Chapter 54

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  Francis didn't move immediately. He lay there, thinking about the beam of light that had punched through his chest. It was pure magical energy, delivered faster than he could react, and powerful enough to kill him before his regeneration could even begin to work.

  Physical skills won't help me against that spell. I’ll need to close that distance and find a way to survive the beam first.

  He thought about his Magic Resistance skill. It had saved him from lesser spells before, helped him endure magical attacks that would have killed other warriors. But a beam that could punch through plate armor and flesh like paper? He wasn't sure any amount of resistance would be enough.

  Still, there was only one way to find out.

  Francis dressed and headed south.

  ***

  The routine passed quickly. Guards, demonstration, war council, equipment. Francis collected his armor and sword, then headed for the forest where the lizardkin waited.

  He cut through the regular beastkin without slowing, his mind focused on what lay ahead. The Jaguarkin and Pantherkin fell to his blade as he pushed deeper into enemy territory. The Rhinokin he avoided entirely, circling wide around the siege beasts. He wasn't here to grind against enemies he'd already mastered.

  The forest swallowed him, and darkness pressed in from all sides, the massive trees blocking out the sun. Francis moved carefully, his sword ready, senses straining for any sign of the lizardkin.

  The clearing appeared ahead, and there it stood. Twenty feet of purple scales and magical power, the staff already rising as it sensed his approach.

  "A human?" the lizardkin hissed, surprise in its voice. "How did you get this deep?"

  Francis charged without answering. He activated Quick Attack, closing the distance as fast as his body could move.

  The crystal flared, and the beam came at him.

  This time, Francis was ready for it. He threw himself to the side, rolling across the grass as white light scorched the air where he'd been standing, dissolving trees and more. Heat washed over him, and he came up running, angling toward the lizardkin's side.

  The creature turned, its staff tracking him. Another beam erupted from the crystal.

  Francis dove again, but this one clipped his shoulder. Pain exploded through his arm as the magical energy burned through his armor and into his flesh. His regeneration activated immediately, golden threads flooding the wound, but the damage was severe.

  [ Magic Resistance Increased - 54 ]

  He kept running, kept moving, knowing that standing still was another death sentence. The lizardkin was already preparing another beam, the crystal pulsing with gathered power. Francis sprinted toward it, eating up the distance with every stride.

  "Stay back!" the lizardkin roared. The staff swept in an arc, and a wave of force slammed into Francis like a physical wall.

  He flew backward, his feet leaving the ground, and crashed into a tree hard enough to crack the trunk. His vision swam. Before he could recover, another beam came.

  This time it caught him in the chest.

  Francis looked down at the hole in his torso, watched his regeneration struggle uselessly against damage too severe to heal, and felt the familiar darkness closing in.

  It has more than just the beam. Some kind of force wave, too. I need to account for both.

  ***

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  Francis went through the routine again. And again. And again.

  Each loop taught him something new about the lizardkin. It could fire the beam rapidly, but each shot required a moment of concentration. The force wave was defensive, used when enemies got too close. And it could speak, which meant it could think, which meant it could be distracted.

  On his fourth attempt, Francis tried talking as he approached.

  "What's your name?" he called out, circling slowly at the edge of the clearing.

  The lizardkin's eyes narrowed. "You dare speak to me as if we were equals?" Its grip tightened on the staff. "I am Thessarak, Wielder of the Burning Light. And you are about to die."

  "I’m Francis Lancaster." He kept moving, looking for angles. "Why guard this forest?"

  "To stop fools like you." Thessarak's staff began to glow. "Enough talk, die bag of flesh."

  The beam came, but Francis was already moving, having used the conversation to close some of the distance. He dodged the first beam, rolled under the second, and came up with his sword driving toward Thessarak's chest.

  The force wave hit him point-blank.

  Francis's body screamed as magical energy slammed into him, but this time he didn't fly backward. His Magic Resistance flared, absorbing some of the impact, and his feet dug furrows in the dirt as he fought to hold his ground.

