by Dakota Krout
Silence reigned in the area for a few moments, until both Andre and Don began laughing at her. However, Taylor's facial expression did not change a single bit. A new - highly musical - voice called out, “I did indeed get here before you, great Archdruid! My oh my, do I have a story for you!”
A golden-haired man strode forward with a lopsided grin. He was wearing a stiff new formal outfit, the purple-and-gold Raiment of a Kingdom-bound True Bard, and had several instruments strapped to him in the places where others would carry a bow or other weapons. He looked to be roughly twenty, and his eyes showed a hint of amusement… and something else. There was a hunted cast to his face that his friends could not remember ever seeing before.
“Zed!” Andre bellowed, rushing over to embrace his long-lost friend. “How are you? You've aged?”
“Yes, well, not all of us got to move to a new universe that allowed us to stay immortally and eternally young. My powers are granted by this world, remember?” Zed huffed at Andre, pretending to be upset. “Kids these days! But really, the biggest draw for a Bard is Ascending to level twenty. If I can't do it fast enough, I will become too old to really hold my own in a new world.”
“Well, what are friends for?” Andre slapped the Bard on the back, “My Potentia is your Potentia; let's get you some levels! Can we group up or something? Share Potentia?”
“Lord Archdruid, you will be assigned a security team that fits with your power, prestige, and scope of duties.” One of the Generals that had been waiting in the area piped up, snorting at the thought of the Archdruid teaming up with a barely-trained Bard. “Besides, Bards cannot earn Potentia through combat, only through interactions with other people. It is highly unlikely that you will be grouped together with... ahem… him.”
“Right, well…” Andre searched around in a vain attempt to find a way to alleviate the awkward situation. “Seriously, where is Luke? He should be here by now!”
“Andre, I really did not want to be the one to have to tell you this.” Taylor locked gazes with Zed, who also knew the truth of the matter. He wasn’t offering to explain, so she sighed and closed her eyes. “When we were first going through portals, all those years ago-”
*Crack*.
Somehow, impossibly, the portal that was in place shattered like a mirror that had been hit by a hammer. It shifted into a deep blue coloration, and the world started to thump. A sound like a heartbeat filled the area, growing deeper, faster, louder. Just as it seemed as though the Mages in the area would launch an attack at the portal, something came through.
It was a hand. A human hand, one which displayed a pair of glowing goats horns hovering in front of it. As the hand pulled back, another joined it and seemed to be pulling the portal in different directions. A light blue mist poured out of the small hole that was being opened, and almost everything that it touched died. Almost everything.
“Everyone get back!” Master Don roared, sweeping the area with telekinetic force. People were tossed away from the blue mist, some of them sustaining injuries as they went through the walls of the fibrous new buildings.
Andre felt sick and prepared himself to go all out in defense of the world around him. Taylor felt refreshed, powerful, and somehow knew that the energy coming out of the portal was raw, unfiltered mana. Zed leaned forward, interested in the show. “Oh, this will make a good story…!”
The portal cracked again, and a humanoid figure forced itself into the world, dropping to the ground for a long moment as it heaved deep breaths. The excess mana slowly absorbed into the area, and only Andre knew that everything that had survived its touch had been incredibly empowered.
Zed, who had decided to get closer to the heaving figure than anyone else, suddenly wheeled backwards, clutching at his face. “Celestials above! What is that smell?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Whatever it is, I believe that it is coming from... him? It appears to be a man.” Master Don raised a brow at the strange person covered in half-rotten hides. There was so much muck on the body in front of him that Master Don couldn’t tell if the blue-brown hair was naturally that color, or if it was just full of dirt. The smell of blood filled the air on the heels of the scent of rotting flesh, and people once more grew wary.
Luke slowly opened his eyes when he heard the voice that had plagued his nightmares for just shy of forty years. It had been so long, in fact, that he was momentarily convinced that he had once upon a time imagined the voice of the Archmage; simply ascribing his hatred to a figment of his imagination. However, here was the man himself, and Luke was too weak from running uphill and fighting his way all the way back to the edge of Zone six, then punching open the dimension, to kill the man where he stood.
When his Sigil warned him of impending death, Luke had been stepping into the ninth Zone. He had planned to ignore the Sigil, and had managed to do so for ten entire days. Then there had been red text that informed him that he only had four days to escape Murder World and return to the base world before it popped his head like skill pearls popped goats. Though he was loath to give up the search for Cookie, he would escape and resume the hunt as soon as he could manage it.
“Throw a bucket of water on it and see what comes out the other side.” Master Don ordered.
“Water! No!” Luke’s voice was barely intelligible. He had spent so much time making sure that his hair and beard were extra fluffy! He had never felt so weak, the air here was so thin! Still, he struggled to his feet and prepared to fight these new Zone constructs. The people around him took a step back; apparently his weak struggle to his feet was still faster than they typically saw anything reacting. His yanked out a goat hide waterskin and took a sip from it, feeling his mana skyrocket back to its maximum. Opening a portal had been trying, and that was when the world around him was feeding concentrated mana to his system at a high rate.
