Fear took many shapes and forms.

For Orodan, fear didn’t involve fighting or dying, but loss. The loss of those he cared for. The loss of something beautiful to the loops.

And perhaps the loss of his visage to an exceptionally false depiction of him upon a poster.

Parthus Edrosic however, looked as though he had a very simple fear. The fear of Orodan Wainwright.

Entirely logical when the object of said fear had sword and shield drawn and was menacingly striding towards him.

“So this is where you’ve been holed up,” Orodan spoke, a very happy smile on his face as students of Bluefire and even the instructors cleared out of his way in fright.

“O-Orodan…! Why it’s so good to see you! Have I congratulated you upon your grand victory against the Prophet yet? And how surprised I was to be waking up in the middle of the night in my own bed? I fell back asleep immediately after, but that’s besides the point…”

Trust Edrosic to fall back asleep after returning through time.

“You don’t even require sleep anymore,” Orodan reminded.

“Right… old habits, you know? Kind of like you and Cleaning, or you and fighting… or you and that heroic determination of yours. And have I mentioned how gallant and valorous you’re looking today? And how sharp your new blade looks?” the militia man muttered, voice reaching a higher pitch as Orodan drew nearer. “Is there any reason you’re approaching old Parthus with that look on your face?”

“Hmm, well that might be because old Parthus saw fit to draw some very uncharacteristic representations of me recently. Copies of which were distributed all across the capital of a newly inducted ally’s world.”

“W-wait! That wasn’t even me! Well, it was, but it wasn’t my idea!” the man pleaded, taking steps back towards the open window which led out and off the grand tower of Bluefire. “How about you try and say no to a ten-foot-tall she-demon when she approaches and demands you draw the likeness of her infatuation?”

“And those were meant to be my likeness?”

“C-creative liberties! I couldn’t terrify the denizens of Vylrystia by putting your real face on there, could I?”

Fair point. His naturally ferocious expression wouldn’t win him any popularity contests off the bat.

Still, Orodan rapped his sword and shield together.

“Even then… I don’t look like that,” he growled, recalling how his likeness in those drawings had been almost glittering. It had made him sick to see. “I believe, Parthus, that we’re due for a spar since you’ve come so far in your abilities, no?”

“A-a spar? I’m quite busy with training my Drawing skills as we speak. Wouldn’t want to interrupt the time my good teachers have put in to help me,” the militia man weakly defended.

“What teachers? There’s nobody else here, Edrosic.”

And the prodigious artist could only look paler by the moment as he realized that all the teachers and students who were in the room and either helping tutor him or watch his art were now gone. Having fled at the sight of Orodan and his drawn weapons.

“Well… if it’s a spar you want… all’s fair isn’t it?”

Orodan noticed the subtle signs of a sudden and sneaky attack well before it came. He had been ganged up on and fought his way out of ambushes from other desperate street rats even before the time loops. So when Edrosic’s hand went to draw something, he was ready, and he heartily approved of the initiative.

But what he wasn’t prepared for was the drawing which came out after. And as his eyes naturally fell upon it, he froze for a moment.

The striking and utterly captivating likeness of mismatched white and gold eyes caught him off-guard for just long enough that his opponent leapt right out the tower window. He was used to mental attacks and his stubborn nature let him recover almost instantaneously… but that it had made him stop at all was just ridiculous.

He saw now why Zukelmux had lost a spar against this mischievous artist.

Unlike the drawing Edrosic had used upon the goblin, this one had no sensual implications in the slightest. It was the farthest thing from it. A stunning drawing of Zaessythra… covered in all sort of blood, grime and filth. Specifically while swimming in the sewers beneath Shadowmoon City on Narictus.

And despite all that, it was a moment Orodan also recalled vividly for her eyes had never looked quite as striking any other time.

“Tch…! When did she even tell you about that moment?” Orodan called as he too leapt out the window to follow, batting away multiple destructive arcs of energy from Edrosic’s spell scrolls. “That irksome dragon… she must’ve known I was staring back then.”

Edrosic sent numerous barrages of destructive spellfire via expended spell scrolls his way. The collateral damage limited for now since the man hadn’t brought out his truly high-level ones.

“Heh! I didn’t even think that one would work as well as it did,” the man replied with a happy grin on his face. “I was half-expecting you to clock me across the jaw. But… it’s good to see there’s a human part of you still, Orodan. You’re just as capable of being a smitten fool as the rest of us are.”

“You talk too much,” he grumbled like the surly and stoic man he was. Even if he couldn’t quite keep the flush of embarrassment off his face. “You have plenty of spell scrolls and tricks… and I cannot say I disapprove. But let’s test your fundamental combat skills a bit, shall we?”

Edrosic knew what was coming for the man’s face paled and then set in a grim look of defiance.

Orodan limited himself to the very beginning of the Elite-level in strength and speed as he advanced.

The spell scroll slinging militia man threw out another volley of magic, burning through numerous scrolls to do so, but the failure point in this was apparent enough.

Orodan feinted dodging left, then shifted right. He made as though rolling backwards but instead ducked and weaved under and right in-between the hostile spellfire, advancing closer. His opponent’s eyes narrowed in concentration and a spell scroll different from the others was brought out.

“Like dodging do you? Dodge this!” Edrosic shouted, unfurling and letting loose a torrent of lightning which had a mind of its own and aggressively sought Orodan out, practically tracking his movements.

But immediately the limitations in this too became clear. The lightning had no soul and no real mind. Somehow, Edrosic had inscribed the spell with automatic targeting capabilities, but this came with its downsides as well.

Spell or drawing, this lightning did not have better instincts for combat than he did. Something Orodan proved by aggressively feinting in multiple directions, confusing the targeting mechanism. And at the last moment he simply remained in place as the attack went a direction it assumed he would go, missing him entirely.

Edrosic was ready, shield out and braced as Orodan’s shield slammed into his own, a face-to-face clash of shield on shield.

Even with strength and speed equalized, Parthus Edrosic struggled to hold, the militia man sliding backwards. Orodan’s superior mechanical placement of his shield alongside a severe and violent commitment to attack meant he could overpower people even with equal strength.

“You’ve improved. A loop ago I would send you off your feet with this move,” Orodan praised.

He moved forward to aggressively dismantle Edrosic, but the militia man was smart and knew his limitations, instead opting to backpedal and not engage Orodan in a direct blow-for-blow exchange.

“I’ve been training with Zukelmux… and watching you closely,” Edrosic grunted as he took two heavy blows upon his shield and continued giving up ground rather than stand and engage directly for too long. “How did you dodge that?”

“That spell had no soul Parthus. Its combat instincts will only be as good as your own. And while you’re starting to get the hang of melee and have begun growing into your own style, I can still see weaknesses in your eye for hurling spells while at range,” Orodan lectured, cutting off the battle artist’s backward approach with cunning footwork and pattern recognition. “Slinging spells is still a form of fighting. Your own movements, the potential evasive maneuvers and defensive actions of your target… all of it matters. A fight at range is no different from a fight up close. The length of your reach is the only difference.”

Orodan cut off the militia man’s attempt at continuous backpedaling and tripped him with a quick hook of the leg with his own. But to illustrate the point, he backed away, allowing the man to rise once more. And with some distance between them, began hurling the most basic spell he knew, Mana Bolt.

[Mana Bolt 38 → Mana Bolt 39]

He didn’t use Burst Casting or even throw excessive power into the spell. The first bolt was utterly basic and trivial. Something which would only wound even an untrained civilian.

Yet Edrosic’s head just so happened to line right up with it, and the man frowned and grunted as the bolt scored right upon his forehead. Trivialized by his Iron Body, but proving the point.

The militia man began expending spell scrolls of his own once more, committing to this ranged duel. Yet Orodan simply matched each one of the hastily thrown attacks with a Mana Bolt of corresponding power.

He also occasionally sent one for Edrosic directly. Low power and meant to sting the pride more than the body. And for a while, the militia man was defending against them well enough, an all-encompassing barrier surrounding him via a persistent spell scroll at his hip which glowed with power and was clearly of finer make than the expendable stuff he was hurling at Orodan.

They were out on the main courtyard of Bluefire Academy now, just in front of the grand tower which had the signature and persistent blue fire atop it. It was the same place where Orodan had duelled Claridin Rockwood long, long ago when he’d first joined the Academy himself.

Students, teachers and visitors had stopped and were paying rapt attention. The duel itself was nothing particularly special, but the teaching Orodan was giving out were.

Several warriors and even some mages were respectfully sat down a distance away, straining to hear his words; some were even taking notes down on parchment. Orodan was now rather publicly known, and the quality of the lesson delivered by someone who was not only a Transcendent of Combat but also a Teaching Grandmaster was quite high.

“Truly? I hadn’t even considered paying such close attention to my own form and that of the enemy when spell casting…” a mage muttered.

“Watch closely apprentice,” a visiting mage-lord of Thazrivin said to her accompanying student. “That spellfire looks basic, and the quality of those Mana Bolts is nothing special… but the way they are cast is a sight to behold. An important reminder that magical combat is as much about the quality of one’s magic as it is their instincts for fighting.”

