Chapter 97: Chapter 97

“We need to stop meeting …”

“On the contrary, I avoid the hassle of a careful explanation and get free magic training every time. Why would I want to ever change the order of things?”

“To spare frightening me, Tegin and the soldiers of the city perhaps? Besides, would you not consider it a fairer fight if I had my memories and subsequent skill levels and insights?” Destartes asked.

That was a good point. While it was exceedingly entertaining and efficient to walk up to the walls of Anthus declare that he knew about the conspiracy and then engage Destartes in a magical duel, it wasn’t quite as optimal as facing the wizard when he had the memories of the prior loops.

Perhaps he would have to knock him over the head with Fenton’s orb before sparring him.

Orodan, his students, Old Man Hannegan, Destartes, Adeltaj Simarji and the Lieutenant-General of Anthus were sat in the city’s central fort. Specifically in the war room where a large canvas with details and plans was laid out, courtesy of Parthus’s drawing skills.

The ancient machine had been disabled, the warehouse built afterwards, and everyone collected and given a good smack upon the head with the orb before finally convening in Anthus.

Of the three new additions to the loops, Zukelmux and Destartes took the return of their memories quite well. The goblin’s mind had been fine, and Destartes had barely frowned for a second as he processed the orb’s memories, the wizard’s mind being strong. Aliya had had a slightly painful time assimilating the memories of her past self. But still a lot better than Edrosic or Old Man Hannegan had managed during their transfers.

This he suspected was due to her young age of eight, and the mind of a child being more malleable and tolerant of sudden influxes of new information. She’d only grunted a bit and cradled her head, but then had a beaming smile on her face as she immediately wanted to resume her training and perhaps surprise some people with her new skills and future knowledge.

All that aside, within the war room, the Lieutenant-General could only look at Orodan and sigh.

“Your most brash entrance and greeting aside, the information you’ve brought us is quite useful Mister Wainwright,” Tegin Carrotfoot said. “Elder Adeltaj’s memories of the meetings within the High Spire are invaluable. Knowing which houses voted against allowing you access to the ancient machine helps us narrow down who among the neutral houses might in fact be Cathedral loyalists. And who further among them might have Novarrian interests at heart or worse… be under the influence of this elven psionic web you speak of.”

The halfling general had his work cut out for him. The first time he’d helped the conspirators of Anthus, it had been a very direct thing. But last loop, it had been more subtle. It had allowed for them to identify who was a potential problem. It was Tegin Carrotfoot making use of and exploiting the fact that Orodan was in a time loop. After all, the general didn’t just have to deal with the Cathedral and its loyalists, but also Novarria and the elves’ spying afterwards.

“The elves aren’t so bad. They’re after the Eldritch crown of Balastion Novar but I can’t say they’ve ever harbored hostile intentions against the Republic,” Orodan clarified.

“But that doesn’t stop them engaging in the typical cold wars and national jockeying that all nations do. While they might mean us no harm, they certainly won’t shed any tears if the Republic is weakened and Eldiron remains the strongest nation of Alastaia,” the halfling clarified.

“You’ve a keener mind for politics than I do. Short of open hostilities, do what you need to.”

The smaller instances of jockeying and bickering between nations was something he had no interest in.

“Forget the politics… I’m still miserable at the fact that not all of my skill levels carried over…” Edrosic muttered looking utterly dejected.

“That’s because you’re relying on the System for those Parthus. Without the proper insights being ingrained in you, the skill levels won’t just increase,” Orodan explained. “If anything, consider it good training and the opportunity to correct bad habits and manually acquire the understanding yourself.”

Although it was entirely unintended, one nice thing about Fenton’s orb was that rote repetition and grinding for skill levels didn’t transfer over. Zukelmux, Aliya and Edrosic, all of whom had gained a few levels through rote grinding in certain skills, didn’t have those carry over. And unsurprisingly enough, the skills which hadn’t transferred were those which the three of them weren’t too familiar with, disliked, or simply went through the motions for without attaining true understanding.

Zukelmux and Aliya’s combat gains had been entirely unaffected. As had Edrosic’s Drawing and Weaving levels. And Wainroach of course was a most diligent student who had been entirely unaffected because whatever she put her mind to learning she truly immersed herself in.

Destartes and Adeltaj had similarly been unaffected. The former because he loved magic and couldn’t fathom the thought of mindlessly practicing, and the latter because the man’s Mythical Burden of the Hero skill was quite close to the essence of who the Simarji was.

“Bah! You younglings bicker too much!” Old Man Hannegan spoke up. “Just pull yourself up by the shoestraps and get to working on it again if you have to. Complaining won’t help you.”

“Agreed,” Orodan said and then considered the old foreman. “You know, I let it fall to the wayside last loop, but we haven’t really discussed a training regimen for you, old man. Can’t let you be left behind in the dirt while us young folk acquire all the skills.”

“You’re older than me you rockhead!” the foreman retorted and then simply grunted, gesturing towards the canvas. “And if you’ll notice, I haven’t kept idle while you and your quartet of fools have been gallivanting about.”

To Orodan’s shock Old Man Hannegan wasn’t wrong. He looked closely and only now noticed the discrepancy between the man’s older Status and the one currently charted out by Edrosic. Since when had he possesses that many skills?

“What in the world… since when did you have all… that…” Orodan murmured in shock.

“When else? I just picked up a job or two here and there while you lot were slinging spells or hacking one another up.”

Hells… was working random jobs truly such an effective strategy? From the looks of it the old man didn’t even directly labor at many of these places.

“Could I join him?” Edrosic asked.

“I thought you joined the militia in the first place to get away from the manual labor of your father’s carpentry business,” Orodan questioned.

“Er… yes… but I feel so motivated now to help! How can I allow an old man like-”

“You’re not weaseling out of Oxhead. But since you’re such a willing volunteer I suppose we can have you both attend the academy and work with Mister Hannegan on the side,” Orodan said with an all too happy smile, causing his fellow militia man to wilt like grass in the winter.

“And am I to attend Bluefire then teacher?” Zukelmux asked.

“You are. You beat even the headmaster of Oxhead, a Master-level warrior.”

“But without me Edrosic will-”

“Get beat up? Suffer from being bullied because of his county militia roots?” Orodan asked, and then smiled. “Good.”

The goblin, who was quite protective of the other students like a big brother was his younger siblings, didn’t look pleased with that answer.

“I… I’ll protect Edrosic, don’t worry big brother Zuk!” Aliya declared.

Big brother Zuk? Since when had such a dynamic emerged?

“Be at ease Zukelmux. Your protective instincts do you credit, but Parthus will not learn to shoulder his own burdens unless he faces down adversity himself and stares it in the eye. Whether he loses or not, he must learn to fight independently without you shielding his every step,” Orodan explained. “You would be doing him a disservice by coddling him at every turn.”

“You… are not wrong teacher, forgive me.”

Orodan waved off the goblin’s apology, not deeming it necessary. He could respect Zukelmux’s protective instincts. The spear-and-shield wielding warrior had practically adopted Aliya, Wainroach and Edrosic into the Rising Spears Tribe by this point, acting as a protective figure.

Which—although Orodan would never say out loud—was a funny sight when considering the goblin was smaller in stature than even the eight year old girl. Of course, anyone underestimating Zukelmux based on stature would be in for a rude awakening.

“Alright, we’ve gotten off-course. Let’s review our decisions before we take our steps for this loop. Mister Wainwright, you shall be taking Adeltaj and I to the moon and perhaps even the void for training, yes?” Destartes asked and Orodan nodded. “Right. We shall be looking forward to that, and the challenges with surviving upon an airless rock in the void. And beyond that, I take it you intend to visit Eldiron? Although it might displease my student Tegin here, I can understand the necessity in seeking instruction from the elves in regards to the things you’ve uncovered in that tome.”

“Eldiron really isn’t all that bad. They’re not as hells-bent on subjugating human civilization as people here seem to think they are,” Orodan replied. “Though if it helps you feel better General, I’ll avoid swearing any oaths of allegiance to the elven nation.”

“Why that puts all my worries at ease Mister Wainwright,” the halfling replied with more than a bit of sarcasm. “But I suppose my paranoia is a little unjustified when your information is quite legitimate, as is the trust my master Destartes holds in you.”

“So you’re in agreement then? About my proposal?” Orodan asked.

“This… joint council sounds quite grandiose and more than a little idealistic. I would normally scoff at the thought of this many nations coming together and managing to set aside their differences for the sake of some collective greater good. But… when the costs will all be borne by a time looper whose cosmic might is more than sufficient to keep them in line… I suppose I can see the merit in it.”

“Good. Then my visit to Eldiron will not only be for the sake of learning, but for hopefully bringing them into the fold, though I’m not too good with these political discussions…”

“No need to worry, for Adeltaj and I will be accompanying you there. After all, how else will you learn to master that volatile power of yours?” Destartes asked, and Orodan froze. “Did you think I didn’t pay attention when you told me how unacceptable your usage of Burst Casting in that recent battle in the void was? Do you think I tolerate such inadequacy in my students? No. You will be relentlessly trained every moment until this deficiency of yours is rectified. Not only will you not be casting any uncontrolled and overpowered lightning bolts at me, but you shall not be doing so to anyone else either. Unless that is your intent of course.”

The wizard wasn’t wrong. Burst Casting at a high level of power was still incredibly volatile. In fact he’d perused the records of Anthus and even heard of another mage in the Eastern Kingdoms who had the skill. But unlike her, Orodan’s Burst Casting was notably different. She had a mana pool the size of a normal human, and a soul which wasn’t in a state of constant churning in a bid to generate endless power. And he also suspected that the violence within made his burst casts particularly explosive and abrupt, even by the standards of mages who also had the skill.

“And don’t forget that I’ll be calling upon you regularly too,” Old Man Hannegan piped up. “Gerace and his house will need your help at the quarry.”

As would Esgarius need his skills for their business partnership if Orodan wanted to see his students’ tuitions funded fairly without imposing upon Adeltaj’s house.

But in truth, all of this was just an opportunity for good training. His students, Adeltaj and Destartes, Old Man Hannegan and of course, Guzuhar and Eldiron.

And for the elven continent, his visit wouldn’t just be for the purposes of learning and establishing friendly contact. But to seek out one particularly haughty individual. For this loop, he intended to bring a certain irritating dimensional phase spider into the fold.

“Then Mister Wainwright, if you would?” he halfling commander asked.

Orodan nodded, and his broom hit the ground, the power of his Celestial skill expanding outward from the point of impact. It signified not only the cleansing of all Alastaia’s wicked Gods, but also the beginning of this loop’s plans and training.

[Burst Casting 22 → Burst Casting 23]

[Mana Bolt 7 → Mana Bolt 9]

“R-run! Flee! Calamity comes for us all!”

“Varkir save us! Rune lords protect us!”

The dwarf commander in charge of the underground operation beneath the dwarven capital of Var Turum was struck down in a single bolt. His armor turned to molten slag as the anti-magic enchantments upon it were overpowered.

