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

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 27: How to Form a Raid and Power Level Your Classmates



Galdurian Arc Warden Academy Dueling Grounds - Primus

​

Tisara Morvain looked up from her desk, as the small magic communication mirror her family had given her to stay in touch started chiming. They weren't the largest noble family, and had barely been able to send her to the academy. The mirror had been a significant investment, which was why she hadn't broken it.

Both she and her room had what certain Monks might call a 'goth vibe', and the finely crafted bronze mirror clashed with it. Hard. But keeping it with her books at least kept it out of sight, and made it look like she studied far more than she did. She glanced at the clock, confirmed her roommates would still be in class for a while, and answered.

"Hi, mother. How is everyone?"

"Excited! We heard you're in the Ternion Tournament! They just posted the brackets on some new magitech screen in the shopping district, on that big restaurant, the one that sells the Pizza. Who's this Drake Long that's fighting your entire year?"

"Oh…y'know, just the Hero that apparently led that Wallow Dungeon Raid. Nobody important." She shook her head at her mother.




"Well how am I supposed to know!? It's not like he's been immortalized in song!" Tisara just crossed her arms and stared at her mother. The older woman pinched her brow. "He's been immortalized in song, hasn't he."

Tisara nodded, and smirked. "He's the one behind the Pizza revolution too. Seems like you guys missed the Everfeast."

Her mother nodded. "Your Father and I were working, and so were your siblings. Money has been…tight, after negotiating your tuition with the main branch of the family. But we'll survive. The prize money from the Ternion Tournament is a lot right? Any chance you'll win?"

Tisara chuckled. "None, whatsoever. I'm just hoping to gain a level or two without risking my life. Drake Long will probably knock me out immediately."

Her mother's eyes turned sly. "He's a Hero right? Handsome? Is there any way you could get him to…?"

Tisara sighed. "No…Princess Valcrest snared him before anyone else had the chance. Apparently it's a whole…epic…monogamous…romance."




"That's okay dear, I'm sure you'll find someone worthy. Do you remember what I told you when you left?"

Tisara gave her a humorless smile. "I try to forget, every single day."

Her mother continued, despite her daughter's sass, "I don't care who you marry, so long as they're rich."

Tisara sighed. "Y'know, sometimes I wish you were like those Bigoted noble parents…"

Her mother chuckled. "No…you don't. Your grandmother would've beaten you by now." Tisara gave her a look, and her mother chuckled. "Don't worry, I was a good girl. As far as she knew. But your Uncles…" She whistled. "They earned it, several times with their antics."

"I'll have to ask them about it when I see them. My match is first Mother, I need to get going."

"Good luck dear! We love you!" She heard a rumble from her father's deeper voice in the background, and assumed he'd said the same thing. She repeated the words, and then departed for the field.




Within ten minutes, she was facing down the handsome Monk Hero, who arrived at the last minute, and seemed tired. But he still smirked at her, as a message popped up in her peripheral vision. She opened the message, eyes widening as she saw who'd sent it. It said the following.

Hello there. I'm too high level to have a fair fight with you, so if you're up for it, I'd like to invite you to my party, so you can take advantage of both Experience Buffs, and level up even further. Just shout 'I accept', and I'll invite you. If you decline, I'll just Duel you normally.

Thank you for reading,

Drake Long​

She looked up, missing whatever the ref said, but Drake's voice carried louder, and his Charisma was probably higher. "These matches where I'm massively higher level than my peers…will act as a chance for each of you to prove you can make it, in my Raiding Party. This is your recruitment interview! So show me your best!"

The referee looked confused, but Tisara was smirking darkly. "Go easy on her, Black." Drake said, as he manifested a clone, and the black cloaked Drake nodded, before stepping towards the Dark Knight. Tisara took her stance, activated her damage reduction tanking aura, and charged forward. Only to slide to a stop as the ref blew their whistle.

"Drake Long! You were just told of the restriction on your Magic Item. Recall the clone, or be disqualified!" The boos drowned the poor ref out, but Drake held up his hands.

"People, people! Please! Our referee is just doing their job. But, sir, you told me that only one of me should be fighting. And you never said I couldn't use the item, just that it was restricted."




The referee paused, as the crowd murmured angrily, but eventually he nodded. "My apologies. You are following the rules as written. Please continue."

With that, black cloak began essentially boxing with a greatsword, as Tisara did her best to keep up with the fast physical striker. Drake could see she was tiring quickly though. Mentally, Drake instructed black cloak to be less competent, attack slower, take more hits, etcetera.

Almost immediately, he saw her experience gain dramatically increase. The crowd watched in disbelief, as even at thirty five, leveling this fast was unheard of. As Tisara managed to strike down black cloak, purple was there next, to take his place. The Dark Knight didn't even pause, she just kept swinging, and Drake watched her in turn, her skills, when she used them, what they did, etcetera. This would determine who he invited, but so far, it seemed Tisara understood her rotation and could competently manage her cooldowns.




Tisara didn't notice at first, but as she gained experience, her focus tunneled, and the bodily high from dinging, and then continuing to gain experience at a ridiculous rate, was seriously hyping her up. She took less time to finish purple as she used her damaging class skills to wreathe her blade in magic, and as she did, she dinged again, the 'kill' giving her a quarter of what actually beating Drake would. This brought her to thirty seven and a half. The crowd cheered, while many of the older spectators, teachers and alumni alike, murmured quietly to each other.

Over the next five minutes, she took out two more clones, and managed to hit forty. At that point, the ref announced the one minute warning, and Drake stepped onto the field. "You've gained quite a lot of experience. Ready for the real thing?" He called to Tisara.

"Bring it!" She answered, charging forward.

The Monk became a blur, and Tisara's eyes bulged as Drake hammered the center of her bodily energy, right in the stomach, not with a fist, but only two fingers. It felt like his fist, though. The next thing she knew, she couldn't breathe for a few seconds, and was on the ground, disarmed and disoriented.




She sat up slowly just in time to process the referee's words. "…goes to Drake Long!"

As she looked up, the handsome Monk was already there, offering her a hand up. His punch had knocked both the air and adrenaline from her, leaving her drained, so she took the hand and managed to stand, even though her armor felt even heavier than usual.

"Are you alright?" He asked

Tisara nodded sheepishly. "I thought I'd be able to take more than one hit from you, though…"

Drake chuckled. "I hit pretty hard. That's kind of what Monks do. You should visit the Tower, and pick an advanced Class."

Tisara nodded. At forty, there were now skills she was missing out on by not choosing. "I'll do that. Your Class's knight, Sethis, he chose Blood, didn't he?"

Drake nodded. From what he understood, not unlike Death Knights in World of Warcraft, Dark Knights could choose a type of magic to specialize in that affected every single one of their other skills. He wasn't privy to the whole list, as some classes were more private or obscure than others, but Blood, Frost, and Shadow magic were options he was aware of. "He's saving up for a change. His new skills are situational, and he doesn't care for them. Said he wants to go with Frost or Shadow."

"Well. If we're partying up, have him go Frost. I'm choosing Shadow." Tisara stated plainly, as she sheathed her weapon, and started walking off.

"I'll let him know." Drake answered, walking back to his part of the field.




What followed next was essentially the same series of events. He'd face one of his First Year peers, message them, they'd eagerly accept his invite, and take full advantage of the double experience buffs. Oddly enough, the Headmaster, who was among the teachers watching from their magically constructed seats floating above the field, seemed oddly pleased, which was fine by Drake. The old elf was abrasive, but he'd put up with a lot of new, rapid changes forced upon him by his Gods. Drake also suspected this lopsided bracket full of First Years was meant to level them up the whole time.

Despite their best efforts, only the tanks who'd raided the Wallow managed to survive more than a single punch from the Monk, and to their frustration, he hadn't needed many more than that to bring their health down. Ki Block was turning out to be quite a damaging skill, and with the limit on how many times he could jab his opponent's Ki points removed, and how fast his Monk fists were, he could deliver rather effective bursts of damage.

He also found he could apply Ki Block to other skills. It made Dragon Palm's stun effect last longer, and his Flurry of Blows follow up attack now did quite a lot of damage. He hadn't needed his other skills so far, as they wouldn't do much against opponents in heavy armor, and most tank classes had skills that could divert, nullify, or even absorb elemental attacks. It seemed his skills that used Ki were harder for them to block, which was useful to know. Any monsters with similar tank builds would have the same problem. Probably.




In the end, he'd chosen his ten picks for their forty man Raid Party, and according to Vincent, each of his pick's fellow party members had already expressed an interest in joining. Joining Sethis, Bjorn, the Valentis twins, Thalondor, and Orlok, was a sturdy Battle Master Half Elf named Rion Denor, whose mastery of efficient tactics and skill usage had impressed Drake more than the others. He'd also managed to KO his way through the entire rainbow of Drakes, just in time for the one minute warning. Borge, the Boarkin Guardian Fighter of Wu Kong's Class Eight also managed to impress him, though he relied a bit too much on his artifact weapon, it was easy to see why. It was incredibly versatile.

As Drake continued to One Punch Monk his way through the tanks of his year, the last two worried him. Robert Eisenmensch was exactly what Drake had expected, as he took the field. Handsome, High Human, and obscenely wealthy. The Holy Knight had to have an Alternate Job as some sort of Artificer offshoot, for as he accepted Drake's invite, the clever nepo baby announced to all watching, "I created this armor myself! It's not quite Artifact Tier yet…but it is powerful! More than enough for a Raid."

Robert hit a metallic sphere on his chest, and Drake smirked as it started glowing bright blue with energy his eyes told him was just electricity. Red and gold heavy armor spread out to cover his body, shielding him in what was, to Drake's eyes, a passable recreation of the Iron Man suit in the style of Arcadia's knight armor. After punching so many tanks, Drake was starting to realize they all shared a similar style, one he'd noted that the Triarchy's military also wore, albeit in different colors.

The armor lit up with magic as it powered on, and as the helmet encased his face, two light blue eyes burned to life on the golden faceplate. He took a fighting stance, opened his palms, and began charging them with what Drake saw was an elegant blend of magitech, and magic circles designed to, if he understood what he was seeing, enhance Robert's skills.

Drake barely noticed the ref shout to start the match, and it was only once Eisenmensch fired off an all too familiar energy pulse from his palms that Drake grinned, and dodged with a swirling step. He knew just from proximity that there was too much heat and power in those blasts to deflect them by hand. It was a good thing his gauntlets could strike targets at a distance. Yet, as Robert continued to fire focused magic pulses, Drake found his gauntlets were still taking electrical damage, which surged into black cloak, and KO'd him quickly.

Purple Drake changed tactics, matching the barrage with Ki Blasts, and that finally made the knight cease his barrage. It had taken him two seconds to determine Drake could fire his blasts longer than he could. Thus, he switched to melee, and though Drake really should've expected it, he was still caught off guard as Eisenmensch rocketed forward with blasts from his boots, and the magic enchanting his fist armor activated, rapidly and significantly increasing their melee damage. Drake now understood why he had no weapon. His fists were the weapon.




"Nice fists…" Purple grunted in pain, as he caught them on his gauntlets, and began taking damage from the rapidly heating metal. "Seems I'm starting a trend…"

Robert quipped right back. "I saw you fighting in the Wallow…I was halfway through making a sword, when I realized…I could save a lot of energy, time, and materials by just punching!" He broke the grapple, struck again, but once again, purple cloak caught the fists. "I was also able to crank the damage bonus higher than a sword could withstand! Like this!" The gauntlets flared with magic again, light blue and rapidly, they lit up the area, and blew away purple cloak Drake in the same move.

Robert managed to punch all the way to red, by the time the one minute warning hit. Despite his armor, Drake had been hammering him through his clones throughout the fight too. Eisenmensch learned in those last few seconds the same thing that Drake had. Just being able to perceive one's opponent moving faster, didn't mean you could block them. Two Ki Block strikes to his abdomen and faceplate sent the Holy Knight onto his ass.

Drake, however, was grinning wide. Robert clearly worshiped Galdurath, instead of Laurelin, but it seemed the God of Knowledge's holy followers were still every bit as potent as his wife's.

​

His final tanky opponent was Varian Rynn, and as he strode onto the field, Drake noted a few changes since their Wallow raid. He was no longer sword and board, but rather had become a Dual Weapon Fighter, who apparently still possessed tank skills, likely by way of skill tomes. The system, and the academy, still classified him as a tank. Warriors were one of the oldest classes, with the most branches, so Drake wasn't entirely surprised that someone as rich as Varian had been able to change his class, and afford the tanking skill tomes needed to still keep his role in his party.

Varian raised one of his new swords, an Artifact tier weapon he'd gotten from the Wallow's final chest, towards Drake. Apparently, and unsurprisingly, practicing with it had led to its current dual-sword form. "I don't need your E.X.P. rainbow. Fight me properly, Monk Hero!"

Drake winced. Varian was over seventy after the raid, but he'd hoped he'd gain at least one level. "That's a lot of experience to miss out on…are you sure, Varian?"

The heavy armored warrior roared, and charged towards him, swords drawn. So Drake obliged him.




With fighters like Varian, even his defensive Monk skills would be tested. Drake was also much more aware of just how squishy he was. The goblins had never really managed to land enough hits to highlight that weakness, but facing his peers, competent opponents all of them, had made him realize through his images that he might be more durable, but his Health Points were not. He set blue cloak where he'd been standing to just chill there and look pretty with his Waterbending aura active, while Drake closed the distance with Varian.

They were a blur of limbs, and Drake winced as the swords easily cut into him. Their clash was brief, but bloody, but Drake gave as good as he got. He also decided distance was the smart play. He summoned a Dragon Pillar between him and Varian and the massive eruption of stone and molten stone damaged the tanky fighter quite badly, then, Drake sent a stream of water pulled from the air around them into the newly raised magma spewing pillar. Steam filled the air, and though Varian leapt straight into the cooled pillar, shattering it and ending the steam, Drake had already expanded it to cut off his sight.

Between the Waterbending Aura and his Life Giving Fist, Drake hit Varian through the steam enough to recover quite a lot of health. Then, he gained more distance, just as the warrior decided to spin in place, using his Whirlwind skill to dissipate the steam cloud. He looked up to see Drake floating in the air, green Ki Lightning dancing around his body as he guided it, and then struck Varian.

To his credit, the warrior sliced at the lightning, but Drake was in full control of it. It coiled around his weapon, straight into his armor, where it effectively electrocuted Varian where he stood, both stunning and damaging him. The heavy mithril plated High Human fell to a knee, smoking, and unarmed as the referee called the match.




