I collected a few more skill levels throughout the tournament, but by far the most substantial was during a bout with a dogkin [Grey Archer].
For some reason, he started the fight with his bow slung across his back and his hands empty. Had he completed a mage class? I didn't want to spoil the surprise, so I didn't appraise him, but he hadn't used magic in previous bouts, and magic would be unusual for a beastkin.
He'd proven himself the sort of person who couldn't resist shouting arte names out loud, though, so I'd soon get warning of what he was planning.
"Begin!" called the judge.
"[Arrow Rain]!" shouted my competitor, and, as the name suggested, it started raining arrows.
So, he had at least the one arte that didn't require a weapon. Nice. He must have decided he wouldn't have enough time to use a real bow against me.
I activated [Timeless World], stepping where the arrows were sparsest and flickering [Dislocation] as rapidly as I could, storing the arrows before launching all of them right back at him at once, simultaneously launching a [Far Reach] powered swing at his rear.
He made an attempt to dodge, but I twisted my cast of [Far Reach], exploiting the temporal taint to shift my aim and simultaneously taking a sidestep to increase the time dilation from [Timeless World], speeding up my swing.
I caught him in the side, ending the match in my favour.
ding
You have formed a new skill: [Weapon Style: Relentless Erraticism]
Skill [Weapon Style: Flowing Mist] consumed by superior skill [Weapon Style: Relentless Erraticism]
Skill [Weapon Style: Relentless Erraticism] advanced to level 5
Class [Temporal Mage] advanced to level 3
The skill that I'd begun to form in the dungeon finally popped. A third rank weapon style skill, taking my original style a step further. Speed and momentum shifting, not to mention changing my target at a whim, made me all the more unpredictable. Erratic was certainly a reasonable description. I wasn't sure about the relentless, though, unless it needed some minimum amount of mana or had integrated my funnelling trick as part of the requirements.
It had certainly integrated my other bag of tricks. Should an opponent not be thrown off by my usual unpredictability and manage to, for example, engulf me in a mound of corrosive fat, blowing myself up to escape was a perfectly acceptable option. The way that the weapon style skills operated was weird, giving me extra muscle memory more than extra knowledge. Next time, I wouldn't need to stop and think; pulling the flame grenade would be intuitive behaviour.
That gave me rank three skills in four of the six categories, and I had [Status Concealment] available in the skill shop for covert. I only needed crafting. [Superior Artisan] had suddenly gained a rather large plus point as my next class, because it would have a very high chance of giving me [Jack of All Trades 3].
Although, with the number of skills I'd lost from the combinations, maybe I didn't meet that part of the requirements any more? I still owned more than fifty and had the big pile from [Artisan] unlocked. If I needed seventy-five unlocked, I'd be fine. If I needed a hundred... Well, [Superior Artisan] would unlock a bunch more. I'd probably still be fine. Hopefully.
I actually made it through to the finals, coming in top of my group despite only winning six of my ten fights. Other than to Cluma, my other three losses were against people with wide area effects who managed to get them off before the full time dilation of [Timeless World] kicked in, but in turn they lost against people with defensive abilities or other counters. I was the only one to win more than half of my fights.
Cluma had won four, her [Non-detection] defeated even by the second rank [Threat Perception], as well as a few third rank sensory skills. Amusingly, she finally got a use out of [Shroud], fighting against a third-rank [Scout] evolution with anti-stealth skills. The way the smug look on his face that grew as he pulled Cluma back into visibility transformed to confusion when she immediately vanished again was hilarious.
The other finalists averaged higher levels than the qualifier group, though, with several who had taken multiple rank three classes. I only won a few fights, ending up halfway down the rankings.
Skill [Swift Strike] advanced to level 16
Skill [Far Step] advanced to level 18
Skill [Dislocation] advanced to level 17
Skill [Shelter] advanced to level 13
Skill [Superimpose] advanced to level 17
Skill [Stamina Finesse] advanced to level 8
Skill [Extended Mana Pool] advanced to level 16
Skill [Secrecy] advanced to level 12
Skill [Secrecy] advanced to level 13
Skill [Secrecy] advanced to level 14
Skill [Enhanced Stamina Recovery] advanced to level 17
There had been lots of appraisal attempts throughout the tournament, making [Secrecy] the fastest leveller of the fortnight. The pair of class levels were nice, though, and of course, I had a new weapon style skill and my [Advanced Crafting] merger.
