Chapter 302

Nimirea is worried that despite the fact that the Champions and the Dark Champions had a moment together, they’re never going to be able to put the hate for each other beside them.

In the case of Vyrrak and Korrath, they got lucky. Korrath, despite being a brutish guy, is surprisingly reasonable when in a good mood. Plus, he’s a good sport.

But not all of them are.

Zorathul looks at Zibrek’s gun and frowns, “what about your movement Skills to keep away from the enemy?”

“I don’t have any,” Zibrek says. “I used to fight with a mechanical golem as an enhanced armor set.”

That doesn’t seem to please the gold-scaled Dragonkin.

“So, if the enemy reaches you, you’re… useless.”

They’re back at the fortress outside the mountain where the mine is, where the Champions and Dark Champions have been stationed in order to keep them away from the rest of the Knights and Adventurers—so that they don’t create more friction than they already generate with all the gossip about them.

“I have short-range weapons, but against an opponent as strong as a Minor Nightmare of Apocalypse, they’re useless.”

“Yeah, that’s why you need to change your damn style!” Zorathul looks angry. “Have you always been this incompetent?”

Zibrek, a proud Goblin woman, narrows her eyes at the gold-scaled Dragonkin and grips her large rifle tightly. “What did you just say to me?”

“It’s an honest question,” Zorathul says, wrinkling his nostrils at her, letting out a small puff of smoke in a clear sign of disrespect. “You need one high-speed, very angular Movement Skill and you need it now . And you need to practice shooting at point-blank range with that rifle. Just toss away the short-range pistols or whatever it is that you’re using. Embrace the rifle, but make it your short-term option as well.”

“The recoil alone—“

“Don’t care,” Zorathul says, waving his hand at her. “Get a Movement Skill.”

“Fuck you,” Zibrek says. “You’re an arrogant bastard.”

“Who could kill you in the blink of an eye,” Zorathul shoots back with a large grin. “And that’s why I can be an arrogant bastard. It’s the benefit of being much more powerful than you are.”

Nimirea sees the vision that Jacob had very clearly, even in the messy common hall where most Champions and Dark Champions are bickering.

Augusta, the bald woman with face-tattoos, is explaining something to Garros and Sabrina, “to be a good Support, you must be the lifeblood of the group. But that means you’re also the weakest point. He probably understands.”

Garros nods shyly.

“Don’t agree with her like that, have some spine,” Sabrina Margrave frowns at Garros. “Aren’t you the heir of the hero, Stark Blackmere? Where’s your pride?”

“Pride,” Augusta, the bald-headed, high-pitched woman says, “it’s useless. In fact, supports should get out of the way as much as possible. Focus on your specialty, create some havoc for the enemy, buff your allies, and get out . Learn some stealth, some weird techniques to throw the enemy off your trail. Especially you, kiddo, you’re a Healer with a Rainbow Skill. You’ll be the first person we kill once we’re out of here.”

Sabrina starts shouting obscenities at Augusta after that and Nimirea bites her lower lip. She’s really tempted to act like their Leader once again, to order Augusta to stand down and be more collaborative than that. But she knows that she can’t.

So, she leaves the room, follows the Mana signature in the air, ends up on the roof, and finds the two people who are supposed to be her teammates in this team-bonding exercise.

Jacob is sitting cross-legged. He has explained it to Nimirea—he’s training Heavenly Intuition and the kind of feeling it gives him during battle.

Beside him, also sitting cross-legged a few feet away, sits Baal with a slight smirk on his face.

“Oh, is it time to finally train together?” The Blood of the Devils asks. “I was getting bored of watching over him to make sure he’s okay.”

Jacob shivers in anger, immediately getting distracted from his meditation.

“You’re not watching over me,” the Leader of Champions says. “If anything, you should thank me. Your entire life depends on one of my spells.”

“Oh my, thank you, sir,” Baal gets up and bows theatrically to Jacob.

He’s really good at getting under Jacob’s skin. It’s fascinating to see , Nimirea thinks. Baal, who’s possibly among the strongest people present, stronger than any individual Dark Champion, is the only person that can apparently read through Jacob and poke him until he loses his mind.

The problem is that since Baal clearly has a mutual dislike for Jacob, their collaboration is not smooth at all.

“Let’s go into the Dungeon,” Nimirea orders them. “You two are not going to get anything done otherwise.”

Without saying a word, Nimirea has taken the leadership of this trio. And, the interesting thing is that, with Jacob using Reverse Domain and Baal displaying his Blood Magic, she can see how they’re actually a terrifying couple in a fight.