Don! There he was! Luke’s hands glowed bright blue, and the ground shattered under his feet as he launched himself at the man that had trapped him in another world. There was surprise in the face of the other man; Luke remembered just enough about human interactions - and he had seen the expression often enough on the things that he killed - to understand that much. His Battering Ram weapons slammed against a barrier of some kind, again and again. Eight attacks in one second, and the energy field around the Mage collapsed.
“What in the-” the Archmage did not stand idly; a spell detonated in Luke's face the next instant.
Health: 180/250.
Luke felt the skin of his face start to drip off; that detonation had some form of corrosion behind it. A sense of danger flooded through him, and he instantly deposited all of his mana into his ‘metal gauntlets’. Once more, the sheer amount of power devoted to a single aspect made the air around it warp and shudder. His hands came into position, and only his experience fighting allowed him to catch the bright green Fireball that was coming after him.
‘Catch’ was a bit of a misnomer, as what he was doing in reality was absorbing as much of the damage as possible, then doing everything he could to deflect the remaining power into the air above him.
*Boom*.
Luke was knocked to a prone position, his face bouncing off the dirt and stone below him. “What? Brown? Dirt is brown here? How strange!”
Health: 132/250. (Concussion, massive.)
Armor: 2/250
He looked upward to see bright green flames spiraling down toward him. There was nothing that he could do, Luke was fully spent. His brain felt scrambled, he was out of Mana, his armor had been destroyed. He watched his death approach… then was slapped out of the way by the branch of a tree that he had landed near. His new resting location had him staring up at a man wearing fur-trimmed robes. Solid and practical choice. Luke approved.
A voice that he somewhat recognized from his childhood shouted out in a heroic tone, “Archmage, he is clearly an Initiate! Perhaps he has simply gone through something traumatic, and needs a few moments to collect himself. Why not put
him through processing, and question him after?”
“Andre, he was able to attack me, though the Sigil is clearly on his muck-coated forehead.” The Archmage retorted coldly as he readied his next spell. “He needs to be put down for the safety of the Kingdom.”
“Doesn’t processing adjust the Sigil and fine-tune it?” A cold, feminine voice reached Luke’s ears.
There was silence for a long moment, then the Archmage appeared next to Luke and slapped him toward a building. “Fine; let’s see if that fixes things.”
Feeling his body spinning through the air was an uncomfortable sensation for Luke. He hadn’t found anything in the last seven years that had been able to challenge him with physical might, and he had tried. Perhaps he shouldn’t have taken the time to kill absolutely everything in every Zone, but that was the only way to ensure that nothing would come along and stab him in the back. Things had tried to do so, had succeeded even, but still he was alive.
The Zones after the tutorial were… different. They were full ecosystems. Full of creatures, bugs, plants, and a myriad of things that he had no phylum for. There were creatures made of the elements, creatures made of pure thought that had to be ‘experienced’ in order to be defeated… overall, it was a nice change from the single enemy type of each of the previous tutorial Zones.
However, it seemed that some kind of restriction had been lifted. No longer were things respawning or growing at incredible speeds, but the caveat was that each Zone seemed to have some form of ‘boss’. Like him, everything there was trying to survive and become the most powerful. Oftentimes, they did not appreciate his attempts to move forward; in one instance, he even had to kill a boss in order to pass through to the next Zone.
Still, it had taken seven years to get through three more Zones. He had known that the only reason he had been trapped in Zone five of the tutorial was because the phantoms were hiding from him! “Ha, ha, haaa!”
Luke was interrupted from his reverie by a strange man that he found himself sitting across from. But… he didn’t remember sitting down? Before he could say anything, the strange man spoke first. “What is going on here?”
Not having had a human interaction in almost forty years, Luke simply sat and stared at the strange, chubby little man covered in odd, shifting writing. There was a small staring contest for a few long seconds, then the man spoke once more. “I can only assume that you are here for processing? Give me your name, surname if you were a noble before becoming an Initiate, and class.”
Luke said nothing, so the man rolled his eyes and tried it again. “On my authority in the Kingdom, I order you to answer my questions. What is your name?”
“Luke.” Luke blinked as his mouth answered without him intending to speak.
“Surname if you were a noble?” No answer came to this one, so the Mage crossed something off and went to the next question, “What is your class?”
Still, there was no answer. There was a space for a class in Luke’s Sigil status, but it had always stayed blank. As the silence stretched on and no answer was forthcoming, the Mage started to become peeved. “Are you intentionally resisting my orders?”
“No.” The answer was instant and again unintentional.
“Where are you from?”
“Here.” Luke responded honestly.
“What are you?” the Mage responded in an irritated voice.
“Powerful.”
The Enchanter slapped his hand on the table, “What is your power?”
“Skill.”
“All right, enough of this. You want to do things the hard way? Fine!” The Enchanter pulled out a massive book and slapped it on the table. “What plane of existence did you go to?”
“Murder.”
“You went… to murder? What does that even mean?” The Mage didn't even bother to look through the book. “Was that an action, or a place?”
“It was the world.”