Yes, it seemed to be a successful cast. Although Orodan’s teacher didn’t seem to think so.

“Again! Far too much power! Continue this trend and I’ll demote you to learning and using Mana Light,” Destartes chided.

And given that Mana Bolt was the weakest spell in Orodan’s repertoire and that Mana Light was the weakest known magical projection spell of them all, he was just one step away from hitting rock bottom. Wonderful.

Yes, the wizard had demoted him from using Lightning Bolts and downgraded him to Mana Bolts. The ban on lightning had come after an embarrassing streak of failures where he’d failed to maintain control over how much power was thrown into each cast. Well, it wasn’t embarrassing as much as it was revelatory of the fact that Orodan faced an entirely unique set of struggles when using Burst Casting compared to regular mages.

The dwarven perpetrators of the atrocities beneath Var Turum might not think his casts to be ineffective, but being dead had a way of making one’s opinion hold less weight than it otherwise would.

In any case, he had the proverbial dunce cap on and was relegated to casting Mana Bolts like some beginner mage learning to utilize their mana pool for the first time at an academy.

The good news was that he wasn’t too likely to be demoted down to learning Mana Light. Because unlike Lightning Bolt, he’d actually succeeded in keeping the power low but constant when using Mana Bolt. Fifty percent of the time at least. This, he attributed to the fact that the basic spell had no element involved with it, and his Mana Manipulation was just on the cusp of reaching the Elite-level. In other words, it was a spell he was less likely to screw up.

The next cast was a successful one, by Destartes’s metric anyhow. Orodan focused, keeping a tight rein upon his mana pool even as he exploded outwards with the spell.

[Mana Bolt 9 → Mana Bolt 10]

[Mana Manipulation 69 → Mana Manipulation 70]

Sure, the spell barely singed the armor of the nearby Master-level armored dwarf, but at least he’d managed to keep the power low.

“There we are,” Orodan remarked, pleased with the result. “I might be getting somewhere yet.”

“Good. It’s pleasing to know that this crippling set of circumstances of yours can be overcome with work and effort,” Destartes spoke. “Once we manage to perfect your ability to cast Mana Bolts via Burst Casting, then we’ll gradually move up.”

The dwarf whose armor had been singed didn’t have much time to celebrate as Orodan launched another five bolts his way. The first four were low-power and the warrior simply laughed. Only for the fifth to utterly melt the stout soldier.

“Four out of five… pathetic. I won’t be satisfied until I can cast a thousand in a row perfectly,” Orodan declared.

“In this case your perfectionism suits you well. This training would have put off many. Why, even my patience would begin to grate after a while,” Destartes admitted. “But if you’re to reach the point where you can seamlessly blend Burst Casting into every individual attack over the course of the regular flow of battle, then training your control over it is critical.”

And that was the real reason for this. Orodan fully intended to get Burst Casting to the point where he could use it with Endless Blitz, Elemental Living Enchantment and Smite of Abrupt Deliverance. The combination he felt, would be truly monstrous. If his body could survive it.

Either way, Burst Casting was truly showing its worth. Even the low-power Mana Bolts which only singed the anti-magic armor of the dwarven opponents rushing him were far stronger than the mana cost for them would indicate. And given that the level for the spell was only 10, the only other way he could overcharge it would be through pouring copious amounts of power into it, which Destartes immediately marked as a fail.

Yet, despite this, for the same amount of mana, each Mana Bolt he cast was hitting far harder than any mage of the equivalent level could manage. It was as though the spell’s fuel—his mana pool—was energized by the sudden momentum and could deliver far more for the same price.

Orodan and Destartes continued down the winding corridors of Var Turum’s deepest recesses. And throughout the course of this he cast hundreds of Mana Bolts, gaining many levels in the skill and two more in Burst Casting and Mana Manipulation. Those of the dwarves coming his way who knew of the atrocities and propagated them? He blasted to slag with magic. Those who were ignorant he simply knocked out. Out of the hundreds of bolts, only seventy percent had been to Destartes’s controlled standards which meant he had work to do.

But in any case it was still good magic practice. And at some point the dwarves began to grow wary and stopped sending soldiers against him while he was traversing the narrow and winding hallways. What was the point? They were just free target practice for him and had no hope whatsoever up close.

And it wasn’t as though they’d just given up. Rather, the defenders of Var Turum had more important targets. Evident with how the forces they’d faced thus far were thinner than expected. And that was because the bulk of them were elsewhere dealing with the second intruder who had gone off on his own within Var Turum.

“I suspect he’ll get overwhelmed soon,” Destartes cautioned.

“And I suspect that moment is farther off than you think.”

“I can sense him beginning to flag. Maybe we should-”

“No. I assure you, he’s made of sterner stuff. Especially with that new Mythical skill of his,” Orodan interrupted. “Adeltaj Simarji has always had a penchant for playing hero and getting himself into situations well above his head. But with that skill… let’s just say it’s tailor made for someone like him.”

The sounds of battle were getting closer too. As they turned a corner they saw an entire military unit of a hundred Masters being led by a Grandmaster dwarven rune lord. The patrol were in such a rush to get to the fighting that they hadn’t even noticed Orodan and Destartes.

“An opportunity for a surprise-”

“You bearded weaklings! Turn around and raise your weapons!” Orodan declared

The dwarven rune lord commanding the unit turned around in shock and immediately readied himself alongside his soldiers.

“About face! Anti-magic formation!”

A cavalcade of mana bolts left Orodan’s fingers, and the dwarves were more than prepared to intercept them. If he’d caught them by surprise he might have even slain the unit commander via one of the ‘failed’ casts. But as it was, the rune lord activated several defensive enchantments which not only toughened the bodies of the soldiers, but also their armor and shields.

And his self-imposed restriction of not fighting in melee and using only Destartes’ approved spells meant that he couldn’t quickly kill them either. Still, the sight of the defensive enchantments that dwarven commander was using gave him ideas for later.

“Troublesome…” Orodan muttered, casting Mana Bolt after Mana Bolt at the dwarves who were simply absorbing the magic with their shields. Even the Burst Casts which went awry, they absorbed, if barely. “But this is good training.”

“Although perhaps you could stand to be a little more urgent? The ancestor of the under-mountain confederation is nearing Adeltaj’s position,” Destartes warned. “I know you’re in a time loop, but we cannot allow a comrade of ours to just die meaninglessly.”

He could respect that outlook and saw where the wizard was coming from. Destartes was not used to the time loops. But even then, Orodan had no intentions of letting Adeltaj Simarji fall today.

“Be at ease old mage. You have yet to see how his Mythical skill works,” Orodan said while continuing to cast Mana Bolts, which were measurably getting better and his control over them during Burst Casts, smoother. “He has an entire town’s worth of innocent folk behind him to protect.”

Destartes didn’t seem to believe him at his word. In fact, Orodan grumbled just a little when the triple-Grandmaster mage began eviscerating the unit of Masters.

“You can practice more in the next loop,” Destartes calmly replied.

Soon the dwarven rune lord was dead, no match for what was possibly the greatest mage upon Inuan, and the remaining Masters scattered in retreat. Which left the two of them free to advance towards the rather obvious sounds of battle coming from the central chamber where the prisoners were held.

Along the way they ambushed and eliminated numerous groups of patrols and reinforcing units which were moving to join in, and Orodan’s skill levels in Mana Bolt and Burst Casting steadily grew. It was possibly the weakest magical spell he had in his repertoire in terms of rarity and power, but the control he had over it? Even higher than that of Draconic Fireball, since his Mana Manipulation was so high.

Soon they neared Adeltaj’s position inside the grand chamber.

It was a plan Destartes had suggested. Instead of Orodan simply blowing a hole into the prisoners’ chamber from the top of the mountain, that they instead assail the city directly. It was madness of course, but approaching the gates of Var Turum head on was excellent training. Not just for Orodan who got to hone his Burst Casting, but for Destartes and Adeltaj as well.

The capital city of the dwarves was no joke. A singular Grandmaster, even a prodigious one such as Destartes, couldn’t just walk up to the front gates and enter through force. That was the domain of someone like Orodan, and Destartes wasn’t the battering ram of endless power and regeneration like he was. Needless to say, the triple-Grandmaster wizard had nearly been overwhelmed by the salvos of artillery right off the bat, necessitating Orodan rescuing him by using chronomancy to revert the artillery into raw materials.

From there, once the city had been entered they’d faced even more batteries of artillery. And throughout all those encounters Destartes had attempted to push the limits of his spatiomancy by facing barrages head on. He’d failed most of the time, requiring rescue, but it had been excellent training.

And once they’d entered the main keep of Var Turum? A location the dwarves had genuinely not accounted for any enemy entering? The approach became a lot easier as Adeltaj began a rampage of his own in the tight corridors where the dwarves could field no artillery.

The halberdier, with his new Mythical skill, was strong. Mythical skills were no joke, and the old Simarji’s natural personality synergizing with the Burden of the Hero made him as strong as a Triple-Grandmaster Chosen. Which meant that any responding dwarven Masters and Grandmasters were slain as Orodan’s first mentor tore right through the halls and descended deeper towards where the prisoners were.

Even from outside the city Adeltaj had felt and been able to draw power from the captives beneath Var Turum. Their pleas, their desire for salvation, it empowered the old man to a ferocious degree! It made Orodan proud to see a skill which encapsulated the spirit of the old man so well, and it filled him with satisfaction to see the man who’s taught him so much finally acquire the strength he rightfully deserved.

The universe was a cold and desolate place; Orodan had seen that personally during his travels in the cosmos. But even amidst that misery, seeing a hero like Adeltaj Simarji utilize that Mythical skill kindled the flames of hope in his own heart.

Of course, all skills had their limits dependent on the user. And for the old halberdier, the limit was his body, which was having a difficult time keeping up with the sheer amount of power coursing through him. And in sufficient numbers even someone as strong as a triple-Grandmaster Chosen could be overwhelmed.

Adeltaj’s halberd met a warhammer wielded by a doughty dwarf, the shockwave of the clash scattering a dozen Master-level dwarves. Unfortunately, a one-handed axe then hooked the haft and pulled the halberd down, which opened the old man up for a shield bash from a second stout dwarf. And a third then shot him from range, shredding his shoulder with a runic-enchanted blunderbuss.

He was getting bullied in a three-on-one against three dual-Grandmasters. Each of whom the halberdier could defeat by themselves, but together and backed up by multiple squads of Masters? The predicted outcome looked grim.

That was until Orodan and Destartes arrived.

[Mana Bolt 22 → Mana Bolt 23]

[Burst Casting 28 → Burst Casting 29]

“Stand tall, Adeltaj Simarji,” Orodan said as he cast a dozen Mana Bolts. Nine of them low-powered and barely making the Grandmasters notice them, three of them unintentionally overcharged due to a lack of control which caused the warhammer-wielding dwarf to be sent flying backwards. “The people held captive need you to succeed.”

