by Akella, G.
"I see the bounds of a trueblood oath on you," the Lord shifted his gaze to Saethdien Roa, then sighed. "If that's what you're worried about, don't. You haven't been in the shell of an Elder long enough for it to work on you. I also realize that Jaelitte is a good girl, but she will perish in any scenario. However, you will have Janam in her stead. You won't be able to tell the difference between them, I assure you."
"Janam?" I echoed, dumbfounded. "Why would she want this? She's Astarot's wife."
"Second wife," interjected the chief searcher, quiet until now. "In essence, she's nothing but a concubine." Turning his eyes back to the Lord and waiting for him to nod, he continued. "Eighty six years ago, Lord Ceriah took advantage of us being at war to lead an insurrection that ended up killing Price Ziad. Ar-Iraz, nephew to the slain prince, turned to Astarot for help, who then brought his legions to Jarus. It all happened too fast for the rebels to react. Astarot put down the rebellion, executed Lord Ceriah, and named Ar-Iraz a prince. As the daughter of the slain Prince Ziad, he took Janam back with him to Nittal, then signed the Ryeed Peace Treaty with us, exploiting the fact that we couldn't afford a war on two fronts."
"A woman cannot be the ruler of a province," continued the Lord. "Meaning, I'd still need to find her a new husband. This way, your princedom would be included in the dominion, and guarded by the might of my own legions. And now, prince, you must decide," Yllial peered intently into my eyes. "I will not make the same offer twice."
Decide... Jaelitte whispered in my head with infinite sadness. Are you the merchant I took you for, Dark One? Or...
You've accessed the quest: Strayed from the Great Path.
Quest type: unique.
Hand over the ring, Splendor of Primordial Chaos, to Yllial, the Lord of Rualt.
Reward: experience, unknown, control of Jarus Province if the province becomes captured by Rualt's forces.
Attention! If you hand over the ring, Splendor of Primordial Chaos, to Yllial, you will suffer a debuff called Strayed from the Great Path, and all your stats will be reduced by 30% for a period of one year.
Attention! Refusing the quest will cause your reputation with Yllial, the Lord of Rualt, to fall to hostile.
I sighed again, glancing at the sand glass on the marble table. Time was very much like a human life—was I a merchant or... He was right that the true blood wouldn't kill me—all I'd suffer would be a year-long debuff. I'd win two provinces and the protection of a powerful Lord, and all I'd have to do was break my vow, then keep on living, knowing that I killed her... Her who was now my shadow... The alternative was death, and my gut was telling me it would be final. The end of a prophecy? Most likely... Lilit had said that someone would end up the loser for certain. Had the sand run out in my clock? Was I really that much of a fool to refuse? I thought back to all the books I'd read as a child—books about knights and heroes who always did the right thing. Max and I were even planning to become knights one day... Perhaps that day had come?
"No," I looked up at the Lord of Rualt, shaking my head. "I won't give you the ring, and I don't need your province."
"Well, then, Dark One," Yllial uttered after a short pause. "You've made your choice. To be frank, it suits me even better than my first offer. My debts with the Twice Cursed God are settled. Then you show up, and not only do you foil his plans to materialize, you deliver the ring to me on a silver platter. You didn't think that Ahriman's daughter had fallen into that ambush randomly, did you? Or that Janam had sent you after the jewelry case on her own accord?"
"Ah, now it all makes sense," I chuckled, injecting as much loathing into my voice as possible. "Erisjat, Vyardiz, and you..."
"It doesn't matter anymore," Yllial smiled, then nodded in my direction and said calmly: "Kill him!"
Knocked over by the tip of my boot, the coffee table flew into Saethdien Roa's direction. At that same moment I rolled backwards to dodge his tail strike, glimpsing the legionnaires rushing my way from the door. After hurling a giant fireball at my chest, Yllial leaped right out of his armchair, shifting into combat form in midair. Gods, but he was huge! I caught the fireball with my shield, the flames engulfing me from head to toe, then rolled to the side to evade the blow of a massive poleaxe that had magically appeared in the hands of the twenty-foot-tall asshole. There came the harsh sound of a floor tile breaking as I used my free hand to hurl the vials with the Elder Demon's Venom at both Yllial and Saethdien, which I'd slipped into my belt's slots before the meeting began, and drew my sword at last.
