Paragon of Weaponmasters

"What?" Peter asks.

"How many can we bring into the dungeon?" I ignore his question.

"Twenty, but what do you mean? You couldn't be saying you're going to bring your children?" He stares at me with horrified eyes.

"I'm not going to make them. I already promised Earlgor we'd go on an adventure when he was grown. If they all agree to come, we have a full group." I explain.

"That's… no, you can't, they're your kids!" he insists.

"I want to go." Oorrcca is the first to speak up. "It feels sort of like, my whole purpose, you know?"

The rest of them nod in agreement. It makes my blood run cold for them to feel that way, but right now I need their help.

"Helga?" Peter tries to enlist her.

She looks pensive. She looks at me, then my eager kids. "I dunno pete, they're warriors, one and all. Maybe it would be worse not to bring them." her eyes light up with realization. "Wait, they can come?"

"Do you remember that goblin I told you about, the one with the mech?" Peter asks her, she nods. "Maybe they can all go, if he could." he shrugs. "Or, it could have been because he was a real person."

"A real person?" Sambar, my white-haired son, raises an eyebrow.

"Sorry, bad way to phrase that. He's uh… got an immortal soul? Like your father?" Peter tries.

They all look at me, in awe.

"What happened to that goblin? Do you know?" Peter asks me.

The memory of the Monitor chopping him to bits flashes in my mind.

"He's gone." Is all I say.

Peter looks like he's about to ask something, but decides against it.

"Is everyone willing to join us?" I ask them.

Each and every one nod.

"Ok, let's sort out what everyone's good at. We need…" I turn to Peter for assistance.

"Two more tanks, three healers, and twelve damage-dealers." he fills in the blank.

"I've got your back, father." Earlgor says, to some protest.

"I trust him. He'll earn your back." I tell them.

"I can control water to hurt or heal, but I have a preference for bringing the pain." Oorrca punches his other palm.

"Sneak attacks are what I'm good at." Naexi the green-spotted jaguar says. I've got her name down, but I have to keep the journal 'open' in my inventory so it's constantly reminding me of their names.

"Astral magic" Sundamar, my orc-eared elf says. I don't know what that means, we'll have to circle back later.

"Pugilist" Andorllen, my tusked Panther, says. I don't know why'd he punch when he has claws, but to each his own.

"Longsword." Sambar, my protagonist-looking orc son with white hair says.

"Bows." Cararel, my green elf girl, says.

"Solar magic." Felaren, my albino elf son says. So, damage, probably?

"Hammer." Hagdium grunts. I wonder if his orcish facial features are considered attractive on an elf? I hope my genetics haven't made his, or any of their lives, difficult.

"Afflictions." Imizael, my dark-skinned elf daughter says… darkly. She's visually the most 'normal' of my children, but that tone makes me think it might be the inside that's different.

"Oasis healing." Reluvethel, the fat-tail gecko that has my eyes, says.

"Cherry Blossom healing." Faraine, my fox-girl orc, makes it rain petals around her. How very anime.

Darthoridan, my enormous, green-furred bear son just stares at me when it's his turn to speak.

"Hurt." is all he says, finally. Alrighty then.

"Pack tactics!" Chathanglas, Voron, and Tsildea all say in unison. They even pose. I wonder how much my wolf-orc son, orc-wolf son, and pug daughter have practiced that.

"Lunar Magic." Halanaestra, ever the patient, goes last.

"So besides Reluvethel and Faraine, who else can heal?" Peter says, holding up a clipboard. Where'd he get a clipboard?

Halanaestra, Felaren, and Sundamar all raise their hands. Oorrcca raises his noncommittally.

"Who wants to heal?" Peter clarifies.

Halanaestra is the only one of the four to raise her hand.

"Alright, so, we have exactly what we need, including Helga and myself." Peter announces.

I just noticed Helga's level.

Helga the Prestigious. Level 70 Berserker

"When the hell did you get ahead of us?" I ask.

"Ahead of you, you mean." she points at Peter.

Peter, Friend to Paragons. Level 70 Rogue

"You too?" I practically shriek.

"Hey, I didn't do any story quests. I just grinded, waiting for you." he informs me.

"I guess we need to go grind." I respond, looking over my small child army of level sixty sevens.

"I know just the place." Peter says. "Follow me."

He leads the way out of the throne, most of the kids follow him, but Samblar stays behind to walk beside me.

"I've been told your mastery of the sword is unparalleled." he speaks up.

"I wouldn't say that, but I've gotten pretty okay at fighting." I tell him.

"I attempted to learn the ways of the Weaponmaster, but without a sentient weapon to serve me, it was out of my reach." he explains.

"Sorry to hear that." I say.

He nods. We're silent for a few steps before he speaks again.

"Where do you acquire your weapons?" he asks.

"All sorts of places." I draw Thozur. "I actually forged Thozur, my hammer. I can give you the blueprints or whatever you'd call it."

"I'd appreciate it, but Darthoridan is the most talented blacksmith among us. He would gain more from it." he informs me.

"I won this beauty in a bet." I show him Earthshatter. I feel her mentally blush.

"A bet?" he asks.