Once Varian was healed, he walked off without a word to the victorious, but tiring Monk. Everything his images felt, he eventually did too. So far though, getting bodied by Rion's Battle Master skills had hurt more than Eisenmensch's fists or Varian's swords.

With the tank portion of his ridiculous gauntlet now over, Drake wondered which of the damaging classes he'd face first. Healers rarely participated in tournaments like this, both because they lacked enough attack power to win, and on principle. It was universally agreed upon that their role was to heal the fighters, and keep everyone alive. Instructor Hollowbranch was currently in charge of this, though Drake spied several First Year healers helping her out, Rose among them.

"Drake Long's next opponent will be the current lowest ranked damage dealer in Year One! Wu Kong, please report to the field!"

Drake looked over, as his disciple flipped onto the field from the stands to applause. Florian's song had made him an overnight school celebrity, and of course, once they were both on the field, the crowd started singing the chorus to The Monk and the Monkey, and how they smelled kinda funky.




The cocky monkey grinned at Drake. "You look tired, Master." He cracked his knuckles.

Drake smirked. "Not too tired for you, Wu Kong." He fell into his Dragon Stance, and gestured for the Siminid to bring it, while simultaneously inviting Wu Kong to his party.

"I know how your Item works!" Wu Kong declared. "All I have to do is smash the rainbow, and you, and then I'll be the Monk advancing!"

Drake gave his Disciple a wide smirk. "I've been taking it easy on you, Monkey…but no more."

And with two Steps of the Wind, the Monks leapt into combat.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 28: The Monk and the Monkey


Galdurian Arc Warden Academy Dueling Grounds - Primus​

While it appeared both Monks had leapt into combat, Drake had actually jumped backwards, off the field, leaving Wu Kong to stop short before him and squint in confusion, right as black cloaked Drake popped out of stealth with a brutal uppercut to the Siminid's jaw.

To his credit, the monkey leaned into it, backflipping and landing on his feet, just in time to catch a Flurry of Blows from his Master. To an average observer, the Monks seemed matched, but to those who could see their lightning fast strikes, it was clear that Wu Kong was doing all he could just to parry. Trying to gain ground, Wu Kong shifted to Firebending Stance, a skill he'd gained as a Burning Soul Monk with a Path of the Elements Monk for a teacher.

Of course, Drake also knew firebending, and the addition of fire to their fight was neither unexpected nor unwelcome. The crowd roared as flames erupted from the Monks, ironically, right as the crowd got to the 'burning bright for all to see' part of The Monk and the Monkey.




Then, suddenly, an explosion of flame and a burning roundhouse kick, caught on the Siminid's palms, sent him sliding across the field, but his bare ape feet managed to keep him upright and balanced. "You know, Wu Kong," Drake started, and the monkey tensed. He hated when his Master started monologuing. It always preceded a big attack. "There is an aspect of Firebending I've yet to teach you."

Lightning started crawling up Drake's body in arcs of green Ki powered electricity. The spectators who'd seen him duel Skalos whooped excitedly. The black-cloaked Monk smirked at the monkey. "Dodge."

With a thunderous crack, a bolt of Ki lightning surged towards Wu Kong, who while panicked slightly at the shift, had seen this before, in their duels in the Leisure Sphere. The Siminid grinned, as he understood Drake's game. This was all for the crowd. He probably wanted to level him up, and simultaneously get people spreading even more rumors about their strange, new class.

Wu Kong kept his head, and swirled out of the bolt's path. Drake guided it harmlessly into the dirt with an explosion behind Wu Kong that drew more cheers. "Your aim needs work, Master!" Wu Kong taunted, "Perhaps you need a larger target?" The monkey turned around then, and started jiggling his ape posterior in Drake's direction. Wu Kong's fans ate it up.




Drake responded with lightning, and with a comical yelp, Wu Kong leapt twenty feet in the air, assisted by his Nimbus. He floated on the cloud, gripping his tail gingerly as he blew out the flames on the tip of his tail, sparked by Drake's precise control of the lightning.

It was Drake's turn to taunt him. "Seems like my aim is…on point, Disciple. But weren't you going to smash through all my clones, and then beat me? You're running out of time." By this point, three minutes had passed.

Wu Kong nodded, taking his meaning. He had to go all out, or he would lose the chance for experience. Plus, Drake had had to set up the crowd to believe that Wu Kong could almost surpass his master thanks to his training and class, despite the gulf in their skill and levels.




Wu Kong breathed deep, and then roared, activating the Rage of the Monkey King, and immediately followed that with a Berserker Rage, which extended the duration of his rage-based stance to a full minute, at the price of leaving him exhausted afterwards. Each of his hits did critical damage in this state, and that was what he was after. Wu Kong became a crimson blur as he rocketed towards black cloaked Drake, who blocked his strike, but still took enough damage to pop. Next came purple, and so on.

One on one, at least in this state, the Siminid Monk could keep up with Drake's clones, who were now giving the same subtle lack of effort they had to the other duelists. And like the other duelists, his level grew quickly, from thirty to thirty five. In one minute, Wu Kong managed to smash his way to red cloaked Drake, the last one before white, and that was where Drake made an effort again.

The crowd only saw two crimson blurs, as they fought in the air almost as often as they did on the ground, but eventually, Wu Kong ran out of steam. Another more successful roundhouse kick to the monkey's jaw sent him slamming back into the field, as Drake floated above him, and slowly, dramatically, and purely for effect, brought both of his hands before him, moving them in a circular pattern that Earthlings would recognize as a Yin Yang pattern, before aligning them by his waist, one atop the other, as he charged up a Ki Blast.

He didn't need to shout the name of the skill, he never had, but it helped him focus, and ticked his nerd box. It would also give his Disciple a chance to counter, and perhaps future opponents would mistakenly assume he needed to shout to use the skill.

"Kaaaaa!"




Wu Kong's eyes widened. He was quite familiar with what came next, and just how sharply Drake could turn the beam. There was a flaw in the Kamehameha Wave though, one Wu Kong had found through desperation.

"Maaaaaaaay!"

Wu Kong grimaced. Usually, he'd dodged this with his rage stance, but that was now spent, and though he could technically activate the Rage again, any critical hits would do enough damage to him to end his match prematurely. And due to recent life events, Wu Kong had gained a new determination to never finish prematurely.

"Haaaaaaaa!"

He shot into the air with the Nimbus, gaining height. He'd have to sacrifice his movement and reaction at the last possible second, but he did have one skill left that could take out the crimson cloaked Monk.

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaay!"




As Drake reached the threshold for the stronger Ki Blast, several things happened at once.

"HAAAAAA!" Roared through the stadium, as the destructive Ki beam surged towards Wu Kong, who dodged it by charging into the attack. Usually, Drake responded to this by making the beam even wider, but the monkey was betting on his Master not wanting to reveal that versatility this early.

His gambit paid off, as red Drake smirked, seeing his Disciple's ploy. Wu Kong dodged the beam in the air by inches as it cut across the sky, into the clouds, aimed high enough to not accidentally clip one of Primus's skyscraping towers as it surged through Arcadia's atmosphere.

"Buuurning…FINGERRRR!" Wu Kong shouted out his own skill, as he reached Drake's crimson robe, and slammed his palm into his chest. "HEAT END!"




Drake's clone exploded in powerful flames, as Wu Kong spent one of three charges of his Burning Soul skill to take him out. The crowd erupted into cheers, and a very tired Monkey King floated down to the field with the help of the Nimbus wisps around his ankles. They formed into the full cloud, as the cheering died down, in response to what the original Drake was doing.

Slow, loud claps echoed across the field as he stepped onto it. "One minute warning!" The referee shouted, and Drake nodded at him in acknowledgement.

"Not bad, Disciple. Unfortunately, you needed all three of those to get through my Health Points." Drake slid his hands into the sizable yet subtle pockets of his robe as he stepped onto the field.

Wu Kong grinned as his fur bristled. "Are you saying I can't take you down?"

Drake smirked nonchalantly as he shamelessly channeled Champion Lance. "I'm saying…your Tournament Challenge ends with me, Wu Kong!" He let the air around him make his robe flare dramatically, and then, he vanished.




Wu Kong naturally recognized this, too. Usually, Drake entering Stealth meant the final blow was coming. Much like the Kamehameha, Wu Kong had learned, or more accurately guessed, how to stop him when in stealth. Every time Drake struck from being hidden, it was at his head or abdomen, usually with the intent of knocking the air out of his lungs. He seemed to like avoiding shots to the head, when possible.

Wu Kong focused his mind, and breathed, looking for any sign of Drake. Shifting dirt. A slight crunch. Anything that would give him away. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out his staff. For some reason, at Drake's insistence, the Monk Hero had insisted on upgrading it with very specific upgrades, and had made it able to shrink, or grow to almost absurd lengths, reinforced its durability with Orichalcum, and turned it red.

For his part, Drake was impressed. Wu Kong was using his stance to react rapidly to wherever Drake attacked him from. With the crimson, gold-capped Power Pole, the monkey had every direction covered. But Drake knew how to unbalance him, and Step of the Wind was off cooldown again.




Wu Kong suddenly yelped, and spun, smashing his staff through the air behind him, where he'd felt Drake yank on his tail. Since it wasn't an attack, Stealth did not fade, but that quick turn and strike left his back wide open. Wu Kong went rigid, as Drake reappeared, and applied a Ki Block to the bundle on nerves in his neck, that was also a nexus of his body's inner Ki.

In technical terms, he'd empowered a Dragon Palm with Ki Block, and the resulting block would, he had discovered with some practice on low level and vaguely humanoid monsters, result in what Drake was calling a Vulcan Nerve Pinch. Unfortunately, this time, the system did not unlock a new skill with that name as it had for the Kamehameha Wave.

Unceremoniously, and somewhat anticlimactically, Wu Kong collapsed to the ground, tongue lolling. The referee called it when Wu Kong did not rise again. "The victory goes to Drake Long!" Wu Kong's fans visibly deflated, and Drake watched quietly as he took in who seemed to be rooting for him. His Disciple had a loyal, growing fan base, but it seemed like most of the student body was hopping onto the Drake Long bandwagon.

Drake took his place just outside the field again, and waited, glancing at the bracket board floating magically above the stands for all to see. Thankfully, someone had the wherewithal to update, and shrink, the comically lopsided bracket with each of Drake's victories. There was a long list of names left to level and punch through, and apparently the plan was to see if he could make it to the actual brackets, with the older students, after essentially fighting every First Year that had wanted to participate in the Ternion Tournament.

At least these first matches were only five minutes. He'd have ten against Skalos or whoever else he faced from the upperclassmen, and against the other schools, in the proper tournament, there was no limit whatsoever.

Drake sighed quietly, and sent out the black cloaked version of himself once again, as his next opponent arrived.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 29: The One Punch Monk



First, our boy's stats, and skills, for those who may not remember them/want to reference them later.

---

Bolts of Starfire burst around a red cloaked Drake Long, as he spiraled through their booming impacts with a stupid grin on his face. His latest opponent, a young female Vireolith and Balance Druid known as Mireloth Galendil furrowed her wooden brows at the Monk Hero. He almost seemed to be… enjoying bobbing and weaving through her Starfire.

For context, Drake had always enjoyed caster Druids. Malfurion Stormrage was iconic (in the Richard Knaak trilogy, at least) and nobody could deny the stupidly useful spell list that caster Druids had access to. On Arcadia, it seemed things were much the same. Mireloth was able to fire off spells quickly, but Drake could tell just by her skill usage that she either didn't understand her rotation, or hadn't fully unlocked it yet.

As the battle progressed, and he had let his rainbow of experience pinatas detonate in bursts of his opponent's arcane magic, he could tell she'd unlocked new skills, but didn't quite yet understand how to use them. They were being flung too, and with each one, their caster gained a corresponding Buff, one that Drake's overpowered eyes could read at the speed of thought. Drake could see everything about her but her thoughts, though the more he used his eyes, the more he wondered if that was within his skill set. Perhaps if someone imagined an image, he'd be able to see it?

As he watched the Balance Druid attack, he'd determined that this system of casting was somewhat similar to the Balance Druid he was familiar with, namely, her skills seemed to require a dance back and forth between bolts of Starfire, and Nature's Wrath, and casting those attuned her to different kinds of magic, Arcane and Nature, rather than Solar or Lunar. Rather than quipping and teaching in combat, he'd instead tried something else, and had simply punched the spells she used in the wrong order into nonexistence, and dodged the ones that were correct. To her credit, she seemed to catch on quickly to what he was doing.




This was the first time most of the academy had seen him use the Dispelling Fist so obviously, and as such, the first usage caused their newly arrived from class commentator, to exclaim in disbelief.

Naturally, their commentator was Florian. Because of course it was.

Drake couldn't tell if he was official, or if he'd just enchanted his voice to project his words for the lols, and nobody had Counterspelled him yet.

"We are seeing something new today fellow students! It seems our Monk Hero has learned to literally punch through spells, and those Fists of Far Reach have turned that ability into something rather terrifying! I believe our brave Balance Druid still has a chance though folks! It's hard to see, but Miss Mireloth is finding her rhythm!" Naturally, Florian had been cheering for Drake's opponents to destroy him, and had thus far quite enjoyed seeing his images blown to pieces, vividly describing and enhancing the visuals as they happened.

Alas, their matches were not long, but Drake was satisfied that Mireloth now seemed to understand her rotation, and as the one minute mark approached, and red cloak 'accidentally' moved too slowly from the path of one of her orange Wrath bolts, Drake stepped onto the field.




Since Wu Kong's match, he'd put his hood on, and his bearing had changed on purpose. At least when the original was on the field. The other Drakes had remained friendly, charming, or taunting, when needed to motivate his opponents. The white cloak though…had very quickly become synonymous with defeat.

And Mireloth was no exception.

The Monk stepped with the wind, and appeared behind her, but the Druidess had seen that trick already. Vines shot up around him, only to then burn to ash in seconds as Drake switched to his Firebending Stance, and turned the air around him into a focused inferno. He didn't like the look of fear this display drew from the tree woman, but it would not last long.

His KO combination was simple, but very effective. A sneak attack from Stealth with his Dragon Palm, combined with his Ki Block, stunned them, and in the second after the stun landed, he layered on the Buffs, which activated at the speed of thought, and reset every time a new duel started.




The Fury of the First Dragon, which sent his opponents prone, or flying through the air, and Annihilation Aura, which while not being fully utilized in this scenario, still made his fists classified as radiant weapons.
This led to the follow up. A shift back to his Airbending Stance, and his Flurry of Blows, something that his class always followed up his initial strikes with, struck so fast, in one focused area, that it seemed like a single punch.