“You went to ‘Murderworld’?” the Mage stared at Luke with narrowed eyes, “Was that the official name of the plane of existence you were sent to?”
“There is a space between the two words,” Luke calmly replied. “Murder. World. That is where I have been.”
“Forget this. I hope you can deal with pain.” The Mage pulled out a crystal and it instantly resonated with the Sigil on Luke's forehead. To the Enchanter, the most concerning part of this process was that Luke did not utter a sound as he underwent what was known to be a horrifyingly painful experience. His anger slowly started to transform into fear as the data on the crystal was updated.
CAL Scan
Level: 9
Current Etheric Xenograft Potentia: 3,333/8,900 to level 10!
Body: 30.1
Fitness: 40.2
Resistance: 20
Mind: 18.6
Talent: 16.3
Capacity: 20.9
Presence: 14.5
Willpower: 23
Charisma: 6
Senses: 22.4
Physical reaction: 27.5
Mental energy: 17.3
Maximum Health: 250
Maximum Mana: 324.2
Mana regen: 5.43 per second
“But…! You are an Initiate! You are under level ten! These numbers are literally not possible!” The Enchanter quickly scanned the other information that had been pulled from the Sigil directly. “Murder World. Celestials, you weren't joking. Unknown plane of existence? That hasn't been seen in a thousand years! No class, both in the literal and…”
The man paused and looked at Luke’s disgusting body with a sneer. “... figurative.”
He couldn't help but feel threatened by the enormously muscled man across the table from him. Luke was an anomaly, something that shouldn't exist. Beyond that, he was far stronger than the Enchanter himself. “You are coated with rotting animal skins. I literally cannot tell how far under that dirt and dried blood your skin is. It looks like your blue eyes are peeking out through a blue mask!”
Silence was his only response. The taunting had no effect. Luke had not been asked a question; he did not have to answer. The Enchanter snorted. “Typically, when a new class is created, the creator gets to name it. However, in this case I am going to just assign you a combination of your plane of existence, as well as your demeanor as a person. Your class name is officially ‘Murderhobo’. Oh, and there isn’t a space between those words. I don't suppose you would like to offer a diagram design for your Sigil? Of course not-”
He was interrupted by a scrap of leather slamming onto the table in front of him. There was a symbol etched into it, but the leather itself was so filthy and soaked in blood that it was hard to make it out. Luke stabbed his finger onto it, “This is what I remember of my family. This was our family crest. This can represent me.”
“I thought you said your family was not Noble?” The Mage examined the triangular symbol; it was a combination of four shapes. From left to right: a diagonal line that spanned from the bottom left to the top, an arrow pointing to the left above a line that wrapped around to the center, finally ending with a line looking like a mountain peak on the right. “What is this supposed to be? A mountain range?”
“Four people in my family. Four mountains. Based on some kind of mythos about the best place in the multiverse, a place called Mountaindale.” Luke chose not to elaborate further, and the Enchanter simply rolled his eyes.
“All right, your class symbol is set, your class is set, updating your Sigil now.” The Enchanter-specialized Mage rolled his eyes and let his Mana flow into the crystal. Unbeknownst to him, the changes in the Sigil consisted both of a cosmetic one, and the entire reimplementation of the previously destroyed anti-kingdom-attacking system… which promptly fractured within the Sigil and began leaking mana. “As you become more powerful, and make more contributions to the Kingdom, your Sigil will gain intricacy. We hope that you have enjoyed your time here. Get out. For the love of the celestials, take a shower.”
Luke stood up, then calmly turned aro
und and kicked the table. It shattered, sending the Enchanter flying through the back of the building with wooden shrapnel all around him. Only the fact that he was wearing Enchanted garb with passive protections on it kept him alive. “If you ever try to control me again, I'll crush your throat before you can get out a single syllable.”
*Chime*!
“Quiet, you! I don’t care if you’re mad at me.” Luke stepped out of the building, finding himself completely surrounded by Mages and warriors with weapons and spells prepped and aimed at him. He heard the Archmage speak to a suspiciously familiar woman.
“Well, that clearly didn’t work. Any other bright ideas?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Well, first of all, why don't we just talk with him, instead of ordering him around or slapping him with spells?” Taylor’s tone was caustic, and she stepped forward carefully after answering the Archmage, holding out a soothing hand as if Luke was a wild animal. “Sir? I assume you are a man, thanks to that… rather, um, impressive beard. I'm going to cast a spell to clean you up and take care of any surface-level health issues that you are having. This is not an attack. Cleanse, Purify? Take care of him?”
Two insect-like spell forms flew out of a fluttering book that appeared behind her, zipping around Luke in a supersonic orbit. His hand lashed out, catching one of them, inspecting it, and letting it go. He snorted in a gravelly voice, “No protein.”
It took a few minutes, longer than Taylor had ever seen her spells require to complete their instructions, but eventually the grime and filth vanished. However, his wrapped leathers and animal hides deteriorated to a point that they vanished into nothingness as well. What the spells left behind was a fully nude man that Taylor had given up for dead long ago. “Luke…?”