Accidental Reaver

Chapter 218 - 217: Inheritence

Subdivided into three rune-branded categories on the Spire's solid framework were the names of the many who defended Sylen during the Tide. Even those who died, while they received no reward for obvious reasons, earned a spot in the memory of the Tower. Weak or not, unlucky or not, standing against flesh-eating horrors deserved a minimum of respect. D

Dual moonlight split between the Spire and ringed steps surrounded it. Tower Teams entered its depths, funneled by four entrances, one for each direction. All four saw foot traffic, plenty of it, all things considered. Teams usually composed of tier 2 hunters, with luckier ones sporting a tier 3 captain or otherwise a member in some capacity. City guards stood at each entrance, but they didn't stop anyone. A flashing purple crystal embedded at the top of the archway scanned each entrant with waves of ether.

The archaic symbols left the Silver-Black Tower, forming a rune twister as the Reaver approached the steps. Bits of dust and loose stone billowed into the air. Luke put an arm over his brows. Iona stood beside him, Lulu flapped away the environmental hazard for her master, and Sooty copied Lulu's idea. A stele that shifted acted akin to living stone, beheld thousands of names, with a ranking next to each one. The commotion gave pause to others about to enter the Tower, and a handful of the returned craftsmen in the vicinity. Their stores wholly occupied the nearest two rings of real estate that surrounded the Tower.

"Someone's about to claim their contribution reward. Think they'll show it off like some of the earlier claimants?"

"Hang on a second, that's Defier Luke, and Defier Iona. Didn't recognize him with the patient wear he's got on."

"Doesn't he have the highest position that's yet to be claimed already?"

"Sure does. Rumors were that he died while in recovery. Bullshit, as usual. The guy's an undying freak that runs on ice, blood, and artifact power."

"That undying freak staved off the Tide while judgmental civilians like you huddled up behind walls. Have some shame, or keep such thoughts to yourself."

A bombardment of voices harried anyone who had a negative opinion of any Defier, Luke, or otherwise. After they proved their purpose, any member's reputation skyrocketed. Public opinion shifted on a dime. Surely another event would transmute things to the norm, but for now, the usual discontent over the difference between treatment vanished. The support class or profession population was happy enough to see a return to peace. Their lower status in society hardly affected them currently on that high. The Tide uncannily reminded many of what they took for granted in life. Relative safety. Freedom from monsters. A way to pay for survival without putting their lives on the line daily.

Naturally, most enlightened beings prefer to avoid fighting. It's painful. Risky. Deadly. Emotionally taxing. And usually results in an early death when done for large enough strings of days in a row. The division in society predicated itself on scarcity. Whether it be your wealth, social connection, position, or, in this case, a person willing to fight against Tides and deadly creatures. Groups always organized, and thus, divided themselves.

When the dust settled, literally for the clouds, and figuratively for the crowd, Luke asked Iona about the stele some more. "How do we know the contribution is ranked fairly, anyway? Do these rankings mean much in the end?"

Scuffing her boot against the ground, Iona tilted her head, glimpsing the Silver Black Tower behind the newly formed stele. "It's considered impartial, but not perfect. Take it as a general indicator of the Silver Black Tower's sentience ranking on how 'important' you were in repelling the Tide. Scholars argue on the methodology. Ultimately, take what you're given. There's no arguing with a usually inanimate structure. Their meaning is a rough indication of where you stand in ability compared to the others that defended alongside you; that's all. It's by no means a ranking for everyone in the city during the Tide."

"Making it sound like the entire city wasn't involved. Did any group get out unscathed? Escaping the call to arms isn't exactly easy. The City Lord can't be all that easy to fool. I got a front row seat to what that woman is capable of."

"The Triad always finds a way to escape notice and crawl in their deepest holes underneath the Southern Quadrant. Nobles find their loopholes, deploy to less dangerous areas, holding back so the hunters with little choice rush past them. All the more burden to us, the eight Defiers remaining."

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. "People find a way. Privilege begets unfairness, and criminals already clash against the City Lord anyway. What's adding draft evasion to their rap sheet? Do you think a new one of us will rise from their feats in the Tide?"