The old halberdier’s breathing was laborious. The man looked utterly exhausted and on the verge of collapse.

“Orodan… I cannot! I have been pushed to my limits with this alone!”

“And? The Adeltaj I know would not quit, even when backed against a wall. The lives and fates of innocents are on the line, will you falter when they need you? The fancy speeches and grand gestures will matter for nothing if you lose here today.”

Blood leaked from the old man’s mouth and eyes as he stood once more. Vision of Purity let Orodan clearly see the large amounts of power he was pulling from the captives deeper below. It was overloading the man’s body and caused his soul to tremble. It was dangerous.

But… it was necessary.

It would be necessary if Alastaia was to be capable of defending itself and have native-born Transcendents of its own. Orodan would always fight for his world, but teaching the people to fight for themselves was the superior option. And his home world needed someone like Adeltaj Simarji to rise to the occasion.

The halberdier looked shaky and on the verge of collapsing once more, yet Orodan’s hand went out to steady him.

“I will not lie, if you choose to step forward this will be brutal.”

The old wizard who was listening looked quite outraged by this suggestion.

“You jest? He is near death and his very soul may explode if pushed any farther! Enough of this Orodan, I am hereby telling you to-”

“No. He is correct, honored Destartes. If I cannot stand here and face the foe then what good am I as a hero?” Adeltaj spoke, determination filling his frame.

It was the same grim fatalism which Orodan had seen in the old halberdier’s eyes when the man had given his life to protect him against the True Vampire. He didn’t like that look at all. But he knew this was necessary.

“You have a choice here, old man. You may step back, and I shall gladly lift my restrictions to help you. But if you continue… I cannot do anything more than cast Mana Bolts as per Destartes’s instructions. And Destartes himself will not help you,” Orodan explained.

“This is absurd! There are safer methods of training than this! Your outlook is a mad one Orodan! He can still attain strength without delving into the depths of insanity!” Destartes argued. “Let us stand beside you!”

But Adeltaj had different aims than fighting alongside his comrades.

“If there was no Orodan Wainwright… if there was no time loops… what would happen?” the old halberdier asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I die in Ogdenborough as usual. The ancient machine devastates most of Volarbury County and then the Eldritch Avatar descends in six months to corrupt all of Guzuhar and Inuan,” Orodan honestly answered. “Without me, Alastaia is likely to fall. For this world has no other heroes capable of standing against it.”

Perhaps Eldiron could survive with the strength of those ancient trees of theirs. Maybe the world core could send out that Transcendent guardian to do battle against it. But when fighting the Eldritch, sending an Eldritch-tainted thing against it was a horrid idea as Balastion Novar had learned the hard way.

The truth then was simple. If Orodan did not intervene at all, then most of Alastaia was likely doomed in six months.

The question then… was simple.

“Will you allow that state of affairs, Adeltaj Simarji? Will you allow this world, your world. To rely upon only a singular lynchpin whose existence to begin with was a matter of cosmic chance?” Orodan asked. “Will Alastaia be defended by only one warrior who stands against all the threats coming for it?”

Or would it have a hero, strong, reliable and possessed of strength enough that Orodan Wainwright need not be the single point of failure any longer?

The power radiating off of the old halberdier as soul energy flowed from the captives… nay… from people even further… answered that question.

It was wondrous, Orodan had to admit.

Hells, he even felt soul energy flow from him to the old man. It was a minor thing, and he could cut the flow if he so wished, but instead Orodan allowed it. For it meant that Adeltaj considered even him as one of the people who he had a duty towards.

The implication was simple but powerful.

Adeltaj Simarji would no longer allow Orodan Wainwright to stand alone.

And to do that, to achieve that outcome. The man needed to step up here and now, and forevermore onwards.

For that was the burden of the hero.

[Teaching 89 → Teaching 90]

[New Title → Teaching Master]

Adeltaj was now glowing with power. The man’s skin crackled with the energy those who depended upon him provided, and Vision of Purity told him that the halberdier’s very soul was beginning to suffer damage at the outer layer.

“Hold strong! Do not allow your soul to explode!” Orodan roared.

This was without a doubt exceedingly dangerous, but if the old halberdier wished to take this step himself, then there would be no interference.

At the far end of the chamber, Thavri Grimbreaker, the Chosen of Varkir and the most powerful dwarf upon Alastaia had finally arrived too.

Win or lose, this battle would be Adeltaj’s own.

“H-honored savior… are you… are you alright?”

It was not Orodan who was the honored savior Xalyth Mezzer was referring to, but rather, Adeltaj Simarji.

And the man had certainly seen better days. And according to the old man, he would’ve almost preferred death over what he was going through now.

“Wise wizard, can you not do something about his condition?” Xalyth asked, looking to Destartes for help.

“I have made my thoughts on this reckless and dangerous form of self-improvement known already. I can do nothing when Adeltaj chooses to subject himself to this.”

“Adeltaj? Who is Adeltaj?” the old halberdier asked.

“You. You are Adeltaj, come on old man, focus. You’re getting there and I can visibly see your soul mending even if the progress is slow,” Orodan encouraged, speaking as the old Simarji was slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

Why was Adeltaj being carried by Orodan? The answer to that lay in the man’s soul. Or rather, it’s greatly damaged outer layer. Orodan had healed the physical wounds but not the damaged soul; and this was at the old halberdier’s own request too.

He couldn’t have been prouder of his first mentor. In the battle against Thavri Grimbreaker and numerous enemy dwarven Grandmasters Adeltaj had genuinely exceeded all expectations. The surge of soul energy he’d drawn upon had empowered him enough that he’d slain numerous enemy Grandmasters and even forced Thavri Grimbreaker into a stalemate.

But the problem was that the dwarven ancestor was exceedingly tough.

With the Burden of the Hero—Adeltaj’s new Mythical skill—the old man in fact hit harder than even Orodan when he’d fought Thavri for the first time. It looked to be a straight boost in power.

Unfortunately, just being a step above Orodan’s past level of offensive power wasn’t enough. And Thavri had drawn him into a battle of attrition back then, which was the current limitation of Adeltaj’s skill. Furthermore, power drawn and inculcated in the defense of the innocent came with a price. Not only had Adeltaj’s body looked nearly as bad as that of a burnt out Avatar host, but the man’s very soul had also suffered extensive damage.

The old man had managed to fight for fifteen minutes straight, holding evenly against a superior foe. But the dwarf’s armor was too tough and the opponent also drew power from the city’s energy batteries. And while cutting the connection or targeting the batteries beforehand would have been an easy strategy… it wouldn’t have been good training.

All this necessitated Orodan having to step in and drown Thavri Grimbreaker in an unending tide of Mana Bolts after Adeltaj finally fainted. The dwarf made an excellent training dummy for target practice. Yes, Thavri was armored, monstrously resistant against magic and backed by a city’s energy reserves, but Orodan had the unfair ability of limitless energy and magical spells which got stronger and stronger over the course of their fight. Even with the self-imposed handicap of restricting melee combat, the outcome was obvious. And although it had taken two hours of unending Mana Bolts via Burst Casting, he had successfully pinned down, suppressed and practically drowned the dwarf in ceaseless waves of mana in order to kill him.

He had gained many levels in Mana Bolt and Burst Casting for that, with two more in Mana Manipulation. Perhaps using an evil dwarf for target practice wasn’t such a bad thing?

“I am Adeltaj? Yes… yes, I think I remember this,” the old man said, falling into deep thought despite the agonized breaths he was taking. “I also now remember a profound sense of failure and disappointment.”

“Why should you be disappointed? You matched the enemy Quadruple Grandmaster blow-for-blow. As expected, a Mythical-rarity skill allows you to hit far above your level,” Orodan reassured. “And we’ll be doing this in every loop from now on. That is, if you’e serious about this.”

“I am. I… I think I remember now why I was doing what I did,” Adeltaj spoke. Orodan noted that the man’s soul was beginning to stitch together the outer layer properly now. “I stood up and dared to be a hero.”

“And you were, honored savior,” Xalyth Mezzer, one of the drow captives they’d rescued spoke up. “Without your noble efforts all of us would have still been trapped, forced to burn our souls to provide tribute to the wicked dwarves.”

“In any case, the higher in level that skill gets, the stronger it will become. And your admirable decision to attempt to naturally recover the outer layer of your soul will pay dividends in teaching you the soul arts,” Orodan said. “In fact… I can see it. Two new glyphs forming. You’ve gotten the skills haven’t you?”

“Soul Mastery and Soul Manipulation. Yes… my memories are coming back as well,” the man spoke, his voice quite with consideration.

“Those two skills will naturally hasten your recovery of the damage,” Orodan said and then chuckled. “Heh… fitting that you learn Soul Manipulation while training under me. I learned the skill while under your tutelage as well. You were and are a good teacher.”

“As are you,” Adeltaj praised. “I did not ever think myself capable of fighting a quadruple Grandmaster toe-to-toe, but today has proven otherwise. Also, I believe you can put me down now.”

Orodan did, and the old man gingerly took a few steps which seemed steady enough. It indicated that the standard feeling of vertigo and the senses and emotions being muddied from soul damage had gone away. But there was still damage remaining.

So he did the one thing which would certainly help. Even if he felt bad about doing it.

Their party had passed a checkpoint and was on the road to Xan’Coran, to their right a sheer cliff, to their left a treacherous looking cavern wall which periodically had loose pebbles fall down from up high. And Orodan’s Mining skill gave him the vaguest notion that it was rather unstable. And would make a nice landslide.

“Oh, I believe this is a good wall for Mining,” he said, producing his pickaxe and taking a swing quicker than Destartes could react.

The wizard was smart and realized what he was doing. But as a mage, the old spellcaster’s reaction times weren’t as fast as Adeltaj’s were.

“Adeltaj do not! You will-”

“L-landslide!” Xalyth shouted.

But it was too late and Orodan could already feel the pull of soul energy from himself and everyone in the party. The old Simarji’s Phoenix Thrust lashed out, its intent a protective one.

To the side, Destartes looked on in shock, quite unused to Orodan’s dangerous methods of training. Hearing about them was one thing, and seeing him engage in such bouts of risky self-improvement was another. But watching Adeltaj undergo extreme training under his encouragement? That had caused the wizard no lack of stress.

“Adeltaj! You cannot use skills which impact your soul when already suffering from soul damage! Let me see… wait… how?”

Orodan simply smiled in response. Adeltaj’s soul looked a lot better now, that much was clear.

“It is simply good training.”

[Teaching 90 → Teaching 91]

“This is improbable and does not make sense. Your outer soul layer was damaged. It should have taken years if not decades to heal it. And you then used a skill which affects the soul extensively? You should be in agony right now.”

“Correct. I am aware of the academic notion of damage to the soul,” Orodan remarked. “The established theories and instructors at Bluefire and Novar’s Peak certainly say all of these things. But sometimes, the established theories haven’t explored all there is to learn.”