“Is that… Lord Wainwright? Even in watching him cast spells I can apply the insights to my sword…” a fourth-year martial student muttered.

Audience aside, Orodan’s main subject was beginning to visibly get better.

Edrosic’s spell groupings improved and the man began paying close attention to how Orodan was moving and where his eye fell before a spell. All indicators and tells which mattered in combat, even at range and with magic.

“Good. Keep going,” Orodan praised, noting that Edrosic was moving along the right direction now. “I haven’t sparred you overly much since you began incorporating spell scrolls, but it’s obvious now that Destartes and the High-Orast will be good teachers for you. That old wizard will run you ragged and have you improving in no time.”

“Damn…! I’m not exactly a natural at combat like you are, Orodan!” Edrosic protested as the man strained to keep as Orodan upped the tempo and pace.

“And yet, it was deemed at the council of loopers that you’re one of two people most likely to acquire a Celestial skill in the future. Not hard to see why they would think that when you drew something which affected even an Administrator,” Orodan said, causing many murmurs of shock and awe to erupt in the audience. “Whether you want it or not, you have a lot of expectation riding upon your shoulders.”

“Expectation? I just want to draw things and go about my days in peace!”

These people hadn’t known of the loops before, but now many of their relatives or ancestors who were part of the alliance had come back in time and talked. They had heard of the wild and fantastical heirarchy of the cosmos now, even if by word-of-mouth alone. Suppressing the speech was considered entirely useless and ineffectual, so the department of looper affairs headed by Tegin and Eldarion had instead given the simple directive that loopers were not to act maliciously or use the loops to harm anyone.

It had been a great culture shock. One which Orodan, busy as he was, hadn’t really gotten to see the full effects of. But it was now apparent that these people looked at Edrosic quite differently than they did most. Not only was the militia man the subject of intense admiration, but also equal parts jealousy and resentment.

Many of the students among the crowd were in awe of what Edrosic could do. The militia man, when unleashing all his drawings, was the strongest student at Bluefire aside from Zukelmux. But just as many were resentful, jealous. The feeling that they could appreciate the opportunity better was apparent in their eyes. Hells, one warrior even turned red with anger and spat upon the ground to let out her frustration at hearing the artist’s words.

“And neither destiny nor the cruel hand of fate will care about that if you aren’t strong enough to enforce your will, Edrosic,” Orodan calmly said. “I am but the messenger of what was discussed. What do I care if you choose to go loaf about for the rest of your days?”

At this, the man frowned.

“So I could go laze about for the rest of the loops and you wouldn’t care?”

“You’re still my student whether you like it or not. You’ll be training alright. But I don’t teach you so you can go fight my battles for me or prove your usefulness,” Orodan clarified. “And if you want to laze about all day… then that requires being strong enough to rebuff all who would attempt to bully you.”

What the Alastaian alliance and its joint council of loopers did was their business. Orodan had gathered everyone together and now brought them into the loops; he also appreciated that they were going to funnel much tutelage and resources his way to help him grow stronger.

But that did not mean he required it. Nor would he force them, or anyone, to teach him or fight for him or be useful to him.

The entire purpose of bringing all these people in had been so that they might seize the reins of their own destiny. And if Edrosic wished to follow his own path, then what was the harm in that? Although from the look on the man’s face, it seemed the outburst was more of a backlash against the perceived weight than a true declaration of laziness.

Edrosic cracked a smirk despite the stress of the spellfire duel between them.

“Heh! I suppose I can’t ever escape being bullied into training by you, can I Orodan?”

“No. No you cannot, Edrosic. Not until you prove yourself strong enough to stop me.”

The militia man didn’t seem displeased at that response. The magical exchange continued, with some mages even looking in closely and noting the patterns and techniques Orodan used to perfectly counter and meet Edrosic’s erratic spellfire.

A minute of spell exchange later, Orodan decided to switch it up.

[Mana Bolt 39 → Mana Bolt 40]

[Mana Manipulation 85 → Mana Manipulation 86]

The mana barrier Edrosic had around him was persistent and unfaltering.

But it was the product of someone who had inscribed upon a scroll a spell they themselves did not understand the intricacies of. In the middle of their spell exchange, Orodan sent a singular Mana Bolt directly for Edrosic, packed denser and heavier with mana.

It contacted a weak spot where the spell’s mana was circulating in an inferior manner and punched right through. Like a heavy rock he’d designed that particular bolt to breach a gate, and it had. It then went on to knock the air right out of Edrosic and send him slamming to the ground.

“We’ll also need to train you on barrier magic. No amount of drawing will let you conjure a good barrier if you don’t understand the principles of its mana flow, energy circulation and how to shore up the weak spots,” Orodan lectured. “Destartes will definitely be a good teacher for you.”

Edrosic groaned from the ground, but nodded his head. Just in time for a burst of fire to interrupt their spar before Orodan could go about giving the militia man a lesson on defending himself from a grounded position.

Orodan’s Fire Mastery was good, but not nearly as good as that of Wainroach. He produced flames and tried hurling them at her, only for the forest roach to do something exceedingly competent and shocking.

She took direct control of the flames he produced from his soul.

Orodan could only watch as his flames were ripped out of his grasp, Wainroach’s control over Fire Mastery well into the Elite-level and far superior to his. Could he have simply generated far too much flame for her to control? Yes. But that would’ve been cheating and a mere bandaid upon the weak point that was his own low level of Fire Mastery.

[Fire Mastery 44 → Fire Mastery 46]

His Fire Resistance and sturdy body meant that they didn’t do much to him, but Orodan spent a good minute getting smacked and battered by Wainroach’s stolen flames all the same.

Where he had beaten Edrosic, he was getting bullied instead by Wainroach in a duel of pure finesse over flame. A part of him was frustrated… but a greater part could only be proud.

And it was hard to be too downtrodden about the walloping he was receiving with his own flames when it came with gains. The struggle for control against her was good training.

[Fire Mastery 46 → Fire Mastery 47]

And unlike Wainroach who saved Edrosic, it was someone else who saved him. That rescue came in the form of multiple wind-enhanced spear thrusts which sought to skewer him. But they also had the side effect of blowing away his own and Wainroach’s flames, interrupting their impromptu fire-based spar.

“Teacher! Face me!”

There wasn’t much time for any other words before an exceedingly emotional and furious eight-year old girl’s spear began moving in entrancing and aggressive ways to skewer him. Despite the fury of it, Orodan could clearly see how watery the girl’s eyes were.

Her, Wainroach and Edrosic had been among those not present for the meeting upon Vylrystia. Balastion had taken their development very seriously and seen fit to have them put to training and have all manner of tutors and resources sunk into them right away. Which meant that this was their first time seeing him since the last loop.

Aliya’s first time seeing Orodan since a reforged loop beginning where her brother was no longer dead.

Orodan met her spear with his sword and shield. Her weapon strikes were exceptionally impassioned, and he refused to dishonor her by meeting her with any less ferocity.

Unlike Edrosic who knew his limits and only engaged in melee so that he could get out of close combat and resume bombarding his foes with spellfire, Aliya was a warrior. The polearms prodigy loved the press of battle and particularly excelled against aggressive enemies like Orodan himself.

A barrage of spear thrusts and sweeps shot in, the girl using the superior reach of her long weapon to harry him. Limited to the high Elite-level of strength and speed, Orodan wasn’t able to exploit some immediate hole in her offense which he could use to win. She had not only fought monsters, but plenty of humans by now. She had improved quite a bit and was getting very good at combat. Her measured and evasive style which still managed to be aggressive left few easily exploitable openings.

All of that was magnified by the fact that Orodan fought like a berserker. Even the most horrifying creatures of the cosmos possessed of the most fell rages could not match his raw ferocity and aggression. Her style was tailor-made to optimize efficiency of movement with evasiveness and aggression which aimed to riddle a foe full of holes.

Like a deadly hornet circling prey, she stalked the periphery of his range and periodically lunged in and out with lethal intent. Her spearpoint and thrusts were empowered by the very wind and she had even added trace amounts of water to make the weapon point even deadlier.

He parried one thrust, moving to return a counterstroke which her nimble wind-assisted movements simply danced out the reach of. Swords, much as he liked them, weren’t exactly weapons famed for their exceptionally long reach. Not when compared to spears.

More came. And Orodan began brute forcing his way past certain attacks. A spear thrust met his own sword point, and with naught but violence, superior mass and explosive force despite equalized strength, Orodan sent the girl’s attack flying backwards. This repeated more than a few times until her wrists were trembling and her eyes now leaking tears.

Wainroach and Edrosic watched from the side, as did the now sizeable audience they had gathered. Content to let the polearms prodigy have her moment. Many of the warriors too were closely taking note of how he neutralized a reach advantage by seeking not to strike the wielder but the attack itself, transferring force and putting great strain on the girl’s arms and wrists.

“The Aliya I know would not cry for mere physical pain,” Orodan solemnly spoke.

“It’s not pain!” she immediately denied.

“Heh… I suppose it is not. Shall we continue fighting? Perhaps we can converse with our blades instead of our words,” Orodan suggested. “Or… you could tell me why you’re so emotional.”