"Maybe, but even if it happens, expect it to be some time. If an individual broke through to Expert in a technique, then I would've heard about it in these last five days. We're here for your benefit Luke. Go up and claim what's yours, you've got quite the crowd." Iona softly gestured with a palm. The curious onlookers swelled in number by the second.

Coming closer to the stone stele, Luke brushed a hand against it, unsure of the usual procedure to claim whatever the Tower had to give. Names formed and reformed on the stele like living words. Runes convey information with greater density than the written word, allowing more than enough room for the thousands of names.

The lion's share grayed out, a black mark denoted each, with Eldacar's name at the zenith of such names. Those who died would bask in the Silver Black Tower's remembrance for their sacrifice. Their names alongside the victors until a week passed. Luke wondered if Sylen set aside a burial site for those left with nothing to bury. More than one unlucky soul settled inside an Envoy's stomach, or became meat jerky shared between innumerable Tidal Monsters. Those blessed abominations damn sure chewed on the Reaver. He even got a look at one's stomach, filled to the brim with decomposing limbs, shocked heads, and submerged corpses.

Eldacar. The one to die with the highest contribution. You have my respect, fellow Defier. Rest well.

Above the thousands of names indicating the deceased, was a string of other names. Ranked in ascending order. The bottom rank in the tens of thousands, each illuminated more than the last. Changing in color to silver at rank 1000. Gold at rank 100. Platinum at rank 10. Finally, prismatic rainbow at rank 1. Luke scanned from the top. Call it ego, he expected to be near the top. Albeit, with an ancient human monster like Musai, any hopes of rank one were dashed. Think of the devil and he will appear. Rank one displayed proudly, with a small mark to indicate the prize allocated to them already claimed.

Musai Ioto, Tier 4, Rank: 1

Underneath that, another name etched in the brightest platinum runes, stubbornly called for equal attention.

Ophelia Cyrn, Tier 4, Rank: 2

In no rush, the Reaver casually inspected the rest of the top ten individually. Anyone who rose above the thousands of other combatants needed to be accounted for. Folks he couldn't take lightly, or at the minimum, to be taken note of. Musai and Ophelia, from what Luke understood, never really entered the Silver Black Tower. The rest to come could be possible competition or allies in the future.

Lorcan Pyrite, Hollow Tier 4, Rank: 3

Morgana Miel, Hollow Tier 4, Rank: 4

To this day, Luke wondered exactly how you advanced to an in-between rank like this. People said it came at a cost, and a drawback prevented any further ascension—within known means—but the details as to how eluded him. Thankfully, no other edge case like the two above appeared. Instead, a confirmed disaster came next. Luke already resigned himself to being in the grasp of this woman for a period to come, all pros and cons included in their odd working relationship.

Annika Clinis, Tier 3, Rank: 5

Aloysius, Iona, and Tanniv followed, in that order, taking up ranks 6, 7, and 8.

Do the Defiers use these rankings to determine pecking order when they're the same tier? Wouldn't surprise me.

Eyes wandering to the next name on the list, Luke restrained himself from smacking a palm to his forehead in stress.

Luke Wallace, Tier 2, Rank: 9

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

So that's why Iona mentioned the other tier 3 hunters wanted to challenge me. They have some new tier 2 Defier shitting on their records already.

Smugness battled against rationality and an ingrained humble nature. Flattened by the desire for more. The Reaver found himself unsatisfied and wondering what it took to surpass those eight firmly above. Luke performed well, but not that well. If the Tower gave him contribution from Ophelia's use of him as bait to kill off all the other Envoys, including the High Envoy Satyr, the rank started to make sense. Whatever the cause, the effect already happened. Lesus, Moniba, and another named Kalegos occupied ranks 10, 11, and 12. Reading the name proudly at thirteenth, he paused in wonderment.

Jovan Bloodtail, Tier 3, Rank: 13

"Jovan? This high even after being put out of commission before the Tide ended?"

Absent any tremors, rune stirring from the stele, and, no sign of his reward, the Reaver took a gander at the rest of the list, stopping at rank fifteen—the last name he bothered to mark.

Aruna Blackmoon, Tier 3, Rank: 14

Nenhara Lunai, Tier 3, Rank: 15

"Is this why she hasn't shown her face yet? Too embarrassed from being outdone? Wait. Tier 3?" Luke rubbed a temple. "Tier 3. Tier…3. You mean to say I'm still the lowest Tier Defier?"

