Leaving his balcony, he was surprised to see Lauriel casually browsing his trophy cabinet.
“You’re still here?” Aaron paused at the door before continuing his preparations.
“Why the sword?” she asked instead of replying.
“Gregor turned traitor.” Aaron grunted as he shoved pre-prepared items into a large rucksack. Distracted by his task, his mind wandered. “The aspects the Saints represent may be equally important, but like pillars supporting a roof, take out the right ones in the right order, and the whole thing comes crashing down. Life, Space, Shield, and the Sword. Two of those are lost on the first day, three in the first week, all, after the first month. If I have any say in things, that will change.”
A second life came with certain advantages. Armed with knowledge of general economic trends, after an initial loan from the Bank of Mum and Dad and a series of well-timed investments guided by his eidetic memory, Aaron Hueber amassed a considerable fortune. Enough to repay his family a hundredfold. Enough to hire the finest tutors Earth could offer, to train and live as a professional athlete. Enough to pursue the acts of heroism expected of a Saint. Enough to source or commission the finest blades mortal hands could craft. After assembling his pack, Aaron donned a custom-made armoured jerkin. Its black carbon nano-weave outer fabric covered space-age layers of Kevlar and ceramic fibre. The high collar completely covered his neck, while the bottom hem reached several inches below his waist.
A neodymium puck clicked as a greatsword, sheathed within a carbon-fibre scabbard, snapped into place on his back. Aaron secured a sword belt before clipping a similarly customised titanium-reinforced épée mask to a hook, leaving it to dangle beside his shoulder.
He studied the two knives and two short swords long since honed to a razor’s edge, nd wondered if these modern but wholly mundane weapons would last to see the end of the day.
"Foresight is a burden. But it's better than regret." Knowing the Archangel was unsatisfied with his answer, Aaron continued. “It’s true I didn’t have the same talent for the sword as him. But it’s a weapon I’ve come to respect. Besides, when lives are on the line, how much talent one has matters the least.”
He looked at her.
Her right hand hovered just before her chest, fingers gently shifting against one another, as if rolling something unseen between them in a slow, absent motion. Aaron would have considered her lost in thought had he not been ensnared by Lauriel’s unblinking gaze.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s not much.”
Lauriel tossed an item towards him.
Aaron caught it, examining the Ring of Holding in his palm. At first, he felt elation. Then he frowned. Why had he never received such an incredibly useful artefact in his previous life? He looked at Lauriel in question.
Lauriel shrugged. “We can show favour to those likely to lead, or those whom we believe may become Saint Sovereigns.”
“Saint Sovereign?”
“Live long enough with that method of yours, and perhaps you’ll find out.”
Between eyeblinks, the Archangel was gone.
As a newly anointed Saint, you may choose one passive and one active perk.
In addition, after winning a contested selection, you may select an additional passive perk.
After packing far more than he had planned, and as quickly as he could, Aaron spent the remainder of the hour carefully reading through the list of perks that would shape his second Sainthood.
It was unclear whether he could still be considered biologically human. What was certain, however, was that after the Calling, if a Saint lived long enough, they would begin to embody their aspect, becoming a being far beyond a normal Ascended.
Aaron felt a flicker of annoyance as he reviewed the long list of options.
Gregor’s choices had been obvious. Titan Strength as his active perk, and Hydra Blood as his passive. It was a solid combination, Regenerating from injuries, even regrowing limbs, was tempting enough on its own.
But Giant’s Strength?
A simple, reliable boost to power, yet nothing compared to the other options available.
Did Gregor know something he didn’t? Had he miscalculated, was it pride in his own talent? Or was there some hidden advantage Aaron had that he had not?
Despite outward appearances, Gregor had never been stupid.
Either way, Aaron pushed the thought aside. He had his own decisions to make.
Aaron Hueber
- Race: Human (Saint of Swords)
- Age: 27
- Ascension: Early 1st
- Higher-Order Concepts: Sword Intent
Active Abilities:
- (New) Crescendo Temporis – While in combat, every offensive action increases the Saint’s speed and reflexes for a base duration of one hundred heartbeats. This duration can be improved through perk upgrades, training, and the consumption of special supplements.
- Iterum Aevum – Grants the ability to gift another the chance to relive life after death. 3 of 3 uses remaining.
