dungeon's first floor. Standing at their front, was a man, at least judging by body type. He was clad head to toe in heavy plate metal, and dragon-scale armor enhanced, masterfully so, by orichalcum plates and chainmail covering his joints. The scales were crimson, marking him as the first Adventurer to ever bring down a Greater Dragon: the Grandmaster of the Monster Hunter class, and his iconic armor. Without preamble, upon seeing the horde of monsters, he drew his massive greatsword, also made from pieces of dragon and orichalcum, and yanked on a lever by the hilt. Repurposed Greater Dragon claws popped out from inside the massive blade, and then, a magical hum started buzzing through the air as the magitech within made the claws start to rotate, rapidly, on a tread.

Two other Monster Hunters flanked him, one wielding a massive bow that they drew and knocked as their third member readied her hammer. Their armor was also made of materials from Dagorath's minions, and that, was what made their class so dangerous. They did not just kill monsters, they took the strongest parts of them and made them into weapons and armor and potions. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that the adventurers fighting Dagorath's hordes in the southern continents of Tharvoss had their methods and fighting styles revolutionized by this very group of Hunters, and their order.

"Come, my Monsters!" Pandarus called to the horde. "Together we shall break Primus, and make Arcadia Great again!"

Finally given orders, the horde of monsters surged into action, and dragonfire filled the vision of the Monster Hunters who'd been sent to stop them.





And here's Drake's skills

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 19: ★10 Advanced Hunt: Orange Cataclysm



Greenchasm Dungeon - Velstrom District, Primus​

The screech of a greatsword-sized chainsaw slicing with disturbing ease through the chitinous plates of warped monster flesh filled the first level of the long-cleared Dungeon. Pandarus was not thrilled. The Monster Hunters were living up to their name. A hunter with a massive longbow fired a single arrow into the air, and a rain of magically duplicated arrows fell on a group of Malblins and wildlife. Not a single one survived. Another shriek of serrated Greater Dragon claws tearing through one of his larger beasts filled the cavern again, and suddenly, the Grandmaster had a direct line to the still mostly injured Demon Lord.

Pandarus used quite a bit of his magic to empower a Massive Meteor, as his Wishweaver Matriarchs surged forward to protect their lord. It was a blow, losing the creatures healing and restoring him, but he could always summon more. In actual combat though, he didn't have a spare moment to turn them to his cause. They held the red armored Hunter in place, as the Massive Meteor struck, shaking the entire Dungeon, and very loudly signaling that a fight was imminent.

Then, seemingly from nowhere, a Rogue dashed towards their fallen leader, and with a flash of green from a spell, and what looked like a high grade Health Potion, the man was back on his feet. The Rogue stayed crouched, and slipped into stealth, while the Grandmaster of the Monster Hunters revved his chainsword again, and leapt for Pandarus. The Madjinn grinned, and then disappeared. The Hunter swore, and turned to his party. "Focus on the Monsters! Get ready for a large area attack!" He turned with a spin then, slicing through two Dire Wolves in one swing.




By the time he slowly crawled out of the crater the Massive Meteor had left behind, it was just in time to look upwards, and see twelve more forming above them. The words boomed through the Dungeon and beyond, all care for stealth now long forgotten. "Meteor Swarm!"

One of the benefits of crossing the level one hundred threshold was the magical ability to see where enemy attacks were going to land, the shape of the attack, and where one needed to be in order to dodge. For obvious reasons, the Grandmaster had taken only his strongest Hunters, and thus, as the meteors descended slowly, Pandarus became enraged, as every single Monster Hunter moved out of their area of effect, or hid in the gaps between.

Just standing to the side of a meteor wasn't safe either, but the Hunters had skills of their own that could block the force of the impacts. Once more, the entire Dungeon shuddered as twelve simultaneous masses of stone slammed into the once grass and leaf covered floor of the Dungeon. The Hunters rose in the aftermath, charred, but alive. Pandarus, still hiding with Greater Invisibility, was seething.




Every second he hid, more of his monster army was decimated, and he learned then what every other Demon Lord had learned: monsters were absolutely outmatched by Arc Warden level adventurers. Finally, he activated Noxious Cloud, and began aiming a Disintegrate at the Grandmaster Monster Hunter. Three of the four Monster Hunters started gagging, with the archer shouting, "AGH! Gods, it smells like rot, body odor, and diarrhea covered by overpriced cologne!" He proceeded to retch on the floor, over powered by Pandarus's natural musk. Irritated at the evidence of just how gnarly he smelled, Pandarus glanced at his 'powerful' generals, both of them, and grimaced.

They were being held off by a single Monster Hunter with a hammer that had to weigh more than she did, even in her heavier monster armor. She infuriatingly nimble, enough to avoid his paralyzing stink cloud, and each hit she landed was rapidly draining his General's health. "HAHA!" He heard her shout, "I'm gonna be a Dragon slayer today! RRRAHH!" She then proceeded to leap thirty feet in the air, somersault, and perhaps most impressively, rotate her absurdly large hammer with her. Right into a momentum-fueled strike on the dragon's skull.

With a mighty bonk and a worrying crack, the dragon's head shot downwards, smashing into the ground hard enough to leave an impact crater. Hammer girl wasn't done though, apparently. Pandarus sensed his 'general' cease to exist as she brought the hammer down from her high jump and killed her target. Thankfully, his other general was at least somewhat clever. Even though he'd been hit several times too. Vampyr weren't as fortified as dragons, but they did have nasty abilities. Especially at a higher level. Pandarus saw him begin pulling hammer girl's life essence from where he was hidden in the shadows, rapidly healing himself. Bones snapped into place, and his body was less caved-in as the skill took effect. His horde of remaining monsters closed in on the other two stunned Hunters as Pandarus focused back on the dragon armored irritant, and unleashed Disintegrate.

The Tower of Knowledge - Central Primus​

The first thing Drake saw, was white. Everything was white. He felt his eyes burn, judging by the sensation in his knees, he'd fallen to the floor. His hearing was muted, like in one of those World War 2 movies after a grenade went off far too close to realistically survive. In his head, he heard Galdurath's voice. "You will be okay, Drake. Breathe. And whatever you do, avoid looking at Laurelin."

Somehow, in that moment, he knew exactly where Laurelin was, and took Galdurath's advice, looking away from her. Color swirled into his field of vision. Every color. Even colors he literally did not have the language to describe. Were he to try, it'd be like trying to explain what 'red' looked like to someone who had always been blind. Humans had tetrachromatic eyes, and their brains could process colors by blending blue, green, and red. As far as he knew, most Arcadians also had the same kind of vision, with the exception being the birdkin, who retained their superior vision, and wings.

The most the Humans of Earth had documented were about fifty different eye cone types. Yet in that moment, Drake understood he had access to all of them. His hearing returned to normal, as did his other senses, and slowly, he managed to stand. "That's it." Galdurath said gently. "Look around in front of you. Try to remember what colors go where, your brain will fill in the rest."




Drake focused his mind, and closed his eyes again, but, he realized, that did absolutely nothing. The sight of a God was not so easily blocked by something as thin as an eye lid. It took ten solid minutes of focusing his brain, ordering the chromatic chaos he could now see, before he dared to glance at Laurelin. He gasped, nearly falling down again, this time, from the sheer radiance of her presence. Galdurath had an aura of blue around him, shifting, potent, but easy enough to comprehend. Laurelin…was bright enough to light up a planet, and if her name was any indication, she'd once done so.

She smiled at him, and stepped close, cupping his face, and wiping tears from his cheeks he hadn't noticed had fallen. He wasn't moved by her radiance, it was more like the strain of taking in her radiant aura was straining his eyes so much, they were leaking. "Are you okay, Drake?" She asked in that kind tone of hers.

He nodded, and gently pulled back from her. His eyes met her shining, golden, pupiless orbs, which were apparently what her eyes actually looked like. Indeed, he was realizing, both Gods had used magic to cloak themselves, and now, he was seeing them as they truly were. Galdurath was much the same, save for the swirling potent magical aura and the blue skin, but Laurelin…he could see why she toned herself down with blue tones and starry robes. People would go blind just looking at a hint of her true radiance.

"Some day…soon…you and I have to have a long chat." Drake said, and Laureling chuckled, but nodded in agreement. He turned then, staring into the distance. "There's…something else, out there. In the city. It's not far, but it's…"




"Evil." Galdurath said simply. "If my Laurelin was a shock to your senses…Monsters will be even more so. Go. You have a grasp on your sight now, go and see just how twisted my son's creations are…" Drake nodded, and Galdurath used Blink to shift him outside the tower, into the air. Naturally, he fell, for about ten feet until he remembered he could fly.

Primus itself was also a sight to behold. There had been times, rare times, where Drake had been able to see New York City under a moonless, cloudless night, and it had been quite a sight. Beautiful, but for the ever-present stink of urine and human body odor. Primus radiated magic from every skyscraper. Every defensive ward, every illusionary spell, he could now see, and it was breathtaking.

The evil he sought, was less so. It was like…a giant orange stain amidst the magical glow of the city, and as he flew closer, the stain gained a more humanoid shape. Even despite being a hundred feet below him, he could read its status. Demon Lord Pandarus had shrunk himself, but the foulness of his aura gave him away. Drake was able to read every indicator of his status, just above half health, a depressingly large amount of magic power left, and, Drake realized, in the midst of casting a spell he was all too familiar with, from the safety of Greater Invisibility. Of course, to his new eyes, that spell was now rendered useless.




He stepped with the wind, bringing it with him to clear the truly foul odor the Madjinn had spewed into the old Dungeon's first floor cavern. Drake didn't have time to gag on the stench, or look around, as he saw the genie raise a hand to cast his spell at a stunned and stumbling Monster Hunter who, judging by his level of one hundred and twenty five, was likely the leader of this band. The other Monster Hunters were between one hundred and five, and one hundred and ten each. He was very much under the foul odor's effects, and couldn't block. Even if he could, Disintegrate from a Demon Lord would likely be enough to finish him. He activated his Annihilation Aura, which empowered the Monster Hunter's weapons with Laurelin's light, and would increase damage dealt to monsters. He dashed by their stunned leader, hitting him with Cleanse as he shifted into a Shadow Step, appearing in a flash of darkness before the Demon Lord.

Drake was a blur as he forced the Madjinn's casting hand upward with his Dragon Palm. Suddenly finding himself stunned and aiming at the ceiling, Pandarus struggled to move, or comprehend what had happened, but stone chunks began falling throughout the cavern. Drake heard the Hunters regrouping, as he capitalized on his stunning strike. Time slowed, and the Madjinn's body lit up with weak points before his Godsight as he activated Quivering Palm, with his Inevitable Fist, and hammered the winged Madjinn in his chiseled abdominals.

Seeing help had arrived, competent help, apparently, despite its low level, Pandarus knew it was time to flee. For the first time, he stared into the eyes of the adventurer, and saw them widen. Being a creature of magic, Pandarus understood Drake's eyes were on a level that could see what he was casting, and Drake could see the spell he'd chosen: Greater Teleport.




"He's teleporting! Hammer him, now!" Drake shouted, hoping the other Hunters could hear.

