Chapter 297

Jacob looks with narrowed eyes at Garros who’s using, yet again, the Sword of Unending Light to heal him. His Rainbow Skill can heal anything , which means this was, in a way, as Nimirea put it, ‘harmless fun.’

And she relentlessly made fun of him throughout the whole ordeal.

Everybody, though, looks very pleased with themselves and the others. Even those who had been telling the other side to go die, are now complimenting them. The subject of said compliments is not exactly something that Jacob likes.

“You have a very nice hip twist,” the Elf, Veyrissa, tells Kaelrik. “Have you learned the way of the sword on your own?”

“Thanks,” Kaelrikk says, massaging his fist, “and yes, I had a master but I’m mostly self-taught. That’s why my style has many holes.”

“It’s actually a quite natural one,” the Elf nods, “you’ve got real talent. And what a punch!”

“Thanks again, but yours was even better. For a moment, I thought you were going to shatter his skull. It’s incredible for a swordmaster like you to hit like that.”

Are they flirting over punching me in the face? Jacob wonders, stunned.

Then, he turns to Vyrrak, Zorathul, and Korrath, the three Dragonkins, who are now talking among each other, clapping each other’s shoulders.

“For a Dagger, you do hit with wonderful force,” Zorathul admits to Vyrrak. “I didn’t expect it. But I suppose that you’re not the son of King Skaernex for nothing.”

“I mean, thanks, but your form was superb. And also, Korrath, I didn’t know a Shield could hit so well.”

“Heh! I’m not just a Shield, I’ve specialized in turning my defense into my offense. I don’t like one-trick-ponies.”

Jacob turns toward Garros, not able to hear any of that anymore, and narrows his eyes at the guy he quite literally cured from an Evil God’s curse.

Garros, who has punched Jacob as well while Nimirea held him still, smiles awkwardly.

“I—I didn’t want to be excluded. Everyone was doing it!”

In fact, just as Nimirea said, it became quite the bonding experience for two sides whose existence was pretty much each other’s bane.

And now, they are dividing into even better groups, with Kaelrik and Veyrissa the Elf naturally gravitating toward each other, and Kai joining Vyrrak and Korrath.

Zorathul, surprisingly enough, goes to join Boomgar, talking about his Rainbow Skill.

Baal, whose punch hurt the most among all of them, instead, stays behind with Jacob and Nimirea.

Augusta, the bald woman with face-tattoos, snags Garros and Sabrina.

Then, the shy Dark Champion that has not spoken once since he came, Tharvok, a Human, approaches Zibrek.

I told you that this would be a great team-building experience , Nimirea says telepathically to Jacob. You can thank me later, don’t worry .

Jacob ignores her and looks at Baal.

“What do you want? Go join somebody.”

“You do realize that your path as a warrior is the one of a Devil. Afflictions and Blood Magic are the main specialties of my kind. Despite your poor judgment in many areas of life, you have decent insights into Skills and combat. And, unlike some of the other who are still governed by the wrong impulses when it comes to building their Classes, needing therefore someone on more solid footing, us three are the ones who need to consolidate a style from too many ingredients thrown in the same cauldron.”

Jacob deadpans at the handsome guy, “can you speak like a normal person?”

“I mean, it was pretty easy to understand,” Nimirea says. “And he’s right. I didn’t use one of my Rainbow Skills against you because I still can’t synergize my fighting style properly. I have too many things going on for me. And so do you, Jacob. And… Baal, right?”

“Baal is the name I was given,” the Blood of the Devils nods. “You can call me that if it pleases you.”

Jacob is about to go insane on Baal being so polite toward Nimirea when all the others, finally having vented their anger toward Jacob, gather around them.

“So, what now?” Asterion, flanked by Asterismos, asks.

It’s an awkward moment when Vyrrak, following Korrath, gets many angry stares from all the Knights who have come all this way from the Academy to see the Champions of the Generation of Legends ally with the Dark Champions.

The Knight Commander, Sir Maximilian, has spread the voice, making sure that nobody attacks them without a reason, but that’s not stopping anybody from staring daggers, or worse.

A True Diamond Knight walks up to Korrath and spits at the feet of the huge Dragonkin.

Korrath raises an eyebrow on his scaly face and then looks at the Knight’s feet. “Do you have a sore throat or something?”

Vyrrak tries to step forward to stop this interaction from proceeding any further, but Korrath puts a hand out and stops him from doing so.

“You bastards—you monsters ! My little brother was a first-year student! You killed him!”

