The Builder's Greed (The Legendary Builder Book 2)

by J. A. Cipriano

  “They will be fine. In fact, as a token of my favor, the moment you step into my domain, I will pay off your taxes. You need not worry about them. They will be fine without you for a few days.” Mammon smiled at me. “See, I can be reasonable.”

  “This isn’t reasonable, and it isn’t a few days.” I took a deep breath, about to walk out when Mammon started to laugh.

  “Oh you misunderstand,” she said, nodding. “It is only a year for you. It will only be a few days out here, twelve, exactly. Because thanks to the curse, each month inside my lands is but a day out here.”

  “I don’t quite understand why that’s so bad. If it was the opposite way, sure, but that actually seems cool. You could spend a lifetime in a single month on the outside…” I took a deep breath, and as I did, Mammon shook her head.

  “In theory, yes, but there are two small problems. Once a person enters, they cannot leave until the curse is broken, and as I said, only the Builder can break the curse.” She shrugged. “Besides, I am ageless, time means nothing to me.”

  “Okay, you know what, I will do it.” I nodded. “Pay off the taxes and stop fucking us every single second so we can defeat the Darkness, in addition to helping with the Armament, and I’ll take care of the curse.”

  “Agreed,” Mammon said, looking at me like a kitten with cream.

  “Now what’s the second thing you require?” I asked, meeting her eyes. “You said there were two, right? I want to know what it is.”

  “That’s simple.” She stood then, hooking her thumbs under the elastic of her panties. “Take off your clothes.”

  27

  I stood there, Mammon’s words fresh in my mind as I stared down at the encroaching Darkness enveloping her domain. I could see it spread like a vast cancer across the land, engulfing towns and the like around me. Try as I might, I could not figure out how just being here for a year would stop it, nor if when she’d told me that the year I spent here would actually be the same as twelve days in the outside world.

  Still, I had to try, had to work my way through this because if I didn’t, my people would suffer. I’d bought them time by stepping into this void of Darkness, and now, I wanted to do more than that. I wanted to win.

  It was strange because, at the core of it, part of me wanted to lift the curse simply because I was the only one who could do it. Back in town, I managed awesome women who had great skills, but I never really did anything myself.

  This time, I could win on my own, prove to myself I was valuable beyond my ability to adjust the stats of those under my care.

  “Just a year by myself,” I said, looking at the horizon. “Just a single day.” I took a deep breath remembering the faces of those who had put their trust in me. I would do this for them.

  I stepped into the Darkness, and as I did, I felt my body explode. Pain erupted inside every cell of my being in the exact same way it always had every time I entered the Darkness. Only I could feel this pain deep down in my soul, and now it wanted more, wanted to consume me. It was both no different and worse than what I’d experienced before.

  Then I was on the other side. Overhead the sky thundered, booming in a way that let me know it was close to midday in Hell even though it never really got dark or light. As I stood there, gripped the hilt of Clarent, I took stock of my surroundings.

  While the lands had appeared vast before, now it seemed sort of quaint. There was a small camp to my left with a tent and campfire and beside it a small stream. There wasn’t a lot else. I approached it, and as I did, I realized there was a bowl filled with rice. Was that to keep me sustained?

  I wasn’t quite sure, but Mammon had promised this place would provide all my needs. All I had to do was make it through the year. Only, what was I to do with myself exactly?

  So far, I hadn’t progressed, hadn’t managed to do anything to stop the guilds from cutting us off. My people were starving, and while I knew what we had to do, I was hesitant. It was one thing to fight the Darkness. It was another to fight those who should be our allies.

  Still, it had to be done, and I’d have to lead the charge. Only I couldn’t do it as I had been. I couldn’t bumble along. No, I had to attend to everything with a focus I’d not had before. And, unlike before, I knew I would have to fight, to learn to fight, to make myself better.

  Sam had worked on Clarent, had given me the ability to summon armor and fling around elemental energy, and Sheila had taught me what skills she could in the time we’d had. Only it hadn’t been enough. Not nearly. I just hadn’t had the time.