Most of them were waist deep in beasts, and their carcasses, and even the archer had resorted to stabbing the swarm in melee, with his giant and surprisingly sturdy arrows. It also seemed like he had skills to use with them. The Grandmaster Hunter however, had just finished slaying a large wyvern, and upon hearing what he assumed was aid from the Guild, he ran up the dead monster's corpse before him, leapt, and brought the rotating Great Dragon Chainsword down on Pandarus's right arm.

The sheer density of the Demon Lord's musculature almost made the blades catch, but magitech enhanced rotation consistently gave them the force required for tearing through pretty much anything on Arcadia. Pandarus drew his arm back, forcing the blades to catch and start cutting into the black metal vambrace on his forearm. The Hunter lost his momentum as he blade stalled and chugged, slowly breaking into the strange metal.

Another arm sprouted from the opposite side of Pandarus's waist, smaller, but capable of casting, and he split his focus. Casting two spells at once wasn't impossible, the second spell just had to be lower quality. However, even a Magic Missile, from a Demon Lord, was going to hurt. Twelve waves of twelve Magic Missiles hammered the red armored Monster Hunter, and though three of them almost managed to make him lose his grip, he endured the rest.




With maybe ten percent of his health left, he managed to plant his feet on the vambrace, rip his greatsword free in an explosion of metal and genie flesh, before backflipping into the air, and then he shouted as he activated his skills. "Maximum Might!" His body arced as he drew the greatsword back, charging it. "Burst!" He sailed forward like a red comet, and sliced through the wound he'd left on the Demon Lord's arm. A magical replacement surged forward, more a Mage Arm than a hand, and for some reason it was dripping with truly gnarly ooze that was magical gray and sparkling, to Drake's eyes. He read it as a property of Pandarus's skill, and cringed inwardly.

Sometimes, depending on how they were used, skills would alter and gain such properties from the system. Now casting with his extra arm and his one original, Drake noticed that his remaining health was almost at the threshold. Then, a giant arrow soared over all of them, hammering the Madjinn in the forehead, directly between his eyes. The Mage Hand yanked it free, reducing it to dust, but that had been the nudge Drake needed.

As he surged forward, a blur of white and gold, he let Assassinate carry him in a spiral up Pandarus's giant torso. His Hidden Blades had no trouble slicing through his skin, but his wings, Drake could tell with a glance, would require two of his six strikes. Another was spent on his lesser arm. Two more, on the horns, as Drake, in the back of his mind, wanted fresh mats from this. The final saw him spiral back down, after slicing up through his horns, and into his neck. Here, the muscles were also incredibly dense, and that, was when Drake activated his Quivering Palm.




Fear ran up Pandarus's spine. Losing an arm had been bad, but this new arrival, apparently the only one, genuinely scared him. Something about his eyes had a dark finality in them, as if he knew with total confidence that here, now, Pandarus would end. The Madjinn smirked, as he felt his mental timer for Greater Teleport activate…but nothing happened. He blinked, and then felt his new, hastily grown arm had been severed. Something in the air from one of the Hunters had dissolved his Mage Hand, then, he realized his horns were gone, and in that final heart beat, his eyes locked with his killer's.

Drake Long stared the Demon Lord down, as he shifted his blade from cutting, to stabbing, stabbed deep into the demonic orange neck, and activated Quivering Palm. A pulse of crimson magic ran through the Madjinn. And Drake didn't have to guess who it belonged to. Dagorath was not pleased he'd just lost his favorite toy. Drake sensed him, trying to claw back his power, but his fist struck first, smashing and dispersing the God's magic before it formed and was recalled. A roar of agony escaped Pandarus, as Dagorath violently took control over his eyes, and stared at the latest champion to fell one of his Demon Lords.

Drake's expression was grim, but he didn't avert his eyes as he leapt away from the convulsing djinn. He knew from his classes, they had a bad habit of destroying everything around them, when they died. Dagorath was not about to let that happen, though. Using the last of Pandarus's magic, he forced the Demon Lord to rapidly intake as much ambient magic as possible. Normally, this was how advanced mages recharged their spells, if they had to, but doing it too many times could dangerously imbalance the body's natural magic flow, and that, ended explosively, unless treated.

It would make Pandarus's death boom bigger, but it also kept the High Human from escaping.




Drake tried flying away from the Madjinn as his eyes saw the magic in the air around him suddenly surge into the unstable, roiling magical chaos that was his dying body. But the pull was too strong for his robe to counter, at its current level. Suddenly, what looked like a metallic bug trailing sturdy looking mithril wire zoomed around him, and then popped into the shape of a grappling hook. Drake caught it before it pierced him, but he was already being yanked back by the Hunters.

Then, suddenly, the inversion was gone. Drake rocketed toward the ground, knowing what came next, and stepped through the shadows. It was the longest one he'd ever done, but he recalled the shadow of a skyscraper he'd seen on his way into the Dungeon, covering the entrance of the Dungeon as the light of the day started to wane. Drake pulled the rope, and the Hunters on the end of it with him, and they reappeared outside the Dungeon, panting, but alive.

All eyes turned back to look as they stood, and started running, but then, a massive blue shield of magical energy that Drake immediately recognized appeared around the Dungeon's entrance, funneling the massive surge of magic upwards into the sky. Oddly enough, it reminded Drake of Emperor Palpatine's first demise after being thrown to his death by Vader.




Galdurath floated down from above them, as he stared upward, and confirmed that the magic had dissipated into the atmosphere, strengthening the shield between them, and the void of space. The Monster Hunters knelt, but Drake just smirked. "Nice timing. Thank you, for the shield."

The God of Magic smirked. "You know, I expected you to slow him down, maybe subdue him for questioning…but actually slaying a Demon Lord? What, was an entire Dungeon and a Final Boss not enough for a single day's feats?" A familiar shape appeared from behind Galdurath. "Oh, and I saved this, too. It would've been a shame to lose such masterful Artificery."

Drone floated out from behind Galdurath, and booped an acknowledgement. "Heroic exploits: recorded and successfully streamed to paired device. In the future, please do not exceed my maximum flight speed. It will make my job quite difficult."

Drake laughed, as apparently, Drone had followed him to Galdurath's tower, not a difficult feat, since it was across from the academy, and then had followed him here. Despite his enhanced sight, Drake had not noticed him. Indeed, even trying to look at him now was like looking at a being made of glowing, magic spaghetti, connected to a circular magical core. Having reworked Drone, Drake managed to recognize it as his power source. He truly was a masterwork of a craft. "I'm sorry, Drone. Thanks for keeping the stream going. You can shut it down now, and get some rest."

"Affirmative. Recharging sequence engaged."




Drake shoved him into his bag, still surprised he'd entirely forgotten to shut the robot off. He looked up, as Galdurath spoke.

"Well done, Heroes. Every one of your names will live forever as the ones who took down a Demon Lord. Naturally, the names of those who battled him earlier, and weakened him, will also be recorded alongside yours. Both confrontations will be considered part of the same battle, and to the victors, the spoils." He gestured, and at the whim of its creator, the system spawned a high level magical chest before them. "I've already sent the others their appropriate items. And Drake, I took your comment about loot tables to heart. You should all have something that will improve you. Well done. Take your items, and your rest."

And then, as quickly as he appeared, a somewhat tired looking Galdurath teleported away. Drake empathized. Apparently, this single day was the most active he'd been in centuries, if his history class was accurate.




"Monk Hero."

A deep baritone drew Drake's focus from his newest magical item, and he looked up to see a squad of smirking Monster Hunters. Their leader, a red dragonscale covered badass with a sword to match, nodded at him. "We thank you, for the save. We'd be honored to Hunt with you again." He offered a hand, and Drake clasped it, with an enthusiastic nod.

He hadn't been the biggest Monster Hunter fan back on Earth, but the vibe, the weapons, the armor, the fighting styles, it was obvious this class had taken a few dimensionally echoed tropes into it, and if that was the case, Drake knew he'd only seen a fraction of what these Hunters could do.

"The next time I go after worthy prey, I'll give your Guild notice. Until then…and I mean this with respect, please do not hunt my Dragon, Falkor. He's…he's not evil, and it wouldn't end well."

The red armored Hunter nodded. "We've already been advised. Luckdragons have been classified as their own species, and under Laurelin's purview, are considered one of her creations. As such, he is to be protected from Monsters, not treated as one."




Drake thanked them again, and after taking their loot, he flew up to one of the smaller, flatter, buildings of Primus that seemed suitably deserted, and examined his prize. His eyes, and the system, almost overlapped as they told him the same information. His Omnicrafter interface took a moment to adjust, but within a minute, had merged with his Godsight.

Aside from the Demon Lord's horns, which he fully intended on working into his Hidden Blades, the chest had given him not a key to his Libram, but an Armor Sigil. Apparently, he could apply these to pieces of his armor, one per piece, and permanently upgrade them. The Celestial Sigil apparently boosted all of his stats by ten, as well as the natural magical properties of the armor they were fused with. His first thought was his Magic Image Mirror, but that wasn't technically armor, thus, he put it on his robe instead.

Green runes appeared on the upper back and shoulder area of the robe, and the boon-given 'armor' upgraded its natural magic effect from an innate Fly spell, to stat boosting, and a new skill: Greater Fly. He had no idea what that was, but he loved the sound of it. He shot into the sky above the city, activated the skill, and then was very grateful for his choice of Godsight earlier. Had he still had normal eyes, he would've been blind from the speeds he now reached, which instinctively made him close his eyes. Within seconds, he was back above the Arc Warden Academy, and he managed to curve his intense speed into a descending spiral, right as the boost from Greater Fly wore off.




As he landed by the boy's dorms, he saw Falkor, and only Falkor, lying comfortably on the well-kept grass. He also noticed the television he'd made was no longer on the side of the building. Falkor was munching on a rather large meat-loaded pizza that Drake could tell just from its aura, had been made by Laurelin. As he approached, he offered Drake a slice, and though it was way, way too long and thin, the New Yorker in him managed to scarf it down inside a minute. Once that was done, he finally asked, "So. Falkor. Where is everybody?"

The dragon smirked, and lifted his non-pizza eating claw. The Leisure Orb was tucked safely in the crook of his arm. "The party moved to the beach, once people heard a beach was an option. Don't make that face, the Instructors are inside, as well as the Headmaster. Everyone is very impressed with your new toy, and your exploits."

Drake chuckled. "I take it you can't go inside?"

Falkor shrugged. "I have not tried…nor do I want to. I will leave this toy to you…and keep your debauchery hidden from prying eyes. Go. Enjoy yourself. They've been going for over a week now."




Somewhat surprised at that, Drake entered the orb. The comforting warmth of paradise hit him first, followed by cheers.

"Drake Long!" "Monk Hero!" "Goblin Breaker!" "Slayer of the Demon Lord!" The names weren't exactly original, but from what he saw of their food and drink, the alcohol was flowing. Cheers followed the string of apparently new titles, and then suddenly, Rose was in front of him. At first, he didn't even realize she was in a bathing suit, as were most of the students, and some faculty. She had a radiance to her that reminded him of Laurelin, and upon seeing him, he could literally see her brighten.