At first, they clash, but she can immediately spot their potential.

The three of them set out into the red dunes alone, with Jacob walking on Nimirea’s right and Baal on her left. The sandstorm has thinned a little since their last venture, but the haze is still thick enough that silhouettes more than thirty feet away blur into nothing. They cross dune after dune in silence, boots sinking into red sand, the only sound the soft howl of wind.

Then Nimirea stops, eyes narrowing.

A shape moves in the haze ahead of them — taller than a man, too thin, too many joints.

“I’ll take it,” Jacob says, already reaching for his sword.

Baal’s hand catches his wrist with a casual lack of effort.

“You’re too weak for this one. I’ll handle it.” Baal steps past him without waiting for a reply.

Jacob feels his eye twitch. I am the Leader of Champions and I am being patronized by a Devil. He shakes Baal off and lunges forward anyway.

“Stay back!” Jacob roars, hitting the Minor Nightmare of Apocalypse head-on, using Diavolo Hypercut to layer Affliction after Affliction, with the Devil’s Engine making him stronger for each one that lands and affects the monster.

But Baal, wielding his black sword, is right on his heels, slashing at the monster that has now been slowed down, binding it with blood chains, and spearing through its head just as Jacob uses ‘Baal’s Cage,’ the homonymous Skill.

Nimirea watches in silence as the two resume bickering, but she realizes something important.

Their styles are actually already consolidated. Baal has a lot of Skills working under the hood that make him stronger. But he just needs to find the right combination of Skill Crystals to consolidate them as he goes up in Level. Jacob’s situation, instead, is a bit different. He’s just as advanced in some regards and, under the right conditions, he could win against Baal; his problem is that he needs to reliably set up The Devil’s Engine to display all his power. Without that, he’s too weak.

Yet, both have very concrete problems that could be solved in very concrete ways… unlike her.

Nimirea has three Rainbow Skills that don’t even remotely synergize with each other like Sabrina Margrave’s Rainbow Skills do. The Margrave’s heir has the most synergistic set of Rainbow Skills she’s ever even heard of. As for Nimirea, she has three Rainbow Skills, Eye of the Prophet, which allows her to have a remote view of the battlefield from every angle, to see and ignore obstructions, and a current three-seconds in advance precognition; Devouring Ocean Eating the Heavens, a water-based Rainbow Skill that creates cursed water that sucks ten percent of Mana indiscriminately from every creature it touches per minute; and Body of Myriad Poison, which she uses in concert with her Alchemy talent to absorb the power of the poisons she ingests.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The thing is, they’re all three great Skills, but they do not synergize in the least.

One could argue that Body of Myriad Poisons, paired with Eye of the Prophet, is a good combo for a melee fighter. But the problem is that Nimirea, having to spend so much time taking care of her Alchemy side, which is her one true passion before she got any Rainbow Skill, never really cultivated a martial art or a specific weapon.

Thanks to Eye of the Prophet and its precognition, she’s developed a weird, anticipatory style that relies fully on the Rainbow Skill to guide her. But the problem is that she’s never had the time or someone able to tell her how to use Devouring Ocean Eating the Heavens with the other two Skills.

The last one is a Rainbow Skill that would be better suited for an Affliction Specialist like Jacob. It requires focus to spread the water and make sure it hits or surrounds the target. But she can either concentrate on that or on Eye of the Prophet.

And so, she’s in a jam.

“Sir.”

Maximilian raises his head from his reports to look at his loyal scribe looking at him with a worried expression, probably foreshadowing a complaint or bad news.

“What, Janus?” he asks.

“We’ve received word from several Knights that the Dark Champion Korrath Kethys has sowed some chaos at the market. He sold an Imperium Rank Skill… should we hold the merchant accountable for it? It’s almost guaranteed that such a Skill came from stealing and killing.”

Sir Maximilian, who’s in the room in the Ashenvale’s mansion that has been designated as the war room, shakes his head.

“Interesting, but no. We don’t want that kind of trouble when the real problem is the Dungeon. I’ve never seen an Original Primordial Dungeon, much less one of this size. All the information we have on these Dungeons is old and, from the looks of it, about much smaller Dungeons.”

“Sir,” Janus says, lowering his gaze, “may we stay on the topic of Dark Champions?”

Sir Maximilian is surprised by the fact that his scribe is so insistent today. Despite the fact that the Dungeon is turning out to be a huge headache, even bigger than he had originally anticipated, he still lets his friend talk to him. He’s one of the few people who always give him an honest piece of his mind.