“You…! You!” she practically frothed at the mouth, rushing him again.

Still, her attacks were unfocused and not possessed of the usual tactical acumen and vicious calculus that they normally had. In a pure melee fight, she was superior to Edrosic and had little to exploit. Hells, sometimes the girl even lasted longer than Zukelmux owing to her uniquely evasive yet predatory aggressive style which leveraged reach.

Yet all of these were thrown to the wayside as she came in with an almighty wind-empowered thrust of her dothril spear. An attack which had her forsaking the calculated reach advantage and style of probing death by a thousand thrusts.

An attack which resulted in Orodan gripping onto her spear haft and landing a headbutt.

“Careless. But I suppose you are trying to say through battle what your words cannot. And given that your blade is just as unable to say so, perhaps you should use your words instead.”

“You… you brought my brother back to life, teacher!”

“Is that why you’re so angry?” he asked, grabbing and hoisting her up by the collar like a mangy cat.

“No! It’s because you just brought him back and now everyone in my family acts like he’s always been this way!” Aliya shouted back. “And… and! You just brought him back to life and didn’t even say a word to me!”

That was true. Orodan had not simply cleansed the loops so that these fallen individuals returned at the start, confused about their return from death. He was a Time Grandmaster with a good understanding of the timeline itself. He had pulled Vylrystia in from an alternate time and spliced it right into the loops, which was the only real act of such that he’d done.

But for the rest of the changes he’d made, such as bringing back Zukelmux’s mother, Fenton’s father or Aliya’s brother, he had directly altered the timeline itself causing much causal changes. He had of course, anchored all of his disciples to the loops beforehand, which had spared them having any changes enacted upon them. Similar to how he had ceased existing when he had that one time erased Ilyatana from existence but still remained fine since he was not only too powerful to be affected, but also part of the time loops.

However, Zukelmux had seen him in private and thanked him in a more reserved manner. For the goblin, while he was emotional, he held a strange and almost reverential understanding that of course Orodan would have brought his mother back. The goblin had been tearful and grateful, but had tried not to act too undignified. Likewise with Fenton who had already seen his father returned in a loop prior and naturally knew Orodan was the sort to do such things.

But for an eight-year-old girl like Aliya to suddenly have a lost sibling returned while her family acted as though things were the way they’d always been? It was a shock. The girl, though prodigious she might have been, was still a child. Even chronologically while accounting for the loops she hadn’t gone past ten years of age.

Which meant that she had a lot of unresolved emotional baggage to deal with and nobody she could truly dump it on who would understand.

Zukelmux had been happy that he and his entire Rising Spear clan were no longer hiding underground like rodents. Orodan had altered the timeline to ensure that House Simarji had come into contact with them long ago and that goblns were an infrequent but not uncommon sight within the Republic. And Fenton as well had been elated to know that his mother was never sick to begin with and lived a happy life alongside his father.

But Aliya, younger and less emotionally controlled than the other two, had much pain and loss which she had nobody to commiserate with. After all, Orodan had not even told her that he would be bringing her brother back whereas both Zukelmux and Fenton knew and had seen him bring back the dead. Those two drew the connection beforehand between that and his propensity for seeing debts repaid.

“That must not be nice,” Orodan admitted, looking at her while she dangled from his grip. “Did they laugh at you? I doubt mockery is what has you so bothered.”

The girl appreciated that he cut through the assumption that mere disbelief and teasing would have her angry.

“No… no they didn’t. It was worse than that teacher. My brother, he… he just hugged me and used that same stupid sweet tone I remember him singing to me in when I was a child.”

Orodan thought that technically, as per the Republic’s laws on the age of majority, she was still a child. But decided to let that remain a thought and nothing more.

It was Edrosic who spoke up, the man’s eyes gleaming with understanding.

“You should have said something kid… can’t be easy to have your family patronize you when you see your long-dead brother again for the first time. When I received the memories of that terrible life where both my mother and father were gone… it was difficult to try and tell them anything.”

“Because they will not truly understand that pain the way you do…” Orodan finished. “Yes. Forgive me. I had not even accounted for that.”

“Forgive you?” Aliya asked, bewildered. Now, the emotional tension within her had eased significantly at finally being heard. “You brought my brother back and want to say sorry? Even if the dummy won’t take me seriously, how is that your fault?”

Trust her to cut through something with immaculate child-like reasoning.

“The little terror has a point Orodan. You’re too used to taking on every burden in the world and beyond onto your shoulders. So what if her father and mother don’t believe her? So what if her brother is now hale and healthy in a timeline where he never died and won’t ever understand her pain?” Edrosic posed. “Those are things which this department of looper affairs I keep hearing about can deal with.”

A department headed by the very organized Tegin Carrotfoot, excellent at handling matters of internal organization. And assisting him was Eldarion, the silver-tongued Transcendent of Eldiron who always had time, a listening ear and kind words of soothing understanding for everyone.

“Then why’d you come to me with such zeal in your eyes?” Orodan asked, confused. “Not that I’ll ever turn down a fight.”

“Because, teacher… I didn’t even get the chance to say thank you,” the girl said, embarrassed that she was admitting something soft at all.

Orodan laughed.

He ruffled her hair and then let her drop like a sack of potatoes from his grip.

“Hey…!”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a fond smile. “Now then, I do not believe this spar is over.”

“Right you are Mister Orodan. In fact, I reckon we ought to put your multitaskin’ to the test a bit, eh ser?”

Orodan stepped back, giving Aliya space and to optimally position himself to deal with the narrowing encirclement caused by Fenton’s arrival.

“Indeed, teacher. Lady Almyra and master Talricto were helping us watch your battle against that terrible zealot. You have awakened yet another Celestial skill, have you not?” Zukelmux spoke, walking through the crowd which parted at his presence. “This warrior would like to humbly request the honor of a spar. To see the gulf between us.”

The audience, now swelled with people from Karilsgard who had come by to watch, erupted into shocked whispers.

Aside from a few visiting dignitaries who were free to travel and study since the alliance opened its borders to one another internally, most of the people around weren’t loopers. But they had heard of him, and over the past two days experienced much culture shock in not only hearing about the time loops but also about Administrators and Celestial skills.

If he hadn’t been the hot topic of discussion in the last loop due to laying low, he certainly was now. Orodan Wainwright, the lone man who had struggled, bled and died to conquer all comers before him.

The time looper.

Most of these people looked at him as though he was a divine in the flesh. Something entirely above and beyond even the newly empowered deities of Alastaia who sometimes visited in-person to help their followers now. Of all the culture shocks his world had experienced in the past few days, he was the biggest one and the centerpiece of them all.

“Perhaps this is the wrong place for such a duel?” Orodan questioned. “I doubt you want me breaking significant portions of a galaxy and truly cutting loose, do you?”

Edrosic paled at those words, but Zukelmux simply smiled and shook his head.

“Of course, teacher, your raw power is apparent. But what of your technique and instinct for combat? Can that new Celestial skill hold up while you hold back and remain pressured by all five of us? Breaking stars would be all too easy for you… but can you bring that same versatility and skill to bear when holding back to each of our respective levels?”

An excited grin emerged upon Orodan’s face at the sound of that.

It was true that he’d not properly tested his new Celestial skill since beginning this changed loop. And it was also true that the goblin’s open challenge stoked the warrior spirit within him.

“Well Orodan? You ready for some good training?” Edrosic asked, looking quite uneasy at the prospect of this coming spar as the mlitia man usually did, but still ready to fight.

His hands clenched around his weapons.

“Hah! I suppose it only fair that as much as I test my students… that they now test me. Very well. Come, disciples. Show me all you have learned. And in turn…

…allow your teacher to show you all he has learned.”

Fenton threw down a device which encapsulated the area around them in a barrier. And Orodan gave a final nod of gratitude to the lad for thinking ahead.

And then violence ensued.

Wainroach’s fire had bullied him earlier in a battle of pure skill.

Thus Orodan’s first sword thrust, nowhere near her, stabbed into and murdered the metaphysical notion of her fire. The forest roach’s beady eyes had a singular moment to widen in shock as her flames inexplicably died right out. Her eyes blazed with fury and her soul exploded outwards with force to generate more flame and reassert herself, but Orodan tucked away his shield and simply grasped what seemed like thin air in his left hand.

But in reality, his hand closed around the throat of her Fire Mastery, maintaining a grip upon it and choking it to keep it oppressed.

His left hand was occupied and taken out of the fight… but so was Wainroach’s control over fire entirely. For as long as his hand remained clenched around her Fire Mastery in a most violent manner, she could not conjure flame. Not just the skill itself as part of the System, but the very notion of the technique altogether was being kept suppressed with his brutal vice grip.

The audience outside the barrier was shocked too. The battle was not at some furious pace which none of them could follow just yet.

“What the?! How did he do that?! His arm just reached out and…”

“I can’t sense any mana thread or enchanted item at all… how is he doing that? It’s like he’s grabbing thin air!”

Wainroach too was utterly shocked and shriveled backwards in surprise as her main weapon was taken away.

