Friday, July 22, 4 S.E.

  Leonidas was still sore.

  The healing Parnym had given him had taken the edge off of his wounds, and his System-accelerated healing meant that he’d be relatively hale within hours after the event, but the general soreness associated with the [Honor Duel] and Ceruviel’s subsequent punishment was less than ideal. If not for what he’d received after the [Honor Duel], an alert he’d kept minimized until able to view it without issue, he’d have been a little grumpy still.

  SYSTEM MESSAGE

  Congratulations, Leonidas! You have won an [Honor Duel]!

  You have successfully won a System [Honor Duel] and earned rewards for the manner of its accomplishment. Factors within this duel will be collated, and rewards will be distributed appropriately based on performance.

  [Opponent Tier]: Adept

  [Level Difference]: +16

  Experience Gain Increased by 100%

  Aetherium Gain Increased by 100%

  [Experience Gained]: 3,200

  [Aetherium Gained]: 100

  Would you like to claim your rewards now?

  [Y] | [N]

  Leonidas tapped ‘[Y]’ without hesitation and sighed quietly in relief as the Experience and [Aetherium] filled his mind. The System seemed to consider his feat far beyond the norms of what was deemed plausible to his Cultivation level, and didn’t even factor in the [Cataclysm Core]. He wondered if that meant his duel with Braedon would be even more lucrative. If he defeated Braedon as an Initiate, when the other man was already a Contender…

  Easy there, Ace. Pride cometh before the Fall. No point in needless risks.

  He’d need to be cautious, no matter what, if he didn’t want to end up dead due to his own hubris. He wasn’t even sure, really, if fighting Braedon would count as an [Honor Duel]—it all depended on the context of the fight, after all.

  Leonidas’ eyes moved to Aylar, who had finally unveiled herself and was walking side-by-side in conversation with Parnym and Synthra. At the same time, Bardulf ranged ahead of them as their designated scout, using his [Shadow Step] and [Predator Senses] Skills to search for manabeasts and other threats. Together, the Party marched steadily toward where Ceruviel had revealed the Dungeon was located.

  The goal was to advance their levels during the journey, but not to the extent that anyone reached Adept before entering the dungeon, and without crossing the five-level threshold. Leonidas himself was only just within permissable range thanks to Aylar’s lack of advancement, but that itself was another problem. He needed levels, and so did she, but the rate of their acquisition had to be skewed in his favor without disadvantaging the Swordmaiden.

  He had never been all that talented with mathematics, and the logistics alone were already making him squint.

  I have 4,434 Experience right now, which means I’m just over a third of the way to my next level. Most of the manabeasts in this forest are Initiate or Adept, which means the experience gain will be propitious but not immense, and when divided among multiple people…

  Leonidas sighed and rubbed his head, grumbling at the mathematics again.

  Ahead of him, his companions glanced back upon hearing his mutters, and Aylar arched an aristocratic blonde eyebrow.

  “Problems, Leonidas?” she asked in English. They’d all agreed to practice the language during the journey, given the need for some of them—Bardulf and Parnym specifically—to grow more comfortable with the native tongue.

  “Just trying to figure out how much of a genocide we’ll have to commit against the manabeasts to level sufficiently,” he offered with a sigh, his hand rising to rake through his ebon hair. “No matter how I cut it, it doesn’t seem great.”

  Aylar and Synthra exchanged a glance at his words—they were having those moments far too often lately—and then looked at Parnym, who shook his head wryly.

  “What?” Leonidas asked with a glance between them.

  “Achilles,” Synthra said with a look of smug satisfaction, “you don’t know about the Dungeon Bonus.”

  “The what?” he asked with surprise.

  “Ceruviel was probably keeping it as a surprise,” Aylar noted with her own sense of amusement. “It’s the sort of thing she’d do.”

  “I can believe that. The Dusk-Lord is known for her pranks,” Parnym agreed.

  Leonidas looked between them again and scowled, to which the three only laughed—even Parnym. The women were a bad influence, he decided.

  “Every Dungeon has an acceleration System, Leonidas, when Parties consist of members with a greater than two-level discrepancy,” Aylar explained after her mirth faded to a small smile, and Leonidas’ eyes widened a little as he began to understand. “Synthra and Bardulf are both level 17, I’m level 15, Parnym is level 18, and you are level 11. That means that so long as Parnym is with us, your experience gain will increase by one hundred percent for each level difference between you above two.”

  “...wait, what?”

  “You will have a three hundred percent increase in your gains during the Dungeon until the gap is reduced to two levels, Achilles,” Synthra said with a hint of satisfied superiority. “Catching up will be no issue at all. Hunting manabeasts is about building teamwork, not gaining levels. There’s no way a full party will benefit from hunting creatures less than two tiers superior.”

  Leonidas looked between the three of them and groaned, looking up at the sky in frustration.