  [ Magic Resistance Increased - 55 ]

  He staggered, but he didn't fall. His sword was still in his hand. Thessarak's eyes widened in surprise.

  "What—"

  Francis lunged. His blade caught Thessarak's arm, opening a deep wound in the purple scales. The lizardkin shrieked and stumbled back, swinging its staff wildly.

  The beam caught Francis on the side. Not a direct hit, but enough to burn through armor and char the flesh beneath. His regeneration surged, golden threads flooding the wound even as he pressed the attack.

  [ Flurry ]

  Three rapid strikes found their target. Thessarak's other arm. Its torso. Its leg. The lizardkin was bleeding now, its concentration broken, its spells coming slower and weaker.

  [ Flurry Increased - 36 ]

  But the creature wasn't finished, he found out. It raised its staff with both hands, the crystal blazing with light brighter than anything Francis had seen before.

  "BURN!"

  The magic that erupted from it wasn't a lance. It was a torrent, a river of white fire that consumed everything in its path. Francis tried to dodge, but there was nowhere to go. The light swallowed him whole.

  The pain was beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Every nerve in his body screamed as magical fire burned through armor, flesh, and bone. His regeneration tried to activate, but there was nothing left to regenerate.

  Darkness came again.

  ***

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  It has a desperation attack or a finisher. When it's wounded badly enough maybe or feels the threat is too great, it releases everything at once. I need to finish it before it can do that.

  Francis went through the routine, his mind working through the problem. Thessarak was dangerous at range, but vulnerable up close. The force wave could push him back, but his Magic Resistance was getting strong enough to endure it. The key was closing the distance fast enough to kill the lizardkin before it could unleash that final attack.

  Quick Attack. Flurry. Speed and volume of strikes. That was the answer.

  He pushed through the forest, cutting down beastkin, and entered the clearing.

  "Another human soldier?" Thessarak hissed. "Your kind never learns."

  "I learn plenty," Francis replied, raising his sword. "Let's see what you've got."

  He charged.

  [ Quick Attack ]

  The world blurred as Francis crossed the clearing. Thessarak's first beam missed wide, the lizardkin was caught off guard by his speed. The second beam came closer, scorching the air beside Francis's head, but he didn't slow.

  The force wave hit him when he was three strides away. Francis felt his momentum die, felt the magical energy trying to hurl him backward, but he pushed through it. His boots tore furrows in the dirt. His muscles screamed. His Magic Resistance blazed.

  And then he was through.

  [ Quick Attack ]

  [ Flurry ]

  His sword became a blur of steel. He struck at Thessarak's arms, its torso, its legs, anywhere he could reach. The lizardkin tried to bring its staff around, tried to create distance, but Francis stayed close, inside its guard, where the beam couldn't track him.

  [ Quick Attack Increased - 59 ]

  Blood sprayed across the clearing. Thessarak shrieked, its concentration shattered, its spells failing before they could form. Francis pressed harder, his blade finding gaps in the creature's scales, opening wound after wound.

  Then Thessarak's eyes began to glow.

  The desperation attack. It's going to—

  Francis jumped upward and drove his sword through Thessarak's throat before the thought could finish.

  The lizardkin's eyes went wide. The glow faded. Its massive body swayed, then collapsed, nearly crushing Francis beneath it as it fell.

  [ Flurry Increased - 37 ]

  [ Magic Feedback Increased - 23 ]

  Francis stood over the corpse, breathing hard, his body covered in burns and cuts that his regeneration was slowly closing. He'd done it. He'd killed the lizardkin caster.

  But the skill gains weren't enough. Quick Attack was at 59, and Flurry at 37. He needed more.

  He was going to kill himself so that Thessarak would be alive again. And Francis would kill it again. And again. As many times as it took.

  ***

  The loops blurred together.

  Francis killed Thessarak. Died to Thessarak. Killed it again. Each loop, he pushed his Quick Attack and Flurry harder, using them constantly, feeling the skills grow stronger with every fight.