Then, as she hugged him, he realized what everyone was wearing. Aslan too. He was in a hammock strung up between two palm trees, the picture of lazy lion manliness, fruity drink in hand. Lyria had apparently become the bartender, and a tiny ice elemental was helping her make drinks. The majority of the students, including many that Drake did not know, and had never met, were by the beach a short distance away, some in the absurdly blue, warm ocean water, others were playing what seemed like Arcadia's version of volleyball, which involved a square, and a literal fireball being tossed or magically redirected between the twelve players.




He glanced down at Rose again, as she pulled away. "I…don't even know what to say. Haven't you guys run out of food yet? Falkor said it's been over a week."

Rose shook her head. "Goddess Laurelin popped by at one point. Only for a day or so, but she enchanted the item to provide the inhabitants food. It's mostly bread and grain alcohol, but we've been eating that, and our Bag of Holding supplies…since some of them were uhh…reaching their expiration date." Drake nodded. It seemed even magically stored food couldn't keep forever. "And the swimsuits?"

"Came with the closet! Nobody had looked in it before, and more of them just kept appearing. We've decided to leave them here once we leave, though. Come. There's one for you, too."

Drake followed her into the wooden structure, and noted that it had shifted. He counted eight bedrooms, and one large room split into the same kitchen area, and a sitting area, where someone had mounted his television. It was showing the latent magic in the air again though. "Did you all see the stream?" He asked, as Rose retrieved his suit from the room they'd slept in before.

"Yes…but it was really fast. Most of us missed it. Did Drone record it?" She tossed him black and gold swimming trunks, as he tossed her his cloak, shirt, and pants.

"He did. We'll replay it eventually, and he can act as our time keeper." He stood, nethers once more covered, and smirked at Rose. "Well? Did the magic demiplane choose a good suit for me?"




Her face turned redder, and she pushed him out the door, and into the party, which had moved back to the house once word of the latest arrival spread. Drake did not remember much of that night, but what he did remember was eating with the other classes, meeting many new faces whose names would inevitably be lost in drunken haze, chatting with the teachers and the Headmaster, all of whom were quite impressed with him.

Headmaster Veydris told him his curriculum was once again being updated. Since he was apparently a Big Deal now, the Headmaster informed him that he'd be receiving one on one instruction to expedite his history and cultural knowledge, while Aslan and Theron would make sure he knew multiple ways to wield his growing arsenal of weapons. He and the other Dungeon Clearers would have their education expedited as well, since they were no longer magically weak enough to be considered First Years, but couldn't just skip years of learning. The thinking was, because they were all so high level now, they could handle a larger workload.

It had been agreed upon that they'd spend a maximum of a month inside the sphere, though others left before that time was up, to find barely any time had passed in reality. In that time, the G.O.B.L.I.N. S.L.A.Y.E.R.S. rested, recovered, and were told they'd earned every second of it. They also struggled to determine a name for the raiding party, but that presented another problem: everyone wanted to join the next one. That was something Drake, Vincent, Rael, and many others from the Wallow raid didn't really want, so once they left the Leisure Sphere, a full two hours later than when they'd first entered, they had agreed that they needed to confirm who was willing to join the raid, and that they were willing to go 'all the way to Golgorrath'. It was still early evening, and the students and staff alike, who had kept the debauchery in check within the sphere, were all quite well rested.




Indeed, Primus itself was alive, despite the events of the day. The Demon Lord was dead, the night was young, and nobody had lost their homes. The destitute people in the Wallow District, for the first time ever, were able to sleep soundly as the city's local officers now patrolled it for Arcadian crimes, instead of monsters.

Drake and Rose had set to cleaning up their sphere, namely by changing the setting, and then changing it back, and it was another two full hours before they came back out quite a bit older, but fully satiated. Rose smirked. "Gods. I forgot it's still Galdsday. And it's early!" She hugged Drake's arm, and made her green eyes bigger, as she'd discovered just how effective they were on him. "Come out with me. Everyone's going to still be celebrating your feats, Hero."

He stared her down in return, as his new way of seeing, which he now had a much better grasp upon, had revealed that his own Smolder had a similar effect on Rose. "I'd follow you anywhere. Show me the city." They gave Falkor scritches and rubbed his very full belly, before setting off into the city.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 20: Fresh Air and OJ​

---

There was, apparently, only one place academy students went to get properly partied out. An establishment so old, and so close to the school grounds, that given all Drake had learned, it had probably existed as long as the school had. And that explained the name.

When Rose had said they were going to 'hit G.N. first', Drake had assumed that was some kind of club. He only had experience with Earth clubs, and he had not been a fan. Music too loud for talking, floors too crowded for proper dancing, and lighting too dark to see what you were stepping in. Groove Nexus was different. Not better, the music was still loud, and did not jive with him, but everything else was…remarkably different.

The structure made use of every level of its skyscraping height, and indeed, on a crowded night like this where everyone needed to recover from the stress of a Demon Lord manifesting in the middle of the city, it was packed with people glad to be alive.




Lining the circular walls were individual booths full of people of all racial lineages. Drake had tried not to stare, and at the school it wasn't too bad as the students were largely Human, but here, in the grooving, throbbing heart of Primus, the Arcadian citizenry was a bit of a cultural shock. Arcadians of all wealth classes came to the Groove Nexus, and seeing what was in the center of the Nexus, Drake understood why.

Somehow, someone had rigged the center area of the entire skyscraping tower with a spell that disabled gravity, and allowed one to float, spin, or otherwise groove amidst the swirling shades of blue arcane lights that made it up. Drake stopped, even as Rose tugged at him, as he looked up into the center, and noticed quite a few of their classmates. But one stood out immediately from the others.

Vincent had clearly been more stressed than he'd told anyone, and now, some slightly older female academy student whose class read as Assassin, was hanging on his arm. She didn't look older, indeed she was rather petite, but Drake assumed anyone that high level was an upperclassman. That wasn't what made Drake stop and double take though. His roomie was sporting, seemingly unprompted, a container that seemed to have once held food, and now it held Vincent's head as he grooved through the air with shameless confidence in his unusual headwear.




Finally, he let Rose pull him forward, at which point the grooving Enchanter pointed down at him, and drunkenly shouted, "Monk Hero! It's Drake Loooong!"

Beside him, Rose murmured. "Uh oh." She smirked up at him. "Ready to be famous, Hero?"

Like a chain reaction, Vincent and his peers shouted for him to join in, and as he awkwardly floated up to join them, he realized with his Godly vision that the entire establishment had eyes on him, and Rose, and most likely, most of those eyes were caught on Rose, but Drake had also changed before coming out, using his Omnicrafting and knowledge of Earth fashion styles (what little he had) to create a rather durable suit and blazer made of Night Spider hide, their webs, and several lower tier magic items from the Dungeon run.

The music stopped suddenly, and what could only be some sort of magitechno DJ started speaking across the establishment, "Ladies and Gentleman…it seems G.N. is hosting the slayer of a Demon Lord tonight!" Cheers erupted through the skyscraper. "Let's see if our latest Dungeon-clearing Hero hopping into the Nexus has any words for us!"




Drake blinked, as a small Artificer contraption that somewhat resembled a microphone floated in front of his face, from somewhere amongst the swirling neon lights. "Uhh…" The microphone bot shrieked loudly, and floated back from him slightly. Drake coughed, and found his voice, aiming his gaze upwards, generally.

"Speech!" Vincent shouted, helpfully. "Speeeech!" Garret added, clearly enjoying how amusing and uncomfortable Drake was.

"I came here to groove, guys, not talk…" Laughter rippled around him, and he smirked. He could only think of one line that was appropriate here. "But if it's words you want, then…Be Excellent to Each Other!" He raised a fist into the air and shouted, "And PARTY ON!"




"You heard the man!" Said the disembodied DJ voice, and then, a song with a faster paced groove started blaring. The night was a neon blur, after that. More specifically, after Vincent gave him a cup of some sort of jello-like substance, 'Magihol' apparently, that when consumed remarkably replicated the effects of inebriation. His memory was fuzzy, compared to how sharp it usually was, and Drake likened the experience to what he'd been like before his leveling and items had raised his stats so high.

Despite the inebriation, he had fun. He grooved all over the Nexus, with Rose, with most of the boys from Class Seven, though he dodged Tala when she made her advances. He saw Rose chatting a bit seriously with her, and Lyria, but he hadn't remembered to ask what they'd discussed, and figuring if it had been important Rose would mention it, he forgot the encounter completely, thanks to the Magihol.

Another benefit of Magihol, aside from eating it and it being quite a bit cheaper than bottled alcohol, was the lack of a hangover the next morning, as his once more altered school schedule began anew.

Instructor Elowir's Sanctum - Galdurian Arc Warden Academy​

Drake was exhausted. At first, when it had been decided that the ancient Vireolith known as Elowir would be teaching him, Drake was excited. Elowir was a famously, or perhaps infamously, chill teacher, whose class, The Art of Doing Nothing, was apparently mandated by Laurelin herself. Elowir had been teaching it since pretty much the founding of the academy, and he was a favorite teacher among the students.
Naturally, Drake was no exception, indeed, the two actually got along very well, and he was also good friends with Falkor. Drake had caught them playing catch behind the dorms once, with a giant ball of woven sticks and twigs.

However, this class, this special class for this special Hero, a slayer of a Demon Lord, and a man who'd helped defeat a Final Boss, in the same day, had raised the difficulty to match his lofty status. Apparently, because he was a Monk, the first lesson they would cover, was breathing. Elowir didn't appear to know the connection between Earth monks and breathing practices, as he claimed they would've started with breathing even if he'd been a full Paladin.

"Magic…is everywhere on Arcadia, Monk Hero…" Elowir rumbled, producing a brilliant white flame between his gnarled, ancient wooden hands. "Sustain this flame." The tree being stated simply, dropping it suddenly.




Drake leaned forward to catch it, using his firebending, but almost immediately, he noticed a problem. It was, quite literally, burning through his magic. Fast. "Uh-Uhm, Instructor…it's…"
"Manage your Magic, Hero." He replied in that same simple, infuriating tone.

Drake did so. He focused his breathing, calmed himself, and tried not to panic as his not inconsiderable pool of magical power faded. Rapidly. He activated the Mirror Image Mirror, and all eight of his clones began channeling the passive benefits of his waterbending stance, namely, regenerating magic. The drain slowed considerably, but it had only bought him maybe a minute."

At this point, Elowir intervened.




"There is Magic…in every inch of Arcadia. The food, the plants, the people. Even the very air. You can see it on that…screen thing, you created. The ambient lines of ley magic. Breathe, Drake Long. When you can breathe deep enough to sustain this flame for two weeks, we will move on. Don't let it go out."

Drake was breathing too hard, and he knew it, and within a minute, Elowir took the flame from him, as his images faded, and his magic nearly ran out. "What…happens…if it goes out?"

Elowir chuckled at him. "That…was the flame powering Galdurath's Omniforge. A place you are no doubt familiar with by now, I think. It is Arcadia's first flame. From it, all other flames have come. The very essence of fire now permeates the planet, but in the beginning, that flame was the source."