  You got me again, you old witch.

  Somewhere, somehow, he thought he heard Ceruviel cackling.

  Three hours later, during the early afternoon, the five of them made camp at what they estimated to be the mid-point between Dawnhaven and the area that held the Dungeon, entering a clearing and fanning out to prepare their campsite. Synthra had produced several crystals she called ‘wardstones’ from her [Spatial Pouch] and set them up in an equidistant ring surrounding the clearing, infusing them with Mana until each one lit up with soft blue light.

  The field they created would supposedly keep away any manabeast of Contender tier and below, warding them off with an aura of Elite tier.

  Bardulf, who had rejoined them after finding the clearing, was standing with Parnym, setting the tents and chatting away animatedly about the Nekomara he had taken as his girlfriend, while the Mender helped him and listened with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity.

  Aylar and Synthra, meanwhile, had already relieved themselves of the majority of their travel gear and were sitting on camp chairs around the fire the Sorceress had created, quietly discussing something that had them both gesturing firmly and nodding rigorously in agreement while laughing softly.

  Leonidas observed the four of them during this while leaning against one of the very few trees within the clearing, his arms folded and his Mana and Psi cycling rapidly through his body to stimulate his energy. He had volunteered to be the sentinel while the others rested, and thanks to Ceruviel’s education, was also best-suited for it: Psi largely ameliorated the need to sleep, given its sustaining synergistic force when cycled through the brain.

  His eyes closed as he allowed the cycling to continue, and he focused on keeping it compressed and light—avoiding the usual environment feedback effects associated with it, and ensuring his [Cataclysm Core] ran at a low purr, as opposed to a snarled roar. It felt like the difference between an engine idling in neutral versus revving for a drag race. The analogy would probably be odd to a non-Terran, but to him, it was picture-perfect Ideation for what he was doing.

  His thoughts drifted as he worked, moving inexorably toward the choice he’d eventually be forced to make: Aylar, Synthra, Dawnhaven, the future. He knew what the logical choice was, he knew what the responsible choice was, and he even knew what the comfortable choice was—but none of those answers, each one different, gave him true insight. The biggest joker in the deck was his own feelings, and those were not so easily understood.

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  Trauma and personal reservations aside, he felt like choosing was impossible.

  How did you differentiate the beauty between two sunrises?

  “Leonidas?”

  His eyes opened as his thoughts were interrupted, and he shifted his gaze to look at Aylar when the Princess-Royal spoke.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you alright?” she asked faintly, while Synthra joined her in watching him.

  Leonidas frowned at the question and remembered what he’d told her in the city—realizing that, in some way, he’d probably been avoiding addressing the proverbial elephant in the clearing. He had promised not to hold that secret any longer, not for any foolish notion of intimacy, but because if he had an episode, they would need to know the signs and how to help him.

  Without context, if he fell into a trauma state, it could prove disastrous.

  Responsibility warred with natural reticence, and eventually, responsibility won out.

  “I’m alright, in the grand scheme, but I guess I need to tell you all something that could impact us during the Delve. It’s not something immediately pressing, but it ties into my—well, my experience, I suppose.”

  Leonidas pushed off the tree and unfolded his arms, sticking them into his jacket’s pockets out of habitual comfort as he moved to join the women at the fire. “Bardulf, Parnym?” he called. “You two should come hear this.”

  The two men glanced over at Leonidas’ words, glanced at each other, then shrugged and made their way over—Parnym standing at parade rest by habit, and Bardulf assuming a cross-armed pose of casual ease.

  “I’m not even really sure where to begin,” Leonidas said when all four of them were together, and sighed quietly. “I suppose I’ll start by saying that I need you all to promise not to reveal any of this to anyone—not for any reason. It could be bad, not just for me, but for Ceruviel, too.”

  The four of them blinked at that and exchanged glances.

  It was Aylar who spoke first.

  “Is this information truly so dire, Leonidas?”

  “Ceruviel thinks so. Only she and Uriel know it.”

  The Princess nodded thoughtfully at that and looked at Synthra, who gave her a single determined nod.

  Did they discuss something about this prior?

  “Synthra and I already suspected something like this might happen,” Aylar said mildly, turning back to Leonidas.

  “After what you told me in my mother’s office,” Synthra chimed in with a searching look of her golden eyes, “I knew you had secrets. I’d already thought you did as early as the Slayer Trial. I suspected you might reveal some on this journey, if ever. Aylar and I already agreed to a plan of action, given her own suspicions, since we both knew you had some sort of secret.”

  That made sense, he supposed. They’d both been aware something was off for a while, based on his read of their mind-glows.

  “Bardulf, Parnym,” Aylar said in a tone he recognized as ‘Princess-Royal’, as opposed to ‘Aylar’. “Synthra and I have agreed to swear a System Oath to protect Leonidas’ secret. Will you do the same? I will not coerce you.”