My cooking was now only a single level away from where Clana's had been when I'd first tasted it. And my smithing one level away from Remous, and my tailoring one from Adele. And Mum. And my farming one from Dad. Yes, they'd all ranked up since, but still... I could actually make a living in any of those areas. What a weird thought.
What a long way I'd come since my first attempt at carving a drafts board.
It also left me with the knowledge of dozens of things I'd done wrong during my house construction. I really needed to demolish and rebuild the place; it wasn't fit for human habitation. Was still a decent attempt, though, and it served the purpose of getting me [Artisan] levels.
Hah. I'd built a house for levels. This world was insane.
I was brought back to reality when I noticed Cluma in front of me, staring expectantly, with her tail practically wagging behind her. She was obviously waiting for something. What had I missed?
I ran my 'what would Cluma do in this situation' simulation and made a guess.
"Yes, we can eat next door to celebrate not quite winning," I agreed, being clear what I was agreeing to in case I'd guessed her request incorrectly. There was nothing more dangerous than answering with an unqualified 'yes' in that sort of situation.
"Yay!" she replied, confirming I was right. She hadn't qualified for the final herself, but had still teleported over each day with me to watch.
Ha, and that was another insane thing. I didn't have to stay in the inn any more. Long gone were my portal woes. I just teleported home each afternoon, and could even bring Cluma with me.
The inn was crowded, given the glut of delvers that had descended on the city for the tournament, but it wasn't as if a monster core required cutlery or would go cold if not eaten immediately. We didn't need a table, so Cluma grabbed a level forty core to take home to eat.
"Is it really that much better than the level thirty cores we've stockpiled from the dungeon?"
I wasn't the only one that had grown. I remembered back when a level twenty core sent Cluma into a food coma, and now she was eating level thirty cores in the middle of a dungeon as a simple snack.
... Actually, given how badly Earth wanted the cores, they must be getting massive amounts of energy out of them. How many calories were in a monster core? Perhaps not a sensible question, because mana was not sensible, but it was still a funny thought to consider that Cluma was basically eating millions of calories as a snack. I'd have to do the maths one day and tell her just how much she was eating converted to weight of meat.
"Yup!" she agreed. "But since we aren't eating here, I'll save it for dessert. Main course can be steak."
"You're turning into a right little glutton," I complained as I teleported her.
"Yes, and it's entirely your fault. You made me like mana, you invented enchanted steak, and you keep boosting your cooking skills," she countered once my ears had followed her.
"No way. I'm not taking all the blame. You enjoyed your meat long before I got to you."
She poked her tongue out before biting into her core.
"Thought you were saving it for dessert?" I asked, but I was fairly sure she didn't hear me, given the way her pupils dilated and every part of her not required to hold core to mouth fell limp. Normally, people fell into a food coma after eating, and didn't continue eating in the middle of it.
Hopefully, her resistance continued to build, else we were going to have some serious issues once we hit floor forty ourselves. Let alone floor fifty...
Leaving her to her enjoyment, I wandered downstairs to cook, and soon enough a meat-and-mana filled Cluma was purring in her sleep. Given how much of the evening was still left, I took the opportunity to teleport back to the core room of the great dungeon.
It really was an impressive display of wealth, if not of power. As far as power was concerned, Krana's egg chamber had this place beat. But I'd seen enough of the Obsidian Spires dungeon to know that wasn't because Erryn couldn't build a lava waterfall and lake with an ice island in the middle of it. If anything, it was the opposite; she could build such nonsensical scenery with such ease that it ceased to serve any purpose as an impressive display. The impressive stuff was used in normal dungeon floors, not her private areas, which instead took on a more sentimental design, using meaningful sculptures and memorials.
Such as the silent graveyard right outside this very room...