  He learned to read the timing of the beams, to predict when Thessarak would use the force wave, to recognize the moment before the desperation attack. The lizardkin was a puzzle, and Francis was solving it piece by piece.

  Each loop, Thessarak said the same things. "How did you get this deep?" or "Your kind never learns" or "I am Thessarak, Wielder of the Burning Light." The creature seemed confused at Francis’s power, yet the fact it couldn’t remember their fights was important. Every encounter was the first in Thessarak's mind.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  But for Francis, every encounter was built on the last. He learned its patterns, its weaknesses, its tells. Where Thessarak saw a new opponent each time, Francis saw a training dummy that reset itself over and over. Even better was the knowledge that whatever learned from Francis’s deaths in the North, wasn’t learning from them here.

  "You're strong for a human," Thessarak observed in one loop, blocking Francis's strikes with its staff. "But not strong enough."

  "We'll see," Francis replied, and drove his blade through the creature's chest.

  [ Quick Attack Increased - 60 ]

  [ Flurry Increased - 38 ]

  ***

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  Francis could feel it now. Something was building inside him, a pressure in his skills that hadn't been there before. Quick Attack and Flurry were approaching a threshold, their energies beginning to resonate with each other in ways he didn't fully understand.

  Stenson's words echoed in his memory. "Push them high enough, and something clicks."

  He was close. He could feel it.

  Francis went through the routine one more time. Guards. Council. Equipment. Forest. He cut through everything in his path, his sword moving with a speed and precision that surprised even him.

  Thessarak was waiting in the clearing, staff already raised.

  "A human warrior," the lizardkin said, studying Francis with calculating eyes. "You carry yourself like one who has seen battle."

  "I've seen plenty," Francis said.

  "Then you know how this ends." Thessarak's grip tightened on its staff. "All who challenge me die."

  "Not today,” Francis replied, smiling. He charged.

  The beam came. Francis was already dodging, his body moving before his mind had consciously processed the attack. He'd seen it so many times now that avoiding it felt almost automatic.

  [ Quick Attack ]

  He crossed the clearing in a heartbeat. The force wave hit him, but his Magic Resistance absorbed most of the impact. He barely slowed.

  [ Flurry ]

  His sword moved through the air, cutting, slashing, stabbing. Thessarak tried to retreat, tried to create distance, but Francis was relentless. Every time the lizardkin moved, Francis was there, his blade finding flesh.

  "What are you?" Thessarak gasped, blood pouring from a dozen wounds.

  "Someone who doesn't give up."

  [ Quick Attack ]

  [ Flurry ]

  The skills blurred together, speed and volume of strikes becoming one seamless assault. Francis felt something shift inside him, felt the two abilities beginning to merge, their energies combining into something new.

  [ Quick Attack Increased - 61 ]

  [ Quick Attack has reached Elite Rank ]

  Power flooded through him. Francis's sword moved faster, struck harder, each attack flowing into the next without pause or hesitation. Thessarak screamed, its body being carved apart by a storm of steel.

  [ Flurry ]

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  [ Quick Attack ]

  [ Flurry ]

  [ Flurry ]

  Over and over Francis killed it and allowed himself to die. He was lost in the moment, a hunger for what was right there within his grasp. Francis had forgotten how great it felt to pursue skills like this and to see their growth.

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  [ Flurry ]

  The attacks came so fast that Francis lost count. His arm was a blur, his sword a silver streak that carved through scales and flesh and bone. The skill was climbing, climbing, climbing—

  [ Flurry Increased - 39 ]

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  [ Flurry Increased - 40 ]

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  [ Flurry Increased - 41 ]

  [ Flurry has reached Advanced Rank ]

  And then something inside Francis broke open.

