Judging by the state of the body, the needle had struck Prodigy just beneath the armpit—a deep, clean hit that came perilously close to the heart. Still, it should have been nowhere near enough to kill an Awakened of his calibre—not even one with a comparatively low VIT attribute like Prodigy.
But the wound had not been the cause of his death—the needle was nothing more than a delivery device for the true threat. The seed.
Prodigy’s body was split open from shoulder to sternum, leaving behind a gaping cavity of viscera where there had once been a broad, enviable chest. His eyes were vacant, his expression locked in a mask of horror and agony.
The last thing he’d ever seen—the thing that had crawled out of him—was staring up at Alarion, its long neck canted unnaturally to one side. Its body was still growing, a twisted mixture of bark and vines that shifted and slithered toward its ideal shape. It was humanoid, but wrong in its proportions, too thick in the ankles and legs, too thin in the waist, and too broad in the shoulders. Its head was topped with a twisted mane of branches, its featureless face watching him without eyes.
One of the creature’s arms, its left, was notably longer than the other. The fiend studied it for a moment, as if curious, then pointed it toward Alarion.
The barrage of needles whistled through empty air, their path painfully predictable. Or’Valde’s attack would be faster, but surprise had killed Prodigy. If Alarion had warned him in time…
Alarion dodged a second volley of needles as he flickered from one rooftop to the other, wary of an ambush. His new vantage point let him see into one of the nearby buildings, revealing a gaping hole in the interior walls. The bastard was running.
“The fiend is moving inside the row houses—looks like he is heading east,” Alarion told his comrades as he leapt down to the street.
As if to put the lie to Centre’s words, a familiar shriek came from behind Alarion. From the west. “Mar-tyr!”
“Orphan, did you say east, or west?” Kali asked.
“East,” Alarion answered as he dodged the fiend’s third and final volley at almost point-blank range. Then he struck back with Isha, his wide swing catching it in the midsection and slamming it into a nearby wall. It split messily in two upon impact, the top half twitching as its regeneration struggled against the massive damage. Alarion didn’t give it the chance to heal, driving Echo through its core before turning his attention to the conundrum at hand.
“Damn it,” Alarion frowned. “ZEKE, has your vision cleared up at all?”
“Sadly, not. If anything, it is somehow worse.”
“I thought as much.”
Bergman and the others had done their best to disrupt the inn’s anti-divination wards, but short of finding and destroying the physical spell formula—which Centre apologetically assured him were buried deep for security and concealment—it would take hours or days with their current skills and tools.
But Alarion had one thing they didn’t.
“Bergman, I need you to come to me,” Alarion ordered. “I am with Prodigy’s remains.”
A quiet pause followed before Bergman answered, “We are on our way.”
“ZEKE, I am going to be using a new skill.”
“Young master-“
“I know,” Alarion reassured. Skills were complicated things, and ‘Don’t learn by doing’ was one of ZEKE’s early lessons. Levelling up and trying new skills in a dangerous situation seemed like a good idea, but relying on untested abilities in a life-or-death situation was a quick path to the latter. “But we cannot let him keep running.”
Rather than argue, his teacher asked, “What is the new skill?”
“It is not unique, but I doubt even your Infinite Library will mention it,” Alarion said before going on to quietly detail [Act of Will].
If ZEKE could have died from jealousy, he would have. Instead, he spent a few seconds complaining about the System’s blatant favoritism.
You have selected the skill Act of Will [Ancient]. Is this correct? Y/N?
Please note, this selection is permanent.
Alarion accepted the skill and was annoyed by another, almost identical confirmation.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
You have selected the skill Act of Will [Ancient]. Is this correct? Y/N?
Please note, this skill selection will result in the merger of the classes [Unraveller] and [Indomitable Warrior]. This merger is permanent.
He confirmed the selection again and was rewarded with the messages he’d been expecting.
Skill level increased. Act of Will is now Level 1. WIL +14.
[Unraveller](Exceptional) and [Indomitable Warrior](Epic) have become [Fated Warrior](Ancient).
Fated Warrior [Ancient](Rank II)
Description: Your opponents have struck first, and they have struck hard, but you have always struck last. Mortared through willpower and defiance, you stand tall in the face of adversity and tragedy. You seek your place in this world, at once following and fighting the path laid out before you.
As a Fated Warrior, you serve as an icon to those around you and a bulwark for those in need. You are an unyielding presence, inexorable and unstoppable, but fully aware of the cost of such power.
This class focuses primarily on skills and attributes related to martial and magical combat, with a focus on fate, durability, combat casting, and the defense of others.
Requirements: Possess the flaw [Single-Minded]. Suffer at least one near-death experience in the defense of others. Skill – Act of Will. All attributes 500+
Growths - STR – +27 – 65% | AGI – +27 – 65% | VIT – +27 – 75% | INT – +27 – 65% | WIL – +27 – 65% | PER – +27 – 65% | LUK – +27 – 75%
Alert! Your Class [Fated Warrior] has increased in rarity due to the effect of a class merger, recalculating.
