Chapters 144-145

We’re almost back to +25 chapters, fellas. Let’s go. 6 to go.

Chapter 144

“You choose to waste your life for this scum?” Lirael looks at us in disgust. “For a traitor of her own race?” 

“What did she do exactly?” I ask. 

But I don’t care. 

I’m just taking time.

Grimoire, analysis.

Lirael, the guy with the bow and the highest-ranked Elf here, is yapping about something now. I catch a few ‘traitor,’ ‘blood feud,’ ‘bastard,’ and then I stop listening altogether.

“Lancelot, you get the girl with the crossbow, Miriel,” I mutter to my Squire. Then, I turn toward the girl, “Can you take Lirael alone?” 

The girl frowns at me but just nods, “Are you a Guide?” 

“Jacob Cloud, Guide of the Champions, nice to meet you. Let’s leave the rest of the introductions to later,” I say. “Orrivane, take Elowen, the girl with the spear.” 

“You’re taking three people at Early Diamond Rank?” Orrivane asks, confused. “Have you broken through some bottlenecks that I don’t know of?” 

I shake my head, “No. I’m not going to be able to kill any of them, probably. But I can most definitely keep them all occupied. Just kill your opponents as fast as you can.”

“How long do you think we have to do that before you die?” Orrivane asks, skeptical of my plan.

“About… ninety seconds? Yeah, about that long before I put myself in a corner.”

“Don’t worry, Boss, I’ll take care of it!” Lancelot says, patting his chest.

Miriel steps forward while sand crunches under her boots. She points the crossbow at Lancelot and tilts her head.

“Move aside, hog,” she says, so the whole ring hears. “You’re in my way. Let me kill the bastard first, then I’ll take care of your pitiful existence.” 

“Sorry, as the Squire of my Boss, I can’t let you interfere with his plans,” Lancelot replies, cracking his neck and jumping lightly on his feet. 

Miriel sneers at Lancelot and shakes her head while she loads her crossbow again. 

"Look at this fat pig they sent to fight me," she says, and her voice drips with contempt as she aims straight at his chest. "You can barely move with that gut, and you think you'll last a second?"

The crowd laughs along with her, and even some Elves in the stands point and jeer because they see Lancelot's round belly jiggle when he shifts his feet. Lancelot just grins back at her, and he stands there without moving. 

“Last chance, piggy,” Miriel says, laughing savagely. “Do you really want to end on a skewer?” 

“Do your best,” Lancelot says, bowing. “You probably need the practice. You shoot very poorly.” 

“What did you say to me?!” 

“Here, come on. I’ll stand still so you can shoot once before complaining I’m too fast for your crossed eyes.”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY EYES?!” 

Miriel pulls the trigger, and a bolt of lightning shoots out from the crossbow with a crack that splits the air while it races toward Lancelot faster than anyone can blink.

Everyone in the arena holds their breath, and they lean forward because they expect the fat guy to drop dead on the spot with a hole burned through his heart. 

The bolt hits his big belly square in the middle, and it bounces off like a pebble skipping on water while it fizzles into a few harmless sparks that scatter on the ground. 

Lancelot pats his stomach and lets out a burp.

“Oops, my bad. I ate a little heavy this morning.” 

He looks down at the sparks as they die out completely.

“That wasn’t too bad, though.” 

Miriel's eyes widen, and she stumbles back a step while she fumbles to reload because she can't believe what she just saw. The crowd falls silent at first, and then murmurs ripple through the stands as people whisper to each other that the fat one might not be so weak after all. Lancelot chuckles low in his throat, and he cracks his knuckles while he steps toward her with slow, heavy strides that make the sand crunch under his boots.

"Are you good, cross-eye?" he asks, and his voice booms out cheerful and loud as he closes the distance. "You look agitated. Do you need this gentleman to teach you how to shoot?"

“YOU DARE INSULT THIS BARONESS?!” 

Miriel gets covered in lightning, and her crossbow starts shining. Suddenly, she’s shooting one bolt after another. Yet, 

Miriel gets covered in lightning, and her crossbow starts shining. Suddenly, she’s shooting one bolt after another. Yet, Lancelot swats the first bolt aside with his open palm so sparks fly everywhere, and he laughs loudly. He slaps the second bolt down like he's waving off a fly, and the lightning cracks against his hand before fizzling on the sand. The third bolt zips close to his ear, and he tilts his head just enough so it misses while he keeps grinning widely.