“Sure, Janus. What’s on your mind?”

Janus is a thin man in his late thirties, with hair already half-gone to gray. He sets down his quill carefully, fingers smoothing the parchment in front of him before he meets Sir Maximilian’s eyes — a posture Sir Maximilian has come to recognize as his scribe gathering his nerve to be disagreed with. Sir Maximilian leans back in his chair and folds his hands across his stomach, his usual signal that the conversation is allowed to be contradictory without consequence.

“Why did you let the Champions and Dark Champions join forces?”

“You know I don’t do well with broad questions, Janus. Would you mind being more specific, what is it that bothers you about it?”

“Sir, the Dark Champions are mass-murderers.”

“Any Dungeon of Apocalypse is potentially an extinction event for all sentient creatures not governed by Evil or Primordial divinities,” Sir Maximilian replies. “What’s your argument? I shouldn’t have let them participate? I actually commend Jacob Cloud for being able to broker such a deal.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Janus sighs. “But what if they get too much info and too many resources during this collaboration? It’s my understanding that the Champions are being trained by the Dark Champions.”

Sir Maximilian reclines in his seat and looks curiously at Janus.

“Janus, they’re kids . Not one among the Champions and Dark Champions is older than seventeen . I believe they all have great potential and they will become movers and shakers. But now? Let them be children and get acquainted with each other.”

“But what if the Dark Champions become too strong because of our leniency?”

“I don’t think that either the Champions or the Dark Champions are going to play a big role in this expedition, Janus,” Sir Maximilian sighs. “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry. They’re too stubborn, too proud at this age to take the necessary steps to really grow.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Trust me, they’re like oil and water. There’s no way they’ll ever manage to form an actual fruitful collaboration. And this will keep Jacob Cloud busy enough that he won’t interfere with our operations. Big egos are hard to manage in such a cramped space. Let him waste his time on trying to make this work. By the time he’ll realize it’s all crumbling, we’ll have destroyed the Dungeon of Apocalypse.”

“But what if he does make them collaborate?” Janus asks. “Like at the market.”

“Buying a Skill is not collaborating. It takes humility, patience, and a lot of wisdom to do so. It’s simply impossible.”

Both Jacob and Baal look surprised at Nimirea.

She has just laid out all her Skills bare to them and said…

“I need advice. I need guidance. I don’t know what to do. Not even the Prophet knew what to tell me about this. His solution was for me to get the Grimoire from Jacob, acquire more Rainbow Skills, and slowly create more and more utility by accumulation. But now, it appears these will be my Skills—at least in the short term. What should I do?”

Jacob looks pensive, but Baal says, “I have an idea, actually.”

Panting on the ground, Zibrek looks at a non-plussed Zorathul and, between her teeth, says, “alright, I accept your advice.”

“See, was it that hard? Let’s go shopping now. I heard from Korrath that your boss is full of money apparently.”

“Sorry, you asked for it,” Kaelrik says, holding his sword at Veyrissa’s neck, with her own sword cut into two, with the larger part of the blade sitting on the ground beside them.

“Amazing!” She says, with redness spreading over her cheeks. “This power! Your talent is mandated by the Heavens themselves! Let’s go at it again!”

Orrivane looks at Talia Lagrange, the same white-haired woman who tried to recruit him to the Dark Champions’ side. He’s coughing and looking very embarassed as she adjusts his hand, touching him all over.

“Move your finger like that, channel as far as possible from the Rising Sun Veins. No one says it, but the farther you are from them, the better as a Void Mage. You’ll start feeling the effect in a couple of days. It’s part of the training knowledge that was gifted to me by the Prophet.”

“So,” Orrivane asks, still blushing, “are you really sure my talent is in short-range casting?”

“With that Rainbow Skill? I wouldn’t want to have to face you if you specialized in short-distance, high-speed casting, Orrivane. You have a perfect shield and very powerful magic. You’ll be a menace in no time.”

“Damn, you’re a tough bastard,” Korrath tells Kai, who just tanked Vyrrak’s attack with no problem. “That’s an insane Rainbow Skill.”

“It’s very hard to use,” Kai says, clearing his voice. “But yeah, it’s pretty good.”

“Nice, let’s continue, then! Come on, Vyrrak you can do better than that!”

Asterion looks at Asterismos, a member of the Tribe of Stars from another part of the world, something that Asterion didn’t even know was possible. As far as he knows, there’s only one Tribe of Stars. His.