Drake shook his head. Losing the source of all fire would probably be bad. Galdurath would probably also be angry, if the Omniforge became useless. "Does…does he know we're borrowing it…for training?"
Elowir gave him a big, leafy grin. "Nope!"




Drake sighed, still panting hard. "Fucking…fantastic. Gah." Three minutes later, he had his clones reappear, and channel again, restoring their magic. This time, Drake insisted on practicing with a lesser flame first, and maintaining it. It became a decently sized fireball, and burned through his magic suitably quick, enough that Elowir allowed it.

Very quickly into the lesson…Drake realized he was not as good at breathing as he thought he was. Hitting his bong in his old life had taught him how to hold his breath. The act of actually breathing deep enough to absorb scattered and ambient magic, was something else. Elowir, naturally, was no help at all.

As Drake suffered, he lectured. On the history of Arcadia. The politics. Who ruled when, and how well. The problem…was that it was, by Drake's math, over five thousand years out of date. He'd chosen a rather distant starting point, and apparently was working his way back to the present, narrating everything of note, usually by year, in a calendar system Drake still didn't quite understand.




Arcadia had four seasons, though there was nothing truly natural about them, as it had no sun, no moon, and apparently, according to Galdurath, didn't rotate nearly as fast as his Earth had. Magic had compensated for all of that, and still fostered an arcane paradise, on the farthest edge of the Multiverse. About half way through his four hour long session, Drake finally got it. His understanding came on the heels of an interesting tidbit of history, as well.

"The Leonid King Lionos, progenitor of Thundera's current dynasty, was said to have been summoned to the planet by the Goddess Laurelin herself, not all that different from how you were. According to the records of the time from the Tower of Knowledge, certain Leonids were born in that era with the souls of those Laurelin had saved from, and I'm directly quoting here, 'the Fading of their World'. King Lionos was raised up by the Goddess herself, one of the few times the Gods have intervened in appointing leaders, and his line has ruled from Thundera's white stone palace ever since."

Drake nearly lost his concentration, and two of his clones laughed. "The…palace…wouldn't happen to be…shaped like a giant cat, would it?" The original Drake asked sarcastically.




"Actually, yes. The Thunderan Royal Palace was constructed to the exact specifications Galdurath decreed for it." The Drakes burst into laughter, and used it to draw in more air, and therefore magic. Elowir tilted his leafy head at his student. "How…did you know that? I'm quite sure you haven't been there yet."

Drake smirked at him, taking far too much pleasure in knowing something the wizened old tree did not. "Uhh, Garret mentioned it once." It wasn't a total lie, but Garret had not mentioned what the palace was shaped like. Drake realized two things, in the brief silence that followed. He needed to have a talk with his benefactors. Chronogrin wielding the Eye of Thundera was concerning, but more than that, Drake had a sneaking suspicion that in saving those souls doomed to fade, Laurelin might have brought everything else in their world with them. Or at the very least, powerful relics.

For reference, Drake had been alive to see the inglorious end of Thundercats 2011, a TV show that marked the end of Cartoon Network attempting to make anything other than fart jokes and slop. Why bother with plot and quality animation when you could make kids laugh and buy toys with D tier animation and low effort writing?

This was, he understood, only one perspective though. There was no rule saying whoever Laurelin had saved were the same characters, archetypes, or personalities he was familiar with. The Multiverse was vast, and they could be wildly different for all he knew. But that conversation would lead into the bigger one that Drake needed to have, perhaps with Laurelin specifically; her own origins, and what exactly they meant for the Multiverse at large.




As his enhanced mind processed the multitude of possible reasons Laurelin and Galdurath had done what they'd done, or if they'd done it before, he realized bending the rules was not impossible. If fading characters, or even just their archetypes, could be saved by the power of a Goddess, then fate, such as it was, could be shifted. Not changed, the Thunder Cats as he knew them had likely perished, as he had, but whatever Laurelin had done had seemingly given them another chance to tell their story.

He applied this thinking to his current problem. The fireball he and his clones were sustaining was large, impractical, and designed to heavily drain them without needlessly risking the wrath of the Gods, yet. Very quickly, Drake realized there was a limited amount of magic he and all eight clones could take in just through normal breathing. So, he bent the rules. He kept four on channeling their magic power recovery, while another four, and the original Drake, focused on bending the air itself.

Through airbending, they quickly achieved a near-constant state of flowing air, and magic, that Drake could draw on, to fuel the fireball. All the while, Elowir continued educating, and Drake continued listening. If he noticed his student had figured out a solution, he didn't mention it.




"...and thus, Mortis Machina brought low the Demon Lord, ending the Age of Wardenfire, and beginning the Age of Dungeons. Unfortunately, this era of fighting Monsters in confined quarters has…altered how the Arc Wardens handle them. There are some who yet live that remember when Monsters marched united under Dagorath's banner, in the open. But for eons now, this has simply not happened."

Drake let the others breathe, as he replied to Elowir. "The Monsters…in the Greenchasm Dungeon…looked ready to leave, and rampage…had the Hunters not found them…they would have razed the Velstrom District."

Elowir nodded. "It is a Demon Lord's instinct to follow his God's command, which this time, we all heard. He wants to break Primus…and now, in a single day, his raised Demon Lord has been slain. Many will try to lessen your accomplishment. They will claim Pandarus was somehow weaker than the other Demon Lords. That you didn't face a full army. That you and the others who fought didn't win quick enough."

Drake's deep breathing became a heavy sigh. "Idiotssssss…."

Elowir chuckled. "Perhaps. But you must guide these idiots, Monk Hero. So remember to be patient…and to breathe. That's all for today, I think. Take a rest, and meditate on how you might draw even more of the ambient magic to you. You've made a good start…but the First Fire will consume you even now."

Drake thanked the ancient Instructor, and not for the first time, tried peering at his level. Like Meliora he seemed to have somehow gone over the limit of two hundred, though not nearly as much. The number was hazy though, likely hidden through some perception spell that even his eyes were struggling to peer through.




Drake returned to the dorm to find a familiar sight: Falkor, guarding and managing entry into the Leisure Sphere, and a line of students, none of whom Drake recognized, waiting to enter it. Falkor had been told to deny the people entry today, and Drake addressed the small crowd as he arrived on the heels of his lesson. His schedule had been reduced to two classes, but they were now four hours apiece. Elowir handled elucidating him about the culture and politics of Arcadia, while Aslan himself would be trading off with Instructor Theron, and others, Drake assumed, to refine his martial prowess, and more importantly, teach him how to properly wield his new artifact class weapon. In between those classes, he had about two hours of free time, and since Elowir didn't assign him any homework, he wanted to do some crafting.
"Sorry folks! My Leisure Sphere is currently unavailable for use! I'm going to be doing some upgrades, some maintenance, and if we're lucky, some sorting out of the food situation."

The mostly swimsuit clad student groaned, and one blonde cat teen spoke out, irritated. "So when can we party, Monk?"

Drake shrugged. "Ideally, at the start of this week's end. I will do my best to have it ready, but it might take longer, if I need obscure materials. My party can Teleport, but we still have to find and gather them, and then the actual crafting is probably going to drain my magic quite a bit. I imagine altering minor planes requires a lot of power."

The physically attractive cat girl next to the blonde spoke then, "So like, how do we know when it's ready?"




Drake thought for a moment, and then glanced up at Falkor, who sighed. "Fine." He rumbled in Drake's head.

The teen grinned. "My buddy Falkor will let out a massive roar. Trust me people, it will be worth the wait!"

Somewhat disheartened, the crowd began to disperse, and Drake retrieved the orb from Falkor. "Now then…let's see what it'll take to turn this into a multiplanar Pizzeria…" At that, the dragon's head perked up, and his tail swished back and forth on the grass, like he was still a canine.

"You never said anything about Pizza…"

Drake smirked at the dragon. "Because if I did, you'd never leave the sphere. Here. Before I start fiddling, let me actually show you the inside bud, so you're at least a little familiar."




Falkor grumbled, but his favorite food had been dangled in front of him, and he complied. Within five minutes the white scaled dragon was lounging in the warm sand and artificial sun, murmuring, "This is…nice."
They spent a solid three hours in the orb, only to return to reality and find barely any time had passed at all. Drake was glad Falkor liked it, as it would make bringing him along on Dungeon raids much easier, rather than relying on an item or an act of Laurelin to bring him out, he could emerge fully recharged. The only downside was limited flight space, but Drake could alter that, too. Finally, he opened his Omniforging menu, and examined the item with a low whistle.

He was back in his room, with Falkor occasionally peering a massive golden eye through the window. Vincent was in, studying between classes, and Caelum was out. All the students who'd gone on the raid were also being given special curriculums, as they were now closer to fifth or sixth year academy students in terms of level and power.




"What is it?" Vincent muttered, not looking up from his book.

"The customization options for the Leisure Sphere…are insane."

Vincent nodded, still not looking over. "Well yea, as an Omnicrafter you're probably seeing the full possible list. There should be a menu that lets you create your own."
Drake nodded. "Ahh. I see it. Let's see…"

Forty minutes of muttering later, completely occupied by crafting menus only he could see, Drake had managed to faithfully recreate the basic layout of every pizza joint he'd ever been in, back on Earth. He pasted that onto the Beachside Paradise layout, and then began expanding the hut as well. Stronger, more fireproof walls. A cellar, for food and alcohol storage. And guest rooms, that got the own entire three floor tall section, in what was now more like a mansion than a cabin. A very sparsely decorated mansion. He simply lacked the materials to furnish it, but he had a feeling it would accrue items over time. He had the basics, and that was what mattered.

His room, and Rose's was in its own section, and had a large balcony that let one take in the beach, and the lower areas around the mansion. This wasn't for leisure yet, though, as Drake intended to use it whenever they heard the party getting too raucous.




The lower level now had a proper TV room, with what few couches Drake had arranged around the TV. The kitchen was a lot like Laurelin's, in design, shape, and the fact that it led outside to a communal firepit area, made entirely of stone. The beach had also been expanded, no less than twenty hammocks were set to be strung between trees, and the literal coastline itself was also made larger. He made the sky larger too, enough that Falkor would hopefully not feel cramped.

Then, he saved the template, applied it, and looked at the material cost.

Vincent turned around in alarm, as Drake started coughing roughly. "What?"

"The…fucking material costs…holy…"

Vincent smirked. "Yea. I don't need to see them, there's a reason Leisure Spheres are for the obscenely wealthy." He turned back to his book. "You can gather things like stone and sand, yea? Don't need the party, for that."




Drake grunted in agreement, and then began editing further. If he was going to mine what had to be a mountain's worth of stone, and tons of sand, he was going to have to travel, so, he upgraded his furniture too, with the recipes available to him. The material list grew longer, but not unmanageable. In terms of difficulty, Drake likened the grind before him to crafting a single Legendary Weapon, in Guild Wars 2, which while time consuming was not impossible. It was probably easier though, since there were no endless achievement trees to grind through first, to acquire his materials. The time component would mostly be spent riding on Falkor.