“How did we kill him?” Korrath asks, curious.

“You fed him a Dark Seed and—“

“He accepted the Dark Seed of his own volition. We made a proposal to the students and some accepted. We even proposed Dark Seeds to the Champions, even though just one took us up on it. If your brother craved power, how is it my fault? Has your family distributed their riches properly? Did they invest enough resources on him?”

Korrath looks at the shiny equipment on the man’s body.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“You look like you’re very well-equipped. Given your lineaments, your brother was… a certain Merkat?”

The True Diamond Knight takes a step back, now scared.

“H—how do you know?!”

“I’m good with faces,” Korrath smiles toothily. “Well, he accepted the Dark Seed from another student, anyway. So, if anything, you should take it up with your Academy.”

That said, Korrath moves forward, going toward the main market that has been set up in the wake of the Dungeon of Apocalypse spawning in Ashenmere. In fact, despite the danger, the presence of so many Knights and Adventurers tightly packed into one place has attracted twice as many merchants. These are shrewd people willing to risk their life to make a good profit.

Vyrrak speeds his steps to catch up with Korrath and frowns. “You actually remember the name of that guy?”

“It’s part of something we trained for,” Korrath explains. “Nimirea insisted on us training to remember people. It was mostly for infiltration purposes, but, we do it with everybody. It’s to keep our minds sharp and… you never know when it’s going to be useful.”

Vyrrak, who hunted the monsterified students with Baal, looks at Korrath.

“You really don’t feel any guilt for what you guys did? You monsterified, and therefore killed, a bunch of students.”

“The Dark Seeds are hard to control if you’re weak-willed. It’s tempting to let them do all the work, isn’t it? It tempts us every day to give in, to accept the darker part of its power. It’s another thing we use to train ourselves, to hone our willpower. It’s a last resort. The students were weak. They accepted a power they couldn’t wield.”

“You offered it to them.”

“Heh, skill-ato, skill-ato,” Korrath shrugs. “The Academy does the same.”

“What? No, it doesn’t.”

“It selects people, even relatively weak ones, because it needs bodies to kill its enemies. It doesn’t give them a Dark Seed, but it does send them on Quests with the allure of money, power, and resources. Oh, and fame . We don’t have that, for example. So, you guys are arguably worse.”

Vyrrak is about to reply when they find a stall and there are many True Diamond Skill Crystal on display, “there we go, we should buy that.”

Vyrrak gets close to the stall and reads the name out loud.

“Dragonsteel Veins,” he whistles. “Wow.”

Thankfully, Jacob somehow had a bunch of funds transferred from his shady dealings at the Academy or something, which he lent in their entirety to Vyrrak, saying there’s even more where that came from. Vyrrak has no idea how Jacob got all that money, but he’s really glad that Korrath talked Jacob into lending it to them.

“Usually, Dragonsteel Veins are considered not a great pick for a Breaker,” Korrath says with an academic tone that doesn’t match his brutish appearance. “But if you ask me, that’s because our people are often too limited in their views.”

Vyrrak agrees with the black-scaled Dragonkin and regrets it a moment later.

Don’t forget. This guy’s a monster. A bastard, a bloodthirsty killing-machine.

“Oh my, what a cute baby,” Korrath squats down to meet the gaze of a blonde girl who must have not been older than five.

“Hello Mr. Dragon,” she says, touching his nose, curious. “Can you spit fire and fly?”

Stereotypes , Vyrrak frowns. They must not see many Dragonkins here .

“Of course I can!” Korrath says, blowing the smallest flame out of his mouth and gently putting it in front of the girl.

Vyrrak can see that Korrath wrapped the flame in Mana so that it has no destructive power and is barely able to warm up the hands of the little girl who’s reaching for it.

“Pretty!” The girl says, making Korrath smile.

This is all a ruse , Vyrrak tells himself. Don’t be fooled. This is a temporary alliance.

“Oh my goodness!” What looks like her mother, seeing her talk to Korrath, yanks her away and hugs her. “Stay away from her, you monster!”

“No problem,” Korrath says, cooly standing up and looking at the Skill Crystal again. “Anyway, as I was saying, it’s seen as an overly defensive Skill because it creates more resistance in your veins, making Mana slower to move through them. But, given the explosive nature of your power, it won’t just increase your resistance, but it will also allow you to better focus your Mana.”

But then, Korrath finds Vyrrak staring weirdly at him.

“What?” The black-scaled Dragonkin asks.

“The girl. You… you like kids?”