Multiple compressed air punches, further empowered by his rather damaging Divine Storm that went off automatically with every three hits with a radiant weapon, sent his opponents flying, didn't injure them too badly, and did enough damage to wipe out the acceptable amount of health.

To the crowd, all they saw was a white-gold blur, and then a boom, before Mireloth went soaring into the stonework of the stands. She left an impact crater, but the arena's magic and the rules of a duel kept anyone from an untimely demise. The stonework already had several such craters.

Florian's exclamations drowned out the ref calling the match. "And once more, the Monk Hero's opponent is down in just ONE PUNCH at the one minute warning! It seems like Mr. Long is making a habit of this!"
Drake purposely turned his hood towards Florian, smirked, and then flew back to his spot just off the field. Just in time for his next opponent to arrive.




What followed was exactly the same, every time. He punched through all of his fellow damage dealers in Class Seven, though both Leif and Zara had refused to accept his party invite. The experience gained for those who'd been in the Wallow raid wasn't that large anyway, even with the bonuses. Drake had also noticed that his own gains were depressingly incremental. Seventy eight to seventy nine alone felt like soloing a fresh planet in Helldivers 2, and would probably take just as long to achieve.

He still used his clones on easy mode against them both, and sure enough, once the one minute warning sounded, they slammed into the arena's back side, with a single punch. Leif had loudly proclaimed that it was multiple punches, but all anyone ever saw was a flash, and a strike.

The monotony continued for Drake as he punched his way through Class Six, Five, and Four, and many in their class had apparently signed up at the last minute once they heard about the absurd level gains. Once Rael Astorious, and upperclassman opponents were in sight, the monotony was broken. Right as he finally faced off against the highly seated, for a First Year, Rose Valcrest. It was as Rose took the field opposite him, that someone in the crowd shouted, "Look! Our Goddess approaches!"

By this point, enough rumors had circulated about Drake's initial arrival at the academy that pretty much everyone knew Laurelin apparently had a carriage pulled by pegasi. As it landed and parked at the far edge of the field's boundary, she appeared atop it with a flash of light.




"Greetings, my children." She giggled as the gathered students roared in approval. After being here for several months, Drake had slowly realized that Arcadians tended to favor their Goddess of Life more than their God of Magic. This was, as far as he could tell, mostly because Galdurath was simply a somewhat more common sight. He coordinated the Adventurer Guilds, and monitored for any large outbreaks of monsters. Adventurers got word of such outbreaks in real time, and at this point in their society, there were always people available and looking to take on such quests.

Laurelin, though…was rarely seen, and whenever she left Eldarheim, she always drew large crowds. Even now, Drake could see people, both students and citizens of Primus, wandering towards the field, drawn by that unmistakable golden radiance that was somehow also silver like light reflected off a moon.

The Goddess continued. "I was told that my Hero was Dueling today…" She glanced up at the lopsided brackets, and frowned, briefly. "If it is alright with all of you, I wish to spectate as well."

Once again, cheers erupted, and once they died down, Florian's dulcet tones cut through the din. "My Goddess!" He bowed low and with flair as she looked his way, all smiles. "Please, join me in witnessing your Hero's victories!" He gestured to what seemed to be a commentator booth that Drake was fairly sure someone had just molded into existence with magic. Up to this point, the prancing ponce had been all over the stands.

Laurelin was of course the picture of calm. "I would be honored, Florian. Thank you. Could you bring me up to speed?"




Drake made no move to start the next round, their poor ref was understandably star struck, and nobody would deny Laurelin anything she asked.

"Of course, Goddess. As you saw from the Headmaster's joke of a bracket, young Drake Long has been pitted against the entirety of his First Year peers! And so far he's…absolutely crushing them. We were just about to watch Arcadia's latest power couple go head to head, when you graced us with your presence."

Laurelin smiled coyly, as though she hadn't engineered all of this, and chosen this moment specifically to appear. "Oh my. Seems I arrived at a good time."




Before Florian could reply, the referee shouted, "Begin!"

As before, Drake launched his clones at Rose, and as before, they were taken down. It was clear neither one of them was thrilled about doing this, but the experience was nice, and Rose had to participate because of who she was.

"Another blast of holy Light reduces a Drake to dust! I don't think our maiden likes it much, though folks." Florian needlessly commentated.

Laurelin spoke then, and her voice reached her people just as easily as Florian's. "Would you enjoy seeing one you love blasted apart, by your own magic?"

"About as much as I'd enjoy taking them out with a single punch." Florian answered smoothly. "I don't envy our participants, but someone must advance! Will Drake be able to one shot his lady love? Or will Rose break his streak?"




Through their party chat, Drake spoke to Rose, as he stepped onto the field. "I love you."

She smiled slightly. "I know."

"I'm still going to end it with one punch."

Rose's smile shifted to a smirk. "You can certainly try."

Barriers of light three layers thick formed a holy bubble of nope around her. Light surged through her body, and her hair flared as she activated her own Buffs, and heal-over-time spells. She didn't really need healing, but she had items that turned excess healing power into a barrier, which in this instance, further reinforced the three she'd just cast quite significantly. Silence reigned, as all eyes were on the Monk.

For the first time, Drake didn't simply vanish. He spun, generating three bolts of Ki Lightning as he shifted stances. Rose was well aware of his skills and how they worked, and he in turn understood hers. Much like the versions of Priests he was familiar with, Light Clerics could only use so many barriers at once. Skilled healers could stack barriers before the debuff that kept them from using any more took effect, and said debuff was shorter than the duration of her shields. All a healer had to do was pay attention, and they could keep either themselves or a target of choice almost permanently protected.

For Drake, this was just a DPS check, but he had to avoid looking at Rose's face so he didn't lose his nerve.




As the lightning swirled around him, he struck suddenly. Each bolt in succession shredded her holy shields with intense plasma, and Drake swore quietly as he realized he needed a fourth to fully break the last one. Rose managed one recast, but Drake's damage simply outpaced her shields. As the fourth bolt of Ki Lightning surged into her shield, it broke, and Drake vanished and reappeared in a flash, right before her.

As they'd agreed beforehand once he demonstrated that he could in fact break her shields, she shouted, "I forfeit!" Right as his empowered punch lightly tapped her stomach.

The referee acted immediately before the crowd could start booing. "By forfeit, the winner is Drake Long!"

The crowd had a mixed reaction, but Drake was entirely focused on Rose.

"I hated having to do that…even just watching your images get killed by our classmates is…a lot. And I know you pretend not to feel it, but advanced Mirror Images do have feedback." Her ears visibly deflated, but Drake found that just made her cuter.

He tilted her chin upward with a gentle hand. "It's just a show, Rose. The pain is nothing I can't handle. You know my clones are a lot more durable, usually. You should go rest back home. I'm not even going to be fighting the proper bracket today."

"But your healing-"

Drake shook his head. "I have plenty available. Tala and Caelum seem to be just fine watching this, let them handle it. I'll need you for tomorrow."

Rose sighed, and nodded. "I…could use a break. But make sure you turn on Drone. I want to watch once I'm rested." She didn't like to admit it, but empowering her shields to that degree had drained almost all of her magic. It was something she'd never attempt in a Dungeon, but in this instance, it had served as a genuine test of damage output, and Drake had not exaggerated his numbers.




As Rose departed to mixed cheers and boos, Drake took his spot again, and the single-punch smackdown continued. His opponents were all G.o.b.l.i.n. S.l.a.y.e.r.s. at this point, but oddly enough, he found landing his KO combo still brought them below the threshold for a dueling win.

In specific terms, he did not only take them with one punch and nothing else. There was a lot of damage from Patient Defense, and elemental attacks from his clones. Bjorn especially, who healed himself by hitting things harder as a Berserker Barbarian, required quite a lot of elemental mastery to whittle down, but even the older student eventually found himself on the receiving end of Drake's fist.

As the raging bearkin, seated higher than the rest of Class Seven mostly because of his age and class, went slamming into the far wall Laurelin spoke again. Once more, all eyes turned to her.

"It seems a bit unfair, no? Fighting over twenty opponents with barely any rest?"




Before Drake could even respond, the referee called for a brief intermission. Students left to relieve themselves. Or purchase food. But Florian, of course, saw an opportunity. He literally pranced like a greek satyr over the wall and onto the field, casting a spell at Drake as he trotted over.

For his part, Drake was inclined to roll with Florian's antics. He and the Bard had bonded over lyric writing and drinks in the leisure sphere, and while Drake was still salty about his attitude during the Skalos debacle, namely for making Rose cry and immortalizing that act in song, he found he genuinely liked Florian. His tongue was sharp, but his morals were solid. Laurelin also seemed to favor the Bard, but it wasn't hard to see why. Florian could be annoying, but he also was somehow always around when music was needed to cheer someone up, or otherwise emotionally move them.

"Drake!" Florian shouted,getting the now rather sizable crowd's attention with his enhanced voice, "Would you be willing to answer a few questions for your growing fan base?"




Drake eyed Florian for a long moment as he activated Drone, who greeted him with a chirp, and then began streaming. Drake lowered his hood. "Sure Florian. Anything for the fans." As expected, his words were now also being projected.

"First things first! Do you intend to win the Ternion Tournament?" Florian asked with a flamboyant gesture to their surroundings.

"Nah…I'm just punching my classmates for fun…" Drake said with heavy sarcasm, "I'd like to see how I stack up, but no…I'd be surprised if I won. The Upper Classmen and our friends from the other schools will probably find a way to beat me. And I know my one punch streak will end eventually."

Drake was hoping, anyway. He didn't feel ready for Tharvoss monsters or raiding Golgorrath, and if he was the strongest the three largest academies on the planet had, they were in significant trouble.




"Moving on…what's up with this one punch thing, anyway? Are you making some kind of statement?"

Drake shook his head. "I didn't plan to start this, it just kinda…happened. I was honestly a bit…distracted, and initially just wanted to see how many Skills I could combo at once. Turns out I have quite a few potent combinations with my Paladin Auras."

Florian smirked, "Well, you may not know, but the Ternion Tournament is a big deal for Primus. People will be talking about your one punch streak after today. That, and the fact that you've successfully punched through most of your peers without needing much healing. You're probably going to end up with another title!"

Drake's smirk vanished, and his tone was deadpan. "I feel like I have enough of those…I don't really need-" But the fucking Bard had already pranced off back to Laurelin.

"What do you think, Goddess of Life? Shall we give him another title, to honor his strife?"

Drake just looked at Laurelin. Straight in the eye. Expressionless. Silently pleading.

The blonde Goddess chuckled, glanced downward at her long, eternally billowing pregnancy-hiding garment, and then back to Florian. "Hmm…my Monk has made a habit of taking down his opponents in one punch…" Her smirk widened as she saw Florian's reaction to her words. "Does the Academy's best Bard have any ideas?"

Florian, as she had spoken, had begun to grin wide. He had a thought. And it was so clever. So original. Simple, but powerful. Not always literal, but it didn't have to be. The stronger Drake became, the more the name would stick. "From your lips, to mine ears. I know exactly what we shall call him. Now all we need...is the right moment."

As Class One's minotaur, known as Brammoth Ironhorn, stomped onto the field Drake repeated his process. The minotaur accepted, and almost immediately, Drake realized the Fury Warrior was cutting through his clones too easily. Black, brown, and purple cloaks fell to a flurry of rapid runite axe strikes. Drake was glad the upgrades were working correctly. Much like the World of Warcraft version of a Fury Warrior, his damage was unrelenting and fast. But the images did their job.

One managed to stun him before lingering bleed effects made the image shatter, another laid an elemental beat down on the minotaur's midsection, though even Drake's stone fists did little against Bram's chiseled abdominals. For his part, Florian was suspiciously quiet, but the buzz around a new title for his newest muse was already moving through the crowd.

Drake, meanwhile, was having problems. Brammoth was as thicc as any tank specialization, and hit much harder. By the time red cloak was bisected, the moving mountain of muscle was barely at the threshold Drake needed for a single hit.




Bram roared to the sky, and rolled his axes in his surprisingly dexterous grip. "Finally! I have now cut down your clones in record time…and all will know that Brammoth Ironhorn broke your streak! You are impressive, Monk! But play time has ended!" Drake just nodded to himself, as Bram empowered his attacks further with a furious roar, and charged.

The minotaur had mentioned not being able to best Rael Astorius. He bragged, often, even out of context, that he had proven to be stronger than every other First Year, except Rael. Drake wasn't even surprised. Fury Warriors were overpowered in WoW too. But they had holes in their defense, and thankfully, it seemed Arcadia's more realistic version couldn't just heal all wounds by hitting things harder. That ability seemed to belong exclusively to Berserkers like Bjorn, and now Monks as well, though Wu Kong had yet to learn the Life Giving Fist.

White cloaked and expressionless, Drake stepped onto the field to cheers. In his head, he paused, almost not receiving Florian's Message spell as the thunder of Bram's hooves came closer.
"Give me a signal before you one-punch him, if you would. It'll really sell the moment!"

Drake frowned slightly, as he realized he didn't actually know if he could reply to Arcadia's version of a Message spell. It was short range, low level, and exactly the kind of utility that Bards were known to possess. He had zero doubt Florian loved abusing it, but in this instance, Drake would indulge him.




Drake stepped to one side as the twin axes cut through the space he'd just occupied. He bent backwards, now thankful that he'd tested his new body's flexibility with beach limbo. He backflipped away from the swirling blades of death, but the relentless Warrior was not done. He just kept attacking, that was all Bram knew, and Drake could guess, all he'd ever needed to do. There was, however, a brief window where the Fury Warrior, if they consistently failed to hit and build rage, had all their skills on cooldown at once.

And as a final powerful blow in Brammoth's rotation came down on Drake, only for him to fly up and away from it, that window opened. A flurry of Ki Blasts rained down on the Warrior, and the crowd cheered. They knew what was coming. Drake changed up his rotation this time. As the blasts of focused energy briefly threw off Bram, Drake landed hard on the field, and used Dragon's Pillar. The earth surged and roared, spewing fire and molten stone, and even the mighty Ironhorn couldn't faceroll a mini volcano.

He began glowing with a deep red energy, as he used the rage built up from taking that much damage to rapidly heal. That too, Drake wanted on cooldown. Drake continued to dodge Bram's strikes as he readied Assassinate for the end of the minotaur's healing. As the glow faded, Bram surged into a fresh flurry of his basic, and most quickly recharged attack skills, but it was already too late. Drake was a blinding white blur, and he flashed up, and then down the minotaur's massive frame spinning like a bladed Beyblade, landing behind his opponent as Assassinate hit.