Such as the fact that being true to one’s core character and who they were would in fact hasten the soul’s recovery. Orodan had discovered it himself when he’d gone Cleaning to recall his own name. And now Adeltaj looked far better than he had seconds ago due to the simple act of being the hero and protecting everyone.

“You planned that,” the old halberdier said, though his voice lacked any heat.

“If it helps, know that I was more than ready to step in. Of course, in the moment I doubt you had the time to think about that,” Orodan replied with a smile, and then turned to Destartes. “The soul core, the very center of us. It contains the System, and it also has the absolute essence of who we are. Minor things and memories might be lost with time, but the core parts of someone cannot. And doing something integral to one’s self will hasten the soul core bleeding over into the outer soul layer and helping its recovery.”

“And the risk of soul explosion if he got it wrong?” the wizard asked.

“He wouldn’t have. I know the old man a little too well,” Orodan replied. “And if he had… that’s what chronomancy is for.”

Compared to reversing the explosion of an entire soul nexus, reversing Adeltaj’s soul would’ve been trivial. Not that it needed to occur.

With the old Simarji recovered and in far better condition, their group continued onwards and arrived at the gates of Xan’Coran, the capital city of the drow beneath the Dokuhan Mountains. Orodan had been here once, but then it was he who was the center of attention, yet in this loop that role belonged to Adeltaj whose flashy heroics and theatrical stand against the responding dwarves had earned him much goodwill.

Orodan though, just made the drow nervous with how he casually drowned the strongest of dwarven kind in a deluge of mana. A warrior whose armor, enchantments and connection to Var Turum’s energy batteries meant he should have been immune to magic. Should have been. But not quite so much when the dwarf was literally suffocated under an endless barrage of Mana Bolts, with them getting progressively stronger as he understood more about the skill and gained levels.

It didn’t help that he carried a spear, halberd, club, sword and shield either. Currently, he looked a little ridiculous carrying as many weapons as he did. But the unspoken tension remained in the fact that he’d only cast spells thus far. And nobody carrying that many weapons and looking as physically capable as he did were unused to using them.

Even Destartes, who’d primarily cast spells throughout the entire battle, didn’t get scrutinized as much as he did.

Still, the presence of Xalyth Mezzer and the escort from the forward checkpoint they’d made contact with ensured that the gate guards of the city let them through. It also prevented the stares from getting too brazen as word had spread by now that a large group of refugee drow, orcs and humans would be arriving.

Xan’Coran didn’t look any different from what he remembered of it. Nefarious dark and purple architecture, gigantic caverns linked together to create a sprawling city, and spider dragons hanging from the ceilings and skittering about. These creatures lived in harmony with the drow, seeking mutual shelter in one another. He had a hunch that the existence of these creatures was partly what prevented the dwarves from launching an all-out assault and eliminating the drow.

Mainly the quadruple Grandmaster spider dragon hanging from the ceiling of the cavern city. It was gigantic, larger than a mountain, and all of its eyes followed his every movement. Which was fantastic, since this thing was who he had come here for.

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Last time, he’d needed to study drow enchanting strictly insofar as it related to four-dimensional script and how it could rebuild his System. Back then, the actual spider dragons themselves hadn’t been his focus. But his goal was an entirely different one now. Almyra’s tome had been quite clear on how the former time looper created her clones. They were essentially mirrors of her soul. But these mirrors weren’t real bodies, and they couldn’t cast magic at the full power that her actual body could.

The limitation of these clones not being real bodies would have made the technique useless for him by itself. After all, his martial skills and physical body were as important to him as magic was. And the clones having weaker output didn’t matter for Almyra, but it did matter for him who regularly utilized copious amounts of power. It was clear then that he couldn’t utilize the exact technique for clones that she did.

But that didn’t mean her tome was useless. In fact, the previous looper had extensively detailed her studies of somebody else in her galaxy who had the Action Increase Quest reward. And how it tapped into the System’s underlying framework to achieve it.

Here, in Xan’Coran, under the tutelage of the spider dragons, Orodan intended to learn the mechanisms behind the spider dragons and their silk. He already knew how to make soul weave. But he truly needed to refine it and expand its uses if he was to re-acquire the functionality of the Action Increases he had in the past. And perhaps even farther beyond.

“That spider dragon above… is it the oldest one in the city?” Orodan asked Xalyth.

“The revered Ashganruk? He is not only the oldest within Xan’Coran, but all Alastaia. The dragon flights avoid straying near the Dokuhan Mountains for fear of him, he has slain many of their hunters and aspiring glory-seekers,” the drow woman explained. “If you are curious about the history of-”

“Ashganruk!” he bellowed, voice amplified by soul energy to the point that it echoed for miles like that of the divines. “I’ve come to learn about the process of spider dragon silk and how it can maintain integrity over long distances!”

The gigantic spider dragon which had been watching him all this time had its many beady eyes narrow in a frown of displeasure.

Orodan was used to it, having fought gigantic foes such as Avraxas and Ur-Vah’sahn the Living Crystal, but for the refugees, the drow and even his two mentors, the sight of a gigantic spider dragon leaning down to get its face nearer to them was an unsettling sight. Xalyth and every one of the drow fell to a knee in respect, their gazes downcast. The orc and human refugees kept their heads down in deference. To them it must have been akin to a mountain in the distance suddenly deciding it wanted to have a face-to-face conversation.

The other spider dragon he’d fought in his early loops had been the size of a castle, with legs the size of towers. This one’s legs were the size of entire citadels, each one bigger than the High Spire of Karilsgard and its body larger than Mount Castarian.

Orodan had grown powerful, but he could still recognize and respect the telltale signs of an apex creature. Not only were spider dragons possessed of the same prodigious mana pool and physical might of dragonkind, but they also had eight mighty and dangerous legs which amplified their combat power. A dragon’s advantage was in its ability to take flight and remain mobile. In melee, a spider dragon of equivalent level would butcher a dragon quite easily. A phenomenon supported by historical ambushes and clashes between the two.

All this was to say that spider dragons were an apex species in line with dragon and Arch-Devils. And this one was the biggest and mightiest one he’d ever seen.

“Beast. Your raucous yelling is an offense to my hearing. Why do you shout loud enough to wake the dead?”

Its voice was a combination of a roar and a hiss, a guttural thing.

“I apologize. I didn’t think you could hear me from all the way up there,” Orodan said, gesturing to the fact that the ceiling was many miles away and above.

“Even the slightest disturbance upon my webs, I can sense. The disturbance in Var Turum, your distant footsteps near the checkpoint before even reaching Xan’Coran, I have heard them all. But you especially… the ground quakes with violence and horror whenever you walk. What does a beast such as you want from me and this city? Be warned, these dark elves are under my protection.”

Orodan would fully admit to being a bit of a hardened warrior. But a beast?

“I admit, I’ve fought in a battle or two, but I’m hardly a beast and I certainly mean Xan’Coran no harm,” Orodan replied. “Have I done something to offend you? Maybe I was a little loud but-”

“Your excessively loud proclamation is trivial., the aura of blood and death is apparent. I can smell it from here. You call yourself a warrior? But the line between that and a killer is thin, very thin indeed. And you, Orodan Wainwright, have killed many, many people. That crude weave you have at the heart of your soul does not lie; it reeks of an odor of bloodshed and brutality. Hence, you are a beast.”

He felt it a little ironic that this gigantic and horrifying-looking creature which would cause an entire nation to quiver in terror considered him a beast. But then again, every spider and spider dragon he’d met had some level of odd civility to them. Even in fighting they had some sort of refinement in their mannerisms and ways of speaking.

Perhaps spiders in general were just like that?

But really, he was surprised that this spider dragon’s ability to see the soul was that profound. Only Administrators and other high-level beings of power had managed that in the past.

“How can you peer into my soul?”

“That crude weave you have within, it is a pathetic imitation of the technique we use to create our silk. And yet… it is admittedly intriguing that such a material can be woven entirely of the soul. Beast, where have you learned this and how? Have you met another spider dragon in your travels?” it asked, curious.

Adeltaj and Destartes who were tense this entire time, had their nerves calmed and sighs coming out of their mouths at the next words he said.

“Well, would you believe me if I said I was in a time loop?”

[Laboring 61 → Laboring 62]

“You… you should not be as pleased by this as you are.”

“Why would I not be? This is an opportunity to train my skills,” Orodan replied, bundling up another spool of silk and placing it to the side. “In fact, why not just let me work with the spider dragons directly? I bet I could train them to produce even more silk.”

“Absolutely not!” Ashganruk roared, sounding utterly scandalized at the suggestion. “Not in a thousand years would you be allowed to do such a thing! That is… a position of utmost intimacy and trust which either a spider dragon’s mate will help with, or very trusted drow silk tenders with many years of service and must trust will assist with.”

Admittedly, given spider anatomy, he shouldn’t have been surprised that it was a most secretive act. Fair enough.

“Right. I’ll just keeping wrapping silk around the spools then. I don’t know why your tenders hate this part of the job so much, it’s just honest toil of the hand.”

“You are an exceedingly strange human, beast. Not only is the silk denser and heavier than you think, but the memories and emotions of the spider dragon it came from are still fresh within, and mere contact is enough to test the will and sanity of those handling it.”

Which, given how bright his soul burnt and how sturdy his mind and will were, wasn’t a concern. Nor was the weight of the silk for that matter.

“You could call me anything but beast, you know? Even calling me human would be fine,” Orodan replied. “Would you prefer I go around calling you spider dragon?”

“I call you so because that is what you are. No spider dragon of sense would be offended at being referred to as what they are,” the gigantic being spoke. “But you… you are a brutal and violent thing wearing the skin of a man. Even a devil possessing a mortal would not be able to do as good a job at wearing the skin as you do.”

“But… I hide nothing?” Orodan queried, confused. “Either you’re attempting to get a rise out of me, or you’ve lose the sense in that hill-sized head of yours.”

“Ah, you mistake me, violent one. In associating with the drow who are less temperamental, I seem to have forgotten that you humans may take offense to such things. Allow me to clarify. When I call you beast, not only is it meant as an honest descriptor, but also as praise,” the spider dragon spoke. “Your steps cause the very earth to recoil, the very air to cow in fear. Most will not see it, their sight merely surface level unless you act. But deep within your soul I can smell it, the weave inside, the scent… it terrifies even I. And I suspect it is an aspect of yours which you have not even fully unleashed yet.”

Orodan had an inkling this creature spoke of that nebulous concept of violence he called upon while wrangling Cleanliness and Infinity under control. How the spider dragon could see it, he didn’t know, but evidently something within his soul stood out. And this creature who was quite sensitive to such things was able to somehow tell.

“I’m not some monster who indiscriminately kills people. You would think a beast would go on a rampage, and I certainly do not.”

“Ah, but you do not see. A beast can be intelligent, very intelligent. But the difference between a mere fighter and a brutal creature of war is in how they operate. Once the decision to spill blood has been made, there is no hesitation, no reluctance. No… rather the beast embraces the blood and the savagery. It likes the pain, it weaponizes it and thrives off of being able to go somewhere dark where mere fighters cannot. You, Orodan Wainwright, are thus a beast. Your inclusion into these time loops you speak of was no accident. And it was for more than your talent in this odd Cleaning skill alone that saw you anointed.”