Of course, the ever-protective Zukelmux, the vanguard of Alastaia and the first to enter the throng of melee, rushed in to engage him.

“Teacher! I shall not allow you to harry Wainroach for as long as I stand able! Release your brutal and oppressive grip!”

“Make me!” Orodan roared back.

Despite being a Grandmaster, Zukelmux could fight and exceed the power of a weaker Transcendent. A true prodigy of combat.

Even with one side holding back, the clash of blows between Zukelmux’s spear and shield and Orodan’s sword was cataclysmic. It was fortunate that Fenton’s device was extremely durable and the barrier capable of absorbing the power of a weak Embodier. Otherwise, Inuan would have shattered for Zukelmux was likely stronger than the Eldritch Avatar now.

Edrosic did not like melee, Aliya avoided the blow-for-blow trade with reach and evasiveness, but Zukelmux was a true juggernaut of combat like Orodan himself. Even while carefully matching the goblin’s strength and speed, Orodan could not overpower him with violent bursts, mass and body mechanics as easily.

Not only was Zukelmux well-prepared for such things, but out of all his disciples he’d sparred against Orodan the most. Even when everyone else would falter and have enough spars for the day, the hard working goblin would ask for another, and then more on top. Just as Orodan knew the moves of certain foes he’d looped against many times, by now the goblin was one of the few people in existence who could honestly claim that he had a good idea of Orodan’s.

A brutal overhand chop was diverted and the simultaneous counter-thrust of spear came forth. The goblin was good, having learned to manage extreme aggression well as a result of sparring him many times by now. His attacks, brutal and aggressive, were diverted like a roaring tidal wave of force being diverted by a sharp and sturdy rock. While the goblin wasn’t winning, he was good enough to hold his own against Orodan’s brutal aggression. And just holding him off like this while maintaining ground was victory enough when he had other allies in this five-against-one spar.

Zukelmux had learned well. He doubted any other warrior on Alastaia was the goblin’s match in terms of sheer skill.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Furthermore, now Aliya came in from the flanks, Edrosic began launching spellfire via expendable scrolls and Fenton’s revolver cracked out, the shots whizzing for his dome.

On all sides, Orodan was pressured. Worst of all, honor dictated that he lower his level of strength and speed to match each of his students individually. So when Aliya’s Elite-level strength simultaneously came accompanied by Zukelmux’s spear thrusts which could slay Transcendents…

…Orodan was forced back due to the uneven strength gap.

But this was good. In fact, with his new skill he had utter confidence in not just prevailing over one, but over them all. And overcoming Zukelmux’s power with just Elite-level physical parameters would be good training and a test of his new skill.

So even as Orodan was pressured in melee by Zukelmux and Aliya and then harried at range by Fenton and Edrosic with Wainroach now recovered and looking to enter melee combat against him as well…

…he brought forth the other skills of Eidolon of Violence.

His left fist, still clenched around Wainroach’s fire capabilities lashed out unpredictably. The blow contained not only the Unarmed Combat Mastery aspect of his new Celestial skill, but the Club Mastery too. For was a fist not just a club?

At the same time his sword rived downwards to hit Zukelmux’s shield and the goblin’s defense dangerously trembled, the warrior’s eyes widening in shock. A sword too, could also be a halberd and a club.

The added skills not only allowed him to employ a far wider range of techniques but also let him hit far harder for the same amount of strength.

“S-such strength!” Zukelmux gritted out before a swift kick, empowered by Mining, caused a severe dent in the goblin’s shield and sent him sailing backwards.

Orodan’s strength and speed were equalized to match the spear-and-shield wielder’s own, but even then the inclusion of such skills gave him a dramatic force advantage.

Aliya, now bereft of her vanguard ally occupying Orodan’s attention, could only gasp in shock as her spear thrusts was parried by the back of his hand and Wainroach’s Fire Mastery was let go and thrown right into her face.

How a skill could be let go and thrown at someone to do damage, he didn’t know… but the Eidolon of Violence which forced metaphysical things to become very tangible cared little for logic.

An explosion of pent up fire had the wind-spear wielder slamming into the protective barrier with a crack. Just in time for a furious Wainroach to enter melee against him and flit around him quickly in search of revenge for suppressing her and vengeance for harming Aliya with her own flames.

The forest roach was small, used her flames to fly about and would be a difficult foe to pin down in melee for most. But for the Eidolon of Violence, Orodan’s fist shot out…

…and impossibly, the full force and impact of the strike hit her square on the abdomen. His fist somehow defying reality itself to impact completely despite her far smaller size.

“What the bloody hell… me eyes hurt just lookin’ at that weird new skill… how did you even hit her square on when she’s the size of yer’ finger?” Fenton asked, utterly confused and forced to rub his eyes even as he desperately shot at Orodan with various enchanted bullets.

As did Edrosic who was furiously slinging spells at him.

And for all of these ranged attacks…

…Orodan simply let out a terrifying roar of brutality.

The Commandment of War aspect of his new Celestial skill rang out, and his very voice shook the enchantments so badly that they quivered and died on the spot.

“M-me gun…!”

“My scrolls…”

Like that, both ranged combatants had been immediately dealt with. Orodan lunged for them, but before he could the vanguard and guardian of the group rose once more to meet him.

Zukelmux defiantly met his sword and shield with his own spear and shield.

“Your defense of them is admirable Zukelmux, and you’ve come far. I could not be a prouder teacher to a greater disciple,” Orodan praised. “But for once… let me show you how far I’ve come.”

Orodan’s Walking, his very steps were an ever-encroaching advance of violence. The burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of their expectations… he towed these along with him as he strode in a violent manner. And it was with this gait that he stepped forward and grabbed something with the Wrestling aspect of his skill.

Not Zukelmux himself…

…but the very position the goblin had taken as vanguard and frontline guardian to the others.

[Eidolon of Violence 89 → Eidolon of Violence 90]

[New Title → Violence Master]

[New Title → Club Master]

[New Title → Spear Master]

[New Title → Mining Master]

[New Title → Halberd Master]

[New Title → Stonecutting Master]

[New Title → Woodworking Master]

As expected of a Celestial skill with so many fundamental ones under its umbrella. He gained a plethora of titles for advancing its tier.

And with the advancement came power, as he brutally wrestled and grappled space itself, trading Zukelmux’s’s spot with that of Fenton and Edrosic.

One moment the enchanting and drawing prodigies were behind Zukelmux, and then without explanation they were right before Orodan.

The two of them had barely a moment to react before a shield bash and pommel strike knocked them both out cold.

Orodan flashed Zukelmux a smile as he rapped sword upon shield.

“Now then… I believe it’s just us, Zukelmux!”

His disciple had never been more excited to fight him.

Even if the rest of the duel ended up being entirely one-sided despite Orodan’s increasing efforts at holding back farther and farther.

#

The West Ocean past Novarria’s farthest shores wasn’t as turbulent or treacherous as the Sea of Uxumar separating Inuan and Guzuhar was, nor as full of mysterious terrors as the Great Zalabian Ocean to the north of the northern continent. Military ships of the Novarrian navy patrolled the waters regularly as it was an important route for trade.

But chiefly due to the fact that the Romnara Isles needed a safe route through the waters to reach the mainland of the empire.

And it was upon these relatively calmer waters that a vessel was powering through the waves. A vessel with Orodan aboard it. And while he normally wouldn’t have bothered with naval travel, Balastion was far too busy and didn’t have any time to spare to come see him. And obliging a meeting request with the man was the least he could do for someone who had helped him greatly.

Although… said meeting was really an opportunity for him to get chastised.

“How is it my fault that your team of intelligence agents weren’t able to keep up?”

“You gave them no notice of your plan to enter Bluefire and hunt down your troublemaking disciple. And let’s not mention the fact that you used Dimensional Step and not standard spatiomancy to travel.”

“If I used spatiomancy I’d overpower and shatter the anti-spatiomancy wards…”

“Wards which are now keyed in for your signature in every nation, city and settlement across all of our worlds,” Balastion reminded.

“Hmm… I may have forgotten about that…” Orodan muttered.

“Given that you are the reason everyone has returned in time, I would expect your memory of such things to hold up better,” the first emperor of Novarria chastised, but not with any heat. If anything, the man had a fond tone.

“Alright, alright… I’m the reason your slow-footed spies lost track of me. This is still rather new to me; looping with others. For the longest time it was always just me, alone. And then Zaessythra came along, harboring within my soul,” Orodan answered. “Even the allies I did have treated me with a certain level of wariness. Hard not to when some brutish oaf comes along and cuts right to the heart of the matter with everything he says and does while upending their preconceived heirarchies of power.”

The ancient human let out an amused chuckle.

“Yes, I suppose you do have a habit of barging into places and demanding to have your way, don’t you? Though I suppose that is not a bad thing, although it is certainly preferable when that trait is guided for maximal benefit alongside others who can take over aspects you aren’t best suited for.”

“I still maintain that my diplomacy works. Just not in the way that would’ve allowed this alliance to ever form,” Orodan countered.

“That much is true. Strong as you are, nobody would quite see it as an alliance of equals where everyone’s contributions are valued if you went around doing everything yourself. This way… it is far better. Each nation and world of the alliance has agency. And it should also be said that you have chosen your allies well.”