Though it wasn't fatal, and wouldn't be, in a duel, it was the most damaging attack Drake had left to keep his one punch streak going. It also brought Bram well down below the threshold, and his healing had just been spent. Drake looked up at Florian after landing, and nodded. The Bard was ready and waiting, as was the Goddess, who was wearing a fake smile as she watched the duel. He knew she'd prefer if they didn't fight, but she'd been forced to accept long ago that sentients needed an outlet for their darker impulses, and the method to control them had been tournaments of skill that promoted friendship, and camaraderie.

"Here it comes, folks! It took a bit more effort to whittle down the mountain that is Brammoth Ironhorn, but it seems the time has now come…"

Sure enough, once again Drake vanished in a flash, and though Bram flailed wildly, trying to hit him or knock him away, Drake dodged, and then struck through the flailing axes. One of them bit into his shoulder as he landed the strike, but not even that sharp pain could stop him from using the skills he'd already activated. He'd been stabbed enough by this point not to flinch or lose focus, but it still hurt quite badly. Especially as the axe was ripped out, and Brammoth Ironhorn was sent flying, creating the largest depression yet in the stonework of the arena.

As he had before, as the dueling sigil flashed in victory over the back of Drake's hand, he held it up to show the ref, and the crowd. Florian's voice cut through the air as the dust settled.

"Arcadia, give it up for the One Punch Monk!"




The now quite large crowd roared in approval, quickly devolving into chants of 'One Punch'. Drake just chuckled quietly. Of course they bestowed a title right as he hit the point where one-shotting his opponents became infinitely harder.

Rael Astorius took his starting position with a flash of cerulean magic, and no preamble. Drake shot him an invite, and he accepted. As the ref signaled for them to begin, Rael spoke over the party chat, and directly to Drake.

"I think I knew…even in the Wallow…but especially after that Malblin Tyrant trapped you. You struck it down despite how scared you were. You had a mind to rival Vincent Kei. And everything you've done since has only confirmed that you're the Hero of our Age. My party and I will follow you to glory. Or death. Whichever we find first."

The white cloaked Drake smiled. "I will do everything within my considerable power to keep you all from death. That's my priority. Not glory. Not even clearing Dungeons. Everyone eats, everyone lives. Those are the only rules I have for the Raid so far."

Rael smiled back. "Those might be the only two you'd need. Now then…just because you're our Raid Leader doesn't mean I'm going to hold back against you."




Drake had to blink, at being labeled that way. His gamer brain reverted to Earth context for a second. He'd never been very social, despite the massively multiplayer aspect of an online RPG. Leading a raid, in any of the various worlds he'd dipped his toe in/saved from certain doom had seemed like a lot of effort. With about two hundred more intelligence it was turning out to be a lot easier than he'd previously assumed.
"Let's give the good people a show."

Diamond shaped shards of ice magic formed rapidly in a massive swarm around Rael, and then shot towards black cloaked Drake.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 30: Top of the Class
​

The field of the Galdurian Arc Warden Academy's arena shuddered as Rael Astorius, the strongest First Year in the same class as Laurelin's chosen Hero, Drake Long, brought another Meteor down on his opponent.

Drake was down to his orange cloak now, but Rael had also taken damage, with neither one of them taking a definitive lead. Rael's spells were just too absurdly powerful, and Drake simply didn't have enough armor or damage mitigation to tank multiple spells. He'd had a choice; cheese the duel and punch Rael's spells into nonexistence as he formed them, forcing him to fight by infusing his sword with elemental magic, or redirecting said elements to be his own weapons.

Tired of having Meteors dropped on him, and guessing Rael could summon at least a few more with the absurdly overpowered loot he'd received from the Wallow a la Falkor, twice, the Monk decided to shamelessly riff off another of his home planet's cultural icons, technically, two at once. The woman who'd, as far as Drake knew, invented this trick, and her Avatar apprentice, who'd later used it to good effect in his final showdown.




Instead of punching the Meteor or Earthbending it towards Rael, a tactic that he had discovered did not work, as the caster had far more control over the ball of rock than Drake could fight, the Monk shot up towards the attack, stunning everyone. "It seems like our One Punch Monk may be tiring of his orange cloak folks! Is this a suicide, or some sort of gambit!?"

Florian, naturally, was still hyping up the crowd almost blow by blow, and Drake was just mostly tuning him out at this point. He dove into the Meteor, and while the heat did minor damage, it seemed diving into it didn't activate it early by making it explode, which was what Rael had done with his second ball of rock, when Drake had tried jumping over it.

Expecting a detonation again, Drake worked quickly, bending and compressing the heated stone to his will, and forming it around his body. He needed his joints uncovered, but the end result was a full set of stone armor condensed from a Meteor spell before Rael had time to make it detonate with an incantation.

​

Rael stared up in disbelief, his incantation fading, at the now very much armored Monk, eyes widening as Drake rotated in the air, and propelled himself towards Rael. The bottom of his cloak was still visible and uncovered, but the rest of him was a still-smoldering stone humanoid turned bullet as he fully intended to ram the Sword Mage.

Flames licked up Rael's longsword, burning blue as they settled on the magical blade. A wave of concussive force rocked the stands as the Monk's stone armored fist locked with the burning blade, with neither side giving an inch, or having a visible advantage. Rael had another spell that had thus far deterred Drake from melee with him. Whether it was an item, or armor/weapon bonus, Drake did not know, but it caused the Sword Mage to be constantly orbited by three spheres of Ball Lightning like he was Kael'thas Sunstrider or something. They became visible and invisible at will, even to Drake's eyes, which confirmed they simply weren't active until Rael made them activate. At which point they homed in on the unfortunate melee attacker, and detonated for significant damage.

The thing about Meteors though, which Drake had discovered after experiencing and being so close to so many, was that however they were actually made with magic, they always contained the same rare, conductive metals that actual meteors and smaller space rocks tended to have. Using more layers of his armor than he would've liked, Drake quickly spun away, catching the Ball Lightning between a quickly bended cage of the more magnetized parts of the former Meteor. Each ball slammed into the cage, but stayed stationary as the latent electromagnetic forces kept the lightning caged, and the stone oscillated at the same natural frequency as the lightning. Unceremoniously, and with disturbing ease, Drake kicked the lightning cage up and away into the atmosphere, before spinning into a rock covered roundhouse aimed for Rael's skull.




After staring once again in disbelief as his shielding balls were forced to stay active, wouldn't dispel, and were apparently leaving planetary orbit, Rael barely caught the powerful roundhouse kick with his blade, and having had no time to brace, this time the Monk's strike sent him rolling. Rael knew what came next, though. Whenever he had his opponents on the earth, and stunned, Drake usually used their proximity to the earth as his weapon.

Sure enough, rock and stone started to rumble beneath him, seemingly presaging the Monk's aptly named Dragon's Pillar, and Rael panicked, deciding to burn one of his movement spells to escape. Or at least, he tried, which was what Drake had wanted. Looking down, he found his feet covered in ice. "How the fuck-" Rael snarled, before he remembered the crowd could hear him.

Drake Long answered his question for him as he stomped closer in his smoldering stone armor, the air around him still shimmering with heat the Monk was probably fueling himself, by this point. "I've seen your movement spells before. Misty Step, right? Classic. Useful. But what is mist, but water layered through the air?" The mist in question typically managed to move whatever was in it, in this case the caster's feet, somewhere else, quickly, and as it was the mist that moved him. Druids had a spell that operated on the same idea, but went further, turning entire bodies into mist, for expedited travel. Drake had bet that if Rael's mist became ice, it would stay quite stationary, despite being magic.

Rael just stared at the Monk in disbelief. "You…froze my Misty Step!? Gah, why won't this break!?"

Drake nodded, still slowly approaching, as he realized armor was actually quite heavy, especially when made of condensed space rock. "Let me help you with that."




A wall of wind hit Rael first, then, it became a firestorm. The ice melted, but as soon as it did, Rael went flying as he vastly overestimated the power Drake had put into the wind aspect of the attack. He managed to slam his sword into the ground, and warped the earth around it to keep it in place.

He remembered looking up, right as Drake hit him with an uppercut to the jaw that sent him rotating. When he stabilized himself in the air, it was just in time for Drake's Ki beam to smash him hard enough into the stone to black out for a second. The crowd was roaring, Florian was ranting about a 'First Year upset', and that, for reasons Rael would have to ponder later, pissed him off.

"I'm not done yet…!" He shouted, or tried to, as he shakily stood. The orange cloaked Monk turned, and fell back into his stance as he realized his opponent was still up. Magic flared around Rael, and floating in the air around Drake, four symbols appeared within complex magic circles.




His eyes narrowed as Rael empowered each circle with a perfectly balanced split of what had to be all his remaining magic. This was his Limit Break. His ultimate spell. Orange cloak wouldn't survive it. So Drake tested its limits. He shot into the air, and the circles followed him, though Rael seemed to be controlling them. Keeping up with his speed was evidently difficult, which meant this was the kind of attack that needed a stationary target.

The circles blocked him in as they hummed with power, and like trying to dodge an ultimate move in Super Smash, Drake's clone was just slightly too slow, and got caught in the center of the attack. The circles surged as pure magic, aspected to the four main elements of air, water, earth, and fire surged up and around orange, and then he was gone.

Forgoing red cloak, the original Drake stepped onto the field, hood raised. He was impressed. He couldn't have bended that attack even if he'd wanted to. While manipulating the elements was easier now, he had yet to master Energybending as a concept. Assuming it even existed. But knowing his Goddess, it probably did. He made a note to meditate on it later.




Rael stood slowly, the earth falling from around his sword. He was out of mana, and his health was all but at the threshold. As Drake approached, Rael shoved something in his mouth, and Drake grimaced. Pretty much every variation of mage could conjure food, though magically conjured food did little to satisfy appetite or provide caloric intake, it did restore magic. As such, it had changed over time to be small, easily packed once conjured, and available for a quick refill of magic in a desperate situation. Drake saw enough magic for Rael to use his elemental sword coating skill, and that was what he charged with. Azure flames twisted up the blade as he leapt and brought it down on Drake.

As he'd approached, Drake realized that empowerment could cut through his stone armor. It was practically plasma. He bended his armor into a large, round, thick shield that Rael's sword embedded deep into. Rael pressed through with all his strength, forcing the stone to break apart, and Drake was forced to dodge with his airbending as the fiery sword haphazardly, but rapidly, sliced through the air, which almost made it harder to dodge than Rael's practiced strikes. With a shriek of metal, Drake was eventually forced to catch the burning blade with his gauntlet's Hidden Blades, which he then empowered with his firebending, mimicking what Rael had done to his. Not because they couldn't handle the heat, but for aesthetic, and the damage bonus from his fire stance.

The lock was brief, and Rael, true to his word, wasn't done. "Magic Evocation!" With his sword briefly raised to the sky, a swirling torrent of magic filled Rael, and the flames on his blade flared wildly, then condensed. His magic was burning as fast as it filled, and Drake recognized the skill. Warcraft Mages had something similar, but it seemed Rael could attack while he recharged himself with what was probably a single encounter or daily use skill. As they continued to clash, it was clear to Drake that Rael was the better weapon master. But the Monk hadn't just fought through almost the entire rainbow's worth of other Raels. Nor had he unleashed anything approaching that Limit Break spell.




Eventually, Rael's strikes lost all of their gas, and Drake locked his sword in an overhead slash, while he countered on his opponent's now open midsection with his 'one' punch combo. Like the others, Rael Astorius went sailing into the stonework, and secured the Monk's status. And his Class's. There was no way they'd be seven anymore.

The Evocation ended, Rael's magic depleted again as his sword literally burned through it, and the referee called the match.

Florian's voice rang out after their ref's. "Ladies and gentlefolks! Our new Strongest First Year! It's Drake Loooong!"

The crowd erupted as Drake raised his fist, and it was a crowd, now. Word of Laurelin's presence had spread like wildfire and campus security couldn't legally stop 'pilgrims' wanting to see her, apparently. Someone, Vincent and Falkor probably, had also set up his TV again on the side of the boy's dormitory, and Drone had continued recording dutifully.

Amidst all the cheers, Laurelin's voice cut through the din, and flowed into his mind. "You have to equip titles, you know, Hero. On your Status…they can give all kinds of bonuses."

Drake was already looking. He replied mentally, "Oh boy. Am I going to get even more brokenly overpowered from this?"

Laurelin giggled in his skull. "It's not a question of whether or not you're overpowered, Drake. It's a question of if you're overpowered enough to face my son, and live... And we are still quite far from that. When that time does come, you will need every single trick and ability you can use. And even then…death is all but certain."




He answered her even as his brain processed the specifics of his new title. "But you've saved me from death before. And Arcadia's souls seem to be in a closed loop of some sort. I'll still be around. In some form."

He felt the Goddess nod. "It is a… 'loop' you are now a part of. I won't be able to resurrect you into this same body…probably. Nobody has ever attempted it, and Galdurath claims it would stress the system too much." Drake nodded to himself, remembering his history lessons. Very rarely did classes with what his gamer brain labeled 'resurrection spells' actually use them. The cost of the components, or equivalent amount of Gil, was absurd, and had likely changed in the modern era, and the person in question had to be recently dead, and intact. The only actual full on resurrection that had occurred, had done so after the Hero in question had been literally ripped in two by the third Demon Lord to plague Arcadia. Brought back to life by Laurelin herself. Elevated to Paragon status, he then led a raid party that wiped out the Demon Lord's army, while the Paragon went one v. one with the Demon Lord, and was victorious.

Drake just chuckled back at her, as nonchalant about his eventual death as he was about everything else. "I trust you, Laurelin. I know you, and Rose, and everyone else would do all you could to save me, and even if that failed…I'm honored that you'd even try at all. You've turned this atheist into a believer. I have faith in you, your plan, and your world. I'm glad you brought me here, and I want to see it without this plague of Monsters."

Laurelin went quiet then, at the mention of faith, and Drake sensed the sadness she hid so well rising to the surface of the infinite complexity that was her mind. It was like having the mental equivalent of the Death Star floating above and within range of his very being. He had no illusions about how a fight against her would go. He could sense the sheer enormity of all that she was, and it both awed and lowkey terrified him.

"Do you know what he'll do to you, if you fail and your soul is claimed by him? Can you even conceive of that kind of…Evil?"

"I'm not worried." Drake answered with faith belying his Paladin class. "I know you and the others would find a way to free me eventually. Dagorath will get no pleasure from torturing me, I guarantee you. We Earthlings are kind of depressingly well-versed in torture methods and how to resist them. I'm betting Dagorath isn't." He was mostly talking big, having not actually ever experienced either side of actual torture, but he had superpowers here and a high pain tolerance, and felt confident his natural durability would help in that scenario too.




Laurelin stood then, drawing all eyes from her victorious Hero, to herself. Aloud, she spoke, and the masses seemed almost desperate to hear her words. They reached all who wished to listen.