  [ Threshold Reached ]

  [ Quick Attack (Elite) + Flurry (Advanced) ]

  [ Skill Synergy Detected ]

  [ New Skill Acquired: Blade Tempest (Epic) - 1 Basic ]

  The world seemed to slow. Francis felt power unlike anything he'd experienced surge through his body, through his sword arm, through the blade itself. Quick Attack and Flurry weren't separate skills anymore. They were one, combined into something greater than either had been alone.

  [ Blade Tempest ]

  Francis moved.

  Francis became a whirlwind. His body moved in a blur, dashing forward and around Thessarak in a spiral pattern, his sword striking from every angle. One hit. Two. Three. Each successful strike extended the duration of the skill, kept the momentum going, and kept the storm alive.

  The lizardkin tried to track him, tried to bring its staff around, but Francis was everywhere at once. Four hits. Five. Six. His blade carved through purple scales again and again, the whirlwind dash carrying him in arcs and spirals that made defense impossible.

  Three seconds. That's how long Blade Tempest lasted at its maximum duration. Three seconds of Francis moving like a storm made flesh, his sword finding Thessarak from angles the creature couldn't possibly defend against.

  When the skill ended, Francis stood behind the lizardkin, breathing hard. Thessarak swayed, its body carved open from a dozen strikes delivered in the span of a heartbeat. Then it collapsed.

  Francis stood in the center of the clearing, surrounded by the remnants of what had once been Thessarak, Wielder of the Burning Light. His sword dripped with blood. His arm ached from the intensity of the attack. His regeneration was working on a dozen small wounds he didn't even remember receiving.

  But none of that mattered.

  He had done it. He had reached the threshold Stenson had spoken of. He had unlocked something new.

  Blade Tempest.

  Francis looked at his sword, at the blood dripping from its edge, and felt a grim smile cross his face.

  Let's see the observer counter this.

  ***

  Francis smiled, having returned to the General’s tent and bringing back its weapon.

  "You killed the lizardkin caster," Stenson said, studying the crystal Francis had brought back. The thing still pulsed with faint light, though its power was fading. "The one that's been destroying our front lines for months."

  "I killed it," Francis confirmed. "And I unlocked something in the process."

  Stenson's eyes sharpened. "The merge?"

  "Blade Tempest. Quick Attack and Flurry combined into something new. Something stronger."

  [ Blade Tempest (Epic) - 1 Basic ]

  [ Unleash a whirlwind dash, striking up to 6 enemies in rapid succession. Each successful hit refreshes the skill's attack and duration. Maximum duration: 3 seconds. ]

  The general set the crystal down and leaned back in his chair. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his weathered face.

  "I obviously told you there was something waiting at that threshold."

  "You did," Francis agreed. "Thank you for pushing me toward it."

  "Don't thank me yet." Stenson's smile faded. "Blade Tempest is powerful, but it's not invincible. You'll need to train it, push it higher, learn its limits. And you’re certain that the observer in the North hasn’t adapted yet to what you’ve been doing?"

  “Everything I’ve faced here has been as if it were the first time. None of them seemed to remember me or what I could do. The real question now is what to do. Should I just keep grinding or attempt to return to the north and see what I can find out?”

  “For a while, I would continue practicing and training it,” Stenson replied. “You’re remarkable, and it appears the gods have granted us a weapon that will perhaps let us finally win the war.”

  “Perhaps,” Francis said, keeping himself from frowning at the mention of the gods. “I have a dozen other questions, but for now, I think the other major question I have is why can I learn skills so quickly here? Why did things slow down when I was in the North?”

  Stenson rubbed his earlobe between two fingers and frowned. “I wonder why I never mentioned that… your magic. The kind that you can cast is from the north.”

  “It is. You saw it. The very healing magic you sent me for, I’m starting to finally get. What about it?”

  “You shouldn’t have that… not in the sense that it’s not possible… I mean everything you’re doing is basically impossible and yet here you sit before me, possessing skills most men two or three times my ages would give anything for. The truth… is that the four kingdoms are different. Each is a variation of the creation of our gods. For the northern gods to grant you their… blessing is very unique. I suppose part of me had hoped… or I must have believed it was possible.”