“Er… I suppose I shall try to take that as a compliment.”

Moving about as a gigantic mountain-sized spider was difficult, and Ashganruk the Safeguard—his full name—had brought Orodan to an area of Xan’Coran where there was no ceiling and the spider dragon could hang off of the cavern roof and supervise his work. It was where the silk harvested from spider dragons was processed too.

Of course, Orodan and the gigantic spider dragon weren’t the only ones here.

Numerous silk tenders, alchemists, chronomancers and laborers were also working. Furthermore, while the silk tenders were exclusively drow, the other specialists had humans, elves and even an orc or two among them, indicative of the fact that the drow had their allies and supporters among the other races as well. Specialists aside, smaller spider dragons lounged about behind enchanted curtains and within specialized chambers. Orodan’s expertise in Enchanting allowed him to recognize that many of the inscriptions were for comfort, temperature control and utter silence within. But some of them were also for privacy, which was understandable given how private of an act the production of silk seemed to be.

Needless to say, Orodan avoided looking into the chambers with Vision of Purity. His current task of wrapping silk around the large spools was all he focused upon. It was good training for his Laboring and in fact helped him understand the properties of the dragon spider silk better.

And as Orodan worked, Ashganruk resumed speaking.

“These… time loops you speak of… tell me more about them. Perhaps at a lower volume so that everyone in Xan’Coran does not hear.”

That was a tall ask, especially since he’d openly narrated the entire thing to this spider dragon in full hearing of the refugees, civilian bystanders and soldiers from the forward checkpoint who’d escorted them.

“What else is there to say? I die, I return in time to midnight of the day of my first death, I repeat. Usually with plenty of training methods people would call reckless along the way,” Orodan replied.

“Then, we have met before?” the titanic arachnid asked.

“No. I’ve seen you before, in the loop where I worked to rebuild my System. But we never interacted until now. I must say you’re not quite as prickly as I had imagined you to be,” he answered. “But that might just be my bias against spiders talking. At least two out of the three other spiders I’ve met have been most irksome and exhausting to deal with.”

“Even Talricto?” Zaessythra asked.

As he said, at least two out of the three. But perhaps that wasn’t as true as he would have liked to pretend given that his arrival to Xan’Coran was for the purposes of securing passage to Eldiron. From where he would find that irritating dimensional bug once more.

“You have met other spider dragons? The interactions were peaceful I hope?”

“The first? No. I slew him after an extended fight, but I was younger and more hot-headed then, and he’d supposedly slain a dragon, though I only learned that after the fact. I still recall the name too, one of the earliest times I used the Identify skill. Yamalshuk… I believe.”

“That… that hatchling? I suppose nothing of real value was lost,” Ashganruk spoke. “He was, or is, a sadistic killer who enjoys raiding dragon nests for their eggs. He purchases needless ire towards our kind. A criminal who even we would seek to capture and render justice upon.”

“So your lot aren’t at war with dragonkind?”

“Are you humans at war with goblins?” the spider dragon asked.

“No? Why would we be? One of my students is a goblin and it’s not as though any of the tribes cause much trouble for the Republic save a wild band or two in Exerston… ah, I see.”

“Indeed. There is no giant racial collective on either side which would allow for such a collective statement of war to be made. We beneath the Dokuhan Mountains are at war with the Burning Ember dragonflight, but have not had any dealings with the dragonflights of the Republic and Eastern Kingdoms.”

Interesting news. Perhaps these spider dragons were not as malevolent as the dragons would have everyone believe.

Time passed, and Orodan continued working, until at last Ashganruk deemed him tolerable and humbled enough that the tasks lessened in their intensity. Which wouldn’t have really mattered to him either way since working with such large quantities of spider dragon silk began to give him a better feel for the substance and its intricacies. The last time he’d visited here, his learning had been more focused on building his own System. Which meant the secrets of a material composed partially from the soul were put to the side.

But that had come at the cost of his own soul weave supposedly being suboptimal.

“You said that my soul weave is pitiful. Why?”

“Because it is, beast. The soul portion is done masterfully, this I shall freely admit. No spider dragon in this enclave can match whatever you have done in forming the material. But… the structure and design of the weave itself… even speaking of it causes me to feel great offense. At least two of my progeny have filed a formal accusation of harm against you when they overheard your tale of the time loops and how your soul weave is based off of our spider dragon silk. To make us look so… inadequate…!”

This bug! Why did it have to make him sound that horrible?

“I’m not even that bad! Show me then! Where I have failed!” Orodan demanded.

“Look first to the structure of your soul weave, and then look to the silk you work with. Do you see how the transference properties of yours is utterly shoddy?” Ashganruk asked. “How you cycle any power through your soul in the presence of such obstructions is beyond me.”

“What? These are no obstructions, it is soul weave. I feel no block at all when channeling power,” Orodan honestly answered. He really didn’t feel any hindrance.

“Truly? Then provide me some of this soul weave.”

Orodan did as asked, and soon, a glowing length of material formed purely of his own soul was being closely examined by the many eyes of the giant spider dragon. And upon the giant’s request a drow brought an energy battery out.

“You, channel soul energy from that orb into the weave.”

The drow did as asked, and soon enough the orb began glowing.

“Ten percent,” the assisting drow reported.

And the orb glowed further. Yet even then there was no change to the weave.

And the assistant did, yet even then there was no visible change or transfer of energy within the weave at all. In fact, after five second the orb itself shattered.

Ashganruk however, could only freeze as though witnessing something ridiculous. He’d seen Talricto scared before and had some experience with the emotions and expressions of spiders. But to see fear and astoundment on the features of a spider dragon the size of a mountain was something else.

“Monster of war… just how much soul energy do you cycle through your soul at any given moment?”

“I… do not know? Perhaps a few city’s energy batteries worth?” Orodan tried estimating, though even this was likely an underestimation of the highest order. “No… maybe enough to rival a world core or two?”

Silence befell the silk tending area.

“Absurd… a violent beast with such power… fate is truly unkind and possessed of a wicked mind for entertainment,” Ashganruk muttered. “That orb is connected to a repository we have in the deepest reaches of the city. One containing enough soul energy to power Xan’Coran for years. If you broke it… then that can only mean that the sheer resistance of this soul weave is beyond what we can measure.”

What did that even mean?

“I don’t understand. What does this have to do with my soul weave? How is the structure of it inefficient?”

“Think, Orodan Wainwright. That you manage to channel energy through this material at all is not a testament to its success but proof of your raw power!” Ashganruk declared. “Imagine how miserably inefficient this material is otherwise!”

And to prove it, the spider dragon shot out two thin strands of webbing, grabbing the length of soul weave, and it pulled.

Orodan had expected it to be stretchy, perhaps able to hold its shape somewhat.

But what he did not expect was for it to practically fall apart at the first sign of any pull.

How had Orodan not noticed? Was the soul weave he used to build his System truly that weak? Was he blind?

No. Rather, the answer was only obvious in hindsight. Incredibly few enemies even had the capacity to target his soul, and among those that did harm it, the number who reached all the way into the soul core to destroy his System were slim. Like an iron fort containing a glass goblet, Orodan’s mighty soul had obscured just how fragile the parts composing the System within were.

Well, it wasn’t exactly fragile in the sense that it couldn’t tolerate his soul energy. But it was utterly unmalleable once set within him. It could not lengthen. And he was far too quick and efficient at rebuilding his System on the spot even if it did get destroyed. His competency in other aspects had been masking this weakness that the spider dragon had uncovered.

And if Orodan wanted to replicate his Action Increases once more through the method he was thinking of… then this critical weakness of his soul weave could not be allowed to stand.

“Then… teach me. Please.”

[Mana Bolt 28 → Mana Bolt 29]

[Burst Casting 32 → Burst Casting 33]

The flurry of ten mana bolts, only one of which was accidentally overcharged, flew for his target.

Of course, the wizard was ready and simply absorbed all the spells into that shimmering layer of spatiomantic armor surrounding his body.

“You’re improving Mister Wainwright. The number of inadequate Mana Bolts you cast is lessening by the day,” Destartes praised. “At this rate I may even promote you to using Lightning Bolts again.”

The compliment didn’t hit quite as nicely as he’d like given how slow the progress was. And managing to cast nine successful Mana Bolts with good control out of ten casts could be attributed to happenstance. He still needed more consistent practice to shore up the problems. Although he was getting closer to being able to cast a thousand in a row perfectly.

“It seems as though I’ve had some foundational weaknesses revealed recently. First, my volatile soul and enormous mana pool which make Burst Casting quite difficult,” Orodan remarked while slinging another successfully controlled Mana Bolt the wizard’s way. “And the shoddy structure of the soul weave.”

Which, as Orodan had learned, wasn’t entirely without merit. His formation of the weave which made up his System had its upsides too. Sure, it had horrible conductivity for soul energy, but by the hells was it capable of taking a lot of it. Subconsciously, when creating the weave for the very first time in that prior loop, he must have understood that it needed to be incredibly durable rather than flexible. Even Ashganruk had agreed that having him adapt the material of his soul weave directly to the specifications of spider dragon silk might even weaken it.

But that didn’t mean he could let things be as they were. Not if he wanted to go about the method he had in mind for replicating Action Increases. His soul weave needed to be better without losing durability, and it needed a certain level of flexibility for it.

Of course, that was something planned across many loops and not just this one.

Returning to the discussion, Destartes didn’t look concerned with the weaknesses he’d just listed.

“A soul which produces endless power and a mana pool of a size which even the largest dragons would envy are not limitations Mister Wainwright, they are potential assets. Of a volatile nature, yes, but beneficial all the same. And it is my duty as your teacher to refine that potential asset until it is no longer a liability,” the wizard said. “And while I’m no soul mage, that soul weave of yours sounds like an asset too.”

That was a nice way of framing it he supposed. He could see it too, that when he’d gotten both things under control, how devastating they could become.

The two of them practiced for a few more volleys until he noticed the familiar soul of Adeltaj walking along. Visible but still a distance away. Next to the old man, two drow women, one of whom was a vampire, the other Xalyth Mezzer. But that wasn’t the shocking part.

No, what had Orodan shaking his head at the old halberdier’s shamelessness was how each of these dark elf women were on one of his arms. Clinging and giggling as though he was telling the most humorous of jokes known to man.

“Hmm… well it’s good to see him enjoying himself,” Destartes said with a chuckle.

“With how he sometimes goes on about being an old man I didn’t think he had it in him,” Orodan added. “I did hear a number of the drow praising him quite highly. Perhaps he’s better regarded around these parts than I knew.”

It was also a bit on-the-nose and doubtlessly meant to poke fun at Orodan that the old man had a vampire on his arm. The red-eyed drow didn’t look malicious either. None of the vampires he’d seen in Xan’Coran were. They either got their supply from livestock or from willing volunteers, donors or most commonly, intimate partners.