Rather than deflating, the Reaver did various things to get the reward out of the stele. Others seemed content to let him struggle in schadenfreude. He succeeded eventually anyway. When Luke touched the rune containing his name, it flared a pitch black. A zap of pure energy entered the Reaver's soul. Followed by a feeling of relief, not from him, but the Tower? He must've been imagining things.

[The Silver Black Tower recognizes the legacy of one of its seven creators. Your reward has been altered. Part of the Inheritance left behind is given to you]

Inheritance? Of what?

Images rapidly ran like film. Pain spikes dug into the Reaver's brain. A drake accompanied avarice. Heterochromic eyes treated even regular god creatures as dust. Ghostly whispers coiled around Luke's ears. An imprint played over the creation of the legacy, its central concept, Greed, at the helm. Thirteen sages manipulated the laws of the world against its hegemony. Creatures of the deepest depths fed into seven black crystals.

Echoes of consumption, gluttony, greed, and evolution coalesced into the last Shard of Sin out of the seven, colored black and gold. Theft turned to plague, plague turned into destruction, and destruction into rebirth. Hunger pangs colored the Reaver's soul. The Greed Concept settled fully within. The playback stopped, and the fragments of the past shattered, gone without a trace.

Sweat dripped from the sides of Luke's cheeks. He inhaled the night air. Golden flecks danced in icy blue eyes, less transient, and turning into a permanent marker.

[Fragment of the Legacy of Greed imparted. The memories of the past guide the path to the future. Mysteries to the Greed Concept part easily to the last Inheritor]

Stumbling forward, Luke veered dangerously forward, about to face-plant into none too welcoming stone steps. Sooty flapped under him, shoving back. The little bird possessed far and away more strength than her size indicated. Forced upright, Luke felt fatigue in his soul. Iona put his arm over her shoulder, and the two walked to the Defier's Branch, parting the crowd around them. A few dissatisfied whispers traveled the air.

"No item? What did he get? Did he hide it somehow in front of us?"

"A knowledge reward, if I had to guess. The rarest kind the Tower hands out after a Tide, but considering the rank, it's to be expected." A t ier 3 hunter with a floating wind spirit behind him guesstimated.

Dragged further away from the Tower, the discussion faded into buzzing. The Reaver recovered slowly. Spiritual strain proved less responsive to the usual healing and vitality he came to develop.

Excited over the unexpected, Xera peppered Luke with questions. "What did you get, master? Was it tasty? Or anything good? Why did you start to fall over? Did the reward shock you with disappointment?"

Sooty swatted at Xera's crystal. "Hey! Feathers away from the crystal, you tyrant bird." Sooty tilted her head, bringing her beak close to the vocal crystal. "Okay, okay, I'll let master have some peace. I've been patient for five days, you know? Can you blame me for getting easily excited?"

Iona laughed at the incredulous dynamic before her. "You must have your hands full, Luke. Managing so many at once. Reminds me of when Timber and Lulu get into a rare spat."

"Grown used to it by now. Let them vent and establish independence. Need all four of them anyway."

"Four?"

"I count Whispering Tome as his own, despite the lack of language and lower sentience. He's still very much part of the group."

Whispering Tome hurriedly floated up and down, as if to agree.

Shooing off sets of people malingering around the pair with a glare, Iona took more of Luke's weight to hurry along toward the Defier's Guild. Partially worried about the disproportionate amount of stooges serving the criminal underworld getting the wrong idea, she led him into a portal building. Paying the fare, the group entered a portal that dropped them off into the closest preset point near the Eastern Quadrant's center. Making the short distance to the Defier's guild, the two of them entered inside, passing by the statues of the Defying Four. Ceridia's statue seemed to smile at the Reaver.

The Beastmaster dragged Luke along past the Black Arch entrance into the Defier's Branch. Servants attended, immediately offering their help.

"Defier Iona, Defier Luke. How may we be of service?" A head servant, an elf Luke recognized, Maris, spoke for the several servants awaiting any instruction.

"Set a medicinal bath in the relaxation floor below for Luke. He's amid recovery from his duties against the recent Tide. Bring food easy on the stomach as well."