"You damn Fatty! You fat oaf!" Miriel screams as she reloads faster, and her face twists red with rage. "How dare a lump like you mock me when I am a baroness!"

Lancelot dodges the next bolt with a quick sidestep, and his belly jiggles from the move while he bows mockingly low. "Then this Lord Fatty shall teach you a lesson!" he booms back and charges forward so the sand kicks up behind him. He weaves left from another shot and rolls right past two more bolts that bury deep in the ground where he stood.

The crowd gasps loudly now, and some cheer for the surprise, while Miriel backs up with wide eyes. She fires wildly and curses under her breath as Lancelot closes in closer each time he dodges or swats. He grabs her crossbow mid-reload and yanks it free so the string snaps loud, then tosses it aside like trash while he cracks his knuckles, ready for more.

“Stop playing!” I shout to Lancelot as I have to bend my body unnaturally to dodge Sylas’s wine-made whip. 

Dammit!

The man releases a shockwave from the whip, and I have to call upon the Black Flame, fusing Hellbane’s Sword and Dark Blade, and calling upon First Step of the Mephistus. Through Vibrational Hyperawareness, I can feel that Terael, the guy wielding the twi daggers, is about to stab me.

Fuck.

I twist First Step of the Mephistus through Flameform Blueprint and let the Skill create a powerful explosion below my feet that propels me up in the air, where I make it explode once again to land close to the broadsword user, Gathriel. 

Even with my Expert Endurance and Expert Strength maxed… even with the Black Flame, they’re too strong. 

I activate Web of Withering and Sigil of Baal, trying to restrain the broadsword user, but he shrugs them off as if they were nothing.

I am coated in Flame Armor, but it’s only a Gold Rank Skill. I fear that if I took even one blow to the body, it would shatter into a million pieces.

I really need to get to Platinum Rank as fast as I can if I want to defeat Marcel and Cassian.

*

“You really thought that you three peasants could do anything?!” Lirael laughs while he batters a tired Nimirea. “And this is your Guide?! What a joke! What is he even guiding—”

Yet, when he turns toward Lancelot and Orrivane, his eyes go wide, and he cuts himself off.

Orrivane has blasted his enemy into smithereens with no mercy. Fatty, too, has twisted the neck of the crossbow girl, still in pristine condition. 

A moment later, Orrivane and Fatty drop on the broadsword user and the twin dagger user, respectively, killing them in a matter of moments. 

Orrivane sends a Void Magic bolt through the guy with the whip, almost like an afterthought. 

“There’s not really much to guide. I just had them kill the two most dangerous fighters first,” I say, wiping some sweat off my forehead and looking at Lirael with a smile. “You Elves are so arrogant.”

“How do you—” 

“Orrivane,” I say to the other Champion.

Orrivane sends a bolt of Void Magic toward Lirael, who has to start dodging. 

“Aim for the left side of his leg,” I say, seeing through the Elf’s Movement Skill with the Grimoire. 

Orrivane nicks Lirael, and the Void Magic eats into his flesh, making him stumble. 

Nimirea is speechless. 

“Do I just finish him?” Orrivane asks. 

I turn toward the old Elf on the podium with the Headmaster, and I sigh when I see a smile below the golden frames of the latter.

You crafty bastard. 

You fell for it, Jacob Cloud. You almost understood his plan, which is impressive. 

Whatever, it wouldn’t have changed anything.

“Stop!” the old Elf says, trembling. “By the command of House Arendor, I, Thalion Arendor, order you to stop!” 

I look at the Headmaster, who smirks. 

“Friend, you have no right to stop a trial by combat,” the Headmaster says slowly, but it makes Thalion go stiff. 

“That’s my grandchild!” Thalion shouts with bloodshot eyes at the Headmaster’s face. “I can’t let him get killed like this!” 

“That’s the risk of a trial by combat. Maybe you could plead with Jacob Cloud, the Guide of the Champions, in order for him to—” 

“Orrivane, kill the bastard,” I say, frowning. 

Orrivane shrugs, and Lirael shouts are soon cut off by a wave of Void Magic. 

The entire arena goes silent.