“Yes, I suppose adding murderous beings hells bent on carnage or those with aspirations of conquest to our ranks would have caused problems.”

And at this, Balastion laughed, though it was a mirthless one.

“What you were not told thus far, is that the department of looper affairs serves the secondary purpose of keeping everyone part of the time loops in check. Naturally, keeping someone such as yourself, Lady Almyra or the vaunted Alagameth in check is an exercise in futility… but there are more people part of the loops now than you and those you directly associate with.”

Orodan raised an eyebrow.

“I was not aware of any such problems,” he remarked.

“Nor would you be. A number of us nation leaders, your lady included, have gone to great lengths to ensure the problem does not reach you. Nothing tragic… simply the minor matter of ensuring people are aligned wiith our cause and if not… watching them closely with a response planned right at loop start should they act contrary to our interests.”

“That sounds… restrictive. What does acting contrary to the alliance’s interests mean?” Orodan asked.

“Selling information to our enemies, stealing from us or attempting to assassinate or permanently harm any of our people. Disputes and tensions will occur I am certain. In fact, given that we have brought a great number of high-level experts together, many of whom share a field… I know that many egos will bruise and tempers will flare as these experts butt heads or recognize their betters from other parts of the cosmos. But while tensions might flare, so too will innovation. These things are entirely normal. But think, Orodan… what happens if one of these high-level experts feels jilted and instead decides that they’ll have a better life with our enemies?”

“Then… I just destroy them and said enemy faction?”

Balastion Novar, the first emperor of Novarria… looked as though he wanted to pull his hair out.

“You…!” the man exclaimed and then sighed letting the outrage go. “Of course. I forget sometimes that I am speaking to Orodan Wainwright. Her Majesty Zaessythra did not embellish all those stories about you and your bullheaded nature.”

“I’m not some public menace…” Orodan weakly defended. “Look. I see your point, but we shouldn’t exactly imprison or too closely scrutinize people for things they haven’t done.”

“Then you have yet to learn the intricacies of rulership my friend. You are a warrior without peer, but your approach to such things is too simple. Tell me, do your eyes not monitor the subtle twitch of your foe’s sword arm in combat? Do you not track their intent and the dance of their feet to read their next move?”

Orodan hummed in thought. He would not be arrogant enough to claim he knew anything about rulership despite having a world crown around his arm. He had been chosen because of his power and the fact that the world spirit of Alastaia seemed exceptionally fond of him for all he had done. Furthermore, there was no guarantee that anyone else chosen for the job would want it in a few thousand loops. Hence, he’d been forcibly anointed World-Ruler.

However, long ago when he’d gotten an education at Bluefire Academy during his very early loops. During the process of going from uneducated brute to educated warrior, he had read many books. And those had covered, in broad terms, a lot of the politics and skullduggery that running a nation involved.

The Novarrian Intelligence Service. The Republic’s network of spies and agents. Eldiron’s psionic web and their trained shadows. And even the more informal information network run by commoners of the Eastern Kingdoms who reported directly to the King of the East.

Running a nation was dirty work. Keeping tabs on, spying and coercing high-value individuals to join one’s own side or sell secrets was common practice. Hells, even sabotage and assassination wasn’t out of the picture depending on the period of Alastaian history.

All this was to say… Balastion was not wrong.

“Point taken, Balastion. I suppose you would know more about all that than I would,” Orodan conceded. “Long as nobody’s being locked up for things they haven’t even done or intend to do yet… then who am I to criticize it?”

“I am glad you understand. It’s not nearly as nefarious as it sounds. Intelligence and counterintelligence are merely a regular part of the day-to-day running of any nation. Even before this alliance and all of our inclusions into the time loops Novarria, the Republic and Eldiron engaged in such things,” the first emperor said. “Having to deal with intelligence agents following you around will be the extent of your involvement with that side of things.”

“And I shall endeavor to inform them of where I go from now on…” Orodan muttered.

“If only so they get to document your training and spars. My Intelligence Service’s agents only got there near the end when you were giving Zukelmux a beating. Nobly as he stood against you, they could have gathered far more information if allowed to accompany you from the start,” Balastion said and then gestured for two members of the ship’s crew to come forward. “Now is as good a time as any to get acquainted I think. Orodan Wainwright, this is-”

“Kalemar Cosanox, right?” he interjected, meeting the man’s hand with his own. “I remember.”

“You… know me? My lord?” the man asked, clearly surprised.

“If you’re going to follow me, no calling me a lord. And it’s hard to forget things when the soul reaches a certain level of strength. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing for a time looper is up to interpretation,” Orodan returned.

“Ah. You must have interacted with him when you were helping purge Eldiron’s psionic web in that one long loop of yours which you told me about, yes?” Balastion asked and he nodded in reply. “Then, as you know, he’s Vice-Director of the Novarrian Intelligence Service and one of our finest operatives.”

Orodan couldn’t help but wonder if the man had royally screwed up somehow to be assigned to him. A Vice-Director of an intelligence service made to run along and furiously take notes on someone who perpetually caused mayhem at every turn? What a horrid punishment.

The man loudly cleared his throat, as though sensing Orodan’s thoughts.

“Lo- er, Mister Wainwright. I assure you I volunteered for this duty personally and it is not a punishment.”

“Hmmph…” Balastion chuckled under his breath. “Although it seems punitive, it is the farthest thing from it. Kalemar reports directly to the Director, Venerio Balmento himself. He’s the second-in-command for the entire agency and we’ve unanimously agreed that you’re too important to go without a liaison at all times.”

“A matron to hen over me?” Orodan asked, though in jest.

“Not at all. Your independence won’t be hindered much save for needing to keep him informed of what you do and where you go,” the first emperor clarified. “Orodan. You are our alliance’s most important individual. Yes, you’re a warrior who none can match, but that does not mean that you’re immune to making poor decisions or suboptimal choices when training. Think of Kalemar not as someone who will tell you what to do, but as someone who will guide you and help facilitate how to best do what you tell him you want to do. Require magical training? He has a direct line of communication to me and I can facilitate the best teachers in our alliance on the spot. You wish to train the crafts? He can have tutors and experts from every world of our alliance sent to Gregory Hannegan’s location and have you training at efficient pace within a half-hour. Need to go off and fight someone? He can get in touch with the collective intelligence network of our allies and give you the best possible information we possess. Whatever you need, he and his accompanying agents can facilitate. As well as providing counsel and suggestions from time to time.”

That sounded quite excellent as a matter of fact. More importantly, Orodan was still the chief looper, and he could see the real reason why this was being done.

“You need me to give you some warning before I rush off to my death, don’t you?”

“…that would be nice, yes,” Balastion admitted. “If the rest of us all die, nothing will change and your loop will go on. But if you die, the loop resets for everyone. Thus, if it isn’t too much trouble, and because I have several training projects going on involving other loopers, I humbly request that you give me at least a four hours’ notice if you intend to end the loop. Barring unexpected attacks or emergencies of course.”

That… was it?

Balastion seemed almost nervous that Orodan would reject this. But… that sounded so incredibly reasonable a request. Of course everyone who was part of the loops would want some advance warning if he was going to go off on a series of mad death loops one after the other. Did he truly have such a reckless reputation that such a close ally thought he would not heed so minor an ask?

“Of course, Balastion. I’ll let you know a day or two ahead of time even, preferably as soon as I intend on it,” Orodan immediately agreed, noticing the relief in the man’s shoulders.

Orodan was by far the mightiest time looper of them all. He was the original one who’d brought them all in. If he said no to something, who could stop him? Little wonder the first emperor looked so tense when asking something so basic of him.

It made sense too. If the tens of thousands of soldiers, craftsfolk and specialists comprising the looping group were in the midst of their own preparations and training, then having Orodan throw a rock in their plans by death looping would be nothing short of cruel and inconsiderate. Especially since he’d altered the loops to bring them all in for the purpose of getting them strong enough to stand independently of him.

“Thank you…” the first emperor said with an exhale. “You will not regret this. If you are as strong as you are with but a single world’s efforts poured into you, then what can you achieve with every world of the alliance devoting the most exotic resources and best teachers towards your growth? Especially when said resources are now renewable due to the fact that we are all in a time loop.”

“I do not know. But I will not let you or anyone else down,” he replied. “Especially not the man I’ve come to see.”

Orodan’s spatial travel onto Balastion’s boat served two purposes.

The first had been to meet with the ruler of Novarria and then receive chastisement and a debrief on what the plan was moving forward. But the second had been to catch a ride to the Romnara Isles.

The Isles were a relatively out of the way landmass to the west of Novarria. Far enough away from Novar’s Peak that during the long loop in which he’d lured the Eldritch Avatar to the city, all civilians and non-combatants had been evacuated there.

Still, even though it was Orodan’s first time seeing the place with his own eyes, the Romnara Isles of then and the place now were radically different. Owing particularly to the fact that the sky above and the waters around the isles were chock full of voidships of the Blackworth Collective. The Alastaian alliance’s premier powerhouse faction and naval power.