  “So what?” Francis asked. “How does that impact my ability to learn skills at the pace I have here?”

  “You’re a Southerner, a Lancaster, a person of our gods,” Stenson replied slowly. “In our land you grow stronger. In the others… not as fast. Each god has a blessing upon their domain. To fight there means that you develop slower than you would here because you’re not a Northerner.”

  “Wait,” Francis interrupted, holding up his hand. “The gods somehow can limit how fast one learns skills based upon the kingdom they’re in?”

  The general gave a few small nods. “Think about the defensive side of that. You would be hard pressed to grow as strong and the land isn’t designed for everyone. How cold is it up North?”

  “Now? Not bad since I gained the cold resistance,” Francis said with a grin. “Before… it wasn’t pleasant at all.”

  “Exactly. Something the gods gifted the barbarians to keep them safe and give them an advantage over other nations who might try to attack and invade. But did your skills start to improve faster after being granted their mark?”

  Francis considered that question and realized that they had grown faster to a degree.

  “Yes.”

  “Which is how it works. You will learn skills you acquire here faster when upon your own soil. When you go north, the skills from there will advance faster.”

  “Wait, why didn’t you… or wouldn’t you have told me this in any of those other loops I’ve done?”

  Stenson frowned, sitting there silent for a moment before sighing. “I’m guessing it’s because I didn’t want to discourage you. It would appear you enjoy the gaining of skills and I might have thought you would give up if they didn’t come as fast. Perhaps I knew this conversation would take place at some point if things worked out as I hoped. Regardless, you’re in a rare moment where you can fight here and there, gaining skills at a rate most could never hope for.”

  So he lied… or withheld information… not to be mean but because he believed he understood me.

  Francis was frustrated at the general but also understood the logic the man must have have.

  “So… I have another question… Can I learn the magic of our people?”

  Stenson snorted and nodded. “You can… but the question is will someone teach you.”

  “And they wouldn’t because?”

  “You learn that in the Spire. For someone to be willing to teach you, you would have to go to the Spire and prove you can touch the source. Then you would have to undergo a rigorous process of learning. If what you say is true, that would only be thirty to forty days before the other side resets everything. Do you want to do that right now?”

  Francis rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

  I could see my sister. She might be willing to teach me… but am I willing to endure the Spires? Not that it’s a horrible thing… I just… need to decide what’s more important right now.

  “What about Priscilla?” Francis asked. “Would she be willing to teach me?”

  Clearing his throat, Stenson shrugged. “You could ask. That would be… unorthodox from what I know. Perhaps. You would have to ask her that yourself, as neither the King nor I could force her to do that.”

  Both of them sat in silence for a few moments as Francis considered his choices.

  Eventually, the general cleared his throat. “So what do you plan on doing? Stay here? Fight more? Go back to the North?”

  "I’ll go back there soon enough. There are still things to learn here, skills to push higher and a conversation I need to have with Priscilla. But the North is where the real fight is. I mean, not that the fight here isn’t just as important. I still need to figure out what or who in the north… the observer , or the parasites, or whatever is controlling the beastkin forces is." Francis met Stenson's eyes. "That's where I need to be."

  "Then make the most of the time you have left here," Stenson said. "And when you go back, give them hell."

  Francis nodded. "I intend to."

  He left the command tent and walked to the edge of the camp, looking out over the battlefield. Somewhere out there, the Jaguarkin and Pantherkin were waiting to be killed again. The Rhinokin guarded its siege beasts. The serpentkin lurked in its swamp.

  And tomorrow, Thessarak would be alive again, ready to die once more.

  Francis felt the power of Blade Tempest humming in his muscles, waiting to be unleashed. He had a new weapon now, one forged through countless deaths against the most dangerous enemies the Southern Kingdom had to offer.

  The grind had paid off.

  But it wasn't over yet.