You shouldn’t have done that. The Headmaster was trying to—

I know what he was trying to do. He wanted me to mend my relationship with the Elves. But that benefits him more than me. From what I understand, they would have never actually forgiven me, especially after siding with Sir Renquell’s daughter, right?

Correct.

Then, this would have just benefited the Headmaster’s diplomatic relationships with the Elves. 

Again, correct.

So, since I’m still under the Academy’s protection by law and the Headmaster is bound to his students’ safety, let him bear the burden of this.

A moment later, Thalion goes insane and is about to jump into the arena when a frowning Headmaster has to grab him by the arm. 

“Thalion Arendel, do not infringe upon the law of your people and my hospitality.” 

The arena goes crazy, probably wanting to see me dead. 

“I don’t care! That’s my grandchild who just died without a body! I must kill that little bastard! Let me go!”

“Stop this nonsense!” The Headmaster eyes the old man coldly. 

“Let me go, you overgrown lizard, I will show you and—” 

In a brief flash of light, Thalion disappears and in his place there’s just a large amount of ash that immediately scatters to the wind. 

“Well,” the Headmaster says, looking back at the Elven delegation with fury in his eyes. “Does anyone else want to disrespect me?” 

Everyone shakes their head in fear, reminded of the power of the man in front of them. 

Chapter 145

We are soon ushered into a side room after the win. 

Thankfully, the presence of the Headmaster calmed down the spirits of everyone. Without this man, the entire world would probably be ruled in the same lording, unjust manner that I've witnessed everywhere else.

It's interesting that it's only at the Academy that find this weird justice. Sadly, the Headmaster can't be everywhere at once. 

The girl in rags walks ahead of us and both Lancelot and Orrivane keep sneaking glances at me and nodding at her as if to say, 'are you going to say something or not?' 

I clear my voice.

"By the way--"

"Why did you do this?" Nimirea spins on her feet. "What do you gain from this?" 

"You ungrateful girl!" Lancelot chimes in. "What do you mean why? My Boss is incredibly generous! Look at him! Generosity is all he has!" 

I turn to Lancelot and facepalm.

"Don't listen to him. I was helped by your father, Sir Renquell, a while ago. I owe the man. And listening to the charges, it didn't seem like they were that bad." 

"I was planning to overthrow nobles and kill them," Nimirea frowns. "You don't think that's bad?" 

"It depends on the nobles, I suppose," I shrug. "Do you want to kill every noble or just the bad ones?" 

"What kind of question is that?" Nimirea looks at me, consternated. 

"It's a genuine question," I shrug again. "So, what's your answer?" 

"I'm not going to slaughter people for sport!" Nimirea walks up to me and hisses in my face. "What kind of feral animal do you take me for?" 

"Not an animal," I say, stepping back. "Just making sure I didn't save a lunatic." 

"And you didn't make sure before risking your life?" 

"Risking my life?" I raise an eyebrow. "The moment I saw these two," I point at Orrivane and Fatty, "I knew we'd take the Elves easily. I could read their power level and tell which Skills they had. It could have gotten uglier if we dragged it, of course, but at no point I was actually in mortal danger." 

Nimirea frowns and looks at me with narrowed eyes. 

"And what do you want, now?" 

"I have an appointment with a professor?" I say back. "That's what I want. To go to my appointment. I stopped here on the way to that appointment and curiosity got the best of me."

"Let me see if I understand," the girl in rags says. "You came to a trial by combat by chance, entered as my champion, and then you claim you have basically not even a good reason for what you just did?!" 

"Sort of?" I frown. "That sounds crazier than it is. I already had troubles with Elves and they probably want to kill me anyway. The Headmaster... you know what? Nothing. I gotta go. Orrivane, Lancelot, thank you for the help. I owe you both." 

"Jacob, I will owe you for a long time. This is the least I could do. As you said, it was an easy fight."

"Easy?" Nimirea looks at Orrivane. "Who the hell are you three?" 

"Two Champions," Lancelot comments. "And the most handsome Squire that--" 

"Shut up," I take Lancelot by one of his fat arms and drag him away. "We're going." 

*

"Boss," Lancelot clears his voice as we walk toward Professor Veythra's Class. "May I ask a question."

I look over my shoulder and I already know what's coming. 

"Go on." 

"Why did you help her? Is it because she's pretty?"