"Very well done, One Punch Monk." She thought she was being subtle, but Drake saw that sly curve to her lips. "I have decided I will be attending this year's Ternion Tournament personally. I hear my Hero will be running a food booth or five, and after tasting his Pizza, well…I can't miss that." Laughter rolled through the crowd, and there were loud affirmations that the Monk's food chain had indeed lived up to the hype.

Laurelin continued, after a moment, amused by her people's reaction. "My dear Husband is busy, but he said he would try to appear for the later rounds of the Tournament. I do believe that's all for today, right Florian?"

"Alas, my Goddess, it is that time." The Bard smirked. "But if I know this class, there's going to be a party at a certain beach-side mansion in about twenty minutes." The students laughed, as did several teachers who were absolutely guilty of lounging away in the free-use paradise Drake was loaning out regularly. The rest of the crowd shared confused looks.

Laurelin laughed, and had to cover her mouth. "Mm. Yes, I see. Well, I should be returning. But I'll see you all tomorrow to welcome our guests!" She finished with a flourish of her arms, and quite by surprise, the wave of healing she unleashed was quite potent. Almost too potent. She glanced down at her pelvic region, and then back at the now rather quite far reaching wave of golden energy surging through the megalopolis that was Primus. Quieter, mostly to Florian, she murmured. "That's…probably fine." She soared into the air then, shouting "Byeee!" And vanished in a flash of gold.




As Drake led the rapidly forming throng towards where Falkor was lounging by the mounted TV, Zara appeared before them, in a storm of whirling dreadlocks and attitude. Drake raised an eyebrow, but stopped as she shouted at them. "Oh no you don't! We have things to do out here. Like making stalls. And getting ingredients…"

Drake smirked, as the mask slipped. Zara and Tempura had gotten along very well. The girl was obsessed. "We can't eat our own supply-"

"I know that!" She snapped, "But we still need to set up carts, and decorate, and- oh damn it, Class Eights already inside."

Drake nodded to himself. Naturally, Wu Kong hadn't waited on him to invite himself into what was technically his home, and Drake didn't expect him to. He did find it amusing that the crowd had seen the monkey keep walking by Zara, and did as he had.




Drake shook his head. "I'm the leader, apparently. I'll handle the setup. You all need to rest after getting punched." There was a quiet groan of agreement, and even Zara rubbed where the potent attack combo had landed on her, in her own match. Even with Laurelin's healing wave, the area was tender, and they had still exhausted most of their big skills during their matches.

Rose stepped up immediately, smiling at him. "I didn't get punched. I'll help."

Tala and Lyria were next. "What can we do?" Tala asked.

Drake nodded, looking between them. "Ladies, go find our ingredients. Ask that one odd Culinarian, the Thunderan one, that stares a lot." The women shared a look as they knew the exact person he had in mind. "I'll handle the stall setup. How hard could it be?"

And with that, they split from the throng heading toward the Leisure Sphere.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 31: Institutional Norms​

Drake knew where their assigned area to set up the food carts was, and he found he was not alone when he arrived.

Kaien Theris, the other damage dealer in Wu Kong's party, and Voryn Ga'Hoole, an Aetheris Arcane Cleric that was apparently not much of a healer, but rather a damage dealer. Kaien was a High Human, while Voryn resembled a Barn Owl, albeit one dressed as a wizard. Kaien greeted him first.

​

"One Punch Monk. I'm glad somebody from Class Seven decided to join us before partying. We have a problem. All the carts for food are being used by the Upper Classmen, and the one they gave us First Years is, well…" He gestured, and Drake noticed a third from Class Eight among them.

She was a High Elf with long crimson hair, and seemed to be singing at the rusted, broken down cart that seemed to have been repeatedly glued together over the years. Drake grimaced. Grime covered most of the surfaces on it, it was uneven, and small. Noticing Drake, she curtsied, and Drake realized she hadn't been among the fighters today. "Calariel Silmaren. But everyone calls me Cala. Nice to meet you, Hero."

​

Drake nodded, the picture of casualness. Cala was, in a word, a bombshell of a woman, and he had no idea why a Bard this obviously skilled had ended up in Class Eight, at level fifty two. "Likewise." He looked at their joke of a cart then. "I…think it's time someone buried this rolling disaster."

"Actually it doesn't roll." Voryn chirped. "Broken wheels."

"Right." Drake raised a hand toward it, and it sank unceremoniously into the ground below them, as the earth swallowed it, grinding and shifting until it was nothing. "Now then…let's get something a bit more…useful." He earthbended again, though Kaien seemed unimpressed at the rather simple construction of the food carts before them.

"Carts made of stone? Really?"

Drake nodded. "Nothing else is sturdier, that we have on hand. And their function is simple, it doesn't need to be extravagant. It just needs to work."




They set to work decorating the frames, and Drake was enjoying the more simple task as he talked of small things with the trio. Eventually, the girls joined them with a massive ice box absolutely packed with food, and good times were had. Nyara and Tala definitely kept eyeing Calariel throughout, but they seemed cordial, to Drake. Only later would he learn, from Rose, just how tense things had been. He genuinely didn't even notice. Mostly because he had been introducing the girls to nachos with quality melted cheese. Rose had discovered that her boyfriend was actually a treasure trove of food knowledge, and so far had been taking advantage whenever she could. Drake didn't actually know many Earth recipes, he knew the components for some, but for things Arcadia didn't have, like frosting, he'd been unable to recreate a passable copy. Nachos were easy, though, and they'd taken so much corn, it hadn't all fit in the fridge. Turning it into chips solved that problem.

But, as always, all good things must eventually end.

"What…even is this!?" A haughty voice Drake swore he recognized filled the area.

He was shaping the bottom of one of the food stands for internal space, and Rose, Tala, Lyria, and Cala had, unknown to him, just watched the Monk as he worked. The front of his shirt had hiked up a bit, and he'd taken off his robe, gift from the Goddess that it was, to avoid dirtying it.

"Maybe just…stay down for a bit Drake." Rose murmured quietly in the wake of the new arrival.

"Oh, no no no, these aren't up to code. And where is the traditional First Year food cart?"

Kaien was already trying to be the voice of reason. "Well, you see Lord Wyrmstrag, we umm…decided to decommission it. It was incredibly unsanitary, not to mention broken-"

"Preposterous!" The man yelled, loud enough to draw eyes from the other First Year classes working nearby. "The food carts First Years use have been used for ages! You'll return it here now, or the Headmaster will hear about this…destruction of school property!"




Finally, it clicked, for Drake. Wyrmstrag. The ponce weasel of a nobleman who'd wanted to hide in the Adventurer's Guild while everyone else at his level actually fought for their city. In the wake of the disturbance, it had been revealed that even the high level non-combat classes had answered Galdurath's summons, mostly by giving potions and high level Buffs to the fighters and healers. Or otherwise helping however they could. This had only reaffirmed to Drake that Wyrmstrag was a whiny coward, and of course, the coward had somehow been put into a position of faux authority at the academy thanks undoubtedly to the wealth in his family bank vault.

He slid out from under the stall, raised an eyebrow at the women who, upon seeing him slide out, averted their gazes from him or pretended to be otherwise occupied. All except Rose, who gave him a worried look. She shook her head, but he winked at her, and stood.

The look on Wyrmstrag's face as he stood up and walked out from behind the hand-made stall was priceless. It was rare that Drake had seen just his presence, in this life or his past one, evoke this kind of rage reaction in someone. Wyrmstrag's temple throbbed, his cheeks reddened, and he hissed a single word. "You…"

Drake gave him a shit-eating smirk. "Yea. Me. Do you need something, Lord Wyrmstrag? Because nothing in the guidelines we were given says any part of this is wrong. I made these carts myself, and frankly, they're better in every conceivable way. And cleaner, too."

"But the carts-"

"Were disgusting, and frankly, unsanitary." Drake cut him off, smirking wider as the temple vein in his forehead became more visible. "Whatever imbecile allowed food to be served to the good people of Primus from a cart that broken and filthy, should be fired. Maybe even jailed for their incompetence." Behind him, Rose facepalmed.




"Cleaning the carts is also part of the tradition!" Wyrmstrag insisted. "It teaches basic maintenance skills, and desperately needed humility to the privileged youths of the Academy. As Head Chair of the Academy Project Commission Board, it is my duty to make sure these time-honored traditions are observed and upheld."

Drake countered. "It was a lost cause, and that cart isn't coming back. It's very much dead and buried. Go ahead. Tell the Headmaster who destroyed it. Let me know how that goes for you. Now, in the meantime…we have prep to finish."

Wyrmstrag looked like he was about to take the bait, but then he just smiled sinisterly, and turned. "Oh don't you worry, Drake Long. I'm going to see him right now." He stormed off in a perfumed huff.

Drake looked at the others. "You guys should head to the Leisure Sphere. I'll handle Lord Dumbass, and whatever nonsense the Headmaster indulges him with. Knowing them, the consequences of their BS will fall on whoever is here with me."

Kaien, Cala, Tala, Nyara, and Lyria agreed to depart, but Rose and Voryn stayed. He expected Rose, but Voryn claimed encyclopedic knowledge of the Academy's bylaws, and promised he could be of help.




Sure enough, right as they finished the job and got looks of admiration for their efforts from some of the other nearby classes, Headmaster Veydris, Wyrmstrag in tow, strolled onto the scene with the air of a man who knew nothing he was about to do would be disobeyed, denied, or otherwise ignored. "Mister Long. Miss Valcrest. Mister Ga'Hoole. I understand you've been flaunting the traditions of our Academy, by destroying school property?"

Drake spoke first, before Rose could, and he earned her sharp, subtle elven elbow to his ribs. But he didn't want her clout involved, in this nonsense. The last thing he needed was her father getting involved. "I was doing the Academy a favor, sir. That was garbage, not something to eat off of. So I took it out. But now we have these." He gestured to the freshly decorated stone carts, and the Headmaster inspected them.

"Hmmm. I see you drew from the stone beneath us to create these. Unfortunately Mister Long, that resource was not yours to appropriate. And since we have nowhere to store such large carts…" The elderly Arcane Sage raised a hand, and a sphere of flame for each cart appeared in the air around it.

​

Drake flicked them out of existence, and the Headmaster whirled on him, going from calm to outraged in an instant. "How dare you interrupt my spellcasting!"

Drake didn't back down. "How dare you destroy something your own students made! And for what? Lack of storage space? On a world with pocket dimensions? I'll store them myself if our vaunted Academy doesn't have the space."




Veydris gave him a look then that deeply enraged Drake, on a level he rarely felt. It was the tone with which he did what he did next that made Drake decide escalation was necessary.

The Fireballs appeared again, and this time, the other First Years were watching. Drake vaguely noted a few members of Class Seven as well. Apparently some had decided to dip out of the leisure party upon hearing shit was going down.

"I decide what the Academy displays, what it stores, and what First Years are given for this very special, time-honored task. You did excellent fighting today Mister Long. Turning beating your entire year into a leveling session was inspired. This, however…the rudeness towards our officials, the disregard for our traditions…these are not compliant with our Code of Student Conduct." The fireballs shot forward, and Drake heard Garret stomping towards them. Drake held out a hand, and just watched. Rose covered her mouth, watching with wide eyes as she saw abuse of the authority she'd grown up around her entire life in action.

Angry murmurs started behind them, but Drake looked back at their source, Sethis and Bjorn, and shook his head. Bjorn gave a knowing nod, quite familiar with how some teachers at the academy baited students. This was meant to provoke a response, both Wyrmstrag and Veydris seemed to expect one, but Drake was the picture of physical calm. His eyes though, they gave away the rage within, and that seemed to make Veydris smirk, satisfied. "A cart will be provided to you this morning at four, the earliest we could source a suitable replacement. Mister Long, you are to report here at the appointed hour, and start your display again, including the cart you are given. Any more violations of the rules will result in disciplinary action. Am I understood."

"Oh, I understand, Headmaster. I will follow your rules to the letter, don't you worry." Drake all but snarled.

"See that you do." Veydris straightened his robes and gestured at their group's pile of burning effort being reduced to ash and stone chunks. "Learn well from this, Drake Long. You may be strong, but some kinds of opponents can't be punched through."




Wyrmstrag looked about to add to the Headmaster's statement, until Drake fixed him with a look that made him think better of it. Seemingly content with the rage he believed he caused, he strode off behind Veydris, and wasted no time getting shit on his nose.

"Very well handled, sir. Impeccable teaching technique, as always."

"I hope you learned something from watching." Veydris drily replied. "Maybe next time I won't need to come down here myself."

"Drake…" Rose started, placing a hand on his arm, "We can-"

He shrugged her arm off. Calm was not the state of mind he needed right now. "Just…leave it to me." He practically growled. He took a deep breath, and his voice returned to normal. "What happens next is not something I'm involving any of you in. But no, they don't just get to destroy our work and suffer no consequences. If anyone asks, the entire setup of our carts was solely my job. Understand?" He looked between the majority of the now gathered Class Seven and Eight, though Wu Kong and Ahri were notably absent.




Drake felt Rose step away, and he visibly sank as his beefcake lionman tank put a meaty paw on his shoulder. "You're our leader, Drake. In class, in Dungeons, and probably long after we're out of this school. Do what you think is just, Hero. We're with you." There were rumbles of affirmation of garret's words behind him, and Drake realized most of their forming raid party had arrived to help by this point. He smiled, despite the destruction.

"Allllrighty then. You all saw those decorations? Remake them, if you would. Best as you can. Don't worry about dimensions, I'll adjust as needed. Make them in the Leisure Sphere, and try to do it out of sight. I'm going to wait here for the replacement."

Rose gave him a look with her large green eyes. "All night!?"

Drake nodded. "Unfortunately, I need to be present for whatever fuckery our Headmaster or his goon are going to try."

Garret laughed out loud and boisterous. "What…in the actual fuck is a 'goon'? I swear sometimes the way you speak is…so strange."




Drake smirked. Technically the word had multiple meanings, or had when he died, but he stuck to the classic meaning for his classy Arcadian audience. "A goon is an underling, a hired thug, someone who gets their boss's coffee, and does their dirty work. Usually of low intelligence and high ambition."

Garret grinned. "You just described Wyrmstrag perfectly. His wife has a similar position over what the appearance of my home neighborhood looks like. She's a menace with her fines and ludicrous expectations."

Drake nodded. Of course HOAs were a dimensional constant. "Well, they're not stopping us. I'll handle the carts. They're just going to need fresh decoration, and then everyone else can be on serving or recipe teaching duty."

"I'll bring you something to eat later." Rose murmured as the others began to head back to paradise.




