Accidental Reaver

Taking his plate, Luke seated himself opposite Jovan and Eldacar in the tavern-like cafeteria.

Maids settled drinks down on the sides, the crystal sourced light brightening as nightfall deepened. He knew better than to try avoiding the two, considering they'd be relying on one another very soon—a move in poor taste and foresight.

"Didn't think to see any of the others. Eldacar, we met shortly, and," Luke nodded to Jovan, "thanks for mediating between Aruna and I, Jovan."

Stabbing into some meat, Jovan acknowledge Luke nonverbally, more focused on his meal. Eldacar winked at Luke, "You caught me at a bad time, newbie. Tell me, got your eyes on any of the ladies lately?"

Luke admitted, "One."

Pushing aside the fruit and vegetable laden plate in front of him, Eldacar said, "Why stop at one? Take dozens. I could show you the way."

"Is that what we're worrying about with the events on the horizon?"

Slapping a hand down onto his thigh a few times, Eldacar relented, "Romance is the spice to life. Keeping your head comes first, the only priority over what makes a boy a man."

Jovan picked up his finished plate and gave a reassuring grip on Luke's shoulder before leaving. Eldacar watched the tora go for a moment, returning to conversation afterward. The jovial expression dampened slightly.

"Leaving aside the wonders of women for now, Luke, have you seen a Tide?"

"Rumor is all I get. That and mentions of Apostles, Diplomats, and Envoys."

Slowly closing his eyes, Eldacar exhaled, his two hands gripped onto the table, "You really should make a child. Need help swooning a willing lady?"

Eyes blinking rapidly, Luke said, "Excuse me? What?"

Opening his eyes, a hint of solemness dampened the overall mirth in Eldacar's features, "You never know if this wave will be the one to sink you. All Defiers must accept that—no, all hunters and those who fight against monsters must accept it. We happen to take the riskiest battles, that's all. Preserve your line before you're called up in another two days or so."

"Sounds irresponsible to me, rather put the time from chasing into tilting the odds in my favor. Are you so sure we will die? How many kids do you have, thinking that way?"

Eldacar looked up to the ceiling, appearing to be in calculation, "Should be roughly thirty now, another on the way." Eldacar held up a hand, stopping Luke from speaking, "My lustful lifestyle aside, Luke, when an Envoy appears, you'll understand. People will die, city defenders will die, Defiers will die. A tribute will be taken. It's only a matter of how much."

Tapping his finger against the table three times, a rhythmic sound radiated from the source. Eldacar started to play with the sound waves, displaying skill close to what Luke managed with his ice.

"We are among the blessed few, able to use a source of power outside the Interface's confines—used to balance the previously tilted scales. When you face an Envoy, and as I predict, one will be all you can handle, be aware of your position, where it is, its hearts, and displayed abilities." Sound waves created a map in the air, manipulated by Eldacar. The elf pointed to the right end, "You'll be placed to the far sides, away from any Diplomats or the Apostle Yuriel. While it means the worst is too preoccupied to deal with you, you'll also be isolated. Apart from other lower hunters or Aruna, if luck is with you."

Eldacar flashed next to Luke, his back against the table, seated facing away. He lazily put an elbow over Luke's shoulder, "Do some thinking, Luke. A child isn't a bad idea when called upon too early—just as you are."

The Defier got up, his footsteps echoing melodiously, creating harmony amidst sound. By the fourth echo, the sound vanished, and Luke couldn't sense Eldacar's presence any longer.

Is the rapid progress lately not enough? What in the hell else can I do? Is this his way of scaring me straight?

Cutting the questioning spiral off before it led to souring his mood, Luke left his food unfinished.

He wasn't hungry anymore. A short rest would do wonders instead.

Resting wasn't an option, Luke decided. Sooty and Iona trained in the illusion realm until they dropped. He tried to mimic the approach.

A nap would be enough right before morning. Meaning he had all night. The magma hell-hole Iona pranced around while murdering illusion beasts and fire born monsters appeared especially excited, as if she amped up the difficulty. The elf neglected to spare him a glance, too preoccupied. Lulu shadowed the Beastmaster, helping her to control the immediate battlefield through healing and illusions.

The gentle breeze rustled the grasslands. This time, a sun shone down from the fluffy white clouds on this half of the illusion realm. A strong contrast to the hell fire being the primary light source on the other side of the barrier. Sooty greeted Luke shortly. Once the Reaver gave her suitable attention, the corvid flew off again to crash land into some nearby Immortal Slimes.