- Magda’s Forgotten Wisdom – Grants the ability to restore lost knowledge to Magda, Saintess of Forgotten Knowledge. 1 of 1 use remaining.
Passive Abilities:
- (New) Sleipnir’s Heart – Vastly enhances endurance and natural regeneration. Increases stamina and all recovery rates by a base factor of ten. This can be further improved through perk upgrades, training, and the consumption of special supplements.
- (New) Sword Soul – Vastly improves affinity with swords. Grants natural talent with edged weapons, greatly enhancing comprehension of sword-related skills and higher-order concepts. Communion with Sword Soul may grant guidance and inspiration. Can be further improved through perk upgrades, training, and the consumption of special supplements.
- Mens Indelebilis – That which has been learned can never be forgotten. Grants perfect recall and limitless retention of knowledge across lifetimes and timelines.
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Knowing the scale of the battles and trials ahead, Aaron sought an equaliser. No matter how many swords he carried, he was still just one man. From the very beginning, he would face stronger and far more numerous opponents.
Gregor had relied on raw strength, wielding it to devastating effect in his early days. But without mastering Sword Intent, he would have never become the force he ultimately was.
Aaron chose a different path.
Instead of brute power, he doubled down on his true strengths, his speed, intelligence, and the hard-won experience of a lifetime battling demons and horrors.
A Sword Soul to refine and ultimately evolve his Sword Intent.
Crescendo Temporis, to ensure his capability scaled with the enemies he would soon face.
Sleipnir’s Heart, for the endurance to fight until every battle was won, with the recovery to stand up and do it all again. Beyond that, Aaron had little doubt Crescendo Temporis would place extreme strain on his body, meaning rigorous training would be essential. Perhaps, between conflicts, he would seek out Ascended trainers to push his limits.
In addition to the new Sword Saint perks, several abilities from his previous life remained. Mens Indelibilis ensured that memories from his past life persisted through childhood and adolescence. The second perk granted him the ability to gift his former passive ability to another, though whether he would ever subject someone else to such torment, Aaron wasn’t sure.
Beyond that, his final active perk was something else entirely. With her final breaths, Magda had loaned to him her wisdom, entrusted to him until the moment they met again.
A moment that was fast approaching.
Aaron glanced at his chronograph, barely registering the warm trickle of blood from his nose. His body was shifting, altering, deviating ever further from mortal.
Every new perk or perk upgrade required one hundred seconds of pain, with some hurting more than others.
As his heart was replaced, Aaron doubled over, breath ragged, fingers digging into the fabric of his armoured jerkin. His vision blurred at the edges. Clinging to consciousness, he endured.
Saint of Swords, you have been called to the Grand Convocation of Anointed Saints.
Armed, armoured, and, thanks to Lauriel’s Ring of Holding, better supplied than he could have hoped for, Aaron took a breath. He adjusted his mindset, reviewed his plans once more, then stepped through a gilded door in reality.
In one moment, he was on Earth, within his well-maintained apartment in Vienna, Austria. In the next, he stood on Convexus Magnus, a floating island within a pocket universe called Evermarch.
Had he stayed long enough to listen to the introductory speeches and inductions, he would have heard how Evermarch was the most secure bastion of the righteous and brave across all realms.
But Aaron knew better.
Despite his jaded thoughts, his heart still soared as he took in the majesty of the Hall of Reunion.
Gilded arches swept across a hall wider than a football pitch. The vaulted ceiling, towering several storeys overhead, supported a glass skylight at least ten metres wide. Beyond it, a striking night sky framed the celestial architecture, the gilded marble and understated divine décor bathed in ethereal light.
The hall was alive with the voices of hundreds. Some faces he recognised, reassuring in their presence. Others, he desperately wanted to avoid.
Aaron nodded as he passed Thane Keal, the Saint of Tongues and one of the few saints he respected. His salt-and-pepper fuzz covered a grey face marked by old scars. His eyes were steady, shining, dark portals, all the more stark given the contrast. Thane returned Aaron's gesture. The man had the look of a veteran, standing with the quiet authority of someone born to command.
Aaron had never heard of Saint Sovereigns, but this man who was one of the rare few to rise beyond Anointed and True Saint to a level of ascension known as High Saint—was surely on that path.