Drake thanked her, and then waited until all was quiet, and his eyes confirmed he was alone. He could, if he focused, see it all. For as far as he wanted to, though as with magic use, his focused intent was everything. Without it, his vision could see through illusions he happened to notice, but if he didn't actually look, he would see nothing. From what he could see, the student population seemed to be split between the beach plane paradise and Groove Nexus tonight, but as the sky shifted to darkness, Drake was left alone with the rubble. For what felt like an hour, he just stared at the rubble. When he finally sensed the Scrying Eye that had been watching him, likely the Headmaster's or Wyrmstrag's, blink out of existence, he moved immediately.

He stomped, and the earth swallowed the burned decorations, which were beyond repair. The carts however, shifted back into place perfectly. Then, he buried them as well, just beneath the ground.

With nothing to do but wait, he started scrolling through his Omnicrafting menus. Apparently, nobody had ever made a comprehensive, high level catalogue of all the things Omnicrafters could create.

The hours passed slowly, but Drake managed to figure out how to make Prismrend even more useful. With something called a 'magic synthesizer', available for purchase on local markets, or so said his Omnicrafting. It seemed like a basic component, several of the Artifact tier weapons and armor he'd taken a look at for his classmates had also required them, or required items that themselves used them as components. Yet there was no recipe, confirming to him that there were, apparently, more than just food items that he needed to find and physically learn to make. Which also meant he'd need to seek out masters of specific jobs who, apparently, did not classically like those who tried to master Omnicrafting.

That rabbit hole led to a different one, when he examined Drone, who was charging in his lap. Drake was now large enough to support the magitech recording robot, after so much time spent in the pocket dimension paradise he called home. Like his original body, this one had stopped growing at what he assumed was six feet and four inches. According to Vincent they hadn't actually aged, their bodies had just continued towards physical maturity, and those who had already reached physical maturity, like Aslan and most of their class, were deemed unaffected by the Enchanter. It seemed that though they experienced time passing, since it wasn't actually passing in Arcadia, their bodies remained mostly unchanged. The Enchanter found the effects of Chronomancy quite interesting, and Drake was all too happy to let his roommate experiment with, and within, the pocket plane. Enchanters were quite versatile casters, able to learn spells from many schools of magic, and if Vincent could crack Chronomancy...they'd be unstoppable.

Drake eyed the components for a cloaking device schematic specifically for constructs that apparently utilized the highest level of Greater Invisibility to hide the construct, even from Scrying Eyes. They were expensive, and the more he read about the improvement, the more he assumed it must have some sort of law in relation to it. There was no way the Arcadian Government would just let these things be roaming around, completely invisible to all but the Gods. And now Drake.




He smirked, as though the materials were expensive, they were actually pieces, and components of pieces, that had dropped from his Monster Hunting. Within minutes, he had what he needed for the components, and the area lit up with white-blue light as his Omnicrafting activated. With a smoothness the gamer in him appreciated, his materials were converted into the required components and then combined into the schematic all in one go. All it required was his will to stay focused on what he was making. Intent, he was learning, was everything on Arcadia. The final product appeared over his hand, and he marveled at it.

Seconds later, he sensed the Scrying Eye return, but Drone had already nommed the upgrade by that point through a port that, through Drake's perception, looked and acted like an old VHS player, in that it had a similar slot.

"Upgrade installed." Drone chirped.

Drake nodded. "Good. Now back to recharging." The robot didn't need to be told twice, and yet the eye remained. For five minutes. For ten. Just staring, as Drake didn't move.




Sitting so quietly for so long had led the Monk into a meditative state, where he just slowly inhaled the magic-dense air of the center of the planet. The more he took in, the more he started to sense, and see, the architecture of the ley lines surrounding Arcadia. Primus, he realized, was the beating heart. It truly was a marvel of a world, a holy fusion of Arcane and Nature based spheres of influence. Yet, he did feel darkened parts of the world, to the south, in Tharvoss. He made a note to meditate there, some time. His Monster Hunting tended to take him all over, and he'd been to that monster-filled continent twice more, for hunts that had proven to be short. But lucrative.

Eventually, the sound of ungodly shrieking, and grunts of effort broke his concentration as Drake took in Faelar, who was apparently the leader of the academy's custodians, all but carrying another somehow even more grotesque abomination of a cart. It was missing two wheels, small insects buzzed around its central compartment, the one where food was supposed to go, and judging by Faelar's expression, the scent was rank. The wheels that did work, were bent rims that vaguely resembled a circle, in that they had rounded edges, but they were uneven, and the metal was too weak to support the cart's full weight.

Since Drake had no method of magically moving the cart, and it was designed for one person to push, he didn't interrupt Faelar. The older elven man was making a good show of it, despite not having a high strength stat. Drake eyed his stats, as he parked the stinking hunk of rusted metal before him. Level one hundred and two, and a Rogue.

"I don't know who you pissed off…" He started, catching his breath, "But I've never seen anyone willingly eat off of this thing, let alone go near it."




Drake just smirked. "I'll take care of it. Leave it to me."

Faelar shook his head. "I was instructed to make sure that you understand the rules and bylaws of this 'time honored tradition'. You must clean it by hand. You cannot magically alter it in any way. Smithing based repairs are allowed. You must make it presentable before the appointed time, or your Classes will be given a failing grade for this part of the Tournament."

"Can I craft new wheels, at least?" Drake asked, innocently, aware the eye was still watching. He clenched his fist, as his anger turned colder. Sharper. Now the pricks had involved Faelar, who by all accounts was just a good dude, who'd worked here forever. His job was hard enough without entitled assholes chewing him out to make sure their orders were understood.

Faelar stroked his chin. "I mean, it's been done before…but here's the thing, kid, this cart has been Curs- OW!" Faelar spasmed, and grabbed at his left ear, and with his Godsight, Drake saw it all. The spell. The source. The caster. Vaelric Wyrmstrag. Faelar grimaced, and then looked back at Drake. "I…need to go."

Drake's eyes were burning gold. "I understand. And Faelar? I'm sorry. They will pay for this. Not violently, obviously, but they should never have involved, or attacked you."

"Just…don't break any rules on my account, Hero." Faelar said, glancing around as if expecting more magical 'motivation'. None came, and he departed quickly.




Looking at the cart revealed what Faelar had been warning him off. It was indeed cursed. At a rather high tier, too. Whatever grime accrued on it, could never be removed. He didn't bother trying to summon Kaien, who as an Exorcist was a specialist in this kind of thing, this curse was simply too high level, but Drake also saw who had cast it. Caldrin Veydris. His Headmaster. He could also see several enchantments designed to disable any attempt at cleaning spells like Prestidigitation, and the curse actually infected any cleaning tools used to try cleansing it, ensuring that all anyone did by scrubbing was ensure it was covered in further gnarstiness.

Luckily, Drake knew how to counter this otherwise grade-crushing obstacle. If people could see the hard evidence that his Godsight had, his grade might just remain intact for their classes. While researching Drone's upgrades, he'd detoured into a device that displayed the effects of the magic item it was linked to. He'd wanted it for the Leisure Sphere, but he'd seen that higher grades of this Stat Display device could also reveal curses, and who cast them. The plan was coming together nicely. He flicked the Scrying Eye into nonexistence, and spoke quickly.

"Drone. Time to work. Ask Vincent Kei if there are any laws restricting unlicensed Omnicrafters from making high tier Stat Display devices, like ones that display Curses. Also, tell Rose and Wu Kong that I need the following ingredients…" He read them out from his crafting menu, pausing only to once more flick the Scrying Eye into not existing when it appeared again. He was confident that between them, and the rest of Class Seven and Eight and maybe whoever else was willing to help, they'd get what he needed.

By the time the arcane scrying orb reformed a third time, Drone was gone, and Drake was already upgrading the cart. Mostly by using his Smithing related skills to repair and make the cart sturdy. It had wheels, though they'd become corroded and misshapen almost immediately. He replaced the bar grip used to move it, but it also was soon falling apart.




By the time the sky started to shift to the golden dawn that signaled daylight was coming, Drake had already taken his four hour meditation to rest, and Rose arrived with dinner/breakfast and all the ingredients he'd requested. Eventually, it seemed Wyrmstrag had run out of Scry uses, but nobody had been by to bother him. Crowds of students were already filling the area, which was situated on the south western part of the campus, where the city blended with school life in a matter of steps. Displays went up, food was prepared, and an annoying amount of people with idle hands had decided to take an interest in the display of the person who'd been assigned the Shit Cart this year.

Apparently this particular cart had a reputation as being an obvious punishment, a response to a student pissing off someone in the highest authority of the academy, but after the bracket seeding yesterday, everyone was quite aware that the Headmaster seemed to have it out for their resident Grandmaster Monk.

Drake put their tanks on guard duty, and had earthbended a shield around their activities, which while conspicuous, also kept everything a surprise until the time was right, the denizens of Primus were present, and it was far too late to stop him.




According to the zoning codes of this area of campus, all food producing carts had to fit certain dimensions, but there was no rule about putting them within small student-made building shells. In fact, most of them had such shells, usually made from a material that reminded Drake of plastic. Food began cooking, smells started mingling, and at exactly eight in the morning, the academy's bell tolled, and the first wave of citizens flooded onto campus.

Naturally, word that the Monk Hero had been given the Shit Cart spread like wildfire. But Drake and the others weren't hiding it. In fact, it was literally sitting on top of their actual carts, which themselves were covered by several layers of protection from the cursed object.

Drake was flying beside it, white cloaked, hood up, in what was becoming an iconic look for him. Those in their classes who had Culinarian skills were helping with food prep, and those who didn't have enough skill to make even Drake's recipes were learning. The experience buff of the tournament applied to this stage of it as well, but it had only gotten Drake, with all of his boosted dueling and Omnicrafting, to seventy eight and a half. Rose, Aslan, and everyone who either knew someone over one hundred or were over it themselves all empathized, but only confirmed that the grind got even more brutal. At a certain point, people like Vaelithar Valcrest opted to celebrate when they achieved a new level, instead of the day of their birth for the thousandth time. Or more.




Drake's Mirror Images were acting as waiters, and at Rose's insistence, each was wearing a suit tailored to their color in a style that 'showed off his best attributes' per color. Drake didn't really understand her reasoning, but the result was satisfied, flustered customers, and that was apparently the goal.

Black was in stealth, watching for trouble, while Drake manually piloted yellow, who was in a more yellow-gold hue this time thanks to Rose's apparently quite high level Weaving skills. He'd been unaware she was a Weaver too, but her mother had evidently forced it on her, and she didn't really enjoy it. These latest creations though, had been different, she'd assured him. Inspiration had struck, and she'd taken her little sister's advice and run with it.

Somehow, though Drake had a feeling his patron was involved, many of their initial customers were a mix of students and almost destitute poor people. There hadn't been too much friction, as the yellow cloaked Monk, along with Tala, Rose, Ahri, and anyone else with a knack for Culinarian arts taught them the low level recipes. Laurelin had confirmed for him that Culinarian was the job with the most users assigned to it, on a planetary scale, as it was a skill even monsters could use. There was apparently a long tradition of leveling kiddos by teaching them to cook. It didn't last forever, but it did apparently help get them to ten or higher, especially if they had a knack for it.




The main attraction however, for those coming to be waited on by a Hero and those who came desperately seeking cost-effective Culinarian recipes, was the Magic Item Display, situated at the center of the main cart, just above the window. It displayed the Shit Cart's stats, its quality, its components, who had ever altered it in its existence as a cart, and most importantly, who had cast the epic tier curse upon it, to be forever filthy.

Sure enough, at around eleven in the morning, Lord Wyrmstrag strolled by, expecting failure, and a lack of customers. What he found, made his eyes widen. It was packed, with not nearly enough Drakes and other students to handle the flood of people wanting to both learn and eat, sometimes simultaneously. But the recipes had been designed for simplicity, and they were able to move their line along. Even Wyrmstrag could not deny they'd succeeded at the most important aspect of this event; serving the people. Teaching simple recipes while serving said recipes was a solid innovation. Not original, because recipes were usually for level twenty or higher Culinarians, but Wyrmstrag was no fool. He knew just by looking at the strange food, that the Monk was the source. Yet, the people seemed to like it, it smelled amazing, and the recipe to make it was at a level even children could handle.

Then, he saw the item plaque, and he began mentally invoking violations he could see, the most obvious being that they weren't serving any food from the cart they were assigned. Drake Long wasn't the first to try putting it above or behind other hand-made carts, the problem with those attempts was that the cart rotted whatever it was placed upon, whittling down its structural integrity until it collapsed, which was an automatic failure. This time however, it seemed the Valcrest girl was using her magic, in between teaching sessions, to purge the corruption from the natural stone they were using to keep it above their carts, and the shell connecting them.




The more he watched, the more Wyrmstrag was forced to admit that this was probably going to be the most populated cart this year. It was still early too, the real crowds came out for lunch. A white robed Monk Hero floated down a few steps from Wyrmstrag, and crossed his arms. "Is there a problem, my Lord?"

"Put your hood down when you speak to your betters, boy." And though the teenager bristled, he did at least do that minor courtesy. Mostly because it was the signal to the gathered classes that shit was about to hit the fan. Potentially. Wyrmstrag didn't notice, but every single student server was soon watching the exchange, and their gazes in turn focused the crowd. "You've failed to serve any food from the cart you were assigned."

"That cart is cursed, as you can see, and serving anything from it would make someone ill. I'm not going to waste food or make people sick on purpose, I won't do it. I don't care if you fail me." Drake countered.

"You failed to clean-"

The Monk interrupted, with a verbal Stunning Strike. "That cart literally cannot be cleaned. Because it's been Cursed to pollute and erode everything around it. By the Headmaster."




The murmurs around them quieted, and the crowd's eyes shifted towards the Monk and the Noble. It was then, Wyrmstrag realized, he should've shown up much earlier. "That's…not…"

"Not what?" Someone shouted.

"How can you clean a cart that's Cursed to be filthy?"

"How is that fair grading?" An older student shouted.

"That's an Epic Tier Curse. That magic is banned! I want to know what components the Headmaster used to cast it!" Roars of affirmation built in the crowd, and Drake's eyes widened, as he hadn't considered what would be needed as a component for such magic, but yes, that kind of magic often required blood sacrifice, of limbs, of body parts.

It was a type of magic that had appeared with monsters, but over the eons many Arcadians had advocated for using the enemy's weapon against them. Some classes did. Class Six's Blood Sorcerer was one such practitioner, though his arts were more…refined, and typically used his blood, or monster blood as fuel for his skills. A curse this gnarly had undoubtedly had very illegal components.