Making the most of the unexpected grinding session, Luke slipped on the Black Metal Mask. He changed: white hair, a frail, shortened frame, and clothes of crimson and shade. Luke's jewelry, Wayfinder included, turned into a dull gray or silver. Xera changed to her white short blade form, and Whispering Tome switched into Ghost Blade, courtesy of the Two Faced passive. The mist swirling around him began to dampen with dew, creating localized rainfall.

Commanding frost to his left palm, the product came out as solidified water. Ghost Blade settled in Luke's grasp. A rotating Essence Lance swirled water around it as an Essence Fissure poured down literal rain upon a nearby Immortal Slime grouping. Slick water drenched Xera and Ghost Blade alike.

Flowing like a stream, Luke cut into the Immortal Slimes, rotating Wayfinder's abilities as he sought fit. This was going to take a while. On occasion, Luke tag-teamed a slime with Sooty, rather, Lilith in her eldritch horror form, her Vorpal Touch doing wonders against its regeneration. With concentration, the pair turned one into defeated light as brown rot widened from pressurized water and brute force.

Luke conveniently ignored the look of betrayal on Sooty's face. Her abilities worked fine enough in either form. Ghost Blade's properties only came to light under the Black Metal Mask, and Sooty's illusionary transformation was a causality of that.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

The defeated Immortal Slime reappeared of course, about thirty seconds later, all memories of its unfortunate end wiped. Luke adapted to the style he undertook as Rune, methodical, flowing dual sword strikes, a weightless left, with a heavy right, water over ice, and Vengeful Wail from Ghost Sword. The primary slime appeared drunk, going in directions atypical to its previous movement pattern, and even flipped on itself when he applied Vengeful Wail to it.

Luke chalked it up to the altered body function part of the ability. A deeper analysis would require a more hostile opponent. Every time Luke thought to take a breather, he'd overlook Iona struggling against illusion beasts endlessly or Sooty skewering slimes en masse. Inevitably, he'd form another shadow themed, water drenched, Essence Lance, or other ability, and get to work.

Wayfinder's supplied insight through Polar South paved the way faster than anticipated, hours later, two notifications spawned a brilliant silver.

[Through repeated use, Essence Lance has grown to Tier 1, Rank IV. Must reach Tier 2 to upgrade further]

[Through repeated use, Essence Fissure has grown to Tier 1, Rank III]

Dropping against the flooded grasslands, Luke felt right at home. The slimes adapted to the new floodplain-esque terrain, swimming circles or settling down, breathing underwater. If slimes breathed. He slipped off the mask, and all the water froze over instantly, becoming a mix of frost and ice. While that probably ticked off the slimes, it did make one particular corvid elated.

Sooty soared over, black plumage returning, rubbing her wings against Luke in thanks.

"You staying around here, Sooty? Blasting around abilities won't do much else for me. How about you?"

The crow tilted her head, and she hopped around in thought. In bird fashion, she twisted her body and answered with a caw.

"Still rearing to go? I'm going to a new dungeon tomorrow. Want me to pick you up, and we'll go together?"

Sooty expressed sorrow through Reaver's Link, her feathers drooping.

"It'll pay off, at least Iona says it will, and your skills are growing far faster here, than out in the wild. You know how to find me if you change your mind, Sooty."

The proof was in the pudding, or, in this case, the Interface. A handful of log lines already detailed Sooty's skills reaching the next level.

[Through repeated use, your companion, Sooty, has grown Talon Strike to Tier 1, Rank IV. Must reach Tier 2 to upgrade further]

[Through repeated use, your companion, Sooty, has grown Shadow Wing to Tier 1, Rank III]

[Through repeated use, your companion, Sooty, has grown Essence Screech to Tier 1, Rank III]

Luke expected those upgrades, other than them being early arrivals. The following two caught him unawares—in a good way.

[Through repeated use, your companion, Sooty, has grown Vorpal Touch twice to Rank III]

[Through separation, your companion, Sooty, has grown Reaver's Link to Tier 1, Rank II]

Vorpal Touch leveled as anticipated. Since it consistently applied to Sooty's attacks, it constantly became used. The separation requirement to evolve Reaver's Link still confused Luke. Already wanting his bird back, he thought of having Sooty set aside future skill points to keep the skill up to date instead. The current status quo of split training was born out of necessity from the time crunch, not out of preference. Sooty herself obviously wanted to explore Crystal Demon Point tomorrow with Luke. Holding off due to this method's effectiveness, and the relatively minimal drawbacks.