"I'm trying to learn from the Headmaster," I say pensively. "I don't want to waste my life chasing empty goals. Helping people for the sake of helping them is what a Knight is supposed to do. And maybe that's what Karma is? Like, maybe you help people and then Karma..." 

*That is NOT how Karma works.* 

"Apparently not," I say after King Baalrek's comment. 

*If it worked like that. No one would do any evil. Karma is simply a bond with someone's fate or something's fate.*

"Then, what do we gain from helping that girl? You just killed some nobles." 

*Royal Nobles. That House is OLD, Jacob Cloud. Those are eligible for the role of King.* 

We killed Royal Nobles," I correct Lancelot. 

"I was just following orders," Lancelot says, suddenly paling. "Oh no, are they going to kill me too now?" 

"First of all, you're my Squire. If we faced Elves outside the Academy, they would of course try to kill you."

"What?! I never thought of that! OH NO!"

"Lancelot," I sigh, "please, I don't have the patience for your antics right now. I'm worried." 

"Worried about what, Boss?" Lancelot switches it up real quick. This guy is way more perceptive and cunning than people give him credit for. Much more. 

"Those Elves were not that powerful, Lancelot."

"What?! They were all Diamond Rankers! We're still Gold Rankers!" 

"I am a Champion and you have a Draconic Bloodline," I say somberly. "And our real objective is to tear down the Cult of Asmodeus." 

"WHAT?! I DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR--"

"Lancelot," I say, giving him a serious gaze. 

Lancelot shuts up and his shoulders relax, settling down. He does a complete change in attitude.

"The Cult of Asmodeus sent the Princess's brother, sir," Lancelot says with an analytical tone. "Azrakel Drazhal was far beyond what you can accomplish now. And even those other two Cultists were. Even if they kept sending people at the level of the other Champions, that's still too much for you. You need to promote your Class to Platinum Rank in order to catch up to them a little. But they will be doing the same soon enough. That means you'll have to always grow faster than the greatest talent of this generation. That is a tall ask, sir." 

I take a deep breath.

"I'm glad you understand." 

"I've always dreamt of this life," Lancelot says slowly. "And now that I've seen how strong the Cults are..." 

"We'll take care of them," I say, standing still and turning to grab Lancelot's shoulder. 

"We will, sir," Lancelot replies.

This solemn moment is interrupted by Lancelot's belly grumbling. 

"Huh, sir..."

My own stomach grumbles too.

"Right, I didn't have breakfast myself," I say with a little cough. "Why don't we stop somewhere along the road."

*

Veythra has been waiting in her office after receiving a communication from Elder Karl, Elder of the Astral Library, telling him that Jacob Cloud would be on his way. 

She's surprised, however, when it takes longer than she had expected for the young man to show up. 

"Jacob Cloud!" Veythra looks at Jacob with a sly smile on her face. "My favorite student." 

"Professor," Jacob says, looking at the red-skinned woman. 

"Are you here for the private tutoring?" She asks with a smile. 

"Not really," he replies. "I'm here to ask whether you have a Skill Crystal I'm looking for." 

"A Skill Crystal?" Veythra raises an eyebrow. "You've come to barter with Infernal Royalty?" 

He doesn't know I've already received word from my sister that he's to be cut off from every Royal-Grade Skill Crystal. She's also trying to buy them all off the Hidden Market. Soon, his progress will be... 

"Which Skill Crystal are you looking for?" Veythra asks, eyeing the Squire behind Jacob.

That fat kid's body is incredibly powerful. Who the hell is he? 

"I have to upgrade Hellbane's Sword, the Dark Blade, and Black Flame. But Black Flame is a Fusion Skill. I know that there's one Skill Crystal which would consolidate all three Skills." 

The air between Jacob and Veythra becomes denser as the Professor laughs internally.

He must have *really* received one hell of an Infernal education if he knows about this. Iskara is not pursuing this path... this is a very rare variant of an Infernal Class he's going for. And among my people, that's a Forbidden Skill. 

"You're looking for the Hellraiser Blade." 

"I am." 

"You're changing your fighting style for the future Ranks," Veythra comments. 

It's not a question.

"I am never going to be as physically strong as your niece, as Asterion, Vyrrak, or even just Lancelot," Jacob points at the Squire behind him. "That's not a good way for me to fight. My talents are different."