  And that was always the problem. I never had any time. Between the Darkness's attacks and the guild causing us to hemorrhage blood and treasure, I was stuck in the same place I’d been before. Hell, the only thing I’d managed to do was convince Mammon to empower my gauntlets, but to actually get her to do that, I had to win this challenge.

  Now, I had one thing I’d never had before. I had time.

  I would not waste it.

  I swung Clarent, allowing myself to go through the stances Sheila had shown me. My feet slid across the ashen ground as I moved, over and over until my feet hurt and bled. Even though I wore gauntlets and boots summoned to me by Clarent, my skin was too soft for it, and after only a little while, I could do little more.

  Thankfully, the bowl of rice to my left nourished me, and the stream’s water was as sweet as winter’s kiss. After only a few moments of rest, I found my strength returning. My hands grew tougher as I repeatedly broke them against the hilt of Clarent. My feet blistered and tore open, but I ignored it all, focusing on my footwork.

  After a week, I could practice for the whole day without tiring. After another, I could practice for most of the night as well. That was good because sleep eluded me. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw the gnawing hunger of the Darkness, saw the great beast I’d witnessed within the Graveyard of Statues. It had stared into me and had known I was nothing.

  Clarent’s silvery edge glimmered, and the lightning overhead cracked. The black wind howled, rustling the thorny vegetation near me. I pivoted, bringing the blade around, allowing its face to catch the light of the electrical storm forever brewing above, and I cast that light outward.

  Dust kicked up around me as I twisted. Before me, I could see my enemies in my mind’s eyes, and as I slashed and cut through them, my hands started to bleed once more. Pain ripped up my arms with each swing, and even though I’d practiced with Sheila for weeks, I could feel my muscles burning.

  My legs cramped as I went through the motions I’d once practiced for a few minutes at a time but was now doing for days on end. Part of me wasn’t sure why I was trying. Sure, I wanted to get better, to save my people, but I’d seen the former Builder destroyed by Dred in seconds. That thought just made me work harder. Sure, he hadn’t had the Armaments, but no doubt Dred was a skilled opponent. To beat him, I’d have to spend every waking second I could working toward that single goal. I would surpass him or die trying.

  I spun again, and blood spattered from my grip on the sword, turning the ashen earth beneath my feet to mud. The wind blew by me, stirring the dirt, and as it did, I pivoted, attacking it with Clarent.

  My blow split the air, sending it spiraling off into the distance. The thunder above boomed, and I whirled to face it, fighting off the scream of the sky. Lightning crashed, striking the ground in front of me and turning the sand into glass. Still, I fought on.

  My hands bled. My muscles screamed as I attacked the wind and the sky and the world itself. And as I did all of that, I felt my energy start to fade, felt Clarent grow heavy in my hands.

  I gritted my teeth, pushing down the pains of my body, and as the wind came at me again, I gave it everything. Clarent’s edge pierced the wind, and tornados sprouted to life in front of me.

  I charged them, blade overhead as the lightning joined the wind, causing sparks to arc across the whirling winds. Electricity rippled up my arms, leaping along my armor and causing my muscles to spasm as I struck.


  The tornado exploded into a spray of wind flung dust that sent Clarent flying from my grip. As the blade struck the earth, the next tornado came at me. I reached out toward the blade as it struck me.

  My feet danced, spinning along with the wind as I called to Clarent. Blue light enveloped the blade, lighting along its surface before flaring like a miniature star.

  Then it reappeared in my hand. I pivoted, driving it into the heart of the storm as I was flung backward like a rag doll. My body hit the ground beside the stream as the sky overhead thundered and roared.

  I blinked, trying to get up, but try as I might, darkness continued to encroach on my vision until I lost consciousness.

  I’d like to say things changed after the first few weeks, and they did, but not as much as they stayed the same. In the first month, I practiced all the forms I knew, all the ones Sheila had taught me, all the ones I’d gleaned from watching others fight, and all the ones that appeared in the book Gabriella had given me.