I couldn't resist walking out to it again. Calling it sentimental didn't do it justice. I was the only one there. The only one who could get there. Erryn was gone, and the entrance was closed. It was just me and thousands of ancient skeletons.
How had she picked which ones to bury and which to leave? No way was the world population this low. A question I'd likely never see answered.
I read the inscription on the central monument once more, tracing it with a finger. Why had Erryn felt the need to engrave it? Who would know, other than her?
This wasn't a place made for display to others. It was a private place for her. Was this what drove her to the decisions she had reached? Was this graveyard where the Law was born? A reminder to her of what she wanted to protect?
I felt my eyes watering as I stared at the monument. I'd never considered myself an emotional person, but the weight of history here was too much even for me. I fled back to the core room.
I spent an hour circling every floor of the multi-tiered display. There was nothing else here. The core, the statues and the Law crystal. A plaque on the top floor held the names of the dead, all dated prior to the safety net introduction.
It was... extensive. Easily a couple of orders of magnitude longer than the Dawnhold equivalent. The dates went back almost to the beginning. The first delver had died in this dungeon only a few decades after year zero.
Another dead end to my search for Law solutions, and it was in a rather contemplative mood in which I joined Cluma in bed.
AnnouncementIt's the first chapter of the month, so here's the usual reminder that there's a patreon, on which unbound soul is finished. (+ a few bonus smut chapters, and the one in which Peter beat the Obsidian Spires dungeon and overestimated the effect of [Expert Delver].) Patreon's April schedule is 2x Unborn Hero a week, and 1x chapter of an unwavering craftsman sidestory, 'what if Damien turned around?'. It contains even less crafting than the main story, but quite a lot more blood.
The previous patreon mini story, A Serious Incident, is now over here, tacked as a side story onto the end of A Friendly Voidling, since it wasn't really long enough to be its own thing.
And, as usual, here's the array of pretty pictures. Each picture is a link.
Amazon e-books:
And audio books:
The next couple of unbound soul audio books have finished recording already, so should pop up soonish. :)
I collected a few more skill levels throughout the tournament, but by far the most substantial was during a bout with a dogkin [Grey Archer].
For some reason, he started the fight with his bow slung across his back and his hands empty. Had he completed a mage class? I didn't want to spoil the surprise, so I didn't appraise him, but he hadn't used magic in previous bouts, and magic would be unusual for a beastkin.
He'd proven himself the sort of person who couldn't resist shouting arte names out loud, though, so I'd soon get warning of what he was planning.
"Begin!" called the judge.
"[Arrow Rain]!" shouted my competitor, and, as the name suggested, it started raining arrows.
So, he had at least the one arte that didn't require a weapon. Nice. He must have decided he wouldn't have enough time to use a real bow against me.
I activated [Timeless World], stepping where the arrows were sparsest and flickering [Dislocation] as rapidly as I could, storing the arrows before launching all of them right back at him at once, simultaneously launching a [Far Reach] powered swing at his rear.
He made an attempt to dodge, but I twisted my cast of [Far Reach], exploiting the temporal taint to shift my aim and simultaneously taking a sidestep to increase the time dilation from [Timeless World], speeding up my swing.
I caught him in the side, ending the match in my favour.
ding
You have formed a new skill: [Weapon Style: Relentless Erraticism]
Skill [Weapon Style: Flowing Mist] consumed by superior skill [Weapon Style: Relentless Erraticism]
Skill [Weapon Style: Relentless Erraticism] advanced to level 5
Class [Temporal Mage] advanced to level 3
The skill that I'd begun to form in the dungeon finally popped. A third rank weapon style skill, taking my original style a step further. Speed and momentum shifting, not to mention changing my target at a whim, made me all the more unpredictable. Erratic was certainly a reasonable description. I wasn't sure about the relentless, though, unless it needed some minimum amount of mana or had integrated my funnelling trick as part of the requirements.