The waters were so crowded that directly docking on the isles themselves wasn’t possible anymore. Instead, Balastion’s ship had to dock at one of the outermost voidships of the perimeter.

“First emperor’s visiting!” a Blackworth captain called out from the receiving ship, her voice booming across the waters. “Begin dockin’ procedures! Come aboard sers! Come aboard!”

In contrast to the Collective’s voidships which were armored, sleek and designed for not just travel and combat in the water, but the air and void too, Balastion Novar’s capital flagship looked flimsy despite its enchantments. But already Orodan could see groups of laborers, shipwrights and enchanters of the Novarria working under guidance from the Blackworth’s shipwrights and engineers to improve the ships of Alastaia.

All of them under the guidance of a particular voice which could be heard from miles away.

“Collective group fifty-nine moor those ships and commence with enchantments after Novarrian group eighteen finishes their metal work! You’ll get in one another’s ways otherwise!”

To the naked eye the old man was barely visible. But Orodan’s trained eyes could see Old Man Hannegan twenty miles inland atop a grand tower built specifically to house him and from where the old foreman could see every bit of work occurring around him.

Ridiculous. This was the power of a Celestial skill.

Orodan hadn’t had the time to really appreciate just how absurd Old Man Hannegan’s ability to direct labor and construction to superior outcomes was, but looking at how almost the entirety of the Blackworth Collective’s fleet was being worked upon it was apparent that the old foreman’s voice was guiding a titanic amount of separate tasks and projects to work alongside one another in harmony.

Furthermore, even outside of what the foreman with the Celestial skill was directing, the Alastaian alliance’s military commanders were working together to share military knowledge and combat tactics.

“Put your backs into it! The bayonet attached to your rifles is no different from a spear! What works for a Master of the polearm will also work for you!” an Alastaian spearwoman barked, instructing a batallion of Blackworth Collective line infantry on the usage of their bayonets.

“Don’t you lot dare blink!” a Blackworth sergeant barked at a row of Alastain archers and crossbowmen. “I expect each man and woman’s sight to be capable of telling me the color of a lark’s eyes from a thousand paces away!”

“Good! Keep those reloads slow for now! Remember, slow is smooth and smooth is fast! I want to see good reloading and aiming technique before anyone thinks themselves the next speed-shooter,” a Blackworth rifleman instructed, surveying a group of Alastaian non-combatants who were cross-training that they could defend themselves in a pinch. “Every one of you will become proficient with the rifle. If your ship or work station ever comes under attack, all hands are expected to grab rifles and participate in the defense.”

Craftsfolk and laborers given rifles. The very industrial power which allowed the Blackworth Collective to arm and equip thousands of soldiers was now being put to use in weaponizing the non-combatant members of the Alastaian alliance. It would certainly add a level of combat power to any vessel, to have not just the soldiers and battlemages fight, but to also have withering volleys of gunfire shred the enemy.

He could even see Alastaian artificers, Thazrivin arcane-forgers and Vylrystian dragon smiths carefully watching and collaborating with Collective gunsmiths on the process of making these firearms and perhaps even improving them with their own twists. The Alastaian argued that the gun was a phenomenal weapon but its metallurgy could use a slight bit of work via personal forging rather than mere casting. The mage-smith proposed the infusion of the arcane into more parts of the process and the half-dragon argued that adding draconic blood or the blood of a powerful being during the metalworking and casting of the bullets would have great impact when done in tandem with a blood ritual.

Innovation, industry and military drill. The alliance was collaborating upon it all. Hells, even the Unity had sent machines known as labor bots and drones. Smaller flying beings with no souls who were part of an overseeing unit which sent them out of its body to assist in minor tasks.

And it went without saying that Old Man Hannegan’s booming voice somehow amplified the effectiveness of even these soulless things.

Everyone recognized them too of course. Hard to avoid notice when one was a national leader like Balastion was. Harder still when Orodan was the time looper and reason for all of this. The two of them and their accompanying entourage had to deal with quite a few greetings, salutes, bows of respect and professals of gratitude and fealty as they headed inland towards the tower.

But not everything was a smile.

“Wait! Orodan Wainwright! Hold right there!”

Balastion’s Grandmaster-level guards bristled, ready to teach the intruding woman a lesson, but Orodan stepped ahead of them.

“Do I know you?” he asked, refusing to allow anyone else to stop a voice addressed for him.

The woman was an older Master-level alchemist. And by the pin upon her robe, an instructor of the Novar’s Peak Academy. Her face was set in a heavy frown, and he could see that her work was less than ideal due to her emotional state.

“Of course you don’t. What does an almighty and powerful man like you know of the unimportant folk like me?” she spat, bitterness echoing through the air.

“Who am I to pronounce you important or unimportant? I simply do not know you and have never met you is all. And my memory is rather reliable,” Orodan replied. “Have I aggrieved you in some way?”

“Nobody told me I would be going back in time. You dragged everyone along and you never thought to ask whether we wanted it,” the woman angrily let loose. “One moment I was hand-in-hand with the love of my life after having finally worked up the guts to propose to him, and the next I find myself back in bed with him remembering nothing of what occurred. It was a near-thing and I did not think he would accept, but my arguments were persuasive and he did! How am I to ever repeat that feat now?”

Orodan frowned. Her complaint was not at all baseless. He had in fact pulled everyone part of the alliance along for the loops without asking them. Furthermore, almost everyone gathered into the looping army had friends, relatives and loved ones who were not loopers.

And given that the last loop had been of a period of close to two weeks… it was entirely possible that some of these people he’d brought back had experienced good things in that loop. Things beyond just skill levels. Things which he had taken away.

“Mister Wainwright. The Service is aware of this woman, Ilydia Arestos. Aunt to a duke of one of the outer provinces but not at all close to him,” Kalemar informed him, already showing him how useful having an intelligence advisor could be. “We shall deal with this. We have offered plenty of compensation and-”

“I do not want any compensation. I want my life back! I wasn’t expecting my day-to-day job would spill into and take over the entire rest of my life too!” the woman shouted. “I will never have that memory back again. He will never remember and be able to share it with me.”

“Insolent woman! Know who you speak to in such a tone!” a nearby guard who clearly had a different opinion of being brought back roared. “Lord Wainwright has-”

Orodan put out a hand to stop the man’s angry tirade. Instead, he moved forward, lowered his head and spoke.

“You are right. I shall not shirk the blame, it is my fault.”

The admission was met with dead silence.

If people were expecting him to make excuses due to his position and the supporters around him, then they were sorely mistaken. And if anything… those he brought back who were elated by the prospect far outnumbered those who did not. And the lot of them were glaring angrily at the outspoken woman who was simply airing her grievances. Like sharks smelling blood in the water.

As absurd as it sounded, many of these people were angrier at his admission of fault than anyone else! As though he should not have dared to admit guilt for such a thing at all!

“Ridiculous! I can now fix my errors and this idiot would lay such blame at Lord Wainwright’s feet?!”

“I can finally apologize to my son and make things right and she wants to say it was a mistake!”

“Silence that varlot! Hag’s lost her bloody sense she has! Ser Wainwright purged my world of the plague! What business does this lout have tellin’ him off like that?”

“Our entire world was a mere footnote of history until recently. Perhaps the petulant human should learn a lesson in gratitude from us dragons.”

Last loop had lasted for a period of near two weeks. But the changes he’d wrought were expansive.

Not only were the world cores of Alastaia and Vylrystia also part of the loops. But so too was his Blessing which he’d given unto plenty of the alliance’s chronomancers and soul mages. And when combined with chronomancy, soul magic and two world cores of staggering power and mental capacity… Orodan was no longer the only one capable of resurrecting people from years past.

The alliance had formed a chronomancy and soul magic corps. The brightest mages from Thazrivin and Alastaia in tandem with Vylrystian dragon ritualists to aid the matter. Not a difficult matter when the joint corps already existed for the purpose of resurrecting combat casualties in the midst of battle.

To improve not only their respective worlds but to also provide a powerful morale boost and incentive to remain with the looper alliance, the corps had begun the process of resurrecting the dead. It wasn’t an instantaneous process, and over the past few days they had gotten thousands back but were still working through the loopers’ ranks themselves. A process which would only get faster as the methods improved and those involved gained skill levels.

But all this was to say that Orodan’s inclusion of the entire looping army into the loops had come with benefits for not only himself. His power had not just brought them into the fold but also allowed them to bring their loved ones—often unjustly taken—back from the dead so that they could spend time with them once more.

To see one outspoken woman accuse someone these people were slowly beginning to look upon as a revered savior… caused no small amount of backlash.

One particularly enraged Alastaian enchanter who was working near the woman strode forward quite angrily, and it was only Orodan’s presence which prevented the man from turning the condemnation physical.

“The alliance resurrected my little girl from the dead! She was murdered by a vampire in the Republic, alone and scared in her last moments! You’re saying her return was wrong!? That I don’t deserve to hold my child again!? Who gives a bloody shit about some stupid proposal of yours?!”