  “I will make this vow,” Bardulf said without hesitation. “It is harmless to me, and I trust Achilles not to have secrets that would stain my heart.”

  Leonidas smiled at Bardulf and then looked at Parnym.

  “If the Dusk-Lord trusts you, my lord, I trust you,” Parnym said with calm, simple logic. “I will swear.”

  “Then we are agreed,” Aylar said formally, and then lifted her right hand. “I, Aylar Taleria Lux Fortuna Elformer, do hereby swear upon my Core, with the System as my witness, that I will not reveal the details of Leonidas’ secret, so long as it does not compel me to do harm to Dawnhaven or her people. May this Oath bind me unless absolved by Archon Leonidas Achilles, the Black Knight.”

  Leonidas blinked at the specificity of the vow, and then smiled warmly.

  It was a good Oath. The clause at the end would be pertinent, he suspected.

  Synthra went next, repeating the words with her own name, and then Bardulf and Parnym joined in, raising their right hands and reciting the same. When it was done, a small chime echoed through the clearing, and all four shifted with a momentary blink of surprise, touching their dantians almost in sync.

  “...I can feel the Oath coiling around my Core,” Synthra murmured. “How weird.”

  “The nature of a System Oath is that it takes root in the Core,” Aylar explained while glancing down at her own abdomen absent-mindedly. “But it assures the promise is kept. If we step toward violation, the Oath will constrict, and our Cores will lose function until we step away from the path of breaking the vow.”

  The other three glanced at the Princess-Royal when she spoke, and then looked at their abdomens, before finally all four turned to Leonidas.

  “Well, I suppose that handles the matter of revealing it,” he said with forced lightness, and flexed his hands in his pockets. “I’m not great at this, so we’ll just jump in, and you can ask any questions you have when I’m done. Cool?”

  The four of them nodded, Aylar and Synthra intent, Bardulf curious, and Parnym reserved.

  “Alright,” Leonidas said, and took a breath. “I guess I’ll start at the beginning, when I was a College student a few years ago, before the Incursion…”

  The story spilled from him with surprising ease once he began. He gave them a clear overview of his life before the Integration, before the System, before the world went mad. He spoke of his childhood briefly, mainly focusing on his time in College, with pointed mentions of Isekai and LitRPG Portal Fantasy as annotations of context—informing what would come later.

  The four listened in respectful silence, broken only by the occasional intake of breath or a quiet curse of disbelief as he spoke of his transition to Elatra, the state of the world, and what occurred there. He spoke about his role as the ‘Hero’, his power, his strength, his experiences—he spoke about his time in the crucible of war, the way it forged him, and the traumas it left behind.

  He watched Synthra’s eyes widen as pieces fell into place and she mimed ‘Elatra’ and ‘Altera’ with canny insight, watched Aylar’s expression soften into empathetic concern as she made the connections in kind, watched Bardulf appraise him with quiet respect, and saw Parnym look at him like he was staring at a figure out of myth.

  On and on Leonidas spoke, sparing no details, occasionally using his hands to shape images with gestures or to mime battle positions. Their reactions remained mixed, with some anecdotes drawing wonder, some drawing awe, and some drawing horrified reactions as he described the monstrous depravity of Azrageth’s hordes.

  Then, finally, he talked about his companions.

  It was Aylar who reacted the most poignantly when he mentioned Lyara Melredor, and her appearance and role. The Princess-Royal’s fingers tightened on her legs, clenching into fists as he recounted his time with Lyara, Caricus, Bjorn, and Miranda’s ongoing tutelage. He watched them make the others look at the Princess with expressions of concern, wonder, and mild uncertainty—he watched the four of them react with a mix of sadness and approval at how his journey was shaped.

  When he reached the most brutal part of his tale, the final assault and the execution of Lumenkill Ultima, his companions were quiet when he finished. They were silent and thoughtful as they parsed his words and processed what he’d told them.

  In the end, it was Bardulf who spoke first.

  “So you really are a warrior, Achilles,” the Shadowblade said with consideration, pacing to think. “All this time, I thought you had perhaps experienced battle, but the scale of what you’re talking about is—”

  “Continental,” Parnym said, shaking his head in awe. “You are like a—a mythological Hero. I understand it is a tale of tragedy, my lord, but the comparisons to Alurien Starsword… I never saw the truth in them until now. This revelation—you are as exalted as he by your own experiences. It is no wonder Her Grace so readily adopted you as her Heir.”

  “Not just a Hero, a Conqueror,” Synthra said quietly, her own voice faintly reserved in opposition to her usual nature. “These Demons you fought, they sound like they were all at least Contender at minimum—and the horrors they inflicted. Divines of Altera, Achilles; how did you not go mad?”