  In the third month, I began to make my own stances, weaving together everything I’d practiced this far with the wind as my adversary. It was in that third month that I chipped my blade, denting the tip.

  I spent three days after that trying to fix it, doing everything I could from hammering on its edge with a rock until my fingers were bloody, to trying to will it to fix itself. Only nothing worked. Worse, now it wouldn’t stab as well, and while I was fighting the wind, it seemed to have grown denser over time.

  Then I focused on using the edge of the sword to rend my opponents apart. That worked until the edge of the blade became dull and chipped. Divots in the metal forced me to work on precision. I began attacking in a way that forced the weight of my blade to bash my foes into oblivion.

  The winds changed, forcing me to adapt, to shift my stance, to call upon the raging flames of Clarent. I began to use the magical powers, and at first, it was hard, each attack draining me to the point of exhaustion.

  Some days it was so bad, all I could do was lay next to the stream and focus on my magic. Through it all, I never relented, forcing myself into my practice with my whole self, my whole mind. I would not relent because my enemies would not relent and my people were counting on me.

  My armor began to chip at the edges, and I grew thinner despite the new muscle clinging to my frame. The rice and the stream sustained me, but that was all it did, just enough, and still not even that half the time.

  Toward the end of the fourth month, I was flinging fireballs and weaving Clarent through the air like it was an extension again. That’s when the blade snapped. To be honest, I should have known better because it’d been wobbling for days.

  As I struck a particularly vicious whirlwind, the tang snapped completely off the sword, causing the blade to fly off the hilt and spiral into the distance. With its loss, my armor shattered into ethereal shards. The wind attacked then, flinging me to the ground as the sky danced above me, daring me to leave and laughing at me for staying.

  My first reaction was fear for Gwen. Had breaking the sword hurt her? After all, she had been tied to it. Only, as I picked up Clarent’s broken blade, I realized I could still feel the pulse of her energy. Only it no longer came from Clarent as it always had before. No, now it came from somewhere deep within me, beating in time with my own heart.

  Relief flowed through me, for I hadn’t previously known the terror I had in that moment. Gwen meant so much to me, and if she’d have been hurt by me breaking the sword, well, I might have given up right there. Only that hadn’t happened. Instead, the pulse of her energy had shifted from the weapon in my hands, to my very body. It was comforting, if a bit scary, and the worst thing was? I wasn’t quite sure why.

  After a week, I gave up trying to fix the sword. It was a blade and a hilt, and I was beyond the ability to fix it. Part of me knew I could return to the Graveyard of Statues and Sam could fix it for me, but I also knew that if I left, Mammon wouldn’t finish the Armament. Worse, she would come after us with renewed vigor. She would be ally no more, if she ever had been one, and after what I’d seen of her this far, I did not want to know how truly terrifying an enemy she could be.

  Instead, I dented the bottom of the blade until I could hold it with my gauntlets. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best I could do. This left me the issue of what to do with the pommel and hilt, which I tucked into my belt. Doing so allowed me to use magic, but only when I pulled it free and pointed it at my enemies.

  Two months went by in this way, and as it did, I began to learn techniques from my enemies. I spent a week on Tornado Spinning With Electricity, and another two on the Slash That Separates Rain Droplets.

  I was working on Lightning That Arcs Across The Sky when the blade broke again, snapping in half and leaving me with three distinct pieces. I tried to continue my training as I had before, one piece in each hand, but alas, it was impossible. I could not fully utilize my magic and still fight, and after getting my face smashed into the ground, I was ready to give up.

  I moved to the stream and stared into its waters, and within it, I saw the faces of Gwen, Sam, Maribelle, and the others. I knew they were counting on me, and that if I left prematurely, they wouldn’t be able to count on me any longer. I was not strong enough to beat Dred without the Armaments, and while I might be able to route the guilds, it would not be enough.

  Stopping them would not defeat the Darkness. No, it would do little more than buy time. And I would not have the luxury of having time. Not again.