Wyrmstrag backed up, and then mist formed around his feet. "I'll…ask the Headmaster himself." His words were lost over the roars of disapproval with his cowardice as he bamfed away. Eventually, things calmed, or rather, returned to pushing the milling crowds along. The crowd density was becoming a problem as the day grew older.

Then, exactly as the academy's bell tolled noon, and the standard hour-long Arcadian lunch break began, people from all over the city, who knew what was going on today, headed for the academy. Drake had never really liked being around people, especially this close, and multiplied nine times over. The formerly white and now very much stained by cooking version of the Monk Hero looked up as Faelar, and a small army of besuited custodial staff he'd seen around campus appeared before him. Drake sighed deeply. "Alright, Faelar, how many, and who wants what? You'll be getting the Academy Staff discount, of course…" He trailed off the monotone corporate speak, which was about all he could manage, stretched as he was across nine copies of himself.

Faelar, hand raised to pause the Monk, spoke firmly over the din. "I'm sure we'll have a chance to sample the food later. We're here to assist you. Your Classes have, by far, the highest number of customers, and the Headmaster ordered us to assist."

The Monk looked skeptical. "Did he. Let me guess. There's a condition."

"One he hopes you'll be amenable to. He wants you to destroy the Shit Cart, like you did to the first. However you did it, it erased the Curse completely." Faelar sighed. "He also wants the Magic Item Display confiscated, but I'll just let you put it away. I know you Omnicrafting types can re-use materials and whatnot."

Drake nodded. "I guess we're not allowed to ignore this 'condition'."

Faelar nodded as well. "That's correct. If you don't comply, we've been told to let you collapse under the burden of the lunch hour rush." The volume picked up, and more people started pushing the custodians, irritated at how long they were taking. "Which as you can see, is happening now!"




Drake decided not to argue. The point had been made, and besides, he wouldn't have a spare body to even take it down until this swell of people died down. Everyone would see the information, the secret was out, at this point.

The custodians were legit, though. In a matter of minutes, they spoke with surrounding carts, which other classes had focused more on games and prizes, and extra space for magically summoned tables was created. In short order, they were serving more people, and somehow Tala had found the time to craft all of them name tags, which helped the citizens identify servers from the masses of moving people.

Eventually, Drake did find a moment, as he knew lagging on removing the cart would end poorly for him, and in minutes he'd made a mithril box to store the Shit Cart. He had Rose use Bless on it, and she had insisted that Drake try it as well. To his surprise, he had been able to focus his magic on her spell, but actually casting Bless was still beyond him. It would be many hours before he noticed another notch in the Libram had sunken inward.

Once the cart was stored in the pocket plane's training ground setting, Drake returned to cooking, and the rest of the day went fairly smoothly. Many people asked where the Shit Cart had gone, but all Drake ever told them was that he'd handled it.




Though the students from the Eryndral Arc Warden Academy in Fangorn, and the Sapientia Arc Warden Academy in Sylvalis arrived late in the afternoon, Drake and the others were simply too swamped to leave. Aslan, Instructor Hollowbranch, and even Elothir came by eventually, to assist with cooking and teaching. Class Two's Instructor in particular was very impressed that Drake had managed to create such low level original recipes. Apparently, he learned, she had been advocating for the study of easier food recipes to help the exact population they were currently teaching, but her words had fallen on deaf ears. Given those ears were likely the Headmaster's Drake was not surprised. The day ended, once the academy's bell tolled seven times in the evening, and the cleanup began. Remarkably unlike Earth, Drake noted the streets were somewhat clear of garbage. It helped that every area had trash receptacles, but magic was probably also a factor. Prestidigitation was practically a required cantrip taught in elementary years.

In barely an hour, Class Seven and Eight were done, as were most of the others, though he noted Voryn was still going. The owl wizard's style of casting was, to Drake, very familiar, but the best part was that the Arcane Cleric seemed to be using real Latin, not fake Latin.

He was fairly sure it wasn't actual Latin, for some reason, that was just what his Galdurian-to-English translator had chosen for the words Voryn was using to cast, in this case, 'Reficio' over and over again, on damaged bushes, scorched pavement, anything that had been made out of place over the course of the day.




When Drake and the others finally retired to paradise to recover, he noticed a notification. Headmaster Veydris wished to speak, the following morning. Even though Drake needed to help his class, as their leader, prepare for whatever talent showcase they settled on doing. He wanted to be there, because he knew, in his core, Leif would absolutely advocate for a beauty pageant or whatever the Arcadian equivalent was.

It wasn't that he was against dressing up or strutting it, he just believed that their class's talents were better spent on Literally anything else.

As he murmured "No beauty pageants…" In his sleep, Rose giggled against him. He'd fallen asleep as soon as he'd hit the pillow. He now had a very good understanding of the limits of Mirror Image.

Rose nodded in agreement, yawned, and snuggled in closer to the Firebending Aura the Monk was radiating even while asleep.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 32: The Shit Cart Compromise



The Next Day, Verdsday - G.A.W.A. Gymnasium
​

Classes Seven and Eight were split. Despite Rose's impassioned plea, without Drake to keep the lads in check, they had advocated for a beauty pageant. Even Vincent had collapsed to peer pressure, mostly because they lacked an alternative idea. Tala managed to convince the girls that dressing up would be fun, and that was it, for Class Seven.

Class Eight however, wanted to do a play. Specifically, Wu Kong wanted to theatrically re-enact his daring battle with the Rakshaza Raja, because apparently the song and city-sized concert wasn't enough for his ego. Yet, egged on by Borge, and despite Kaien's protests, Class Eight was down to re-enact the battle that had become mythicized in song.

This had led to their current stalemate.

Then, of course, the source of said mythicization appeared in all his Bardly glory. "Classes Seven and Eight! I bet you have something great! Wait-" Florian literally spun three hundred sixty degrees, "Where's Drake?"




"Getting chewed out by the Headmaster." Zara muttered. "Apparently the Arc Troopers paid his home a visit last night, once the festivities died down. He was furious this morning."

Leif, who'd had a satisfied grin on his face all morning, decided to chime in. "I've never seen him that…mad…" He trailed off, and wilted as Rose gave him her way-too-wide murderous green glare. He was just glad both Veydris and Long were suffering, as he cared for neither.

Florian drew the attention back to himself. "Hmm. That won't do. That pompous Ass can't expel my Muse."

Rose snapped her fingers then, as she remembered something Drake had told her early that morning. She was not a morning person though, and she'd been…distracted.

"Florian! Drake made something for you, before he went off. He said a genius Musician like yourself would know how to handle it." She reached into the Bag of Holding that Drake had made her first, on his long list of recipients, and pulled out a masterpiece of a magic item.




Florian immediately cast Identify, and gasped. Rose spoke in almost holy reverence, as Drake had had her Bless this Legendary Tier Bard Weapon. "Drake told me, that on his world, this…is called an Axe. With it, the Gods of Rock melted many of their enemies' faces, with only the power of their music. He wanted me to give this to you, to help with your Ballad." It had cost most of his lower tier magic items from the Wallow, and no small amount of Gil to improve the quality, but Drake had insisted it was worth it.

Vincent and Caelum shared a look. The topic of otherworldly music had come up, and Drake had used similar terms, in a not dissimilar tone, though he'd been very clear that the 'Rock Gods' had just been extraordinary human musicians, and when asked to recreate their music, Drake had vehemently refused, claiming he couldn't do them justice. Maybe if he ever reincarnated as a Bard, but as a Monk, he refused to sully their legend with the attempt. They'd eventually gotten him to hum.

Florian gently took the instrument, and smirked, after a moment. "It's…it's the same quality as Instructor Ironchord's lute…maybe better…" He strummed it experimentally, and as designed, the axe gave off a magically empowered note comparable to, say, an electric guitar plugged into an amplifier. "Ohhhho! Oh my... That rolled through my Soul. So this is another world's instrument... And a weapon of power, no less…though I am wondering…why you're calling it an axe? It looks more like a…pointy Lute." The bottom, while hollow, was thinner, and the magical empowerment to the notes it produced seemed purposeful.




Rose giggled. "I'm going to quote our Monk Hero verbatim…ahem." Her voice changed, to sound deeper, with a slight comical dopey tinge to it. "Because the sounds it makes absolutely wreck a room. Like Bjorn in an Artificer's shop."

Bjorn chuckled, off to the side. "Ahh, I miss Just Recalibrate. They still won't let me back there."

Rose handed Florian the case, and he lowered the axe into it like a newborn. Including a tender stroke along its orichalcum, angular body. At this angle, Florian noticed, it did vaguely resemble an actual axe. "I'm going to assume the face melting isn't literal."

Rose blinked, then giggled harder. "Wow he really knows you, Florian! He thought you'd say something like that. He says if you play it hard enough, it will 'absolutely be capable of melting Monster faces. If you want it to.'" Rose finished, with actual air quotes, before she and the other girls kept giggling.




"Right. I'll be getting to know you later, Gorgeous." Florian shut the case, and stood. "You all seem to be on opposite sides of the room, I see. Having trouble deciding on what to do, are we?" Tala explained the situation, and the Bard jumped in before anyone started arguing. "Do both. But don't re-enact Wu Kong's fight. What the people crave…is the Wallow! Class Seven. You play as yourselves, and several key members of the other Classes. Class Eight. You play the Goblins. Wu Kong. You're Chronogrin. And I, shall be your humble Narrator."

Nyara frowned at the Bard. "Doesn't your own Class need your help?"

Florian huffed, and waved her words away, literally, as if they were cobwebs. "They'll be just fine without me. Besides, you seedlings need all the help you can get. Knowing Veydris…Drake is going to get serious consequences." Seeing his words had deflated the First Years, Florian began pumping them full of air again. "Don't worry. He has a Goddess on his shoulder. He'll be fine. Probably. Now then…where shall we begin?"

Vincent spoke up then. "With Galdurath. With the Divine Order to Purge the Wallow Dungeon."

Florian grinned wide, as his purple magical autonomous note-taking lyric-making quill zipped out of the brim of his headwear, and into life with but a thought. "Ohhh. That's good. Yes. What happened next?"

Several Hours Earlier - Beachside Paradise, Leisure Sphere
​

By this point in the life of this particular pocket plane under Drake Long's ownership, the beach side itself now had quality seating all along it, in the form of felled tree trunks shaped for various sized posteriors.

They were currently occupied by the queen of the beach side paradise, and her blonde foxkin roommate Ahri, as they watched their shirtless Monks spar. This was a common sight in the Leisure Sphere, and Rose knew Drake needed it more than Wu Kong, this morning.

"He seems tense." Ahri murmured. "I wish he would've let us in on being punished too. The Headmaster is more likely to be harsh to a single student, as opposed to two Classes."

Rose knew she wasn't talking about Wu Kong. The Siminid Monk student was anything but tense as he leaped around the practically stationary by comparison Monk Hero. "He said he wasn't worried. The Headmaster can't do anything too harsh to Laurelin's Hero, after all." The worry was clear on her face though. There were many ways to hurt someone like Drake. She had, until yesterday, believed the Headmaster and school staff to be above that behavior.




The clear blue water of the pocket paradise rippled as Wu Kong dashed around Drake, making full use of the Nimbus. It had become an integral part of Wu Kong's fighting style. Though Drake could fly, today he wasn't. Instead, he was working on fighting with water, as his waterbending was what he considered to be his weakest.

That wasn't ideal. His Images in the Waterbending Stance were integral to his party and raid structure. They needed to be able to fight without switching stances, when the healers inevitably were targeted first. But his Image's skill was only as good as his own. Yet, irritatingly, his apprentice was far, far stronger with his burning light abilities. Despite how well water worked with his Dragon Style Martial Arts, despite it being the strongest element, despite him literally standing on an ocean full of bending material…the monkey kept smashing through his attacks.

With ease, and a shit-eating grin.




Drake frowned, and then suddenly raised his arms, knocking Wu Kong back as he punched a suddenly solid, ice-shielded Drake. "That won't stop me!" He shrieked. "Buuuuurning…"

Drake took the moment of charge up to focus, as until now, he hadn't been. His mind was too concerned about the shitstorm he'd created for his Headmaster. He knew Laurelin could save his bacon, and would likely be present for the meeting, which would at least keep things civil, but he didn't want her wasting clout or energy on something as menial as this. It was beneath the attention of a Goddess, in his opinion.

The Monk exhaled, and focused on the water. He tried to feel the flow, and then finally realized his problem. This 'ocean' was more like a massive pool. Yes there were waves at the beach, but never large ones. They were the bare minimum, magically stimulated by the item itself. Out here on the open water, things were still. And lifeless. There was no coral, no fish, just rocks and seaweed below, as well as a layer of sand. His heavily Last Airbender tinted view of waterbending relied on the push and pull of gravitational forces upon a planet, which Arcadia did possess, even if artificially. His understanding of these forces, he realized, affected his intent, which in turn affected his skills, and their potency.

In short; his bending relied on the motion of the ocean, and this pocket plane was cut off from that. Thus, he needed to create it himself.

"FINGER!" Wu Kong shouted, undeterred.




Drake launched his ice block at his apprentice, falling backwards through it as it passed over him. The Burning Soul Monk eradicated it easily with Burning Finger, but Drake had already stepped with the wind, to a point far above the water, and far from Wu Kong's Heat End. Even with the Nimbus, it would take him precious seconds to reach Drake, who was already moving.

The motion itself, was simple. It was the area he wanted to affect, that would be the real challenge. Right arm raised above his head, eyes closed, but watching, he shamelessly channeled Mewtwo, and began moving his arm in a circle.

As expected, Wu Kong was furious at missing, and was already shooting forward on the Nimbus, with Rage of the Monkey King activated. "BUUUURNING…"

Drake realized he had underestimated just how fast the Nimbus's top speed was. He didn't have time for a legendary psychic scale storm, but there was one other trick he knew, that he did have enough momentum for. Water surged up from the ocean around the Monk as he changed motions, spinning, and raising both arms skyward. He continued spinning as the vortex of water rose around him, and spiraled through the air to meet Wu Kong head on.

"FINGERRR!"




The spiraling water spout collided with the burning fury of the Monkey King in an explosion that left a rainbow in the sky. A rainbow that seemed to surround Wu Kong like some sort of halo, from Drake's falling perspective, as the monkey smashed once more through his bending and shouted, "HEAT END!"

With another explosion of light and flame, Drake went rocketing towards the water. Despite his build up and change of perspective, his apprentice had simply been stronger. Drake smirked as he saw surprise, and then arrogant glee as Wu Kong realized he'd won, and Drake just enjoyed the fall for a moment.