He remembered his death near the end of the Bellum Existentiae. Rain pounds stone, the wind howling but unable to muffle the roars of the demonic tide. Buying time for the survivors to fall back, the High Saint stood alone on the wall, a final bastion on a realm on the brink of being overrun. Infusing his very life essence into his voice, he spoke a final word that broke the sky.
Aaron’s frown deepened as his gaze locked onto someone who had always given him a headache.
He checked himself, armoured, equipped, and not dimension-hopping naked, before glancing back at her.
Tess van Tolwoud, the Saintess of Shields.
She was staring at him. Glaring at him. Intensely.
During his previous life, they had rarely interacted. The few times they had, their encounters had been far from friendly. Even now, despite how important and powerful she could eventually be, few of his plans involved working with each other.
Aaron dismissed it. He had more important people to find.
He moved through the crowd, his focus sharpening the moment he spotted a familiar, and very welcome, mop of shaggy purple hair.
“Hello, Magda,” Aaron said, failing to suppress his joy from the one-sided reunion.
“Oh? So you’ve heard of me?”
Magda, Saintess of Forbidden Knowledge, regarded him with an amused smirk. Her lazy, laconic tone contrasted sharply with the sheer intensity of her presence.
She gave him a slow once-over, her expression shifting from curiosity to approval.
The saintess wore black silk, the fabric clinging to her freckled, olive skin like painted shadows. Violet eyes edged with an unnatural luminosity fixed on him with the same heavy-lidded look that had drawn him in all those years ago. Her hair, a wild tangle of deep purple, framed a face both sharp and enigmatic. There was a curiosity in her expression, a flicker of warmth. But beneath it lay calculation, the mind of a scholar who often abandoned morality in pursuit of understanding.
“You could say that,” Aaron replied. “I need your help, and soon. Once upon a time, you gave me something to hold on to. And now, I believe it’s time I gave it back.”
He held out a small violet marble.
Magda plucked it from his palm, rolling it between her fingers before, with deliberate slowness, slipping it into her mouth.
Her lazy smile remained, her curious eyes never leaving his.
Aaron had lost to this poker face more times than he cared to count. He knew exactly what lay beneath it. If she sensed even the slightest falsehood or malice, she would react first, violently.
“Hmmm.”
She rolled the marble on her tongue before swallowing. “Well, I certainly gave you this. When, however, is another question. While I don’t intend to fully digest… this gift, for now, I can extend my assistance.”
"Outstanding. Please, follow me," Aaron said. His dry tone masked the joy behind it.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her mild amusement as she fell into step beside him.
“Did we fuck? In our previous lives?”
“So you’ve worked it out, then? That was quick.” Aaron chuckled, even though she had just met him and had no history of their interactions. A familiar warmth bubbled up from his soul, a feeling that, because she was here, things might be better this time.
“Not many options to consider. And given how you’d rather dodge the question than give a straight answer, well then, I can only imagine I blew your mind, especially as I was the first one you sought out.”
Aaron could only laugh. “I’d imagine you probably have all the answers inside that purple marble of yours.”
“Saving it for a rainy day. Besides, with you appearing so…” She gave him another once-over “...competent, I’ve decided I’ll work things out on my own. At least for now.”
He was dressed for battle, everyone else was dressed for a ball. This disparity garnered looks of curiosity, disdain and in the rare few, caution and alarm. He avoided conversation starters and entreaties from the other Saints as he drew nearer to his goal. He checked his chronograph, nineteen seconds remained.
“You don’t plan on killing people, do you?” Magda wondered idly.
“Only bad ones. I promise.”
Aaron wore his epee mask at the ten count. To her credit, Magda waved her hands, a brief flash of purple coated her skin before it faded, leaving only her smirk in reply.
The crowds parted, and Aaron saw her for the first time. It took everything he had not to stare. He had met people from countless races across dozens of realms. Saints and Saintesses often grew more radiant as they ascended. Celestials were born without flaw. Yet even among them, the elf before him stood apart. She was, without question, one of the most ethereally beautiful women he had ever seen.
Cassandra Ljoswyn Aenvaldr, Saintess of Life, stood in quiet deliberation with another of her kin. As he counted down the seconds in his mind, the elf’s large, blue eyes finally registered his approach, widening fractionally in confusion and concern.
As his count reached zero, Aaron unsheathed his blades.