“And yet despite that… his rate of advancement is astounding. One I cannot match.”

It wasn’t envy and certainly not jealousy, but the self-flagellation in the wizard’s tone was obvious.

“Would you take offense if I spoke freely?”

“Mister Wainwright, of all your grating qualities, the straightforward honesty you approach life with is not one of them. Just as I teach you, so too am I open to being the student myself. Please, be candid,” Destartes permitted.

“Then what immediately stands out to me is your lack of willingness to embrace your path with zeal. It would be unfair of me to label you conflict-averse, and you are certainly no coward. And yet, even the Destartes of past loops never truly… dared. Not without support anyhow,” Orodan calmly explained in as respectful a tone as he could adopt. “In fact, on the surface there is nothing wrong with this. You are studious and possess a knack for wizardry, spellcasting and magical research which put you among the finest minds of our world. But… you are not hungry for something the way he is.”

And by he, Orodan meant Adeltaj. Compared to Destartes, Adeltaj Simarji was the sort who threw himself into danger if that meant embracing his path, that of the hero. The old halberdier had died to protect Orodan once, and had unfailingly stood against bad odds numerous times without even knowing of the time loops. It was a consistent character trait.

It came with consequences of course; the man had died. Without time loops, without Orodan, the old Simarji’s valor and daring were the path to a swift death. But that didn’t mean that those traits were undesirable. For if one survived their trials, someone with such a disposition was far better suited to advancement than someone without.

“I cannot dispute that I do not dare enough. When you narrated your training methods, a small part of me thought them an exaggeration. But then I saw for the first time the sort of deathly, singular devotion you possess, and I was forced to recant my assumptions,” the old mage admitted. “But how can I strive to become like Adeltaj? He is younger than me by at least two millennia, but has already advanced more over two loops than I have in decades. At this rate… I can only be left behind in the dust.”

“Your mistake is assuming that a willingness to embrace death is the same thing as hunger. Hunger does not require acting like me or that old codger,” Orodan spoke. “Sometimes, hunger is about fighting the goons of a noble house while an orphaned street rat just to get better. Sometimes it’s about taking a broom and cleaning the neighborhood with devotion… and sometimes it’s about standing in-between a reckless young man and a True Vampire, giving your life in the process. Now, I do not know what that hunger will look like for you… but I doubt you became a Grandmaster by stting on your laurels for centuries. Find that hunger, and you’ll find your advancement not as slow as you thought.”

His words had caused the wizard to adopt an introspective look.

“I see… then if you do not mind, Mister Wainwright, I should like to take a few days to return to some places I’ve been in the past. I must… gather my thoughts.”

Orodan only nodded and by this point the all-too-happy Adeltaj had entered conversational distance.

“Greetings honored Destartes, and greetings my illustrious student. Hardest working young man I have ever known!”

“Technically, I’m older than you by a decent amount.”

“Ah, a mere technicality my young disciple. How has your training gone?” the old man asked, and then noticed Orodan’s questioning gaze about the two women practically hanging off of him. “My friends Ladies Xalyth and Athlinova? Why we were just practicing our social skills. What did you think we were up to? I must keep my mind sharp against insidious skills if I am to remain at your side.”

Orodan now felt like a bit of a fool for assuming Adeltaj was a lecher. But with how the two were hanging off of the old man a little too insistently, he could be forgiven for that line of thought. Although if it really was training against a social skill…

“Dare to engage in that line of thought and you shall regret it,” Zaessythra pleasantly communicated. Although there was little pleasantry in that tone and plenty of possessiveness.

He didn’t get why she was so prickly when he intended on having her as his practice partner. She quieted down quickly in his mind at that thought.

Returning his attention to Adeltaj, he spoke.

“With my mana pool and the natural volatility of my soul, it’s like trying to throw a planet and not deviate by an inch lest the whole thing go hurtling off-course with momentum. Still, I have been improving, thanks to Destartes’s tutelage and strict standards of course.”

“And the spider dragons? Did you find any useful leads for replicating the Action Increase? With your existing raw power, such a thing would be a monstrous multiplier.”

Adeltaj wasn’t wrong. If he could already beat weaker Embodiers… then what if he two of him fought? Three? Four? From what he’d read in Almyra’s tome of the exact mechanics of the Action Increases and how they functioned, even if he had the old System, that reward would have stopped working by now due to the sheer power he fielded. But if he could re-create his own version of it… he would become a monstrous existence.

“I definitely have an avenue of advancement, though it will take a number of loops until I can perfect it.”

“Also, I shall be entrusting Mister Wainwright’s training and safety to you, Adeltaj. I’ll be going on a… journey, for a few days,” the wizard spoke, and before Orodan could balk at the suggestion that he needed protection, he continued. “Not to keep you safe, but to keep the surroundings and bystanders safe from you.”

He wasn’t even that bad!

“Didn’t you cause a landslide to descend upon an entire convoy of refugees recently?” Zaessythra asked.

With not much time left until the elves’ envoy arrived to negotiate their passage to Eldiron, Orodan simply ignored Adeltaj and resumed his training.

Needless to say, he hated diplomacy and wasn’t looking forward to having to narrate his entire tale again. And although Eldarion was friendly, the elves treated him with an understandable amount of caution whenever he visited their continent.

He didn’t see it going any differently this time.

Orodan looked on, mouth agape.

“Honored hero Adeltaj! Who even knew that your people of the Eastern Kingdoms had access to such fine tea leaves and ingredients? At this rate I shall have to lead a diplomatic mission personally just to savor more of it.”

“You flatter us, esteemed Lord Eldarion. Have I mentioned how beautiful the trees of this grove are? I often meditate within a similar grove of trees back in my home town of Velestok in the Republic, but the arboreal species here are of…”

Orodan tuned out the old man’s speech on the different species of trees, their lineage and how they might have related to those present on Eldiron. Worst of all, Eldarion was genuinely enthused and taken with the topic of discussion as the two spoke.

“Hmm… maybe you are the problem. I suppose that angry-looking face can’t help matters,” Zaessythra remarked.

And truthfully, Orodan couldn’t disagree. He’d seen it first in Xan’Coran and now on Eldiron. Even in the loop where he’d saved Xalyth Mezzer and the prisoners of the dwarves personally, the reception towards him was one of reverence tempered with a bit of fear. Only eccentrics approached him. And on Eldiron he had first been drawn into a one-on-one meeting with Eldarion where the elf had maintained a more diplomatic approach where he still gauged Orodan.

Which wasn’t to say that the elf was wrong for it. But the difference in how he treated him like a potential strategic ally versus the easy friendship which Adeltaj was now striking up was apparent. Hells, even some of the elven children were frolicking about nearby and were now daring to inch closer to the old halberdier.

Where he was a weapon of war, Adeltaj was a genuine hero and a kind soul. Always ready with a subtle joke, a light teasing remark or an understanding kernel of wisdom. In other words, the old man was just a nice person. Even the children, animals and plants could sense that.

Seeing someone who wasn’t him encountering the same social situations that he did, it was apparent that Orodan came across as quite threatening to others. Even if the context of the meeting wasn’t a hostile one, the implied threat of him made people act far more guarded, respectful and business-like than they did with the old Simarji who could somehow get their guards down. His stature, demeanor and intensity commanded attention, but they also made him someone others couldn’t exactly relax around.

Perhaps Ashganruk hadn’t been wrong to call him a beast.

“…lovely! It shall be an honor for us to escort you to the Vylthedin Expanse where you can find this dimensional phase spider. If I had known that all you wanted was to make contact with this elusive creature than I would’ve had you escorted here far sooner!”

“We could not impose upon you in such a manner Lord Eldarion, please, you need not even escort us. We are more than capable of finding our friend ourselves, although I entirely understand if you wish to send an escort with to ensure we cause no trouble.”

The elf waved Adeltaj off.

“Nonsense! How can the man who rescued so many of my friends and allies from the clutches of the dwarves impose upon us? You shall have the finest escort from Aldenil. Come, we have a spatial rift and a squad of dedicated warriors waiting.”

Eldarion walked ahead, leaving Orodan and Adeltaj alone for a brief moment to speak.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” the old Simarji asked.

“You… just navigated that entire situation with far more tact and fluidity than I ever could,” Orodan admitted. “Every time I’ve come here the reception has been entirely different.”

“You’re unhappy about the unfairness of it?” the man asked.

“Not at all. I couldn’t care less about diplomacy and making people smile. Just reflecting on how certain things might have been harder for me if I’d tried the persuasive and peaceful route. They treat you very well, whereas every time I come here I’m treated like a strategic weapon which needs to be monitored. And even when I do earn trust it’s more a form of reverence than anyone truly considering me one of their own.”

Even before the loops, who in Ogdenborough had been his friend? Perhaps Old Man Hannegan. And maybe Parthus, although it had been a little one-sided until recently. But the other street rats? They avoided him. The matrons? They’d not contacted him after he outgrew the orphanage. The laborers working with Old Man Hannegan? They thought him a delinquent too rough for even them. And even in the militia, all the way from basic the other recruits were either jealous or avoided him, and his colleagues in the barracks gave him a wide berth even if they were professional.

Not that he had ever cared about it, but at no point in his life had Orodan truly belonged anywhere. Besides in a fight of course.

“Idiot… have you forgotten that you belong with me? The two of us are outcasts among our own kind. Little wonder you and I fit so well together.”

Perhaps she was right. Maybe being an outcast wasn’t such a bad thing. Not only did he have a place where he belonged, with Zaessythra, but even being someone who belonged on a bloody field of carnage didn’t preclude him from finding his own space among others. He had students now, people he cared for.

Adeltaj considered his words for a moment before smiling.

“Of course you would say such a thing. But consider that compared to you—the seventeen-year-old militia man who suddenly displays the power of an Avatar without explanation—I am a Grandmaster of established renown and history. For me to swoop in and thrash the dwarves while mounting a heroic rescue can be attributed to me having acquired a Mythical skill or having hidden my true strength all along. Besides… you’ve gone through these loops alone for a bit too long. You could stand to rely on others for the things you don’t like to do.”

And in the old man’s eyes was that same look when he’d resolved earlier, to not allow Orodan to stand alone.

“You’re getting sentimental, old man. I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me. But… I suppose having someone around to deal with all the talking and diplomatic outreach isn’t the worst idea.”

With that out of the way, he felt lighter than he had in a long time.

Eldarion was still beckoning to the portal and Orodan stepped through alongside Adeltaj.

The rift took them directly to the beautiful but wild deep forests. Someplace he’d been before when meeting Talricto for the first time.

“The Vylthedin Expanse. With this honor guard alongside us, we shall have no issue finding your dimensional phase spider. Is he the cordial sort?” Eldarion asked.

“Cordial?” Orodan repeated. “He’s certainly a rather civilized little spider.”

Who wouldn’t hesitate to let anyone know of it. And how inferior they were in comparison to it.