It had certainly integrated my other bag of tricks. Should an opponent not be thrown off by my usual unpredictability and manage to, for example, engulf me in a mound of corrosive fat, blowing myself up to escape was a perfectly acceptable option. The way that the weapon style skills operated was weird, giving me extra muscle memory more than extra knowledge. Next time, I wouldn't need to stop and think; pulling the flame grenade would be intuitive behaviour.
That gave me rank three skills in four of the six categories, and I had [Status Concealment] available in the skill shop for covert. I only needed crafting. [Superior Artisan] had suddenly gained a rather large plus point as my next class, because it would have a very high chance of giving me [Jack of All Trades 3].
Although, with the number of skills I'd lost from the combinations, maybe I didn't meet that part of the requirements any more? I still owned more than fifty and had the big pile from [Artisan] unlocked. If I needed seventy-five unlocked, I'd be fine. If I needed a hundred... Well, [Superior Artisan] would unlock a bunch more. I'd probably still be fine. Hopefully.
I actually made it through to the finals, coming in top of my group despite only winning six of my ten fights. Other than to Cluma, my other three losses were against people with wide area effects who managed to get them off before the full time dilation of [Timeless World] kicked in, but in turn they lost against people with defensive abilities or other counters. I was the only one to win more than half of my fights.
Cluma had won four, her [Non-detection] defeated even by the second rank [Threat Perception], as well as a few third rank sensory skills. Amusingly, she finally got a use out of [Shroud], fighting against a third-rank [Scout] evolution with anti-stealth skills. The way the smug look on his face that grew as he pulled Cluma back into visibility transformed to confusion when she immediately vanished again was hilarious.
The other finalists averaged higher levels than the qualifier group, though, with several who had taken multiple rank three classes. I only won a few fights, ending up halfway down the rankings.
Skill [Swift Strike] advanced to level 16
Skill [Far Step] advanced to level 18
Skill [Dislocation] advanced to level 17
Skill [Shelter] advanced to level 13
Skill [Superimpose] advanced to level 17
Skill [Stamina Finesse] advanced to level 8
Skill [Extended Mana Pool] advanced to level 16
Skill [Secrecy] advanced to level 12
Skill [Secrecy] advanced to level 13
Skill [Secrecy] advanced to level 14
Skill [Enhanced Stamina Recovery] advanced to level 17
There had been lots of appraisal attempts throughout the tournament, making [Secrecy] the fastest leveller of the fortnight. The pair of class levels were nice, though, and of course, I had a new weapon style skill and my [Advanced Crafting] merger.
My cooking was now only a single level away from where Clana's had been when I'd first tasted it. And my smithing one level away from Remous, and my tailoring one from Adele. And Mum. And my farming one from Dad. Yes, they'd all ranked up since, but still... I could actually make a living in any of those areas. What a weird thought.
What a long way I'd come since my first attempt at carving a drafts board.
It also left me with the knowledge of dozens of things I'd done wrong during my house construction. I really needed to demolish and rebuild the place; it wasn't fit for human habitation. Was still a decent attempt, though, and it served the purpose of getting me [Artisan] levels.
Hah. I'd built a house for levels. This world was insane.
I was brought back to reality when I noticed Cluma in front of me, staring expectantly, with her tail practically wagging behind her. She was obviously waiting for something. What had I missed?
I ran my 'what would Cluma do in this situation' simulation and made a guess.
"Yes, we can eat next door to celebrate not quite winning," I agreed, being clear what I was agreeing to in case I'd guessed her request incorrectly. There was nothing more dangerous than answering with an unqualified 'yes' in that sort of situation.
"Yay!" she replied, confirming I was right. She hadn't qualified for the final herself, but had still teleported over each day with me to watch.
Ha, and that was another insane thing. I didn't have to stay in the inn any more. Long gone were my portal woes. I just teleported home each afternoon, and could even bring Cluma with me.
The inn was crowded, given the glut of delvers that had descended on the city for the tournament, but it wasn't as if a monster core required cutlery or would go cold if not eaten immediately. We didn't need a table, so Cluma grabbed a level forty core to take home to eat.
"Is it really that much better than the level thirty cores we've stockpiled from the dungeon?"