His eyes opened just before he hit the water, as he activated his cloak, and rotated quickly in the air until he was right-side up. Like a Super Smash character dodging in mid-air. Slowly, he flew back up towards Wu Kong. The Monkey King crowed as he approached. "Back for more!? Perhaps I should be the Master! My skill is unmatched, and obvious!"

Drake inhaled, and then exhaled rapidly, focusing on the Nimbus around Wu Kong's feet. He tumbled a solid twenty feet before the magic cloud reformed from the focused airbending blast. Somewhat cowed, Wu Kong shot back up to where Drake was floating. "You beat me with my worst element, Wu Kong. Take from that what pride you can." His student deflated, but nodded, and Drake smirked. "Still…" The Siminid perked up, hope in his eyes. "Your skill has obviously improved, even if your level hasn't risen much. You've taken my lessons to heart. Your base Skills are much stronger than when we fought the Rakshaza. I think it's time."




Wu Kong's eyes went wide, and his grin practically reached both of his large round ears. "Armor!?"

"You could call it that, yes. You're loud, you're brash, you're arrogant…but you're also disciplined, focused, and the way I hear it, a Hero to the villages on the outskirts of Primus, mister Steel Rank Adventurer." Drake tried not to break into laughter as he formed his next sentence. The common folk of Arcadia's farms had given his apprentice a title of sorts, a moniker he was absolutely sure that Laurelin had somehow had a hand in influencing. "The people say you burn like a Star with your attacks. They've started calling you Sun Wu Kong."

The Siminid teen's eyes widened, and then narrowed as he murmured, "Sun Wu Kong… Sun Wu Kong…why…does it feel like I've heard that before somewhere?"

Drake continued. "As such, I think it's time you were dressed appropriately. You've finally out-leveled your Gi, anyway. Naturally, I've made an armor set suited for you, Wu Kong, Master of the Monkey Style. I can't rightly call you just an apprentice, anymore. The next step on your path, is to teach others. You will learn from them, as I have learned from you. I'll leave it to you, to find an apprentice of your own. I also have to find suitable candidates for the other Monk paths."

Wu Kong just smiled, and bowed as deeply as he could. "I will do as you say…Grandmaster."

​

Drake let the amusing moment of his monkey apprentice donning his new armor last for as long as he could. He thought he'd outdone himself, with the obvious-to-an-Earthling Sun Wukong vibes, but the 'helmet' was his favorite. Instead of actual armor, it was stabilized magic that was able to have stats Omniforged onto it, and since it didn't technically have an armor class, it was perfect for Monks. Wu Kong's gave his hair and eyes a fiery glow that he could turn on and off at will. Ahri seemed to like the outfit as well, as she helped him put it on, though only her eyes gave away her simmering emotions.

​

Eventually, the time came to leave. Even in paradise, it still passed.

Drake tried not to be nervous as he walked to the Headmaster's Office, but he'd had bad experiences in the offices of principals. Not as a teen, but as a kiddo, the first time he'd lived, at the tender age of five. He'd gotten a bit bitey with another kid over some Pokémon cards, in a trade that had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Worryingly, he found the exact details were…fuzzy. He felt as though he should remember them, he had on Earth, but now, after dying and spending months on Arcadia, the specifics were just…gone. He remembered getting in trouble. He remembered, vaguely, his opponent. But what the little bastard had actually done during the trade was just…fuzz.

It seemed even enhanced Intelligence couldn't stop his new life from slowly overwriting his old one. He wondered how much he'd already forgotten. He wondered if he'd remember his parents' faces, in a century.

It was on that cheery thought that Drake entered the Headmaster's Office.




What he found, was something he didn't expect, but wasn't entirely surprised by. His Goddess had decided to sit in the Headmaster's chair, behind his desk, doing her best (and quite accurate) impression of Vaelithar Valcrest behind his own desk, glaring ahead.

​

Of course, when Laurelin made that face, it took all Drake had not to break into laughter. Veydris, naturally, was fuming, and his expression of anger hardened as Drake entered the room. "Mister Long. Well at least you're punctual."

Drake nodded, and then looked at Laurelin. "Goddess, please give the Headmaster his chair back…"

Laurelin scowled at Drake, then looked back at Veydris. "I will once he explains where he got the materials for multiple Corruption Curses. I'm not getting up until I have an answer, Caldrin."

Drake looked back at the Headmaster, eyebrows raised, and gave a small shrug. He'd tried. But Laurelin's request wasn't exactly unfair or unreasonable. Veydris sighed, heavily. "If you must know, I used Monster body parts. Turns out they work just as well. I have a friend down in Vaelroth who got me fresh Vampyr limbs. Are we satisfied now? No Arcadians were harmed in the cursing of those carts."

Laurelin sighed, but stood. "They may now be Monsters…but the Vampyr were once Arcadians too. Very well. Have your chair."




Veydris straightened his robes, once he was where he belonged. "Now then, with that settled, let's move on. Obviously, Mister Long, you Failed your assign-"

"Really!?" Laurelin interjected, whirling on Veydris as she was halfway to standing beside Drake. She couldn't help herself. "You think giving a Failing Grade for not cleaning a Cursed, uncleanable cart is going to fly with the Triarchy? Let alone serving food from it." She crossed her arms, and suddenly, her aspect achieved real seriousness. "My Hero abides by my teachings: Do not waste the Bounty of the Land, and Do No Harm to those under your care. And if you recall, Headmaster, that Law very much includes Culinarians."

Headmaster Veydris took a long, and frankly just impressive, breath, and exhaled it slightly quicker. "Goddess Laurelin, he broadcasted…private Spellcasting information in front of the entire city. There has to be a consequence. Otherwise, my authority becomes a joke, and you know well what that leads to."

"He Passes." Laurelin continued. "With an S."

"That's not even a-"

"With. An. S." Laurelin continued, again, unstoppable as she added some divine reverb to her tone. "And if I ever catch you using Monster Magic again, Caldrin, I Will have my husband re-evaluate your capabilities for this position."




Well aware of where the government sent powerful Arc Wardens with nothing to do, Veydris nodded coldly. "Fine. He passes. But he's going to be training every low level Adventurer in the Guild until he graduates!" The Headmaster's temple bulged as his anger arose again. Using such magic automatically ruined one's social standing. Even as Headmaster, he'd already felt the repercussions. Even his own family had turned cold shoulders to him. Curses had a particularly dark history on Arcadia, after the reign of Demon Lord Execror who'd used them to terrifying effectiveness.

​

"Until the end of the year." Laurelin countered, "And Galdurath and I will be personally looking into any promising students you Failed by way of this… 'Shit Cart'." Veydris facepalmed, as the Goddess of his world uttered that accursed name that had stuck despite punishments for using the term. "The Triarchy may insist we replace you anyway. We can't have someone using Curses to Fail promising Arc Wardens training our next generation."

Veydris looked ready to say something he shouldn't, and that, was when the Monk finally spoke. "If I may…" Both heated stares of beings far, far older than him in ways he had yet to truly understand bore into him. The Monk pressed on. "Why don't we…set up like…a permanent… program…of sorts, that's specifically focused on leveling the lower grade Adventurers? Not just with me, you can involve whatever problem students you like," Drake felt concerned, at the smile that appeared on the Headmaster's face, but again, the Monk continued, "the things we're taught here, could be very useful to those Adventurers. Not your secret family heirloom spells or whatever, but like, basic survival skills. I've seen how they do in the Filth Pit and honestly…if this is how shit is arranged on Tharvoss, we're in trouble."




"Tharvoss is organized by our best Military and Arc Warden minds, working together. They've managed to hold the Demon God and his evil back for millennia, despite the new and catastrophic forms it takes." Veydris educated, "But I see your point. Having a Hero do community service…cheapens the title of Hero. Unless it's community service that Lasts. Very well. Drake Long, you are to help level up the lower level Adventurer population of Arcadia to at least level fifty."

Drake coughed. "The whole planet?"

Veydris smirked darkly. "Perhaps. If your methods are effective, if you produce quality results with the Academy students we assign you first, we will replicate your methods the world over, and your… 'program, or something' can become a global tool in the levelling process."

Drake slowly raised an eyebrow as it seemed Veydris was very much on board. In hindsight, as he had learned a bit about their Headmaster, Elowir's words returned to him as he focused. Veydris rose to prominence in the Empyrean Age, after Galdurath retired from the position. He'd been the God of Knowledge's own choice. But with that favor, came arrogance. He'd started with the goal of educating the world and the reality had become educating the rich, or those with enough talent and nepotism to get accepted.

Drake decided to quote the man to himself. "When Knowledge is shared, Arcadia rises. I'm glad we could reach a compromise." Drake stood, and bowed twice. "Headmaster. Goddess Laurelin." In his head, he acknowledged the little one as well, and he liked to think they sensed it.

"Your first roster will be sent to you shortly." Veydris said, as the Monk left him alone with the Goddess of Life. The silence was underlaid with tension, and awkwardness, as it grew. "Quite the Hero you've chosen this time." Veydris finally spoke, desperate to normalize things with the Goddess. "I didn't expect him to quote me…and one from the Empyrean Age, no less."




Laurelin didn't change her tone or manner. "What do you think Empyrean Age Caldrin Veydris would think of you using Monster Magic to fail students you don't personally care for?"

The Headmaster's response was sharp, but it faltered. "He'd… he'd probably demand my resignation. Idealist that I was. I had yet to learn the true nature of those who wield power."

"Do not blame your position for your own choices. Those who hold power, more than anyone else in this world of ours, are fully capable of making their own choices. And living with the consequences. You should put some thought into your own penance, Caldrin. I don't need to tell you how disappointed Galdurath is. If you want to keep your status, you'll need something…revolutionary." With that, the deceptively diminutive Goddess departed.

Auraday Evening - G.A.W.A. Groundskeeper Quarters
​

Faelar sighed quietly as he fell into his worn bed. Like the rest of the academy, his room's furniture seemed high quality, but the cracks appeared when one looked closer.

The mattress sagged not from lack of quality, but use. The wood was quality, but ancient, scuffed, scratched, and with at least five pairs of initials carved in it, that he'd found. A certain Monk would've described Faelar's home as 'barely above a college dorm room', but he had no roommates.

That was why his bathroom door being ajar had caught his attention. He always closed it, as a rule. He wanted this space at least, to be as free of feces and other foulness as possible. Like the rest of the dwelling, the bathroom was also old, had been used by the previous large and likely Beastkin individual. It was in sore need of a renovation.



The elven man had barely taken off his uniform's jacket, before a figure in Stealth moved behind him. Well familiar with the skill, Faelar sensed it easily, and he spun, meeting his assailant's black, wicked dagger with his own. He pressed his thumb into a magic crystal on the hilt, and his dagger became wreathed in focused, conjured plasma, filling the space with a low hum.

The figure spun away, too quickly for even Faelar to stab. Seeing it, his eyes widened. It was a Mordregedh, more commonly known as a Changeling. They were exceedingly rare, powerful, and dangerous. The Ears of the Demon God were feared by all, but so rare that most people in this Age still considered them fairy tales rather than actual threats.

​

"Impressive…" It hissed, before blurring forward in a motion that was hard to follow, but this too, Faelar was familiar with. He activated Evasion, a skill as simple as it sounded, as it boosted his Dexterity significantly, making dodging, and stabbing, much easier.



The Changeling hissed, as the Plasma Dagger cut through one of the rune-empowered wraps covering its unsightly silver flesh. A silver tongue passed over razor sharp teeth as black as its abyssal gaze. "Mossst impressive…" The monster manifested a second dagger, and Faelar did the same from his boot as he kicked the creature in the chest and sent it slamming into his door, hoping to make enough noise for someone to notice. Unfortunately for the elf, the Changeling had already surrounded the area with bubbles of Silence, but not his actual abode, to avoid detection.

Daggers clashed blow for blow, and Faelar narrowed his eyes, focusing magic as their small blades locked. "Assassin…of fucking course…"

Assassins were a line of the Rogue class that were typically used to take out enemy leaders. But since monster leaders were always surrounded, those missions, without backup, were suicide. Thus, most Assassins in adventuring parties opted for ranged weapons and debilitating poisons, mainly used to counter spellcasters or other hazards, as well as scouting and of course, removing traps and opening locks. There was, however, a darker branch of the class that had ended up turning to Dagorath's influence, probably from all the murder. Faelar was fairly sure Changelings were created from latent energy though, which meant it had been taught these techniques.

Monsters that were once Arcadians kept their class, or had it shift at Dagorath's pleasure. Monsters like Goblins and Changelings, despite not being a part of the class system, were able to learn skills they had the stats to use. Smarter ones could even create their own 'Monster Skills' though that was thankfully the wheelhouse of Floor and Final Bosses. Usually.



Faelar had managed to start even with the creature, but as the fight continued, it was clear the monster had more energy left, and it began scoring hits on the groundskeeper. Suddenly, in a flash of movement Faelar could barely follow, the Changeling broke his guard, and both daggers were at his neck. Yet, the monster didn't strike. It started chanting, in Galdurian, a Sleep spell, and Faelar's eyes widened.

"Wait!"

The Changeling paused. Faelar kept going. "You…understand me, right? I know how your kind works. You need fresh blood to keep your stolen appearance. What if I let you have it." The monster tilted its head, and let out an ungodly chittering noise. "Just…leave me alive, locked in here, and I'll tell you everything you could ever need to know to pass as me."

The monster leaned in close to the elf, its daggers pressing into his neck. "Whyyyy…." Came the whisper of Faelar's language from the monstrous, toothy maw that shouldn't have been able to speak it. Changelings were a rare exception to not understanding Arcadia's spoken word.

Faelar put on his best performance, and filled his mind with treasonous thoughts, just in case this thing was able to read minds. "Because I hate these rich bastards as much as you do…any harm you do to them…I'm happy to help with."



The creature was silent for an unsettlingly long time. Faelar just stared. Finally, it hissed, "Blood…for…life! Agreed…"

Faelar deactivated his daggers, and spun them as he sheathed them in his belt. "Very well. What do you need to know?" He offered his wrist.

The creature slashed it in a blur of movement, and then its dark teeth drew the blood into them through tiny holes in the tips of its fangs. The silver flesh rippled, as it inhaled, and its features changed. Then, in his voice and with his mouth it said, "Everything…"

Faelar started without hesitation. His name, his rank, he gave it information that wasn't really more than what was publicly available about him. As he spoke, he hoped his gamble would pay off.

Changelings could fool all manner of magic detection. Even True Sight from a Floor Boss of high level couldn't pierce it. The only thing that could, was the sight of the Gods themselves, and Dagorath had counted on them not bothering to look for his spies themselves.

He would not, could not, have counted on a Monk having the same tier of vision.