“You are actually talented with the spear beyond your Aster Nova orbs. You should practice more with it.”

“It’s a disgrace to the clan to follow the path our last names drew for us.”

“Who cares?” Asterismos shrugs. “Do you care more about honor or killing the Gods?”

That questions ignites a fire in Asterion’s heart.

“Alright, then, I’ll hear you out.”

Tharvok, the unassuming Human Champion, is drinking an ale with Boomgar in a desolated tavern.

“Oh, and you use that Mana Vein?” Boomgar looks fascinated. “It makes sense, lad! You’re a genius!”

“T—thanks,” Tharvok replies. “I like experimenting. And my Rainbow Skill allows me to do so as much as I want. I’m pretty lucky.”

“Ahah! We should do this more often! But let’s finish this beer and let’s go practice!”

“I agree,” Tharvok replies in a low voice. “I’d love to see you improve, Boomgar.”

Delefagus looks from afar Nimirea train with Jacob and Baal, not knowing what to do.

He wasn’t expecting everybody to bond with each other so fast. He had planned on resisting it more, but now, he’s remained alone, without a team.

“Join, you idiot!” He suddenly hears a female voice beside him and finds Nimirea who’s appeared there without making a sound.

“You knew I was here?” Delefagus asks, looking at Nimirea with a complicated expression.

“Come on. We’re trying new things and I’d love to hear your input as well. Plus, I know you were working on some nasty secret research. I would like to know more about it. For old times’ sake.”

And while all the Champions get stronger and the Dark Champions share their expertise, Lord Ashenvale, who’s just returned from a venture in the Dungeon and is about to lay in his bed to rest, suddenly feels a presence in the cold stone room.

“Who is it?!” He shouts, jumping off the bed with so much strength he cracks it in two, sword in his hand.

It’s an extremely ominous presence.

“Darling, is this how you speak to your wife?”

A gorgeous woman with a long red robe materializes in the center of the room, barely a few feet from Lord Ashenvale, making the man go pale.

“Kisanna!” Lord Ashenvale is stunned. “How did you enter?! The guards—“

“They’re fine ,” she says with a scoff. “Is that the first thing you worry about when you see me after so long? You don’t give me even a kiss?”

“You—you tried to kill our children!”

“Not kill , I wanted them to transcend their bodies,” Kisanna says.

“Transcend?! You wanted to feed them to—“

Suddenly, Lord Ashenvale feels his body go cold. He’s been immobilized without even knowing how.

Kisanna walks slowly and sensually toward him, getting very close to his face and leaving a wet kiss on his lips. Her long black hair falls on his face.

She’s taller than before , he realizes, and then feels her hand caressing his face. How is she doing this?

She suddenly jams one of her fingers right in the side of his head, making Lord Ashenvale’s eyes go wide.

“I can’t allow you to tell people about our little conjugal visit,” Kisanna says. “It’d be problematic for my Lord—and I don’t mean you , silly. My real Lord. My master.”

Lord Ashenvale tries thrashing, even hoping he could kill himself on the finger. But Kisanna has completely immobilized him, taking even death away from him.

“You won’t be able to speak on this. So, let me tell you, I’m quite disappointed in you. You should have sent our children—you had the compulsion I installed. But you didn’t… what a weak, weak man. Instead, you ended up sending that kid .”

Kisanna’s aura flashes and she grits her teeth. The mask of calm on her face breaks as anger starts showing.

“That brat ruined my beautiful, beautiful plan. Your seed could have finally turned useful. I wasted my womb twice on you and nothing came from my sacrifices.”

She removes her finger from Lord Ashenvale’s brain, cleaning the fluids over her robe and looking at him in utter disgust.

“But the larger trap is still in place. You’ll know it, and you won’t be able to tell anybody . And it just so happens I’ll also be able to kill the good lapdogs of Asmodeus.”

Kisanna erupts in a fanatical laugh.

“Y—you…” Lord Ashenvale wheezes.

“My Lord has invested me with the authority necessary to lead this takeover, husband,” Kisanna says. “And the world at large fell for this. They think they know what they’re doing, but nothing of what they know has them ready for what’s coming. They’ll all slowly die and feed the Dungeon, husband. You’ll know it. But you won’t be able to tell anybody.”

Kisanna snaps her fingers and disappears.

Lord Ashenvale blacks out and, moments later, reopens his eyes in his bed. He feels like he’s just gone through some kind of nightmare, but he can’t really tell what happened.

Yet, he has ominous feelings bubbling in his guts.