The only difficult materials would be the specific kinds of wood, cloth, and monster hide he needed for the furniture, but he knew roughly where to find them. The problem was finding enough to give him the materials he needed. First, though, he needed air, so he set the Leisure Sphere on consuming the ambient oxygen, which apparently would take six hours to fully accomplish, and then departed on Falkor for Eldarheim.

A few hours between classes wasn't enough to start the grind, but it was enough to pay Laurelin a visit.

Palace of the Gods - Eldarheim​

Falkor was munching on a re-heated pizza covered in so much meat, even Drake had forgone having a slice. He and Laurelin were in her kitchen instead, enjoying some magically made orange juice. The Goddess looked radiant, though that wasn't new, and Drake had to avoid looking directly at her. She was brighter than when he'd gotten his Godsight, and he attributed that brightness to the powerful life growing within her. It was like the God child was reflecting her mother's light off of her, somehow, making both of them as bright as a star.

"So, Hero." Laurelin started, as the small talk died off, "I know you have some questions."

Drake nodded. "One or two…let's start with how the muscle-bound, magic-sword wielding anthropomorphic electrical Eighties cat humanoids managed to get their Power Stone to Arcadia."

That description made her chuckle, but she did not dodge his question like he'd almost expected her to. In fact, her answer was confusing. "The Multiverse…changes constantly. Countless thousands of stories disappear in an instant. Some, which you are familiar with, can last a million Earth years. If not longer. Some are so ingrained in the Multiverse, their events radically change it. An example you'd know would be the…" She thought for a moment, then nodded, "The MCU, as your people called it."




Drake's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. "So…wait, you're telling me like…the Spiderverse, is a thing? And that it falling apart is a plot line that can damage the Multiverse?"
Laurelin chuckled. "Kind of. Your web-slingers are doomed to both break apart their causal nexus of events, and save it. That's who they are, and that's who they become, no matter who wears the mask."
Drake nodded. "So if it wasn't Miles Morales that broke it…"

"...it would've been someone else. Almost anyone else, who would've taken the mantle of Ultimate Spiderman. At that point, pure, random chance intercedes." Laurelin finished. "The Thunder Cats…just happened to be close to us, at the time. Galdurath and I saw their Archetypal forms fading into nothingness. We heard them, all of them, cry out for help. Even the evil souls among them. He was against bringing them here…but I took pity upon them."

At that point, a flash of blue heralded the arrival of the God of Magic himself. "I thought my ears were burning." He leaned down to kiss Laurelin's cheek, and she seemed genuinely happy to see him. He turned his piercing, intelligent gaze on Drake, after taking in Falkor, who was now halfway through meaty, cheesy bliss, and smirked. "So, we're doing the exposition dump now, are we?"




"Drake had some questions. I was just telling him about who was so steadfastly opposed to saving those poor souls." Laurelin said, nonchalantly sipping her orange juice. "But I believe this is the part where you took over, love."

Galdurath nodded, and summoned his own glass of OJ. "Right. Well. After much debating and pleading, I agreed to Laurelin's plan to help save the Thunder Cats. Or rather…how to put this in mortal terms…"
"I collected everything that made up their story, their deeds, their names, their faces, their trials, and their failures, and I brought them to Arcadia." Laurelin said, helpfully.

Galdurath nodded, picking up, then. "Right. Well, most of it was either lost in transition across the vast distance between us, and their part of the Multiverse, or was simply absorbed into Arcadia's Dungeon and loot system. But the souls…well, a few souls, managed to arrive intact enough to require vessels. You can probably guess which ones. Laurelin sent them into our cycle of life and death, which is localized to Arcadia, but…it turned out that we missed one."




Drake smirked. "Let me guess…because his soul was fused with a highly technological book?"

Galdurath chuckled. "So Earthlings know of Jaga! Amusing…but yes. I discovered the Sage of the Thunder Cats within the Book of Omens, though my system renamed it the Arcanomicon. I eventually got Jaga out of there, after he helped me catalogue as much detail about his world as the book could recall."

Drake thought for a long moment, then. "So…if reincarnation and life and death are all tied to Arcadia's closed system…they're still here?"

Laurelin nodded. "In…some form, yes. Obviously, living and reincarnating several times has changed them, but their core traits are the same." That devious little smile of hers appeared as she sipped some more juice, and Drake's eyes widened.

"Holy shit…I know them, don't I! I've met them…" He slammed his open palm into his forehead. "ASLAN!" Laurelin and Galdurath both started laughing. "Oh wow…that was SO obvious…Lion-O even had a genuine resurrection, if I recall correctly…it was staring me right in the face literally since day one…wait, so that's why he confiscated the Eye of Thundera?"




Galdurath tilted his head. "Kind of. In this life, Aslan was indeed part of Thundera's royalty…however…after failing to take out the Wardengrave Dungeon, his Knight Class was…nullified. The current King, Klaudius Claudus the Third, tasked him with reuniting the ultimate weapon of King Lionos, but it's core had been lost for centuries, at that point. Until yesterday. When your raiding party discovered it in the clutches of Chronogrin. Now, Aslan has traveled to Thundera to return his family's Power Stone, and restore his Knight Oath."

Drake raised an eyebrow. "He was going to do all of that…before teaching me today?"

Galdurath chuckled. "Unlikely. At most, he'll be several hours late, even with a flying mount."

Drake smirked. "Well, if it's not too much trouble, could you bamf me to Thundera? The chance to see their palace in real life is…getting me hyped, honestly."




Galdurath nodded, and then Laurelin spoke. "It is not only the heroes you're familiar with that were brought here, Drake Long. The…mummified one, he was reborn as a Monster, though I know not where, or how. Be wary. If the Sword of Omens is reforged, you can safely assume that villain will attempt to claim it."

Drake smirked, confidently. "I've always wanted to punch Mumm-Ra in the face. It's so…punchable." Laurelin chuckled, but Drake continued. "So, are there any other dying pieces of fractured IPs you brought here I should know about? Am I going to run into a desert farmer out there named Skywalker?"

Laurelin laughed fully, at that. "No…no, I would not have done the same for…oh what did you Earthlings call them…the Star Wars. Their…Force…has a grip upon their souls that will not easily relinquish them."
Drake went quiet then, as his thoughts churned. "Well…that brings me to my final question, Goddess. What about you? I could make an inference, but since I haven't met anyone called Telperion yet, I feel like it would be rude to assume…"




Laurelin's face fell, and her light dimmed, slightly. "Mine own origins are…complicated, Drake. You're no doubt familiar with the story…I believe it was…erm…Tolkien? Yes. He was the one who created it in your history. Well. As has been established, the Multiverse is vast, and chaotic. No doubt you are familiar with the…good ending, that the fall of the Dark Lord Sauron brought?"

Drake smirked. "Well the movies had like four endings, but yea, half the Fellowship goes to the Undying Lands, and the other half…doesn't, and everything ends happily and well."

Laurelin nodded. "Well…my origin is from an…alternate path for Arda. You know of the spirit Morgoth Bauglir, trapped behind the Door of Night, and set to float for all eternity…until the end times?"

Drake nodded, Tolkien nerd that he was. "Dagor Dagorath. The battle of all battles. I'll be honest…my Legendarium lore is a bit rusty…"




Laurelin took a long sip of her OJ, and sighed, her eyes unfocused and distant. "It varies too, across the worlds. You clearly know of the Silmarils, but do you know what Arda's Sun and Moon were made of?" Her eyes met his, and Drake shrugged. Laurelin nodded. "Then that is where we start. In my world...Morgoth's spirit returned early thanks to...powerful fluctuations from the Multiverse reversing his drifting course through the endless abyss he was imprisoned within. Normally Arda would not have been effected by such things, but he was outside of it, listless and disembodied...but vengeful, and driven. With his return, he took the guards of Valinor by surprise. The Undying Lands fell within a week, as the Valar were betrayed multiple times by those they thought allies. I admit, I don't…actually know all the specifics. Suffice to say…Morgoth broke the world. He undid all that Arda was, despite the efforts of Eru Illuvatar, and in those final days…Eru focused on the Silmarils. On preserving the Light."

Drake tilted his head, remembering. "One in the sky, one in the land, and one at the depths of the sea, right?"

Laurelin nodded again. "Just so. With the Flame of Creation, Eru made the Silmaril of the Sky into an egg, and it vanished through…what you and yours would call a 'wormhole' in space and time. The Silmaril of the Earth was infused with great amounts of the Flame Imperishable…and moved. I know not where. The Silmaril of the Sea was…briefly touched by Morgoth…and then shattered by the Sea God Ulmo into three pieces, and sent randomly into the Multiverse."




Drake blinked, taking her words in. "And you, Goddess?"

Laurelin chuckled sadly. "I…was an afterthought. Whatever power touched Morgoth and flung him back to my world…it changed him. He somehow had gained the power to unmake Eru's creation…a feat he should not have been able to accomplish. It was as though he had somehow become the antithesis of life itself." She took a deep sigh. "With the last vestiges of his power, Eru Illuvatar fused the last fruit the tree Laurelin produced, with the last flower that Telperion grew, and that…that became me. The rest of my story is…long, and not for your ears. All you need to know, is that my power was nurtured by good-aligned beings, and one day, I outgrew them. I found a realm to call my own, became their Goddess…fell in love with one of their greatest mages, and then after he ascended to become the God of Magic…we made Arcadia. And have resided here ever since."

Drake's brow furrowed. "But…but Morgoth though…surely he didn't just…poof away."

Laurelin's countenance darkened. "He did not. Even now…he seeks me, and the other divine fragments that Eru Illuvatar managed to empower. He has become the darkness at the very heart of the Multiverse, the Prime Shadow, the Original Evil. If you've ever read or watched a series plagued by a mysterious, vaguely formed, omnipresent, ancient evil? There's a good chance it's Morgoth, or one of his minions. It was his evil that corrupted my Dagorion, I'm sure of it, and his evil will not just leave Arcadia, and ignore us. Some day, it must be stopped, defeated, and managed, that the Multiverse might find Balance, again. And you, Drake Long, shall help in that fight. As shall I. As shall…quite a few denizens of the Multiverse, if my guess is right."

Galdurath chuckled, finally chiming in. "Her guesses are usually right." His face turned serious, then. "I hope you understand, Drake…these secrets…nobody but my Laurelin, myself, whatever that egg hatched into, and now You, are one of the few who know the truth about the evil pervading the Multiverse. I've been studying the fluctuations of the Multiverse for…eons, now. Our perspective is quite useful for that, and I've discovered something."




Both Drake and Laurelin leaned in now, hooked on his words, their OJ forgotten. "It…has a source point. An origin. A…'Big Bang', if you'll excuse my borrowing of your Earth's terms." Galdurath said with a knowing smirk. He was in his element, elucidating secret knowledge. "The waves of colliding energy like I've never seen all indicate that a massive battle took place, the scale of which was…Universal."

Drake felt a cold chill run down his spine. "Universal like…a battle across a Universe…or like Universes were…being thrown around like weapons."