“Hmm, I suppose this elven wine is quite sublime and tickles my senses in a most intriguing manner. And sir Adeltaj was it? Your homeland’s tea is wonderful… I have not been on this primitive world long but I suppose my palate can be expanded to include such simple but refined things.”

Orodan’s jaw had been agape before, but now he was just bewildered and could not help but lament the unfairness of life.

Here was Talricto, the arrogant and prickly dimensional phase spider who had always given him the most pushback in every loop during their initial meetings. And this eight-legged bug was now leisurely sipping tea from Ahram-Taj and savoring wine from Aldenil.

“Of course, for such a revered cosmic wanderer to enter our abode, how could we miss the opportunity to present our finest offerings? As hosts we feel a sense of pride in showcasing the beauty of our respective nations,” Eldarion laid on thickly.

The spider was no fool. Talricto had told Orodan in past loops how it had seen splendorous civilizations and met many people. And one didn’t travel as many worlds and planes as Talricto did without knowing what social skills were and how to avoid them. Naturally, the spider was entirely unimpressed by the elf’s subtle usage of his social skill.

But it didn’t matter. For Talricto was more than charmed by Adeltaj Simarji whose kind nature, subtle humor and sagely comments had caused the spider’s guard to entirely lower. Unlike Orodan, the Grandmaster halberdier had taken no offense whatsoever to the spider’s initially arrogant comments, and from there a tolerance and then a fondness had developed.

In fact, the entire first contact had gone quite splendidly as Adeltaj had suggested and carried out the simple strategy of laying out a grand feast of food and several expensive enchanted items which would be of great value to the spider. Instead of sneaking up upon it, the old man had loudly proclaimed from a distance that he meant no harm and was simply approaching the ‘majestic’ Talricto to offer a gift of patronage and invite it for further hospitalities.

Much to his shock, it had worked. And that had led to the spider willingly visiting Aldenil and the current situation where Orodan could only stare in shocked silence as Adeltaj forged a friendship with the otherwise cantankerous spider.

“Why not try some of this? Halfling pipe leaf, not for brewing tea but for smoking,” Adeltaj suggested, holding the implement out. “I like to pair it with my wine and tea when meditating in the grove near my house’s lumberyard.”

“Smoke? Why that would interact dangerously with my physiology… of course I must try it!”

And he watched as the spider gracefully took the pipe, pulled it under its abdomen with a leg and took a nice breathful of the smoke from the implement.

It was ridiculous, seeing Talricto so cordial and happy; seeing a spider smoke a halfling pipe. But this was all too real and Orodan could only watch as the celebratory welcome continued.

Seeing all this, he could only contrast it with his initial introductions to Talricto on each loop. Maybe some things were better left to others.

“Speaking of, the main course has yet to arrive. Orodan, if you would. Let us eat good food, drink and be merry,” Adeltaj said, and Orodan brought out the steaming dish he had been cooking for a while now.

“Right. I’m familiar with the sort of food a spider might like. You’re in for a treat.”

A large, steaming dish was placed upon the table and its cover unveiled to reveal a roasted mammal with plenty of fried insect skins, seasons from the elven continent and juicy mushrooms all around. It was a dish which would appeal to the spider in particular but could still be enjoyed by everyone else present. It was in fact the very creature Talricto had been feeding on raw when they’d approached it.

“T-the smell!” the spider exclaimed and immediately dug into the food with gusto.

[Cooking 49 → Cooking 50]

[New Title → Cooking Adept]

As the dimensional spider ate the meal he’d cooked, the skill rose past the threshold and became Adept. Eldarion and Adeltaj also dug in, netting him one more level in Cooking. And finally, when he had a bite himself…

[Gourmand 27 → Gourmand 28]

…his body, mind and soul felt just slightly better.

He had neglected Cooking and savoring fine food for a while. But with these longer loops where he had others along with him, perhaps it was a good time to really delve into the skill. In fact, Gourmand improved every facet of him in a subtle way. And if he pushed it into the Apprentice-level would he perhaps experience a larger and more qualitative benefit?

Food for thought, good accompaniment for the food upon the table.

The drinking, eating and discussions continued for a while longer until at last Talricto got a little too inebriated, got up onto the table and began loudly proclaiming stories about his journeys across the cosmos. And the spider would periodically fling waves of dimensional force outwards at these points.

Most of these that sailed upwards were of no concern. But one of them sailed right towards one of the wisdom trees. And the problem was that Orodan had caught and sent it off course with Dimensionalism of his own.

Talricto’s eyes suddenly narrowed in challenge, the inebriation clearing away quite quickly.

“Skilled in Dimensionalism? A mere fledgling in the arts. Catching a stray wave from me means nothing.” Fınd the newest release on N0velFire.ɴet

And Orodan’s pride and temper, continually invoked whenever this arrogant thing spoke, flared.

“A fledgling? How about we have a duel to establish that? Dimensionalism only.”

To the side, Adeltaj could only palm his face and sigh. All the work the old halberdier had put in unravelling before his eyes. And Orodan was somewhat sorry for it, but this needed to occur.

Talricto would not be easy to work with or amenable to coming along in the loops if the spider was not humbled. And unlike on Lonvoron, this time Orodan intended to teach this irritating bug some manners. And this had nothing to do with the desire to test himself after three months of successive defeats in their spars on Lonvoron.

“Hmmph… I suppose every world has its share of delusional bumpkins who think themselves better than they are. Come, allow me to humble you,” Talricto spoke, its tone turning aggressive.

Intersecting dimensional waves closed in on Orodan. A whipping motion of his own arm and his own waves met them at the weak point and shattered them.

The spider frowned, getting serious at the unexpected display of competent Dimensionalism from what it must’ve thought was a mere fledgling. Talricto’s next attack was a far more serious one, sending a volley of five-hundred miniature dimensional orbs towards him.

And in response, Orodan returned fire with five-hundred miniature dimensional needles of his own, each one a tiny pocket dimension perfectly suited to popping the orbs coming his way. It was a counter tactic which had Talricto shocked as the spider practically recoiled.

“Who taught you that?!” it demanded.

“A particularly bothersome pest with eight legs and an overinflated ego!” Orodan shouted back, using one of the spider’s own tricks and sending exceedingly tiny dimensions the size of sand grains towards his foe from odd angles.

“Another dimensional phase spider? If this is the extent of your skill then your teacher must have been pathetic indeed!”

Orodan couldn’t help it. Even as he matched Talricto’s next move of opening up dimensional tears to the left and right of him… he laughed like a madman.

“Please, do continue insulting my teacher,” Orodan retorted while slithering two separate tendrils of dimensional power into the very boundaries of the rifts Talricto had opened. And before the lightning and water could emerge from them, the rifts fizzled out and immediately closed. “Your moves are predictable. Your tricks, nothing special. Is that all the mighty Talricto the Wanderer has?”

Yes, he was going a bit overboard with this, but he just couldn’t resist the opportunity to let this prideful spider have a bit of snark.

Talricto stilled. The spider’s voice suddenly becoming very neutral.

“Nothing special? Very good… very good. My friends Adeltaj and Eldarion, I must apologize for the destruction which is soon to come forth… and for the fate which shall befall this companion of yours.”

“W-wait…! What will you do?!” Eldarion demanded. “If you are to have a true battle of consequence then you must move elsewhere! Allow me to move you-”

The spider acted before Eldarion finished speaking. Orodan felt at least thirteen layers of dimensional energy surround him. The energy was slow enough that he could react and shatter the attempt at forced transportation. It was smart too, indirect and clamping the transport all around him instead of attempting to directly manipulate his body. But it worked.

The complexity of all the layers was beyond his understanding, and if he did shatter it, the collateral damage would have wrecked a good portion of Aldenil. Limited to just Dimensionalism, he had no recourse. Begrudgingly he had to accept the forced dimensional step performed by Talricto which dumped him squarely in the wilds of the Vylthedin Expanse, far from Aldenil.

“Now there’s the Talricto I know. Come, let that pride be roused. Show me what the greatest dimensionalist I know is capable of,” Orodan challenged.

“I do not know you, bumpkin. But today you shall receive a lesson in manners.”

“Funny. I was going to say the same thing.”

The very last spar he’d had against this spider, they’d forgotten about fighting each other as Orodan was more focused upon training his elemental resistances with Talricto’s help. But now, with no looming battle against the Prophet and the fate of Lonvoron not in the balance, they could freely fight.

And Orodan realized that what Talricto had said back then—about not using more than a third of the nefarious tricks the spider could have been using—was entirely true.

Dimensional rifts tore open all around him. Seeking not to target Orodan directly, but to bring things into Alastaia. Gaping tears in the dimensional boundary which brought forth all manner of creatures.

The nearest, an entryway into a plane of pitch black so dark Orodan wasn’t sure even a sun could light it up. And out of that entryway came skittering black things so dark their very presence looked unnatural against the green forest floor. If anything, they made the very surroundings darker somehow via the absorption of light.

“Dwellers from the elemental plane of dark. They don’t quite like the sunlight around these parts. Makes them very angry,” Talricto said as the spider began opening more and more dimensional entryways leading to different elemental planes.

Burning slimes which were as hot as the sun itself. Frigid elementals whose very presence froze the air, and wispy beings of wind who eviscerated down to the particle anything they touched.

Orodan got to work. The first things to be sent hurtling backwards from whence they came were the fire elementals. A dimensional wave of force pushed the Grandmaster-level beings backwards into their entryway and a subsequent breaking of the rift’s boundary caused it to collapse. He couldn’t have these things setting fire to the forest.

Next were the elementals of ice who hadn’t even crossed unto Alastaia fully when his popping of the rift boundary shut the entryway. It wasn’t winter season yet and none of these things needed to be here.

And as he started working on sending the creatures of darkness back to the sunless place they dwelled, he was suddenly forced to contend with a pressing assault from Talricto. Of course the spider would take advantage of the distraction. With this being a duel of Dimensionalism only, fighting the summoned creatures with melee or magic was off the table, which constrained him significantly.

“You are… passable. Who taught you? Name them.”

“I already told you. A most mighty wanderer who’s far too full of themselves,” Orodan replied, stepping out of the way of a hail of small pocket dimensions which contained additional attacks within them.

“Another wanderer? I must know who this fraud is so that I might have words with them regarding the inadequacy of your training.”

“Hah! I’ll let them know about your harsh critique,” Orodan chortled as he finally managed to close the entryway leading to the elemental plane of darkness and then rapped the wind elementals in a hastily constructed pocket dimension before shunting them back through the rift and closing it. “Any more tricks? If you’re going to summon other things to do your dirty work for you then you might as well admit defeat here and now. You’re no match for me alone.”

Again, the spider stilled, Talricto’s demeanor turning to frigid fury as though its pride had been horribly wounded.

“You wish to feel the full extent of my power? Know this, thus far I have been holding back to avoid killing you. If you continue… I shall have no choice but to use something I normally would dare not.”