"All right, bitches, let's dance!" I roared, noting with satisfaction their hit points plummeting to one tenth of their value. Sliding aside to let the poleaxe swish over my head, the weapon's blade nearly as long as I was tall, I caught an Ice Spear with my shield before Ice Shackles ensnared my feet. But I didn't care anymore! I was going to go out in style now! Combat form!
As the hilt of my sword shattered a vial on my belt—the very one I'd been dragging with me since the start of he game—I felt a volcanic eruption of awesome power deep within. Suddenly the floor was far below, and Yllial with his poleaxe didn't loom nearly as large. The system log spat out some truly asinine stat numbers and a message—something about level 600. Evidently, such an astronomical stat growth couldn't have been possible without a boost to levels... Infernal Rage! Help me, Gloom! Aura of Horror! Have a nice jog, bastards! The Ice Shackles wore off, casting off blue splinters on either side, as I threw up my shield to block another chopping blow of Yllial's poleaxe. Countering right back with an Ice Blade, I followed with a mighty tail strike that knocked my opponent down to the tiles! Crit! Eight million HP in one shot! Ruination had turned together with me! Tongue of Flame—crit! Materializing out of the air, my loyal black-furred companion let out a furious roar, turned and, following my mental command, Charged into the panicked punishers, scrambling from my AoE fear. Battle Rage to Gloom! Tongue of Flame! Ice Blade! Fortification!
A double kick in the chest threw me back five yards, as the Lord of Rualt—now with less than half of his HP bar—spun into a fiery whirlwind right from his supine position. The ringing of glass and mirrors shattering into pieces, chandeliers falling onto tiles, and the roaring and squealing of my razorback all blended together into a mad concerto. As Yllial completed his whirlwind, he struck the floor with his poleaxe, then straightened like an arrow as phantom axes were hurled in all directions. Despite blocking all of them with my shield, my health dipped instantly into the red.
Your Toughness skill has increased to 61%.
The world around me turned red to match, but I didn't feel pain anymore. No, all I could feel was RAGE! An inhuman, all-consuming rage! Breaking a vial of greater healing potion, I leaped at Yllial, blocking his blow, and knocked him back down to the tiled floor. You won't get up anymore, bastard! Ice Blade! Tongue of Flame! The captain's mangled body smashed into a nearby wall. The door was about to burst from the heavy blows. Out of the corner of my eye I registered numerous punisher corpses, and the razorback going toe to toe with Saethdien. Gloom's health bar was pushing zero, with Yllial's special ability stripping us both of HP at every tick. I couldn't help him now... Hold on, proud pig! Just a little longer, my faithful friend! Parrying my next attack, Yllial set into another whirlwind, but this time, knowing what would follow, I didn't shy away. I rushed my foe, feeling my HP slipping away, and dealt the spinning target two final blows. A lightning bolt ran down Ruination's edge as a crimson cloud was absorbed by the blade. The province of Rualt suddenly found itself in need of a new Lord.
Waving away a sequence of system messages, I Jumped twenty yards back and drove the tip of my blade into the purple adamantine armor on the back of the last boss standing. A crit of eleven million—the target was roughly thirty percent lower in level! The chief searcher turned to me instantly, his Ice Spear breaking against my shield as my trusty razorback shuddered and began to topple to his side. Shutting Saethdien up with a Silence, I dealt four strikes in quick succession, and just then the effe
ct of Shaartakh's Breath wore off. A terrible pain shot through my exhausted body, rending me from limb to limb. The world began to swim, and he still had three hundred thousand HP remaining!!! Another combo of Ice Blade and Tongue of Flame took off just fifteen thousand, and the searcher's eyes, revealing gloom and doom mere seconds ago, now shone with triumph. Gods! Why now? The fight was seconds from being over! A bluish flame enveloped Saethdien's hands. Realizing that I wouldn't survive this cast, I simply threw out my shield in front of myself... but then the searcher's body twitched, his arms flailed, and he fell face first at my feet—good ol' Gloom had found the strength for a much needed Charge! After kneeing the boss, the boar collapsed, pinning the chief searcher to the broken floor. Seeing my valiant mount's body spasm in death throes, I dealt blow after frenzied blow at the head of Saethdien lying prone at my feet. Crit! Crit! Crit! "Glooooooom!!!" I bawled at the top of my lungs. "Don't die!!!!"