"The latter." Galdurath said, brow furrowing. "Some massive entity, or a pair of them, collided on a scale too vast to properly comprehend, using massive quantities of directly opposing energies. This collision, or rather its shockwaves, were what sent this Morgoth, at this point a being comprised only of energy and malice, back through the door to Arda." Galdurath turned to Laurelin. "Your watchers never saw him coming, because there was nothing to see. By the time they knew he was there, they were already doomed." Laurelin said something else, and Galdurath patted her shoulder, before they both took a long swig of fresh OJ.




Drake, however, had tuned out. His brain was racing. A God-tier entity, infused with the Light of Creation, turned into an egg and shunted into a Multidimensional void? He'd heard that origin story somewhere before, but he couldn't remember where. But the two extra-Universal sized entities, colliding on a scale that defied understanding, using two diametrically opposed forces? This had apparently taken place in the Multiverse. Anything was possible. But Drake was fairly sure he knew the cause.

"Drake?" Drake looked up as Galdurath said his name. "You seem to be having some sort of internal epiphany over there. Care to share?"

Drake nodded. "I'm…pretty sure I know who, or what, is responsible for such a large clash. And…assuming it actually happened as I saw it depicted, I'm sure there were other repercussions…all across the Multiverse."

Laurelin spoke softly. "You…have an idea of what reversed Morgoth's course? It might not matter much in the present…but I would still like to know what power altered the fate of my home."
Drake nodded, downed the rest of his OJ, and sat back in the chair. "Alright. Let me tell you a story…the story of Shimon (sea-moan), the Digger, and the Drill that Broke the Multiverse."

 

[Sahqoreyth]

New chapter coming soon.

But until then...I did a thing

Enjoy.

The Monk and the Wolf

Listen and make your own on Suno.

suno.com

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 21: Everything is Canon


Thundera - Arcathis​

Drake Long grinned wide, as the Thunderan Royal Palace came into view. The majestic white stone saber toothed feline was appropriately both epic and majestic, as it loomed over the simple light tan square buildings that made up the city itself. "There it is, Falkor. As promised." He'd been filling the dragon in on the specifics of his version of the Thundercats, who was important, who not to piss off, etcetera.

Aslan wasn't expecting to see him, but Drake had been more than willing to visit the sand covered city. Galdurath bamfed them outside of it, once his tale about Shimon the Digger had ended. They had been understandably skeptical, but Galdurath was forced to admit Drake's hypothesis held water. A cosmic clash on that scale could absolutely have knocked Morgoth back into Arda. It also explained where his other powers had come from. The Anti Spirals would absolutely have allied with a figure that aligned against life and good and evolution.

Drake had also inquired about the other Arda, the one with a good ending, and Laurelin had tried to explain that some realities held more multidimensional sway than others. What determined that was seemingly random, but right now, according to her, the victorious inhabitants of that Arda were probably developing the world of Men, blissfully unaware of the darkness surrounding them. In all likelihood, Morgoth was probably ignoring that one, as she and Drake both agreed he likely would not risk facing Eru Illuvatar at his full power again just to conquer the same planet.




Having gathered enough sand on their way to the city to extend the Leisure Sphere's beach, Drake sent Falkor in to spread it properly, or at least move it closer to the actual beach so Drake could sandbend it into place. It was still passively absorbing air, and they'd get some proper ocean water on their way back to Primus. For now, though Drake entered the city with his flight and his stealth skill, not wanting to bother the leonine guards in full plate that were heavily present at the gates to Thundera.

He didn't intend to try that at the palace, as he hoped such places were equipped for stopping stealthy intruders. His robe was a bit bright for Thundera's fashion sense, and after acquiring corresponding minor gemstones of each color, a very common byproduct of breaking lesser magic items down for their materials, he'd been able to add a color change feature to it. Now it was a Prismatic Divine Vestment, and as he stepped out of stealth from an alley into Thundera's streets, he was now primarily in black, with gold accents. The Yin Yang on his back was similarly colored.

What he saw, did not impress him. So far, all he'd really seen of Arcadian cities was Primus, and aside from the Wallow District, new name TBD, Primus was mostly a well kept ancient magic utopia. Thundera, however, was not. His only comparison was the cartoon, and remembering that, he headed for the lower class areas. There was no quicker way to learn about a city than to experience its underbelly.




What he saw made him grimace. The people were raggedly thin, and far too many of them were kids. The adults avoided him and his high level. He could tell the exact moment his would-be muggers saw his level, and decided not to test themselves. Word of his deeds in the capital must have spread though, for twenty minutes into his depressing stroll, a small hand tugged on his cloak.

"Pardon me, mister…but are you da Monk Hero of da Goddess?" The asker was a smol catgirl giving him big innocent eyes. He turned to her, and in the same motion stepped out of the limited reach of her tiny hands. There were other littles around, watching them, but his clever maneuver had his back to a wall, and none of them, keeping his pockets out of reach.

"I am." Drake answered with a smile. "Do you need some food? I can only get bread, but sometimes it's quite good." Her eyes went wide, but she shook her head. "We…we need healing. For our Momma. The spells are too expensive at the temple, and the priests are nice…until we tell them we don't have money for them." Drake's eye twitched, but otherwise he didn't react. He really wished some things weren't universal constants. Like greedy religious men being completely corrupt and void of morals. One of his fists clenched subtly. He really hoped they weren't like the worst of the priests he was familiar with back on Earth.

When he'd left, every single day, a new 'youth pastor' was discovered doing objectively Unholy things, illegal and immoral things, in regards to children. Every. Single. Day. If things were the same on Arcadia, he knew he'd end up becoming an enemy of the churches, which as a Paladin technically would hinder him. But some things were worth fighting for.

"I'll do what I can for your Mom, kiddo…and anyone else who's sick. No charge."

She gave him a look of hope, one of her fangs peeked out from her upper mouth, adding to the cuteness. "Really!? Oh thank you Mr. Monk Hero!"

He gently patted between her cat ears. "You can just call me Drake. Now where is your Mom?" She dashed off, motioning for him to follow, and soon, a whole litter of what had to be her siblings were encouraging him to follow as well.

Drake didn't sense hostility from them, or ulterior motives, but he subtly airbended his Gil pouch to a safe place under his robe anyway. Sure enough, after about five minutes of walking through truly pungent poverty stricken 'housing', little more than half made huts composed of hardened mud and sand that looked to be from the street, they came upon a bedridden woman, who oddly enough was human, and lacked the feline traits of her kittens.




"Eri…what…" She started weakly, "I told you…to avoid high level strangers…"

With that, Drake lowered his hood. "Your daughter asked me for aid, ma'am. I'd like to help, if you'll allow me."

Her tired, baggy eyes were full of suspicion, and that glassy look he knew all too well associated with constant pain. "Nobody…who talks and…dresses like you…should bother with the likes of us…it never…ends well."

"Nobody knows I'm here. My only agenda is to heal you, and give these kiddos their Mom back. May I?"

The woman stared at him for a long time, and then lost the strength to even glare. She nodded slightly. "Nothing…you can do…will have any effect…Priests and Clerics…have already tried."




Drake's confident chuckle filled the hovel. "I'm no Priest, nor Cleric." He raised his hands over her body, and started sensing with his Ki. He didn't know the name Arcadia had for her disease, but his ridiculously smart brain likened it to a late stage STD infection. Seeing the different patterns on the kittens, he didn't have to guess her profession.

His words made her eyes narrow even further. "Just who…are you…I've never even heard of a…Monk…" Her words trailed off, as she saw the Hero tag. "I must be going mad…you're…not really a Hero…Heroes like Prince Aslan don't…come here."

"Perhaps they don't…but they Should." Drake answered in a calming tone, as he started using his Ki to sense where the infection originated from. Then, he focused the Goddess's light magic on it, not with a skill, but with what he classified as a prayer. It was kind of weird, having spoken to the being he was praying to. He even considered her a friend, at the very least. She was more than that, of course, she'd saved his life, saved Falkor, given him so very much, but he didn't presume to expand their relationship beyond friendship. She was a Goddess after all.

Laurelin seemed to sense his sentiment, and like it, and current his actions, and the light answered, spreading in waves throughout the woman's body, eradicating that which would oppose, corrupt, or otherwise shorten that which was necessary for Life. Once that was done, Drake used his Life Giving Fist, and focused his Ki to help her body recover from the new gaps and lack of infected tissue. Without that healing, her body would likely have failed even quicker.




What once had burned through his magic now only took a reasonable, but manageable chunk of his reserves, and once he stopped, the woman's face had color again, though it was still gaunt. Glancing down at his free hand, large as it was, he found it holding a bound stack of fine bread loaves, enough for the entire family. He nodded in satisfaction. Of course she'd send enough to feed everyone.

It helped him understand his purpose, for as he asked if there were more sick or hungry, he was eagerly led to the family's friends, and their friends, and their cousin's sick roommate's grandmother. Drake and the growing army of kitten kids moved quickly though, once they found a rhythm, and inside two hours, Drake had healed the majority of the lower class ward. Naturally, he'd gotten his clones in on things as well, but thanks to Elowir's lesson, he had a clone on standby, in their waterbending stance, absorbing magic from everything around them.

By the time he was done, rumors about a multicolored healer, or group of healers going around the poorer districts were already spreading through the city like wildfire. Feeling satisfied as an extension of Laurelin's will, he headed for the Thunderan Royal Palace, though as he approached, he realized Aslan was very much still occupied.




There was a large depression in the ground before the palace itself, like a sinkhole that had been turned into a fighting pit. A massive crowd of mostly cat people were watching two red-maned Leonids fighting. One was Aslan, and the other, had to be his father. Somehow even bulkier and taller than the already imposing Instructor, King Klaudius Claudus III was a living tank. His class was listed as Warrior King, which had to be some branching path of the Warrior or Knight class available to royals. Aslan was once again a Knight Hero, and wielding what Drake recognized with a bit of nerdy awe as the actual Sword of Omens, complete with the Power Stone that Chronogrin had somehow acquired.

He seemed to be having some trouble tapping into its power, though. A fact his Kingly father was not impressed with. "Come on, son! You took years to finally earn that blade, and now you can barely wield it!? It's not even fully extended. Are you a Claudus or not? Strike me!"

"Try invoking its name! Like a chant!"

All eyes turned to Drake, as he shouted down to Aslan. Aslan turned to look at him in surprise, and then shrugged, and nodded. That had been mentioned in the ancient texts about using the sword, but Aslan had thought that had just been historical flair. Evidently not. Drake Long had a good instinct for these things, so Aslan focused, and went perfectly still.




The King of Thundera stared at Drake, who added nothing else, and then back at his son. He readied his massive golden shield, which ran lengthways down his arm, holding it horizontally across his body. It seemed to be fused to his clawed golden gauntlet, and his blade, while not a match for the Sword of Omens, looked to also be magical, and have powers of its own.

"Sword of Omens…" Aslan intoned. "Grant me your Strength!"

On nothing but instinct, Aslan found himself raising the blade high, and a faint hum filled the air. A hum Drake recognized. He leaned forward, eagerly, as Aslan spoke quieter. He'd done this before in the dungeon, chanting 'thunder' thrice, only this time, each intonement made the Sword of Omens extend. Lightning flared around him, focusing on the sword, and Drake got the sense this was some sort of flashy but necessary attunement.