The accusations and backlash came harshly now, causing the woman to shrivel inwards. Her own plight seemed utterly inconsequential compared to what some of these poor souls had gone through. All amplified by the fact that so many of these people had recently either gained power beyond what they had before, or had old scars of grief healed as they received a second chance to meet their loved ones once more.

“I… you…” she stammered, now afraid and overwhelmed by the sheer flod of vitriol coming from all around her. All amplified by the fact that far too many of these loopers all around them now saw Orodan as something more than just a man, God or Transcendent.

[Incipience of Infinity 175 → Incipience of Infinity 176]

The quiet and very restrained pulse of Intimidation echoed out, backed by his endless will and a brief touch of the Eidolon of Violence. It stopped the anger and hatred, giving way to a sudden sense of calm and order.

“Enough. What good the time loops have brought does not erase the problems they have caused,” Orodan spoke. “I am also not one to run away from what I have wrought. It is by my hand that your affairs were ruined, and it will be by my shoulders which bear the weight of that. I will not evade responsibility. I am accountable for what I have done.”

“But my lord…! You have-”

Orodan cut off the almost fanatically loyal Alastaian enchanter. He would have to have a word with Balastion and the newly formed department of looper affairs about this. He could understand why they suddenly saw him like this, but didn’t quite like it at all. Gratitude was fine.

Devotion at the expense of self-control and reason was not.

“I am not a lord. I am a warrior. You know this,” Orodan said and then swept his gaze across all the members of the mob who were ready to pounce upon his outspoken critic. “And a warrior does not falter at the sight of anything. Not even his own sins.”

And if what he’d done in the last loop was any indicator… Orodan had a lot of those to answer for.

“And how… how do you intend to make this right?” the woman asked, though her tone was subdued under the still baleful looks of those surrounding her.

“Orodan, I can have our mind mages-”

“I shall accompany you as you propose again.”

Dead silence met his proclamation.

“W-what…?” the woman muttered.

“You heard me. I shall accompany you. If it is fear which hinders you, I shall be right behind your shoulder, rousing your spirit. If it is hesitation on his end which bars your union… then I shall argue with him till his ears bleed about why your marriage is the rightful course of action.”

For Orodan was stubborn. And he refused to quit. If he had to spend days rousing this woman’s courage or arguing with her once and to-be husband, then he would do so until the man grew tired and accepted the proposal if only to get Orodan to shut up.

Though he wondered why someone would need arguments and convincing to accept a marriage. He had never been married… was that how those things worked? A bizarre courtship ritual perhaps?

“T-that is entirely unnecessary!”

“Unnecessary? Far from it. In fact, it shall be good training.”

Balastion, red-faced and utterly exasperated with his manner of handling the situation practically dragged him along and through the crowd. Orodan allowed it, being led into a teleporter.

Soon as they stepped through, space warping around them, Balastion rounded on him.

“Must you cause me a headache at every turn?”

“I was in fact attempting to resolve said headache for you… one caused by my own actions in the first place,” Orodan countered.

“You…” Balastion began, looking as though he wanted to go off on a tirade but instead stopped and exhaled. “Kalemar. Would you mind telling him what our information is?”

The Vice-Director of the Novarrian Intelligence Service, now permanently assigned to Orodan alongside a number of his agents, pulled a document out of his spatial ring.

“Ilydia Arestos. Aunt to Duke Arestos of Novarria. Estranged from House Arestos and buried in her work as a teacher at the Novar’s Peak Academy as an alchemy instructor. Very devoted to her career and an excellent alchemist of good potential, having reached the Master-level at the very young age of forty-five. In line to become the next headmaster of the Academy’s school of Alchemy.”

That didn’t sound so bad. It also explained why she looked familiar. Orodan frequently killed her nephew in every loop. Which he couldn’t much be blamed for when the man was intent on capturing the ancient machine and then turning it against the innocent common folk of Volarbury County.

If the violence and butchery had been kept internal, what would he have cared? Masters killing one another over an artifact was nothing new or heinous. It was the nature of that lifestyle. But the fact that the Novarrian Master without fail would always destroy his home town and most of the region with the power of the machine meant that Orodan had no qualms with slaughtering him every time.

The scum’s aunt didn’t seem so bad though.

“She is also a perpetually lonely woman who, a few weeks ago, met and fell into a romantic relationship with a notorious lecher and womanizer. A man who hunts wealthy heiresses and powerful women for their vaults.”

At this, he frowned.

“Why has this not been ended already?”

“Preying upon the emotions of a woman mired in solitude and married to her career is no crime. She was starved of something, and the man provided it. Distasteful as it is… lechery is not a crime in the Empire of Novarria, and using force would only entrench her feet deeper into her beliefs,” Balastion added. “I allowed you to say your piece earlier, that this might be a learning moment for you. Not everything can be solved your way, Orodan. The woman’s solitude has drawn her into such a relationship. You attempting to talk him into letting her go or attempting to stubbornly convince her would only make her resent you.”

“I see… then the solution is clear…”

Balastion looked as though he was done with life as the man heard those words.

“No, do not… whatever you are going to say will exceed all known notions of absurdity, I am sure of it…”

“I’ll simply shape her lover into an honest man who will treat her right.”

“…!”

“Hmm… my lord Balastion, that is not the single worst thing I have heard suggested,” Kalemar spoke up. “Now that the prodigious Fenton Penny has begun work upon a new thousand-slot orb capable of transferring memories. Such a thing-”

“Would be the single biggest waste of a slot on such a device,” the first emperor interjected sharply.

“And yet, the failure is upon my shoulders. So why should we not at least try?” Orodan asked. “Balastion. I will not say I am a good man, and I certainly am not fit to be any sort of leader. But how can we retain the loyalty of these people who are looping with us if we do not make their struggles, their wants and their desires our own? You see them as numbers and moving chess pieces upon a board. But… is that woman’s affections toward her unworthy partner not just as important as our journey to empower our worlds? Ever have I sought greater and greater realms of strength, but for what? If this woman’s dream cannot be realized, imperfect though it may be… how can I call myself the pillar which dreams can become reality upon? ”

The first emperor froze for a moment. Innumerable calculations running through his eyes. And finally, the man shook his head as his eyes settled on warmth.

“You, Orodan Wainwright, are incorrigible. Hmmph… I suppose that is not such a bad thing,” the ancient human spoke. “Never change.”

With that said, he turned away and walked up the winding stairs of the tall tower they had stepped into via teleporter. Orodan followed.

The place was narrow, but with numerous enchantments meant to allow quick travel to and from various places. He identified teleportation points for Lonvoron, Thazrivin, Vylrystia, X2 and places of import upon Alastaia as well. The Romnara Isles, and this tower in particular, seemed to be a rather important staging point for all military operations.

And the booming voice of a certain foreman at the top beckoned them to come on up.

“If you’re quite done disrupting the work out on the shipyard, come on up here already!”

A small scale rift took them to the top where a familiar old foreman was barking out one order after another.

“Gregory,” Balastion greeted, respect in his tone.

“Balastion. It is good to- group eighty-five! Shift your workstations ten feet west exactly! No more, no less!”

“Greetings honored Gregory Hannegan. I am Kalemar Cosanox. Please allow me to extend to you a warm welcome from the-”

“Group forty-three! I see your drones slacking off! Tighten your formation groupings or else you’ll interfere with group nine’s scans!”

A few more minutes of barking followed where the old foreman masterfully directed the entire fleet and its laborers from various parts of the alliance to greater heights. Ships came together, enchantments were woven with skill and splendor, and the entire operation ran with a level of awe-inspiring efficiency and synergy which Orodan had never seen in his life.

The others struggled to get a word in, but Orodan simply waited quietly while the old foreman finished delivering the rest of his orders. Having been laborer himself, one who had been working gruelling jobs from a young age, he was familiar enough with the various crafts and tasks at play across the expanse of the island to realize that they were reaching a point where the conductor would not need to pay constant attention for a few moments.

“And finally, group ninety-nine, time those rituals to end in fifteen minutes so you can finish in concert with group twenty-one!” the foreman ordered and then looked at them. “Apologies. This lot of bumbling fools don’t have half an idea on how to conduct an operation of this scale.”

“When Alastaia’s Grand Overseer is present, that can seem the case with any project,” Balastion spoke, tone respectful.

“Hmmph! I don’t care about all this Celestial tripe. Overseer of the Grand Design, foreman of a warehouse, supervisor at a shit-laden cesspool, what’s the fanciful title matter? There’s work to be done, and it needs to be done right,” Old Man Hannegan spoke, and then the man’s eyes narrowed as Orodan approached. “Orodan? What’s with that look?”

For him, he could not stop recalling the final moments of that alternate Orodan Wainwright. The one from a time where he was no fighter, but instead a craftsman. He could not stop thinking of the old foreman’s almost excessively gentle daughter who had seemed so happy.

And of the man himself, who had been red-faced but not displeased when that other Orodan had referred to him as father.

A timeline he had made real and then been forced to abandon, consigning them to oblivion.

In so many of these alternate times, one common factor had been Old Man Hannegan. Even Orodan the lecher had known the man. And Orodan the husband and son-in-law had seen him as family.

“Orodan? The thousand-yard-stare is beginning to- urk!”