  “I’m not sure I didn’t,” he admitted quietly, saying what he’d been feeling for too long without putting it into words. “Part of me is, I think. The dreams are the worst part. Psi helps me avoid them, but when I sleep—I’m there again. Fighting. Living. Watching people die. I think part of me is mad, it makes me doubt…”

  He looked Synthra in the eyes, then turned to Aylar, and finally looked back to fire.

  “...everything, honestly. It makes me doubt myself. I’m never more at home than in battle, never more clear-headed, but that alone is bad enough.”

  “Lyara Melredor,” Aylar said finally, her voice soft with thought and reservation. “Your lost love. The woman you never had the chance to truly know. This explains your reactions to me in far greater clarity—to my proposal for our engagement.”

  That drew shocked looks from Bardulf and Parnym, though Synthra seemed unsurprised, and simply looked between them with an unreadable expression. No anger, in her mind-glow, only resolute awareness. That was something Leonidas would need to investigate. How close had she and Aylar become?

  “Engagement?” Bardulf blurted out. “I thought Achilles was pursuing Synthra—”

  The Sorceress glared at him, and Bardulf shut up as Parnym’s eyes widened further, but Aylar simply laughed.

  “We are both interested in him,” she said to the other two, absent shame or regret. “Synthra and I spoke about this at length. We understand one another. The question of that tangle is a thing for us to handle with Leonidas, but there is no disgruntlement between us. We are both daughters of ancient lines, and unlike Leonidas, we are both Alteran. You both know the traditions our people hold.”

  “I will not pretend to be comfortable with the idea of sharing anyone,” Synthra said stiffly, while Aylar gently laid a hand on her wrist, and she—in a way that threw Leonidas completely—squeezed the Princess’ wrist in return. “But Aylar and I deduced each other’s intentions readily enough. We are far more insightful than bigheaded, stupid, dumb—"

  She cut off when Aylar gently squeezed her hand and grunted before continuing.

  "Regardless, there is no risk of disrespect between us, and if Leonidas is to become King of Dawnhaven as Ceruviel hopes—”

  That drew a very poignant sputter from Parnym.

  “—in alignment with Aylar, the plurality is a consideration. I would prefer never to share with anyone, but a woman like Aylar…”

  The Sorceress trailed off, and the Princess smiled at her warmly.

  “She understands my reservations, and we have spoken. It is enough.”

  “Synthra has a noble and proud soul,” Aylar said calmly, and squeezed Synthra’s hand. “I am glad for her friendship.”

  “When did you two even—”

  Leonidas was cut off when Synthra snorted.

  “How stupid do you think we are, Achilles? Did you think neither of us would notice the other’s affection for you? Did you think neither of us would spot the way you look at us, like a puppy attempting to choose which treat it likes more, and failing miserably? You are a fool of a man, but you have a good heart. We took matters into our own hands. It’s the only way to ensure you don’t make a damned mess of things.”

  “Synthra and I have agreed to a preliminary understanding, yes,” Aylar said calmly, her azure gaze settling on Leonidas’ own. “But that does not address your issues, Leonidas. When you look at me, you still see the ghost of Lyara Melredor. Is that not the case?”

  Leonidas hesitated at her words and then took a breath.

  “Less and less,” he admitted quietly, “but yes. The resemblance is uncanny—troubling, in fact. The System Administrator said Lyara was real, just not in the way I thought, and—”

  “Wait, Administrator? You met an Administrator?” Parnym demanded.

  “Parnym,” Aylar said firmly, and drew an embarrassed blush from the Mender.

  “It’s alright, Aylar,” Leonidas said. “Lyara—look, you and I can talk about that privately, if that’s alright. It’s not something I really want to air out, no offense to you guys.”

  Bardulf and a chagrined Parnym both nodded immediately.

  Synthra stared at him, golden eyes narrowed, but finally tossed her crimson hair.

  “It is no concern of mine. As far as I can tell, I am not reminding you of any former flames, so sort your issues out with the lovely maiden—” she smiled at Aylar, then went right back to glaring at him “—your ghosts affect. You will have to court me still, Achilles. I have no intention of—of rolling over for you because of your grand tales. Besides, I want to hear about this Administrator too.”

  Leonidas blinked at her in faint bemusement and then shook his head.

  “Right. I never told you guys what happened after I killed Azrageth.”

  All four of them shook their heads, Bardulf and Parnym staring at him with eager interest, while the women continued to hold each other’s hands, and Leonidas sighed.

  “Alright, this is where it gets dicey. Bear with me,” he stated and tucked his hands into his pockets again. “So, after I killed Azrageth, I received a System window for the first time, telling me it was going to begin Integration…”

  He talked long into the afternoon, telling them all that he could about his return, his [Cataclysm Core], the System’s actions, and the experiences of his Tribulation.

  The orange of the setting sun bathed the clearing long before he was done.

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