I wasn't the only one that had grown. I remembered back when a level twenty core sent Cluma into a food coma, and now she was eating level thirty cores in the middle of a dungeon as a simple snack.
... Actually, given how badly Earth wanted the cores, they must be getting massive amounts of energy out of them. How many calories were in a monster core? Perhaps not a sensible question, because mana was not sensible, but it was still a funny thought to consider that Cluma was basically eating millions of calories as a snack. I'd have to do the maths one day and tell her just how much she was eating converted to weight of meat.
"Yup!" she agreed. "But since we aren't eating here, I'll save it for dessert. Main course can be steak."
"You're turning into a right little glutton," I complained as I teleported her.
"Yes, and it's entirely your fault. You made me like mana, you invented enchanted steak, and you keep boosting your cooking skills," she countered once my ears had followed her.
"No way. I'm not taking all the blame. You enjoyed your meat long before I got to you."
She poked her tongue out before biting into her core.
"Thought you were saving it for dessert?" I asked, but I was fairly sure she didn't hear me, given the way her pupils dilated and every part of her not required to hold core to mouth fell limp. Normally, people fell into a food coma after eating, and didn't continue eating in the middle of it.
Hopefully, her resistance continued to build, else we were going to have some serious issues once we hit floor forty ourselves. Let alone floor fifty...
Leaving her to her enjoyment, I wandered downstairs to cook, and soon enough a meat-and-mana filled Cluma was purring in her sleep. Given how much of the evening was still left, I took the opportunity to teleport back to the core room of the great dungeon.
It really was an impressive display of wealth, if not of power. As far as power was concerned, Krana's egg chamber had this place beat. But I'd seen enough of the Obsidian Spires dungeon to know that wasn't because Erryn couldn't build a lava waterfall and lake with an ice island in the middle of it. If anything, it was the opposite; she could build such nonsensical scenery with such ease that it ceased to serve any purpose as an impressive display. The impressive stuff was used in normal dungeon floors, not her private areas, which instead took on a more sentimental design, using meaningful sculptures and memorials.
Such as the silent graveyard right outside this very room...
I couldn't resist walking out to it again. Calling it sentimental didn't do it justice. I was the only one there. The only one who could get there. Erryn was gone, and the entrance was closed. It was just me and thousands of ancient skeletons.
How had she picked which ones to bury and which to leave? No way was the world population this low. A question I'd likely never see answered.
I read the inscription on the central monument once more, tracing it with a finger. Why had Erryn felt the need to engrave it? Who would know, other than her?
This wasn't a place made for display to others. It was a private place for her. Was this what drove her to the decisions she had reached? Was this graveyard where the Law was born? A reminder to her of what she wanted to protect?
I felt my eyes watering as I stared at the monument. I'd never considered myself an emotional person, but the weight of history here was too much even for me. I fled back to the core room.
I spent an hour circling every floor of the multi-tiered display. There was nothing else here. The core, the statues and the Law crystal. A plaque on the top floor held the names of the dead, all dated prior to the safety net introduction.
It was... extensive. Easily a couple of orders of magnitude longer than the Dawnhold equivalent. The dates went back almost to the beginning. The first delver had died in this dungeon only a few decades after year zero.
Another dead end to my search for Law solutions, and it was in a rather contemplative mood in which I joined Cluma in bed.
AnnouncementIt's the first chapter of the month, so here's the usual reminder that there's a patreon, on which unbound soul is finished. (+ a few bonus smut chapters, and the one in which Peter beat the Obsidian Spires dungeon and overestimated the effect of [Expert Delver].) Patreon's April schedule is 2x Unborn Hero a week, and 1x chapter of an unwavering craftsman sidestory, 'what if Damien turned around?'. It contains even less crafting than the main story, but quite a lot more blood.
The previous patreon mini story, A Serious Incident, is now over here, tacked as a side story onto the end of A Friendly Voidling, since it wasn't really long enough to be its own thing.
And, as usual, here's the array of pretty pictures. Each picture is a link.
Amazon e-books:
And audio books:
The next couple of unbound soul audio books have finished recording already, so should pop up soonish. :)