With a bellowing "Hooo!" Aslan's sparking form smashed into his father, and the two crimson-maned Leonids became a blur of fighting techniques. Drake followed every movement, and realized this would help him. Aslan very rarely had to try, when they sparred, but his father knew him. His weaknesses, his form's flaws, things he hadn't perfected, and the King did not refrain from abusing his knowledge.




Aslan was younger, though and wasn't using a shield, making him slightly faster. As the King bashed his blade aside, Aslan spun in a blur, bringing the Sword of Omens around to meet his father's blade. In a straight contest of strength, the older King started losing. Drake didn't expect him to actually lose though, and sure enough, as Klaudius fell to one knee, he used a skill, manifesting as a roar that made every Thunderan with feline features around Drake start cheering and whooping for the King. This Buff skill managed to turn the tide, and three moves later, he had his sword at his son's neck, panting, sweating, but victorious.

A proud look came over his features. "That's more like it!" He sheathed his sword, and clapped Aslan on his armored back. "I knew you were worthy of it, my son! Now you can avenge your failure in the Wardengrave Dungeon." His bearing changed, his tone became regal, and Aslan's ears perked up, as did, Drake noted, the ears of every Thunderan present.

"This is my next order to you, Prince Aslan: Purge the Wardengrave as you helped purge the Wallow…and you will be worthy of my throne."

Aslan looked down at the sword in his hand, and nodded. "It will be done. Now excuse me, father…it seems my student has followed me home, eager for a lesson." He gestured for Drake to join them, and Drake did so. He'd always liked Lion-O's father as a character, and Klaudius definitely had that vibe.




He drew back his hood as he landed, and heard the crowd murmuring. Apparently, though he hadn't confirmed it, some upgrade he'd applied to his cloak hid everything but his level from the sight of others, when his hood was up. Now that it was down, his class was on full display. King Klaudius, eyed him with a slight smile. "Ahh. The spectator with timely advice! Your insight served you, and my son. The Sword of Omens does indeed respond to voice commands…though many have been lost or forgotten in the intervening ages since it was last ours. The Sages would know, if any still remain recorded."

Asan nodded in agreement. "I will speak with them soon. Father, this is one of my more promising students. Drake Long. Monk Hero of Goddess Laurelin. Drake, my father, King of Thundera, Klaudius Claudus the Third."

Drake bowed low, and Klaudius inclined his head. The King spoke first. "I have heard of your exploits, Hero." He said, dropping the Monk part of the title since…he had no idea what a Monk was, or if it mattered. "Slaying beasts, saving Alicorns, and of course…all the Goblin slaying. My son speaks highly of you, and your Class Seven. Be welcome in Thundera."

Drake thanked him, and gestured to the palace. "I've always wanted to see Thundera. I was speaking with the Gods earlier, and they said you'd returned home, Instructor. So I took the chance to visit." By this point, they had leapt out of the fighting pit, and were walking into the grand halls of the palace itself, leaving the crowd to murmur and spread word of what they'd just seen. It wasn't every day the King dueled his own son, after all.




Kladius grinned at his son. "Seems your students value your wisdom. You may use the Royal Training Grounds for your lesson, Aslan. I must return to my duties. Apparently there are…strange rumors coming from the lower districts."

Drake flinched slightly, wondering if he should mention the reason for those rumors. He assumed Klaudius would figure it out, and technically, they were already quite late in starting their lesson. Aslan answered his father, "I understand. Come, Drake Long. You will face me, and our strongest Tigrid, the Commander of our armed forces, for your training today."

Drake smirked, and couldn't resist saying, "A Tigrid? Is he uhh, more stealth inclined? Uses a whip? Sassy, yet sultry baritone?"

Aslan gave him a look, as they entered a hall leading away from the throne. "It's as though you've met Commander Tigera…and yet I'm quite sure you haven't."

Drake tapped his nose and allowed a look of smugness to cross his features. "Call it Monk intuition."

"Mm."




In short order, Drake was led to a large chamber arranged like Rome's colosseum, round flat and circular at the bottom, and surrounded by simple stone seats in a circle, though most of them were covered with sheets. In the center of the circular fighting area was a massive tree, surrounded by clean sparkling water.

"You may find it hard to fight here without claws…" Aslan said, grimacing. "You may use your robe's flight…provided you stay in bounds and don't abuse it. It's for vertical ascension, not an easy win."
"I understand." Drake said, waving a hand like it was no problem. "I won't need to cheat."

Aslan chuckled to himself, but said nothing. The aforementioned sassy, buttery baritone filled the air for him. "You've got a confident one there, Aslan. We'll see how long it lasts."




Drake knew where this Commander Tigera was, of course. Invisibility was actually quite hard not to notice. "Gee, Instructor. Wherever did that voice come from?"

Aslan gave him a look, then his eyebrows unfurrowed, and he smirked lightly. "Commander Tigera has mastered the Invisibility spell Mr. Long. You'll have a hard time spotting him without magic detection."

With a crack of his whip the confident tiger man appeared and gave a flourishing bow. "At your service Monk Hero Long. You can refer to me as 'Commander'."

Drake nodded, the picture of respect. "Of course, Commander." He bowed low. "I look forward to sparring with you."




The objective of the exercise was simple, and once again, Drake had foreknowledge thanks to his chronic nerdiness. A large bell was suspended between the tree's largest branches at the apex of its crown. The goal was for Drake to ring it. Tigera would be attempting to stop him from ringing it within a set time limit, instead of racing him to ring it first, which was where the rules deviated from what he knew. He actually preferred these rules though.

As Aslan roared to signal for them to start, Drake smirked, and stepped with the wind. Tigera's voice rang out as he moved. "You won't always be able to know when a Monster is about to ambush you. The ones down on Tharvoss have Greater Invisibility. Some, even jump between dimensions. Today we'll practice reaching your objective while sensing any ambushes."

Tigera flinched, as Drake open palm punched the gong, making it dong through the air, loudly. "I guess that's one for me, Commander."

"Fast…for a Human. Alright, fine, but the next won't be so easy!"




It was, in fact, quite easy for Drake, with his chosen skills and Godsight. He waited until the last second to dodge Tigera's attacks, and his flight and Monk skills helped him outpace the tiger man in his medium half plated armor. At the end of ten rounds, his armor was off, and he'd at least managed to draw Drake into a fight, twice, and only briefly. Drake froze his feet in place once, and the other time, he'd sent the Commander flying with a powerful but simple gust of wind.

At the tenth ring, Tigera snarled. "MY turn! Sometimes, hidden enemies will try passing you to achieve their own objectives! Let's see how you do with defense!"

Drake took the position Tigera had during his rounds, and then summoned water around him in a circle. He froze a half wall around himself, and that served as a base for the eight arms he then used to cover his blind spots. "My Octopus Form is hard to get past, Commander. You won't be ringing that bell easily."

"We'll see about that!" Tigera cracked his whip and vanished, and Drake watched his footprints, the slight trail he left on the tree as he moved rather quickly. Drake deployed all of his arms four per side for each direction Tigera could've gone. The Commander managed to dodge three, but the fourth swung through his position.

Drake made a show of noticing that, and then all eight arms slammed into him, knocking him off the wide branch he was on , and back into the water. This happened three more times before Aslan called the round, as time had expired. "Up the difficulty, Tigera. He's the Monk Hero of the Life Goddess. You're going to have to get clever."




The tiger man snarled at the Leonid, and then disappeared again. This time, his whip brought him high, and Drake made a show of hearing where it landed. He sent his water arms towards it, and they slid down the whip, following it to Tigera, before once again hosing him into the water. Aslan laughed while his friend was submerged and stopped as Tigera's head broke the water. "If I didn't know better…I'd think that Monk could see me…"

He vanished again, this time forgoing the whip and focusing fully on stealth. He got close this time, or rather, Drake let him. He'd need more than a stealth skill to ring that gong, though. Drake 'accidentally' had one of his water tentacles change direction, out of Tigera's field of view, and as soon as the water tentacle touched him, he knew what came next. It was a valiant dodging effort, but Drake's waterbending was less martial arts, and more embodying the relentless nature of water itself, constantly surging and expanding, once it found the invisible target.

Tigera's dodging, while impressive, ultimately lost to the water tentacles. Aslan chuckled as he broke the water again. "I did say you'd have to get serious, Commander."




The Tigrid snarled. "Right, then…"

Drake fell into a proper stance this time, as he sensed the seasoned monster fighter was about to take things up a notch. Tigera cracked the whip, and made at least eight copies of himself, though Drake recognized them as Mirror Images, they didn't seem as complex as his own.

With a smirk and a playful wink at Tigera, Drake summoned his own Mirror Images, placing them around the gong, as each one took up the same eight-limbed watery defensive stance. This enraged the Commander further, but he charged again anyway. Unfortunately for the Tigrid, all Drake had to do was play defense.

Still keeping up his charade, Drake had his clones intersect their watery octopus limbs around the gong in a defensive net. Tigera's clones charged in blindly, each one smashed apart as soon as it touched the water net. The Commander himself waited, and then leapt for one of the net's openings. Subtly, Drake shrunk them as he approached.




With an enraged snarl, Tigera broke invisibility, and decided to finally attack. He spun in the air, and the whip spun with him, slicing through the water with ease. There was always more though and once he was visible, Drake and the majority of his clones focused on him, leaving one clone to deal with any last ditch attempts for victory.

Tigera roared as the water started hosing him again. This time, he'd dug his claws on both limbs into the tree's bark and hadn't immediately been blasted off into the pool below. To Drake's surprise, the Commander's roar was powerful enough to completely blow away all of his octopus limbs, and his icy half walls. Tigera started tearing through clones then, quite literally ripping them apart. For Drake, it was a bit unnerving to watch, and partially feel, his tiger claws ripping effigies of him apart.

When he closed with the white cloaked version though, the Commander found Drake's martial arts too much to get through. The Tigrid's strikes were powerful, but easily redirected by a style that was much more fluid from a much faster opponent. Drake had shifted to his airbending, and being all about redirection and controlling the flow of a fight, it worked well with his Dragon Style. It was also unlike anything Tigera had ever faced. The force from their colliding limbs sent shockwaves through the area, but in close combat, Tigera's skill and Drake's divine knowledge were evenly matched.




The winning strike came when Tigera's Mirror Image, his last, came hurtling by their martial arts showdown, after being wind blasted away by Drake's own final, and higher level, Mirror Image. The tiger man turned his head to look in disbelief, and when he looked back at his opponent, Drake's roundhouse kick was already at his cheek. He went spinning once more from the top of the tree, into the mote, and Aslan was just enjoying every second. It wasn't malicious though, and if Drake had to guess, Tigera had probably beaten him on this course quite a lot when they were younger. Speed was king on a field like this.

As Tigera's pointed hairstyle broke the water again, Aslan spoke. "I think that's enough of a warm up. You can see now why the Headmaster wants me training him one to one." The Commander simply sighed bubbles, and nodded, while Aslan waved Drake down.