It was brief. But his arms enveloped the grumpy old supervisor despite the man’s protests. Someone who had been there for him for so long. A man who, even in the main timeline, had taken a chance and given Orodan one when nobody else in Ogdenborough wanted to hire such a delinquent.

“Thank you, old man. For being there. And… forgive me,” Orodan spoke, the weight of his voice so heavy that the air itself stilled.

“You rockhead! Unhand me this instant before I have you pulling carts and throwing up support beams like you did in the old days!” the man complained. Yet, even as Orodan let him go, he did not seem entirely angry. “What’s gotten into you, you dunderhead? Gone soft on me, have you?”

“Simply apologizing for a wrong whose weight I shall have to bear until I see it made right,” Orodan said and looked out over the horizon. “Lots of military ships. Far too many soldiers too. I suppose I can see why you never bring her around these parts. Or around me in general.”

The old man’s gaze sharpened onto his.

“How do you-”

“Peace. I have no intention of ever seeking her out, that is not for me. Not… for the me of this time anyhow,” he replied. “Better she never know me, if only for her own sake.”

“Damn fool. That isn’t even… she’s just a rather skittish and nervous sort.”

“A sort of woman who would do poorly when encountering someone like me. I know,” Orodan spoke, not at all hurt or accusatory, but simply understanding now why the old man had never brought up his daughter’s existence at all.

The Orodan of that alternate timeline had been kind, gentle and oh so understanding. Wise too, well beyond his years, in a way that spoke of a young man raised with love, empathy and consideration.

But he, the Orodan of the main timeline, was neither of those things. He was a brute, a warrior. Violence personified.

If Old Man Hannegan’s daughter in an alternate timeline had exhibited great fear at the mere sight of a sword, then it was for the best that she never get to know him in this one at all.

A family that was not his, a life he had never lived. Yet one he mourned all the same for it was he who had made it real and then annihilated it upon leaving. A burden which would be his to bear, yet which could not be seen by anyone else.

For a while, the old foreman was silent in deep contemplation. As were Balastion and the members of the Novarrian Intelligence Service. They could sense the gravity of the words between the two of them and did not intrude.

Then… the old man spoke.

“Feh! You talk too much and seem to be getting all sentimental today. I miss you back when you were an angry-looking lad who got into fights and just did his work,” the old foreman said. “I think that’s what you’re going to now do. Go on, grab that chisel. I need some stone cut. Might as well see what this fancy new Celestial skill of yours is worth. And while you do…

…you can tell me about this nonsense that’s got you all soft.”

Finally, Orodan smiled.

That sounded grand.

#

Trust Old Man Hannegan to set him straight.

The grizzled foreman had a certain no-nonsense attitude towards the whole thing which surprised even him.

What did he care if some alternate version of him vanished? In the here and now he had work to do, a daughter to provide for, and a rockhead like Orodan to help guide.

Needless to say, he’d left the Romnara Isles feeling noticeably lighter.

And having gained two more levels in Eidolon of Violence as he terrified all the workers and even unnerved Balastion and the agents of the Intelligence Service while brutalizing rock and shaping stone.

It was an interesting skill whose implications he had yet to truly explore.

He had managed to brutally oppress and keep Wainroach’s very metaphysical notion of fire disabled. He could destroy the idea that an attack was even coming for him. Yes, he felt there were power limits and he might run into a wall if attempting to do something truly ludicrous… but just what were the limits to this?

If anything, he felt as though his imagination and conception was the limiting factor.

Something Kalemar Cosanox was striving to shore up.

“Alright Mister Wainwright. I have an entire list of suggestions from the philosophers’ college of Novar’s Peak. The monasteries of the Eastern Kingdoms also have a few suggestions, as do the mage-lords and dragons of Vylrystia,” the Vice-Director spoke. “We have approximately fifteen minutes before our arrival. Plenty of time to test entry number one on this list.”

When Balastion had assigned the man to him the thought had perhaps been that he’d be directed to new and intriguing avenues of training. Which was certainly the case, yes. But he hadn’t expected the Vice-Director to also have such an extensive suite of notes on him already.

The man had, from last loop, been carefully studying Orodan and put together a rather extensive dossier for Balastion to memorize and carry with him throughout the loops. Of course, now that he had drawn all of the alliance into the time loops, that middle step had been made irrelevant. Hence, the first emperor had assigned Kalemar to Orodan permanently.

“Have you been watching everything I do?” Orodan asked.

“Not everything. The wards upon the Vylrystian citadel are quite impregnable, and if you decide to dimensionally travel anywhere none of us are trained in that skill, even if efforts are being made to rectify that. Spatial travel between distances too extreme would also see us left behind,” the man explained. “But, we did begin our monitoring of you rather early via scrying eye orbs upon Mount Castarian, even if it was from a distance. According to reports you’re usually out of your hovel far quicker. Was there any-”

“Moving forward. It might be best if you avoid looking too closely into my home at the start of these loops.”

Kalemar didn’t look as though he understood, until he suddenly did.

“Of course. Our apologies,” the man quickly deflected, moving on.

“Anyhow. Entry number one?”

“Right. Mister Wainwright. See that horizon?”

“Aye. What of it?”

“Well. My sight cannot go beyond it… could you try helping me out?”

Orodan saw where this was going. Frankly, he hadn’t even considered such a ludicrous thought. Perhaps having this man along was quite a good thing.

His eyes closed as he focused. Not on a foe, or a target to destroy… but on the eyes of Kalemar Cosanox.

On the notion of his sight.

Immediately, he felt the thing personify, ready to be grasped, punched, cut or ripped apart.

“T-this is…! Hold right there Mister Wainwright!” Kalemar yelled and then gestured to two other operatives of the service nearby on the airship they were aboard. “Document everything! It feels as though my very sight is under the crushing weight of something horrible and terrifying.”

That didn’t sound nice. Orodan would have to keep that in mind for when he used the Eidolon on those not meant for combat.

“Now Mister Wainwright. Can you describe how it feels on your end?”

“As though but an erroneous twitch of my eyelid or a careless whisper from my lips would see you blinded despite having fully functional eyes,” Orodan clarified. “It goes without saying that I have no intentions of doing that.”

The man almost imperceptibly shivered but nodded. the other two operatives took furious notes too as their scrying eye orbs recorded the incident for cataloguing purposes.

“Thank you. Now… do you think you could expand my sight somehow?”

A good question for it was a matter Orodan would have to be careful about. Unlike Domain of Perfect Cleaning, Eidolon of Violence was a far lower level. It was also, by nature, a skill meant to harm. Intrinsically volatile to an extent.

“I would rather test such things on my enemies first, Kalemar. I do not know if it will harm you. Especially when you are a non-combatant.”

“That will be fine, Mister Wainwright. I have some basic combat training, but more than that… I wish to serve Novarria and the man who ensured my mind was my own again and brought me into the time loops,” the Vice-Director said, insistent.

Again, that strangely devoted loyalty he had seen earlier among some people. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Still, who was he to deny a man’s chosen course of direction when they knowingly chose it? He had warned Kalemar of the risks and could only now do his best to ensure the outcome was a good one.

Orodan had grown up fighting.

Violence was all he knew.

But perhaps… perhaps it could be applied in a more delicate manner than the typical brutishness he was used to.

As his hand shot out and practically enveloped the face of Kalemar’s now personified notion of sight, he did not rip or tear… but instead used his strength to guide it.

To expand it farther.

Immediately, the man let out a sharp cry of pain, but a rapid whip of the hand gestured that he was fine and that Orodan should continue. So he did.

Slowly, with controlled violence, he wrestled the man’s sight into expanding past its limits of comfort and normalcy. Despite the screams, despite the pain… he persisted because Kalemar did too.

And finally…

[Eidolon of Violence 92 → Eidolon of Violence 93]

…he let go, the man’s sight now expanded.

Kalemar let out a miserable groan and fell to his knees. The Vice-Director’s eyes were wide open but Orodan’s Vision of Purity told him that the signals from eye to brain were haphazard.

And right away it was apparent that he could not just wrestle permanent benefits into someone as the sight began reverting to its normal levels. It was just like when he’d suppressed Wainroach’s Fire Mastery directly with his grasp. It was not permanent and would require active effort to maintain.

But that did not mean there were no changes. The man’s sight reverted… but only almost to its normal levels.

Kalemar’s sight stabilized and the Vice-Director finally let out a laugh.

“Incredible! I can see so much clearer… is this how hawks perceive the world? Truly fascinating… as though a fly a league away is right before my nose.”

Orodan didn’t consider it a complete success. And it came with plenty of risks and pain for the recipient too. After all, Kalemar, being a powerful mind mage had a decent tolerance for pain. Furthermore, sight was connected to the mind, and mind mages with their strong minds were in a good place to receive any such forced improvements.

Regular civilians? Not so much.

But the skill could be improved. And so too could Orodan’s insights with it. And it looked as though the Vice-Director had many more entries to go through.

“Note down entry one as a success. Now for the second… an Eastern Kingdoms’ philosopher has asked whether you can beat a lesson into someone’s head.”

Interesting times and much testing of limits lay ahead of him.