Add in the fact it seemed possible for Vorpal Touch to reach Tier 1 in time for the Tide, and it became a no-brainer to hack away at slimes for another day or two. Luke gave Sooty a hug and left the illusion training realm.

Washed up and rested from something between a nap and sleep, Luke kept on the simple black and red cloth streetwear, standing outside the Defier's Building, the black metal and crystal structure a marvel of magic construction. The sun shone an ominous yellow-red overhead.

The streets seemed barren compared to days before. The refugees stopped flooding into Sylen since last night. Luke overheard a city patrol discussing it.

"Poor bastards didn't make it, must all be in hiding or bone piles now. The guard tower signal network stopped any communication lately too."

"You think the Tide's already stopped anyone else from the Borderlands from escaping? It's early compared to the historical records I took a gander at off duty."

"Ain't any 'think' about it. Not a single entrant in the past twelve hours, Kelser's been razed. We're next on the god-cursed chopping board. History is in the making. No Tide is exactly the same."

Multiple shops were boarded up, those deemed unnecessary for required logistics or city defense support. Street food vendors appeared anxious, and few regular workers remained around. Keeping around due to the inability to leave or taking one last hazard payday.

Sylen was quickly becoming a shell, those remaining required to, or with nowhere else to go. It changed little for Luke, what services he needed stayed behind. Most of those who had the privilege to leave already did.

What bothered him most about it, is the Hunters Branch seemed a little thinner in number—cowardice overtook a minority. Luke doubted the abandonment would go unpunished, but for now, the City Lord, and Defier's Guild set their priorities elsewhere.

Taking out a silver-etched ticket, Luke checked the time, at ten, his slot for Crystal Demon Point would be activated. With some spare hours, the Reaver checked in on the work order he put in. While he'd still go to Crystal Demon Point even if they weren't finished, Luke heavily preferred to go with all his combat gear, instead of missing the two pieces. Showing his insignia for entry, Kelic allowed him through, sitting back on his chair and turning his head away from Luke.

Making a bee-line for the leatherworking shop, Luke noticed the door was ajar. He allowed himself inside, only Dejen and Kelthula were there. The other three from before—absent. Except for the counters and back room, the main floor could be considered pristine, the ornate crafting table its centerpiece around dim light. On its center stood a pair of boots and pants, brown leathered, accentuated by firm white bone theming them both.

Kelthula gave a weary smile, but kept her back against the thin walls, exhausted. An all-nighter had been in order. Dejen's tail gave him away, swishing energetically, making finishing touches on the pants and boots. He waved Luke in, "Master Defier, you are just in time. With five hands on deck, we wrestled the beast and hunted the prey. Your order is about done and surpasses my expectations. Lexor, the chain mail store owner, achieved a feat, being the main contributor to the creation. He'd stay to thank you, but the excited elder ran off to undergo an ascension."

Closing the door behind him, Luke said, "I'll forgive him," he pointed to Kelthula. "She alright? Hasn't said a word."

Dejen waved it off, "Owner Kelthula kept the five of us on task, preventing us from stepping all over each other or destroying your Ice Blessed Set. She's delirious with exhaustion. I tried to get her to go home and rest, but she wants to see your approval for herself."

Luke didn't think Kelthula would be seeing much, the old elf woman huffed and already dozed off, from the looks of it. Was this what they called resting your eyes for a bit? Unsure it would be appropriate to interrupt her rest, Luke addressed Dejen and Kelthula, "Thank you for your hard work, the same to the other three who aren't here."

Kelthula opened her eyes and closed them slowly in acknowledgment. Luke slipped a small coin pouch beside her, if this sort of request required that much of you, he felt a tip made sense. Coming up to the table, Luke saw Dejen brushing away at the armor pieces. "I can wait outside if the last bits of work will take a while."

Dejen shook his head, "Nonsense, the work is done, this is to make it more presentable, here," Dejen put down the brush, lightly shoving the boots and trousers set Luke's way, "I leveled more from this request than all the others combined since achieving the first Tier. I'm further in your debt, Master Defier."

"Is it my turn to say nonsense? Half this cul-de-sac came together to ensure the best result." Luke put the items into the Inventory while allowing a pile of one hundred gold to scatter on the table in their place, "I know you won't accept payment, but take it anyway—a tip. Share part of it with the three others who left already."

Crossing his arms, Dejen left the gold on the table, "Give the armor a wear first before you go, Master Defier. One of a craftsman's joys is to see a customer's satisfaction."