"Yeah, whoever could mind the most mithril in a set amount of time. The dwarven king bet he could beat me, but I took control of a whole bunch of picks and whooped him!" I laugh.

"Impressive, father." Samblar does not laugh.

I clear my throat.

"I actually don't remember where I got Jellyfish. Do you remember?" I ask the blade.

誰もこの道を

旅しない

私以外、この秋の夜.

"Yeah, saw that coming." I shake my head.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"What did it say?" Samblar asks

"Dare mo kono michi o tabi shinai watashi igai, kono akinoyo." I tell him. I hope I said that right.

"No one travels

Along this way but I,

This autumn evening."

All eyes turn to Helga.

"You speak japanese?" Peter and I asked simultaneously.

"What, like it's hard?" Helga smirks.

"What does that have to do with where I got him…" I wonder. Have they just been quoting poetry this whole time?

We all take the portal to Foundation, the usually empty basement is suddenly crowded.

"Let's get everyone in the group before we get any further." Peter stops in one of the doorways.

One after the other, I invite each of them to the group. It works, thankfully, giving me further hope that they can join us in the dungeon.

"So what are we grinding?" I ask as we cross the threshold.

"Humans." Helga says with savagery only an orc player could manage.

We navigate winding tunnels in the dank underground, eventually arriving at a storm door. Peter and Helga push it open, and arrows immediately rain down on us.

I react quickly, putting a Circular Saw out vertically to block them, but Helga reacts faster. She roars with such force behind the sound the arrows stop mid-air, and fall to the floor. We need to sit down and exchange spells, so I know what everyone can do, and we can work more cohesively.

Except now there's nineteen people's spells I'd have to get familiarized with…

Nevermind.

Like a monstrous tidal wave, we rush into the space above, coming face-to-face with knights, arches, and human mages. So many spells fly and weapons swing that I can't keep up. I send out my area spells to catch any stragglers, but most of our enemies are dead long before I bring up the back of the group.

You have reached level 68!

Will increased by 128%!

Will again, huh?

I check my stats, I have 2,284% base will plus ???. whatever the hell that means. The rest of my stats have dropped to 0%, with a low modifier. No more lifting mountains for me I guess.

My children all look at me as their level increases with mine.

"Two more." I say with a smile. They all grin back, some have dignified or adorable little smiles, and some… have mouths full of huge, terrifying fangs.

We all spread out, the room we find ourselves in is some kind of pre-dungeon challenge.

Cararel is nearest to me, shooting arrows rapidly. She reminds me of Legolas, if he was a she, and green.

"Hey Cararel." I say.

She looses another arrow, right into a knight's unguarded eye. "Hey."

I take the hint and let her focus, walking away.

"Wait, did you need something?" she asks, stopping me.

"Oh no, I just wanted to chat." I shrug.

"During combat?" she asks, eyebrow raised but still eyes-forward.

I watch her pin down two mages one after another.

"Doesn't seem terribly challenging." I point out.

"I suppose not." She turns a rival archer into a pincushion.

"So… what made you go with archery?" I try to break the ice.

"My natural skin color blended into foliage, it was either ranger or rogue, and I went with ranger." she tells me.

I nod, taking her point. "Should I say you're welcome?" I joke.

"I suppose you could." she doesn't get it. "I do owe my existence to you."

"You don't owe me anything." I tell her.

"You misunderstand. My mother was unable to carry a child to term before she met you. I'm her 'miracle'." she explains

"Oh, wow. She didn't tell me that." My eyes widen in surprise.

"From what I hear she didn't have time." she comments.

"Hey, that's not…" I put my hands on my hips.

"You left the morning after, only to return after my birth, then disappeared again. You've made a habit of it." she tells me without malice.

Oh.

"Sorry about that." I rub the back of my head, embarrassed.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You're the hero of the elves and beastmen, and you're a Paragon. You gave out mothers the gift of children, none among them resent you for your other duties." she explains.

"That's a relief." I say. "I'll let you focus. Thanks for chatting with me."

"Anytime, father." she lines up a shot… and fires. Bullseye.

You have reached level 69!

Will increased by 128%!

"Nice." Peter, Helga, and I all say over voice chat.

Particularly heinous screaming is coming from my left, unsurprisingly, Imizael is nearby casting crimson-colored spells.

"What's that?" I ask her.

"Explosive Hematoma." she says.

Her nearest victim's skin slowly turns bruise purple all over, then… explodes. They're still standing, skin mostly ripped away, exposing muscles and tendons underneath.

"That's nice honey." I back away very quickly.

Ignore the screaming, I look for my next nearest child.

Nearby, my moon-elf daughter summons a beam of moonlight to incinerate a charging group of knights.

"Very pretty spells you have, Halanaestra." I tell her.

"Thank you. Mother said you were a sweet-talker." She responds, watching me with her seemingly blind eyes.

"She did?" I actually blush. Is it because of the compliment, or the very thought of Talindra?

"Yes. You swooped in, saved the city, bedded her, then went on your way. Just like an adventurer in the stories." she says.

"Sorry." I grimace. So Cararel isn't the only one who thinks I'm a deadbeat hero.