You've completed the quest: On the Doorstep of Agonizing Death.
You have gained a level! Current level: 231.
You have 1 talent point to allocate.
Class bonus: +1 to intellect; +1 to spirit.
You have 3 stat points to allocate.
You have gained a level!
…
You have gained a level!
…
You have gained a level! Current level: 242.
You have 12 talent points to allocate.
Class bonus: +1 to intellect; +1 to spirit.
You have 36 stat points to allocate.
You've earned a unique achievement, Saethdien Roa's Slayer. Saethdien Roa is a unique NPC that can only be killed once. You and your allies have been granted a permanent 5% increase to your physical and magic damage.
Your reputation has decreased! The citizens of Rualt Dominion relate to you with hatred.
With my legs failing me, I dropped to one knee, leaning against the vanquished boss with my cracked shield, and broke the final vial of greater healing on the shredded side of the boar as he wheezed in agony.
"No, pig," I wheezed just as he was, watching his broken ribs begin to knit, then skin over with flesh and fur right before my eyes. "It's too early for us to die. We haven't even gotten properly hitched yet."
The door kept shuddering from powerful blows. There would be no surviving the next round of combat when it broke, and building a portal wasn't an option, but... After looting Saethdien's corpse without looking, I Jumped toward Yllial's body. The pain hadn't yet passed, which made regular walking problematic. The Lord's corpse was supine, his brown eyes frozen with infinite shock. Didn't see that coming, did ya? I thought with spite, wincing at the racket coming from the door, and leaned over the dead body. Six epics, all level 600... Of course, I was 600 when I'd killed him, which also explained why my own level hadn't jumped after his death. A scalable two-handed axe, all sorts of vials and recipes... All this would have to wait—I finally had what I'd been looking for. Clutching the item in my hand, I turned around and started walking at a leisurely pace. In apparent disbelief that he was still breathing, Gloom slowly got up, walked around the searcher's corpse, sniffing it suspiciously, then gave a satisfied grunt and nuzzled me in the chest. "Will you really become a beast like that someday, pig?" I grinned, patting his snout lovingly. "How many apples will you be gobbling down in one sitting then?"
There was a deafening crash as the door came flying in, along with chunks of the wall, as if someone on the other side had blown it up with TNT. Ah, here was the heavy artillery!
I watched a tall and broad-shouldered level 550 tifling emerge from the cloud of dust and take an astonished look around the wrecked royal chamber. Behind him were figures of punishers and other demons, both male and female. Seeing their levels and HP bars suddenly gave me the giggles—no less than ten of them were of a level 400 raid boss caliber, with Prince Kargat, the late Lord Yllial's son, out in front. And all of them were here after my head, glowering at me with utter hatred. Only I didn't give a flying fart about their feelings. I stroked Gloom's withers to calm the suddenly agitated boar, then raised my sword in their direction with one hand, and held up the symbol of Rualt for all to see with the other.
"Stay where you are!" I bellowed at the Lord's son. "And keep your dogs leashed, or there'll be a new lord in Rualt."
Was I bluffing? Yes and no. After all, I really could become Rualt's Lord with a single motion of the wrist. The province's rightful ruler... I just wished this one didn't know about the ring, unlike his late father.
"You will still die, dar," he replied with a voice ringing with hatred.
"And will that change anything?" I smirked in his face. "Have you heard of the two-lived, prince? I will rise again near a gravestone in six hours' time, still the Lord of Rualt. And then I'll find a way to get to Iskhart and report to the Overlord about the locals being in cahoots with the Twice Cursed bastard Vill. What do you think Ahriman will do then?"
"How dare he—" a weary-looking tifling in golden armor stepped forward.
"Silence!" Kargat roared. "Everybody out!" He turned around, waiting until his retinue left the room, then looked back at me. "What do you want, dar?"
"I want you to lift the protection off this building so that I could leave via a portal, then swear a trueblood oath that you will keep the terms of the Ryeed Peace Treaty you yourself have signed, and that you will never attempt any hostilities against me or my princedom. And that if one of your princes does, you will punish him personally."
As I spoke those words, I displayed the title over my head, and bit into my right wrist.
"I, Krian, prince of the free princedom of Craedia, swear by the true blood coursing through my veins that if you swear this oath to me, I shall give you the symbol of Rualt Dominion before I leave here today," I said evenly as the blood trickled from my wrist to the floor. "And should the Overlord come to you with questions, you can tell him that you knew nothing of your father's scheming with the bastard god. And since I'll be coming out of here alive, I don't anticipate any more questions from him."