Attribute growths updated. STR +18. AGI +15. VIT +21. INT +15. PER +9. WIL +15.
Alarion shivered at the rush of new power, and he made note of the unusually high distribution of growths and attributes granted by Fated Warrior, but he had no time to dwell on either. He searched inside himself for the new power granted by [Act of Will] and found it pushing at its boundaries like a caged animal longing to stretch its legs.
He let it roam.
The sensation was unlike any other skill. Even with those core to his being—such as his masteries—there had always been a disconnect, a feeling that he was using a skill. They were foreign, System-granted powers; a weapon for him to wield rather than an extension of his body. But [Act of Will] was different. He felt his perception expand, reaching out from within the confines of his frail mortal body to touch at something ephemeral, something axiomatic.
Alarion felt the magic inches from his skin, the interweaving strands of disruption that tangled any attempt at sympathetic tracking. He saw how the calamity of vibrating strands was disrupting ZEKE’s pulsing vision and—with a shock—he realized he understood that wholly unmagical process as well.
Though perhaps understand was not the right word. Within the inches of his Zone of Refusal, Alarion had a sense of utter comprehension and control. But when he attempted to put it into words, or even apply that knowledge to the area outside his Zone, it was like he was looking at something entirely different—a magical formula he could not begin to grasp.
The sensation was uncanny and unsettling, but he was not given long to dwell on it as Bergman, Witch, Archer, and Kali arrived.
“Mothers guide him,” Archer said, drawing a diamond in the air toward what remained of Prodigy.
“T-That…” Bergman didn’t know how to finish the thought, his face pale as he put the body out of mind and focused on Alarion. “What is the plan?”
“I am going to blow through most of my MP to weaken the anti-divination wards. I need you to tear them down when I do.” Alarion looked to Witch and offered the young woman an apologetic smile. “You are welcome to try as well.”
“So generous,” she said with a roll of her eyes, even as she started gathering components for her attempt.
“H-How are you going to weaken them?”
“A new skill.” Alarion met Bergman’s eyes, and his friend quickly got the message. Wills were Trump cards, and the less known about them, the better. “Tell me when you are ready.”
“I’m ready,” Witch chimed in without missing a beat.
Bergman delayed just long enough to down a mana potion, then nodded.
“Okay, this first.” Alarion navigated to his menu, accepted his remaining Orphan skill, and activated it without hesitation.
Skill level increased. Bound by Purpose is now Level 1. LUK +30.
Due to the effects of [Bound by Purpose] your WIL has been increased by +61.
Due to the effects of [Bound by Purpose] your STR has been increased by +165.
Due to the effects of [Bound by Purpose] your AGI has been increased by +108.
Due to the effects of [Bound by Purpose] your INT has been increased by +82.
“It only works this well because the rest of you are so strong,” Alarion said, steadying his breath as new power flowed through him. “And it is mana intensive, so ask later.”
“Just how much luck do you have?” Witch mumbled in disbelief, though it wasn’t hard to guess. Each of them had gained a portion—10% at this level of hisskill—of their allies’ highest attribute. In her case, the boost of nearly 400 LUK made it her 3rd highest attribute.
He really was a monster. And he was just getting started.
His initial trial of [Act of Will] had been narrowly focused, barely extending inches away from his body to keep the MP consumption as low as possible. This time, he took the opposite course, expanding the ability as far and as fast as possible. His intrinsic understanding of the skill told him that he could make it large enough to cover the entire compound, and several blocks beyond that if he chose, but it couldn’t tell him how much MP he would burn through trying to suppress the wards, especially at that scale.
It was entirely possible that he would burn out in seconds, but with a heavy breath of effort, Alarion imposed his will on the compound.
“Ugh!” Witch cried out suddenly, a complaint soon mirrored by Bergman.
“Sorry!” Alarion apologized, “I-“
“N-No! Keep it going. We are fine,” Bergman told him. “Nothing more than a pressure headache.”
“Speak for yourself,” the young woman complained, one eye closed in pain as she chanted a sing-song, nonsense limerick in Ashadi.
“I cannot do this for long,” Alarion warned, already drawing on his [Simple Mana Reserve] as his MP plummeted.
“Y-You don’t have to,” Bergman replied, laughing in wonder at the effect. “Trouble the eyes of my magic no more!”
With a flick of his wrist and that simple incantation, Bergman slashed through the intricate wards as if they were paper. Two more quick spells weakened the foundation further, allowing Witch to collapse the whole rotten edifice in upon itself seconds before Alarion’s MP ran dry.
“Or’Valde is seven blocks east, two north. Inside a house with a broken door.” ZEKE told him the instant the wards collapsed. “He is breeding, you must be quick.”
Alarion smiled grimly despite his exhaustion. Burning through thousands of points of MP in a matter of seconds was an oddly nostalgic experience. “Let us kill this son of a bitch.”