He and Tigera clasped forearms once the Commander had crawled out again. "Thank you for the lesson, Commander. That last Image almost gave you the win."

Tigera shook his head. "You don't need to protect my ego, boy. I never even got close to it." He gave Drake a fanged smirk. "I can't wait to see how you do down on Tharvoss. The Monsters won't know what hit them."




Drake affirmed that he looked forward to fighting side by side some day with a clasping of forearms, and Aslan led him to an adjoining sparring chamber designed for practice more than sport. "Summon your staff. We will train with real weapons this time."

Drake blinked. "Summon? Summoning weapons is a thing?"

Aslan chuckled. "I swear there are times you are prescient, and times you know less than the elementary students."

"You did send me to them to learn things, and…I mean I paid attention, but uhh…let's just say Elowir is more suited to the task. Even if…he does…ramble. A lot. It's informative rambling, and I have enough Int to remember it all."

Aslan let out a booming laugh, and Tigera chuckled behind him. "Informative rambling…is the most accurate description of Elowir that I have ever heard. Anyway. To your point, yes, any weapon that you own that is Legendary or Artifact tier can be summoned to you. Assuming the God of Magic and the Adventurer's Guild aren't keeping it locked away. Your staff has been deemed to not be the kind of weapon that will accidentally, for example, level a city. Not yet anyway." Aslan shook his head. Knowing Drake, now that he could fiddle with it with his Omnicrafting, the next time he saw it, the weapon would be even stronger.




Drake went quiet for a minute as his eyes shifted through the system's menus. Finally, he found his weapon, and a skill for transporting it to him. A moment later, the as yet unnamed artifact was in his hand, the orichalcum runes within lighting up as he experimentally spun it around. The staff hummed, as both prismatic, crystalline, white ends of it left trails in the air.

Tigera leaned in as it appeared. "That… weapon doesn't have a name! Is…is that even possible? Doesn't the God of Magic name everything?"

"He's probably leaving this one, to me." Drake said, smirking. "The problem is…it deserves a proper name, and I can't give it one until I know from whence it comes."

A new voice entered Drake's mind with the power of a God, and the casualness of a scholar. "Actually Drake, I've been wanting to discuss that with you… The reason it has no name is because an…external force…shoved it into my loot tables, and specifically as a high tier Monk weapon. Almost to the moment you looted it from Chronogrin's chest. Laurelin claims you know its origins, though."




Drake's eyes went wide. He stared at the staff, in disbelief. He'd noted the reference to the somewhat iconic, and Legendary tier, weapons tied to the Prismatic Elder Dragon, Aurene, in Guild Wars 2, but knowing his Goddess…she'd get the genuine thing or nothing at all. "Have you attuned to it yet?" Aslan asked. Drake shrugged, and then focused, trying to do just that. An unmistakable voice filled his skull, and he smirked wide as he heard the words.

For one of the many who helped raise me up…a weapon against the Darkness, as reliable as our time together.

And then, quite suddenly, Drake knew how to use it. Moreover, he knew what to call it. "Prismrend…"

Naturally, it was far more than just a staff. In a sudden shift of motion, Drake gripped the center of the staff, broke into two pieces, and then both prismatic ends turned into sharp, long blades. He spun them in his hands, and noticed they did not easily leave his grip. With enough spin, he could turn them into essentially a magic fidget spinner. A very sharp, artifact tier fidget spinner. The blades could also extend and crack like a whip, and that trait seemed to be a thing across whatever shape it took.

Just as quickly, he brought the weapon back into its staff shape, grinning wide. Then, he tried talking to it, mentally. "Is that you, Aurene? Like…for real!?"

Perhaps. The Multiverse is vast, and my facets are many. Laurelin spoke highly of you, and your deeds. She also wanted me to pass on a message: 'Reality is limitless, and Everything is Canon.'

With a chuckle, her soothing tone faded from his mind. He could absolutely see those two getting along, but the why bugged him. He had a feeling his staff was not the only reason his Goddess had reached out, but he was too distracted in that moment to ponder why. Verbally, he said, "Laurelin…it seems…acquired this for me. Probably the same way she found me."




Aslan was smirking as Drake had his moment. "The Goddess of Life truly favors you."

Drake nodded, his tone a bit solemn. "She is…desperate for me to succeed at my task. And I'm more motivated than ever to see it done."

Aslan nodded with his own grim expression. He knew, then. As did the Headmaster and probably the Triarchy. "You carry an ancient and heavy duty…and yet you do not shy from it. I will make sure you have the skills your task requires."

Tigera made a slightly comical frowning face. "Is nobody going to let me in on this secret Divine mission?"

Aslan and Drake shared a look. Aslan smirked, and shrugged, as he continued to put on his armor. Being full plate, it took slightly longer, even with the system's aid.




Drake smirked at Tigera. "When we fight together on Tharvoss, and we're knee deep in dead Monsters, ask me then. For now…it must be kept secret." The tiger man grumbled, but nodded, and finally, Aslan was ready.

"Today we will see how many weapons your Prismrend can turn into. Then, I will adjust your schedule so you may train with them. Ready yourself, Drake Long."

Drake tried to be ready, tried to use what he'd seen from Aslan's earlier duel, but fighting Aslan in melee was like trying to fight a heavy plated thunderstorm. Drake was fast, but the Leonid was naturally faster, stronger, and still higher leveled. The Sword of Omens had also notably empowered its wielder's stats.




Prismrend held up against it, though. The weapon did not break before the Power Stone infused sword, the failure was on Drake, for simply not having enough strength to match Aslan.

The spar was five rounds that ended embarrassingly quick, but Drake found his weapon was also a staff, a spear, and when he focused hard enough, he'd managed to create a passable recreation of a Charge Blade, straight out of Monster Hunter, and his memory. It took intense focus, but he'd managed it. He briefly considered turning it into something like a high-powered cannon, but the risk of an Arcadian seeing that and trying to recreate it was too close to introducing them to guns for Drake's liking. A bow, with Ki arrows, could work though.

At the end of round five, Drake said, "I think…I could turn this into…pretty much any weapon. The problem is that… I don't know how to use every weapon."

Aslan chuckled. "Not yet anyway. For now we'll focus on the staff, spear, lance, and dual blades. Since you already have dual blades on your wrists, we'll focus on those first." Aslan sheathed the Sword of Omens in his claw gauntlet, and regarded his student. "Your task is this: Seek out the Monster Hunter Guild. Join them. Using nothing but Prismrend, reach Hunter Rank Ninety in the guild. Once you do this you should have had enough lessons with Elowir to be able to rejoin Class Seven."




Drake blinked. "I'm allowed to join their Guild, even though I'm a Monk…?"

Aslan nodded. "The Monster Hunters welcome all Classes. Since all of us technically hunt Monsters. They're much more flexible than, say, Paladins. They also have the most weapons specialists of any Class."
Tigera chimed in too. "Higher ranked Hunters hunt bigger Monsters. You'll need more than fists and elemental attacks for the things you'll be fighting."

Drake tilted his head. "Don't I need to train with the Paladins too?"

Tigera and Aslan shared a look. The Commander laughed, and Aslan shook his head with a sigh. "No…not yet anyway. One quagmire at a time, Drake Long. Now then, will you be teleporting back to Primus with me, or do you intend to continue your generous shenanigans amongst the poor of my city?"




Drake blinked. "I uhh…"

"Didn't disguise yourself as well as you think you did. Not from the Sages, anyway. The King asked me to pass along his thanks. Martial Classes rarely have healing abilities that can affect others. Paladin was a good choice." Despite his slight teasing tone, Aslan seemed proud of his student's actions.

"Seeing things here, which I'm sure you and your family are doing your best to stabilize, made me remember how some parts of Primus are faring, too." Drake answered. "I have some materials to gather with Falkor, and then I'll be heading back."

Aslan nodded once. "I see. Train hard, Drake Long, and you may yet rejoin us in time for the Ternion Tournament."




Drake blinked, smirking in disbelief. "The Tri-Wizard whatnow?"

Aslan gave him a confused expression that was amusing to Drake thanks to how it looked on his leonine features. "I suppose Rose Valcrest did not tell you. Every four years, the G.A.W.A and its two sister schools, dedicated to educating the other sides of the planet, come together in the Ternion Tournament. The God of Magic empowers all participants with something you're quite familiar with: an Experience Boon, and the Tournament's participants often gain quite a lot of experience from it, if they win. The Headmaster wanted to forbid you from getting any stronger, but that, obviously, is counter to Laurelin's wishes. You are here, now, for a reason."

Drake, for his part, was lost in thought. Every four years, and his first of six (assuming he didn't graduate early at this rate) was a chosen year? His mind was slightly blown, as he knew that was no mistake. The Goddess's mastery of timing truly was Divine.

"And uhh…what do I get if I win this thing?"

Aslan smirked at him, "A Boon. From either of the Gods."

Drake grinned. "I guess I won't need weapon training. I can just…enter?"

Aslan nodded. "You can, yes. Usually it's based on grades, number of completed quests, and level, but you need to participate. And for the record, the required number of quests completed is a hundred. And yes, the Monster Hunter's Guild and their Hunts count as quests."




That answered Drake's questions completely. "I understand. In that case…I'm off to the Monster Hunter's Guild…which is where…?"

Tigera answered, this time. "The Adventurer City of Vaelroth, on Tharvoss. From there, they deploy Hunters all over the planet against the kind of Monsters your average adventuring party just can't handle."

Aslan nodded. "Travel there, and register with their Guild. You should then be able to accept Hunts from anywhere on Arcadia." Aslan turned his head towards the throne room, and then back to Drake. "I am needed, it seems, as is the Commander. Good luck, Drake Long."




Recalling the chamber with the tree was open to the air, Drake flew up, stealthed, and then exited the city over the slum districts. The people below seemed…more active, and from what Drake saw, said activity wasn't violent. Which seemed to be an improvement. He chuckled as he summoned Falkor, high enough to be out of range of spells, but not sight. "Looks like I left it better than I found it."

He blinked, as he sensed something shift, on his hip. Reaching for the sensation, he found his Libram, and a portion of its circular lock had sunk in. Figuring this was, once again, no coincidence, Drake nodded, his mission from his Goddess now quite clear. His Hunts would likely send him all over the planet, and where he went, he would help Laurelin's people.

"They're your people now too, Drake." Came Laurelin's words, softly, but easily heard.

Falkor looked back at him, tongue lolling, and happy to be flying across a real sky to a new place. Drake nodded again, determined and focused. His people just had to hang on a bit longer. With time, he would improve conditions for all of them. Then, when everyone could eat and have a place to call home, he could focus on fixing their society. He shifted the required components for his computer-related side quest to the top of his focus, and found several components and materials he'd need for it on their way southwards. With a sudden increase in speed, Falkor surged towards their next objective.

 

[Despacitoleo]

Chapter 2: Is It Wrong to Flirt With High Schoolers When I've Been Reborn As One?

For the record, yes, obviously yes.

Rose and most of the first year students are 17-18. Drake is a young boi because...reasons.​

Click to shrink...

someone probably made the joke but it writes itself with DRAKE flirting with minors