A silence set in, broken only by the soft crackling of the sofa smoldering in the corner. Despite the broken windows, the stench of scorched flesh and spilled blood was heavy in the air, mixing with that of burned wood and fabrics. And there had indeed been a lot of blood spilled—I was practically ankle-deep in it, standing right in the area where Gloom had wiped the floor with the punishers that were trying to get at me. The gory sight of their mutilated corpses in broken armor, their weapons scattered all over the floor, made me pine for a little less realism. With a heavy sigh, I looked back at the tifling standing in front of me. He looked a lot like his father: handsome face, straight nose, piercing gaze. I didn't know what kind of ruler he'd be, but frankly, I didn't give a damn—in fact, I wanted nothing to do with Rualt. I took another look around the utterly devastated arabesque hall, and came to the funny realization that I really didn't care. About any of it. Were he to refuse, I would squash this green sphere in my hand, and accept his challenge. This kid wasn't on his father's level, and wouldn't be able to break the ring right away. Vill couldn't be summoned here any longer, and my last bind point wasn't far from the border. The ring wouldn't be destroyed, and I'd be back in action in no time: two hours to cross the border, then a portal to Nittal; once there, Ritter would send me to Iskhart, and it wouldn't take more than a day for Ahriman's legions to storm the walls of Sarykas. So, even if the youth knew about the ring, he'd know all this as well. Go on, then, prince—do you want to be a Lord or not...
There were obvious signs of intense struggle between hatred and reason on Kargat's face. In the end, reason prevailed—the tifling's countenance fell as he rolled up the right sleeve of his deep blue shirt, and drew a dagger from his belt sheath.
"I accept your terms, prince," he spoke calmly, then made an even incision on his wrist...
Chapter 9
Laketa welcomed us with a light and nasty drizzle. The sky over the suburbs was covered wit
h dirty gray clouds, and the sparse yellowed grass drooped under the burden of moisture. It all made for dreary scenery—the naked apple trees, stripped of their foliage, the slush, the pools of murky brown rainwater—but it was all I could do to keep myself from bursting into maniacal laughter... I'd made it out again! As befits a freaking hero from an ancient prophecy! There was a soft clap behind me as the blue-and-red portal window snapped shut. I took a seat on the grass and let the cold raindrops stream down my face. Shortly, Gloom plopped down heavily next to me. The razorback seemed to be on the mend—why else would he not choose one of the many puddles nearby? And besides, lately I'd been feeling like he was getting a little too smart for a boar, albeit an epic one. Could it be that we were sharing something besides experience? This was a realm of magic, after all. Oh well, as long as our symbiosis didn't result in me growing a snout, I was content to go along with it. I felt my nose just to be safe, then sighed with relief and moved closer to Gloom, nestling up to his warm side. Two more pressing tasks, and then the inn—today's day had squeezed me dry. I suspected it would be a while before my mind would let go of the images of the Twice Cursed God's eyes burning with hatred, or the bemused expression on the face of the Lord of Rualt slain by my sword.
You lied to me, Dark One, Jaelitte said in a meditative tone. Or, perhaps, you simply chose the wrong trade. Warriors can never be good merchants—nobles, even less so.
And that was it—not another word. Not that there was a need for it. If you thought about it, her burden was far heavier than mine. Just imagine being in a position where your life depended entirely on someone who, at least in your mind, was millions of times weaker than you in every way... Her defeat on that distant day hadn't been her fault—the blood of the White Dragon had decided the outcome of that battle. On the other hand, just in the past day she'd faced certain death on two separate occasions, and had had the presence of mind to not get all hysterical, letting me focus on making said death a little less certain. She was, after all, the daughter of the plane's Overlord, which must have counted for much more than just blood relation. And that went a long way toward cementing her status as my dream woman. I wasn't much bothered by her bitchiness—indeed, I'd always thought that a real man mustn't be frustrated by his woman's caprices. Amused, sure, but not frustrated. I smiled and got up from the grass, heading toward a nearby shed. The portal had let me out about a mile from the province's capital, so about a twenty minute walk, but I had another matter to finish first. Laketa, Ar-Iraz and Astarot would wait—this was more important...