"Alpha Farrois mentioned that your culture differs from ours. Do your men really stay with the mother and child until they are eighteen years old?" she asks, using some sort of gravity spell to turn a knight into a crushed soda can. My children are terrifying.

"Yes, usually. Though my track record is awful." I chuckle humorlessly.

"I had heard orc men did not raise their children, they raised soldiers." She mentions.

"I wasn't raised as an orc, I was raised as a human." I tell her.

"You were raised by human peasants? You truly do sound like a storybook hero." She nods.

"Why peasants?" I ask.

"Well, if your human parents were wealthy, they would have paid someone to raise you for them." she explains.

I open my mouth to say something to the contrary, but even during my former life that was true. Instead, I shrug.

"Can I ask a question that might be offensive?" I hesitate to ask, but the question is killing me.

"Go ahead." she tells me, kicking up a white sandstorm around a group of humans. The sand doesn't need to hurt them externally, as soon as it gets in their lungs, they collapse to the floor, choking and coughing up blood.

"Are you and your mother a different kind of elf from the others?" I ask, hoping she doesn't turn her terrible powers on me next.

"Yes. We're Tsuki Elves." she answers matter-of-factly.

"That means moon!" Helga shouts from her own fight nearby.

"I got that!" I respond. It was pretty obvious, what with the star-skin and the moon eyes.

"You should ask my mother about our lineage. It's quite the tale, I can't do it justice." she recommends.

"I think I will. Thank you." Just like her mother, her eyes become horizontal crescents when she smiles.

We're about two thirds from hitting seventy. Maybe it's finally time to talk to Peter. He's too far away, and I don't want anything to be miscommunicated.

Earl says: Hey, Peter?

Peter says: sup?

Earl Says: I'm sorry about how we ended our last conversation. I've been under a lot of pressure, and… there's more I need to tell you, but not on an open line.

Peter says: It's ok, dude. I can't imagine what it's like for you, being trapped in this game 24/7. Even I get tired of it eventually.

Earl says: I'll believe it when I see it. :P

Peter says: lol.

All of my melee kids are bunched together, pounding and slashing as enemies as they appear. This is a really convenient grinding location. I suppose if you're like me, and never spend any time fighting extra mobs while you complete quests, this is the perfect solution.

"Mind if I join you?" I ask.

"Not at all." Samblar responds.

I let all but Kingmaker loose to wreak havoc. My half-wolf triplets are landing powerful strikes simultaneously, as if they were all one person controlling three bodies. Spotting me observing, Voron reaches out a paw to me, and I take it.

My body moves on its own, controlled by the same unseen force as them. When they kick, I kick. When they punch, I punch. And when they bite, unfortunately, I also bite. I expected my teeth to shatter, but they pierce the knight's arm guards and puncture flesh underneath. Coppery blood flows into my mouth as I throttle him, tearing his arm off at the shoulder.

My pups don't give me any time to process, they rake claws through breastplates, and somehow my black fingernails go in like a hot knife through butter. Not only does their synchronous attack share combat styles, but power as well. I'd bet if I still had my astronomical strength score, we'd be tearing these knights in half. Instead, as best I can guess, my will increases how in-sync we are, and how efficiently our power is shared.

I have no idea how I've come to that conclusion, with my intellect score in the shitter.

"You fight with the ferocity of a wolf, father!" Voron tells me.

"No, a dire wolf!" Chathanglas corrects him.

"No, a bear!" Tsildea insists.

Nearby, Darthoridan, the actual half-bear, lifts a wizard over his head and tears him in two, showing his green fur in crimson.

"Not quite." I say, wondering if rabies is a concern for Beastfolk.

The crunching of metal surrounds me, but the loudest source by far is Adorellan, using his panther fists to make the knight's armor look like golf balls.

"I've been meaning to ask, why punch instead of claw or bite?" I make my way over to him.

"It is uncivilized." he responds, uppercutting a ranger's head clean off.

"I didn't realize that was a concern." I say, observing my other children go at the humans like a pack of wild dogs.

"It is for me." he says defensively.

"Hey, more power to you. Honestly, all of this gore make me queasy." I admit to him.

"Advantageous that your abilities seem so… uninvolved, then." he says, watching Thozur fly around the room like a blunt-force missile. He actually stops next to Hagdiun, as if judging the swing of his hammer. Thozur demonstrates a swing of his own, and Hagdiun copies them, satisfied with the results.

"Yeah, lucky me." I say.

"Is your sword just for decoration?" Naexi asks, appearing from nowhere. I jump.

"No, it's not that, it just has a poison effect that kills instantly. I'm worried the… god, one of them, at least, would be upset if I used it." I try to explain.

"I'm surprised you care what the gods think, my orc father." she vanishes again, off to end lives I'm sure.

Almost… almost…

You have reached level 70!

Will increased by 256%!

A cheer moves through my troop of children, each and every one reaching seventy with me.

"Charge though!" Peter commands, waving us through a nearby arch.

I stay behind until everyone else has crossed, then follow myself. The loading screen shows the human capital on fire, with the king superimposed over it, a furious finger pointing down at us.