“Yeah. I’d like a few hatchlings in my future,” Korrath nods.

Vyrrak cannot reconcile this figure with the same person who challenged him in the arena, the same mindless brute whom he one-shotted.

“You like… all kids? She called you a Dragon .”

That’s a pretty rude thing to do in Dragonkin culture.

“Yeah, and so? She’s a kid. Let her call me a lizard if she likes it. If I had the chance, I’d be happy to tell her about Dragons and Dragonkins, but did you expect me to give her an impromptu lesson just… on the spot? To a… child ?”

Vyrrak hates that Korrath is making him sound like the unreasonable one.

“You’re a Dark Champion ,” Vyrrak says under his breath. “Sorry if I can’t reconcile this interaction and your title.”

“To be clear,” Korrath says, smacking his lips. “We call you Fake Champions. The Dark Champion thing is… a stupid moniker. We’re just Champions when you guys are not around.”

“Yeah, but we’re not the ones turning people into monsters, slaughtering civilians, and—“

“War is war, Vyrrak,” Korrath says with a hard, cold stare. “I don’t know what story you tell yourself about us. But to me, you’re the enemy we’re at war with. A civilizational war. Asmodeus has aims that would reset most of the world. The God of Monsters’ teachings can be interpreted in many ways. The way I see it, we’re trying to rebalance monsters and non-monsters while wrestling away the control from sick people who do nothing but oppress the same people they’re supposed to protect.”

Vyrrak is speechless at how articulate Korrath just was about his ideals. Truly, he has no speech to give in return.

“Ohh, meat, look,” Korrath points at a food stand. “Let’s get this and get going. We need two more and you’ll stop being useless soon.”

“Sir,” Vyrrak calls the merchant. “I’d like to purchase the—“

“This is not for sale for you ,” a big-bellied merchant comes and takes away the Skill Crystal right under Vyrrak’s nose. Vyrrak, who has been used to reverence his whole life, immediately frowns and feels his temper flare.

“ Why would it not be for me?” Vyrrak grunts. “What’s the problem here?”

“We don’t sell to bastards who ally with the enemy,” the merchant says, eyeing Korrath with disgust. “That the Academy’s Champions are allying with these bastards is a disgrace . You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Vyrrak has not exactly been raised on kindness and giving the other cheek when it comes to insults. So, he already has his dagger out.

“Are you insulting my honor?” Vyrrak says with his scaled eyes narrowed.

“What if I was?” The merchant asks. “What, are you joining these bastard murderers and going on a slaughter right here and now?”

“Sir, sir,” Korrath laughs, putting a hand on Vyrrak’s shoulder and exerting such pressure that one of the smaller Dragonkin’s bones screeches in protest. “How about this, I have a little something that a man of culture such as you might really appreciate.”

“There’s nothing that—“

An Imperium Rank Skill appears in front of the merchant and all the people around them, mostly Knights, Adventurers, and other merchants who have gathered, feel a tremendous pressure from it.

“How about this, find me three Skill Crystals and I’ll sell this to you. We’ll purchase the following…”

Vyrrak hears Korrath give a list, with the merchant barely listening. He checks out the name of the Skill.

[The Abyss (Offensive Skill - Imperium)]

“Is that…”

“That’s a Complete Skill. I can’t believe it. It’s so rare! And it’s from a Highblood Tribe! Do you have any idea how valuable that is?!”

“It’s fine, we don’t need it. Asterismos wanted to sell it anyway,” Korrath says to Vyrrak in a low voice.

The merchant, feeling the chance to make the deal of a lifetime, says, “of course, of course! Give me a moment, I’ll go purchase them for you, kind sir!”

The merchant, despite the large belly, runs like an athlete and disappears in the thick of the market.

“Money talks,” Korrath smiles. “It’s better than arguing on morals like you do.”

Vyrrak is speechless.

“Anyway, shall we get something to eat in the meanwhile? Skewers?”

“You…” Vyrrak looks at the black-scaled Dragonkin, the Imperium Rank Skill Crystal and then back at the market and the onlookers. “How did you know he would accept? I thought you would hate—“

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter. They can say whatever. I know I’m right .”

“Is this how you usually solve problems?” Vyrrak frowns. “Money?”

Korrath actually laughs out loud.

“Oh no . Out there, I would have killed this bastard and taken his stuff.”

Vyrrak frowns.

“What?” Korrath yawns. “We’re the bad guys, right? I don’t have qualms killing a piece of shit who bothers me. Now, skewers?”