Oh? This sounded interesting. Orodan had never seen Talricto go all out in a fight before. Yes, using his Blessing during the long loop on Lonvoron the spider had been capable of some exceptional feats of Dimensionalism, but even then the eight-legged wanderer had mainly distracted, caused opportune damage and fled during the final battle.

But when its pride was rankled so who could have predicted that there was a secret trick yet unrevealed?

“Show me then. And I shall show you the extent of my prowess too.”

And so the spider did. One moment things were calm in the deep woods of the Vylthedin Expanse, and the next… a small opening to someplace familiar opened up.

Orodan’s eyes widened as he recognized exactly where this was. But it was too late as Talricto was already moving to put as much distance between it and this incredibly small opening.

An opening out of which some of the most potent Eldritch he had ever known was spewing forth. A tiny dimensional crack leading to the very bowels of the System. Where the Eldritch Boundless One resided.

“How the hells do you even know how to do that?!” Orodan demanded as his body flared with soul energy.

But the spider was now gone, having decided to leave Orodan with the bill. This damned eight-legged pest! Fighting him was one thing. But to allow its pride to flare so much that it exposed Alastaia to the raw Eldritch within the System’s very bowels? Talricto would receive a beating after all this.

For now, Orodan focused his all into Dimensionalism.

The crack was small. Perhaps it hadn’t even triggered a warning to the Custodian. But that was besides the point when Eldritch powerful enough to corrupt a world core many times over was entering his home world.

Immediately, his broom lashed out and began scrubbing this out of the air, and as he did, he finally threw his all, alongside the momentum of Burst Casting, into one singular and overpowered movement intended to seal the dimensional boundary wholly and fully.

And with a flexion of dimensional power, Orodan irrevocably changed life upon Alastaia.

[Dimensionalism 89 → Dimensionalism 90]

[New Title → Dimensional Master]

[Burst Casting 33 → Burst Casting 34]

This had been a bad idea. Unfortunately for Orodan, he’d never been good at refusing a challenge. Particularly when the challenger was an irritating eight-legged snob who liked to act as though he was better than everyone and everything in existence.

The problem with Dimensionalism and Burst Casting was twofold. For starters, he had the Dimensionalism skill, not the Dimensional Magic skill. Just like Fire Magic and Fire Mastery were two different things, so too were the former pair. Dimensional Magic, if he’d had it, would use his mana pool. But Dimensionalism, used his soul energy.

And between his mana pool and reserves of soul energy… one was absurdly larger than the other.

Which meant that the entirety of Orodan’s existing soul energy reserves were forcibly thrown, with the momentum of Burst Casting, into the feat of sealing the crack in the dimensional boundary.

It was a feat which had immediate repercussions.

Birds which were flying high in the sky suddenly wobbled. Not dying, but instantly weakened. Some of the magical trees nearby had their fruits lose their lustre. Insects began writhing as though they’d lost some core connection, and even the grass looked a little shakier than it had moments ago.

And Destartes who had just stepped through a spatial rift to arrive, suddenly dropped to a knee.

“What in the world…” the old wizard muttered. “I cannot feel many of my skills…”

Orodan frantically looked around with Vision of Purity, and he stilled as he realized what had occurred. Or rather, what he’d done.

This… would require some explanation. That and much damage control.

For it seemed his feat of sealing that dimensional crack had gone a bit beyond that.

It had entirely sealed the dimensional boundary surrounding Alastaia.

Completely and perfectly.

He could already see Destartes winding up to let him know that his use of Burst Casting was inadequate.

The halfling commander paced about the war room, a slight limp to his gait caused by stubbing his toe. One which remained because Tegin could no longer use the self-healing skills he had.

“So allow me to get this straight Mister Wainwright… you were forced to do this due to actions taken by your opponent during this duel you engaged in upon Eldiron?”

Orodan’s head hung low in disappointment. In himself, in his inability to control Burst Casting and in his decision-making which had caused the battle of pride in the first place.

“And that is why the System does not work in our world any longer?”

“Aye. I am responsible for it,” Orodan admitted, taking accountability.

“Partly, but your actions were only an attempt to prevent the corruption of Alastaia and all upon it by the Eldritch. The other party responsible for beginning that state of affairs in the first place… do you think this punishment sufficient?”

Tegin Carrotfoot was of course referring to the most majestic and illustrious Talricto the Wanderer. A dimensional phase spider who had a most majestic and regal lump upon its head from the angry smack Orodan had delivered after reversing it back in time. The lump and the symbolic shackles upon its eight legs made the spider look like the criminal it was.

Even if they were unenchanted and it could escape, that would have been pointless when Orodan was present to use Time Reversal.

“We could pluck a leg or two off? Roast it over the fire for dinner?” Edrosic suggested, looking more than surly at the loss of System.

Talricto trembled in fear, but Orodan gestured for his fellow militia man to stop.

“There will be none of that. It takes two hands to clap. I goaded Talricto into a duel and then agreed to the prospect of that technique’s usage. If anyone should be roasted over the coals as well, it should be I.”

The halfling general sighed.

“And what force upon Alastaia will bring justice to you, Mister Wainwright? I do not even know if there are any treaties or laws which cover what you’ve done aside from the damages,” the halfling spoke. “I admit, your actions in helping mitigate things have been most helpful. Nobody has died thanks to your continual Time Reversals and coordination with the authorities of each nation and continent in granting your Blessing, but this does not change the fact that our world is utterly shaken to the core. Blessings from the Gods work no longer, the energy wells have noticeably thinned and the afterlife is… disturbingly inaccessible according to the faithful of Malzim. Not a soul upon Alastaia can contact the Gods. Not anyone on Guzuhar, Eldiron or Inuan.”

“And using Time Reversal to restore the boundary runs the real risk of attracting the attention of this Boundless One and its servants at the core of the System,” Destartes added.

And that only added to the problem they were all discussing within the war room of Anthus’s central fort.

Much damage control had been run. With Orodan spending a full day doing Time Reversals for various sections of the planet until things could be brought under control without any deaths. He’d also granted his Blessing to many, many people in positions of power and critical infrastructure. Certainly, the ability to draw upon endless power helped alleviate a large portion of the current limitations everyone faced.

Still, not everything was miserable.

“I will say… knowing which skills of mine are a weak point is quite nice. And being able to shore up my weaknesses and work on my strengths without the shackling guidance of the System has been… revelatory,” Adeltaj spoke, balancing his halberd upon a finger and doing odd drills which Orodan himself recalled doing when he’d first lost his original System.

“Not only that, but skills which are intrinsic to someone do not just vanish and in many cases aren’t affected at all. My spatiomancy for example, is entirely unchanged. I was always good at that, even as a boy,” Destartes spoke. “I… cannot believe I am saying this; but this is good training. A chance for true illumination of the secrets I have always searched for.”

The old wizard had taken a few days off while Orodan and Adeltaj were on Eldiron, and upon his return the Grandmaster mage seemed in far better spirits and possessed of a deeper thirst for the secrets of magic. Whatever soul searching the old man had done, it had done him good it seemed.

“N-not you too!” Edrosic groaned. “I feel like a child, I can barely fight!”

“…really? I don’t feel all that bad,” Aliya added. “Forgot all about those weird mana exercises, but I never liked those anyways.”

“Neither do I, teacher,” Zukelmux spoke. “I am as ready for battle as I was days ago.”

Wainroach too nodded, seeming mostly unaffected besides some physical weakness as she didn’t quite enjoy the physical training Orodan often put her through.

“Hmm… perhaps this can be leveraged to our advantage.”

Needless to say, Eldiron wasn’t pleased at the fact that Cithrel and Athandelu were entirely unreachable and their Blessings completely gone. They also weren’t all too amenable to the idea of him swooping in and providing his Blessing. Rightfully so, since it really did look like a foreign power conveniently coming in to spread influence in their nation.

Still, Eldarion, once told about the time loops, was amenable to the idea of forming an Alastaia-encompassing defence council. As were the Guzuharans and the drow. Although neither of these groups were entirely happy about what had occurred with the dimensional boundary being entirely sealed to the point that even the System’s influence couldn’t leak through.

It certainly gave Orodan ideas about training. And it also gave him a notion about what could be done to prevent the plague of the Eldritch and offer an uncorrupted System instead.

Still, the remainder of the week went well. With Edrosic actually being forced to learn how to fight properly without System access. The same went for Aliya, Zukelmux and Wainroach who were forced to correct foundational weaknesses and learn their magical skills properly.

Edrosic had in fact gotten good enough at fighting that he could now hold against mid-level Apprentices in combat. And Zukelmux was attending Bluefire, although all of their educations were at least somewhat disrupted by the fact that nobody’s System worked. The Status was there, but level gains didn’t trigger without the connection to the central font of knowledge.

Talricto, since the fight, had become quite withdrawn and humble. The prospect of what the spider had done had clearly rattled it. The way it looked at Orodan, who had managed to successfully seal that crack and cleanse the Eldritch, was one of respect but also a bit of fear. In any case, the spider had agreed to come along on the time loops if only so that it could avenge what it saw as its loss.

Personally, Orodan felt that he hadn’t clearly won that either. Having to rely on his unfair power generation and Burst Casting to seal that crack had technically violated his self-imposed constraints for that duel. Beating Talricto wasn’t the issue; beating the spider in a contest of pure Dimensionalism was. And he still felt a step away from matching the pure skill that Talricto possessed.

That being said, the spider’s inclusion was quite helpful as it had correctly identified a few critical mistakes Orodan was making in his attempt to redirect the ancient machine to instead target the Eldritch Boundless One’s very cage.

The machine was built, Orodan transported Mount Castarian to the void, and as usual that goat Embodier came for him.

He fought hard and he fought well, but she was still a step beyond him. Even with repeated uses of Balance Maker, he could only force a stalemate, and each time the difference in power between their attacks caused him great harm in mind, body and soul. Still, the tides shifted once she began pulling power from the world cores of the planets she dragged around with her.

The greatly empowered attack met Balance Maker, giving him a number of levels, but it wasn’t sustainable, and he knew that the next attack from her would cause his death as the backlash from Balance Maker would kill him.

So he did the only thing left to do.

Activating the ancient machine.

And this time, with the modifications Talricto suggested, the dimensional opening accurately struck the cage head on.

Except the ancient machine promptly exploded as the metal wasn’t up to the task of handling this extreme task it wasn’t designed for. And the Eldritch Boundless One, as usual, wasn’t happy with Orodan attempting to liberate it.

He was utterly eliminated and his loop ended by the beam of unfettered Eldritch wrath which came out the rift just before it closed.

And that, he met with Balance Maker.

[Balance Maker 55 → Balance Maker 65]

A sharp sensation roused the being to alertness.

And as it slowly focused on regaining its orientation and re-learning what it was, the being felt a strange… motivation within.

Yes, a desire. Something within called it a mad desire.

One where it would repeatedly throw itself against the wall that was the Boundless One.

Train. Teach. Die. Repeat.

As Orodan recalled his name—the reformation of his soul now faster with experience—this he decided would be his new set of death loops.