"You want to become an affliction-specialist," Veythra says with a raised eyebrow. "My niece has told me how you fought Azrakel and what you told her. If you became an affliction specialist, you two would actually make a great pair. That move that you two pulled... are you gunning for my niece, Jacob Cloud?" 

"What? Why does everyone seem to believe that?" 

"Anyway, Hellraiser Sword can open the gates for Classes that are heavily restricted among my people, Cloud," Veythra says, looking at the young man with a measured eye.

How will he reply to this? Was he trying to trick me into giving him the Skill? Is it possible that he thought I didn't know? 

"I know," Jacob says. 

Veythra waits for some kind of justification but nothing seems to come from the mouth of the young man and she's left quite bothered by that. 

Why is he not saying anything?

"And?" She asks.

"And what?" Jacob looks confused. 

"You want me to give you a Skill Crystal that is known to be not just Forbidden to most people, Royal-Grade, but also to someone who's not an Infernal? Why should I even consider doing something like that?" 

Jacob seems to take a moment to think. 

"I don't know? I came here to trade. Is there anything you might want from me, Professor?" 

Veythra looks Jacob up and down, pondering what, indeed, such a little boy could provide her. She's got already access to many resources and she's already strong enough to get to things that she doesn't already own.

Yet, there's something in the back of her mind.

Iskara is alone at the moment. I've tied my Karma to hers, but her mother is stiffling her potential growth. That woman is too controlling. If she keeps on wanting to act like our Royal Grandmother, Iskara will never progress beyond the limits we imposed on her already. 

"What if I told you that I want you to retrieve something for me," Veythra says. "But that I want you to do that with my niece." 

"Ok?" Jacob frowns. "That's all?" 

"Oh no. I know that you have deep knowledge of Infernals and that you seem to be wildly knowledgeable about our Skills as well. If you want me to make such a big exception and break so many rules, you going around dilly-dallying with my niece is far from enough."

"Ok? You mentioned the Dungeon and the dilly-dallying, not me." 

"Indeed," Veythra nods wisely, still reticent to provide such a Skill to Jacob Cloud immediately. 

Hellraiser Sword is a Diamond Ranked Skill Crystal. If I gave it to him, he'd advance too soon. If he gets to Platinum Rank before Iskara, he might even become temporarily stronger than her. I can't allow anything like that to happen. I don't want to see this kid dead anymore, but I certainly don't want him to surpass my own niece. 

"What do I need to do, then?" Jacob asks. 

"I want you to consult your contacts, whatever knowledge repository you have your hands on, and tell me what's the way to resolve this," Veythra says. "Take a few steps back if you don't want to die."

Jacob and his Squire take several steps back and Veythra summons one of her most powerful Skills. 

"Devil Sight." 

Veythra's irises turn purple from the original light yellow and they seem to slightly expand. The air in the room shimmers with power, but she starts clenching her jaw. There's blood dripping from the corner of her eyes. 

"This is a Mithril Ranked Skill, Jacob Cloud. It's common at my level, it's one of the very first Skills we get from our Ancestors. I have been unable to progress because it's too powerful for me to control. I don't understand what sort of problems it contains at the moment. What I need you to do is to look for any information that might advance it. If you provide me with information I find good enough, I swear, once you're done with the Dungeon, you'll receive the Hellraiser Sword Skill Crystal from me." 

He'll never be able to do that. But I don't need him to actually succeed. At some point, he'll bring me whatever information he found and I'll just fake surprise and tell him that it is enough. But before then, I'll use this to stall him. The Dungeon he could probably finish in less than a week. I don't want him, however, to get ahead too easily. Once Iskara gets to Platinum Rank, I'll just give him the Skill. He'll become a force to be reckoned with if he manages to get one of the stronger variant of the Classes available to those who use Hellraiser Sword as the cornerstone of their Platinum Ranked Class. 

"Well," Jacob says. Anything that allows you to better control that Skill, Professor?" 

"Indeed, Cloud." 

"Huh. Are you sure? Anything?" 

If you somehow increased my control over this Skill, I would bow to you and call you my grandfather, Cloud. Of course *anything*. 

"Just do your best and come back when you think you have something that could work."

Poor bastard, he doesn't know that even though this Skill is very common, it's also one of the hardest Skills to master at my level. There's nothing he can do to-- 

"Are you channeling through the Median Sky Vein in your brain?" 

"Huh?"