  I laid out the pieces of Clarent before me, arranging them so I could contemplate the blade.

  I was the Builder of Legend, and yet, I’d destroyed the weapon. It was practically unusable.

  So I sat, and contemplated it, reaching out to it with my mind as I went through every last piece of lore I’d read.

  I let my armor fall away then until I sat there in my shirt and pants on the ashen bank of the stream. Then I stood and walked back toward the training grounds.

  I was not just a sword. No, I was a man too, and that was worth something.

  Stripped of my weapon, armor, and magic, I fought the wind, and my body broke. Again, I adapted, and again the wind adapted.

  There were times when I fought in my armor, when I used my magic, and others when I used my fists, Others where I fought with broken shards of Clarent, but always I fought.

  For an entire year.

  28

  The final day started much as any other did. Truth be told, I’d actually sort of forgotten my time was ending. I’d originally tried keeping count, but somewhere in the space of the sixth month, I realized I’d forgotten to count the days.

  It was hard to say when or why really. Part of it was the routine I’d developed, and part of it was the sort of sick sense of despair I got when I thought about how long I had left. No, it was far easier for me to not think about it, and so it wasn’t until the final day was drawing to a close that I realized what had happened.

  As I returned to the stream to wash my face, the sky above thundered in a way it never had before. Kneeling on the bank with my hands full of water, I craned my head upward confused. The sound of the thunder had always been a constant backdrop that I’d come to know as intimately as my own heartbeat. It had changed, but I couldn’t figure out why.

  Even staring at the stormy sky, I couldn’t figure out the cause. Arcs of lightning shot through the air, crisscrossing the sky in angry blasts. That too was different. It needed to be investigated, but I wasn’t sure how to do it.

  I reflexively touched Clarent even though it had been broken into three separate pieces. I could no longer wield its magic because somewhere along the way, I’d shattered the pommel completely. The blade had been broken into so many bent pieces it couldn’t be used.

  It was too bent and broken for me to even manifest my armor anymore. I was pretty sure it was going to happen since as my sword had gotten more destroyed, my armor had become more damaged.

  Sam would know, but i
t felt like ages since I’d talked to her. I had so many questions for her because, as I’d used Clarent, I’d realized the blade wasn’t ideally made for me. It was a bit too short given my size, and a bit too heavy in the tip. I wasn’t sure if it had always been that way, and while I knew Sam had cleaned it, she hadn’t reforged it. Maybe that was why.

  Either way, I was excited to ask her, and as I looked from my broken blade to the sky once more, for the first time, I wondered when I’d be leaving. I had no way of knowing, of course. It wasn’t like there was a cosmic hourglass slowly filling with sand or anything.

  No, instead it was wasteland filled with electric tornados in every direction. It was darkness and decay.

  “How long has it been?” I murmured, and the sound of my own voice was strange to my ears. How long had it been since I’d spoken? A week? A month?

  I wasn’t sure. And it didn’t matter much.

  I sucked in a deep breath and looked back to the stream. It flowed before me like always, and as I dipped my hands into it, the familiar cold crispness of the water touched me. I splashed my face, washing away the sweat from the day’s activities before turning to my bowl of rice.

  Only, unlike normal, it was empty.

  Odd.

  It’d always been full before.

  I stood there staring at the empty bowl for a long time. Would it fill again? Was this another test? Was I to find my own food?

  I wasn’t sure that was possible because there had been a few times I’d traveled out into the distance and found nothing but more living tornados, and those I could not eat.

  “What is going on?” I asked, picking up the bowl. It felt as I always did, and I realized I’d spoken more in the last few moments than I could remember doing in months.

  The bowl didn’t respond, and stupidly, I sat there waiting for it for an inordinate amount of time. Now, I’d never painted a face on it or anything, and I knew it was inanimate, but I’d always sort of figured the rice bowl for a friend. That it wasn’t revealing what was going on hurt me in a way I couldn’t quite explain. It sort of reminded me of the time all my friends had gone to a rock show and not even bothered to invite me.