Nodding sternly, Maris relayed more detailed orders on how to complete the task to the other servants. Each left to their sub-task. Soft light bled in from the roof above. Rugged paths divided the rest of the branch now, as the servants did some sprucing up since the last time the Reaver came here. After dismissing another maid who offered to help carry Luke, Iona sat the mind fatigued man into a plush chair in the back of the lobby room.

Lulu and Sooty hopped around other seats, flapping their wings for any spans too long for a normal jump. Going off into a game of their own again. Neither master of the bird pair seemed inclined to stop them, so the servants awkwardly cleaned after any mess the devilish duo left in their wake.

A drunkard came up. Aruna. Dense fluctuations rolled off the woman. The same type Luke struggled to rein in after a recent ascension. She slammed down a frothing mug onto the table between the two, while taking a seat for herself. Putting a leg over one knee, she grasped the same mug, apparently unable to wait any longer, and chugged it all back in one go. A slight blush covered parts of her upper cheeks, right under the black runes part of her skin. She stayed silent, yet glared at Luke. Iona was of no help, flashing a cheeky smile at Luke. The elf silently mouthed, 'She's been waiting for you.'

The Reaver killed the thought of hiding behind fatigue. Neither woman here lacked in perception. Defiers with such a weakness didn't last long. They could see through a thin guise like that. Greedily taking in a gulp of air, Luke cleared some of the haze he suffered from. A pounding headache throbbed behind each eye. Whatever the Tower imparted, it interfered with fine motor control—he trembled all over.

"Hit me with it, Aruna, why are you looking at me like that?"

"You know exactly," She started to point a finger in accusation, the threatening manner ruined by two hiccups. "Why! Urgh…What little brother bullies his sister like this? I want a refund."

"I haven't bullied anyone, Aruna."

"Yes you have! And don't you deny it. It was my moment, taking down two Envoys at once. Bait for that shitty City Lord, reaching tier 3 with all the accumulated merit as a clutch. I'd made it, a real Defier. Now I wasn't the runt of the family anymore."

Beginning to see where this charade wanted to go, Luke rubbed between his eyebrows, as Wayfinder chuckled beneath him. "Who says you're a runt, Aruna? You've been a real Defier since the day we met, at each other's throats."

"Duel me in the second arena, you shitty little brother! I have sisterly love to give you through fists and a drop kick or two." She burped, turning to Iona next.

"And you! Darn pretty elf with all the boy toys. Why are you so popular, huh? Is it the looks? Teach me Granular Control, it's like a better version of my technique. My pride can't stand it."

Threading a hair through her straight brown locks, Iona egged Aruna on. "It's hard to be so perfectly beautiful, Aruna. Love letters, undying devotion, needing to burn death threats to Luke every day from my most ardent admirers. Nothing an inexperienced little sister like you needs to worry about, I'm sure."

Did she just say I'm getting death threats? Huh, I never knew this whole time.

The red blush spread throughout Aruna's face. She glanced away in embarrassment. With another gulp of liquid courage, provided by a timely offering from a butler nearby, she recovered none the wiser. "I'm plenty pretty." Aruna zeroed her sights on Luke. "Right, little brother?"

"Why are you asking me? Aruna, are you upset I ranked a little higher? What brought this on?"

"Damn right I am! How did you do it? Kiss up the Tower Spirit? Get the last hit on a dying Diplomat?"

Leaning back further into the chair, the Reaver recounted events while following the floating flecks in the air visually. "By my understanding, it's probably a mix. Every single Tidal monster that came into the Western Front—I killed. Five Envoys, the same. Then I contributed to the ten plus the City Lord ended up slaughtering once I acted as a lure. She could've told me directly rather than leave hints."

Smashing a hand on the table, Aruna turned the unfortunate object into dust. "Who does she think she is? Taking advantage of my little brother like that, and me too? Those Sacrament fucks almost took out my entrails, Succoria's ass!"

"Right then, so no duel?" Lacking it on thick to assuage the family-con, Luke said the forbidden words. "I couldn't survive my big sister anyhow. She's a real Tier 3. What's a little guy like me to do?"

Aruna melted like a puddle, any trace of anger replaced by pure giddiness. She resumed a murmuring and drunk-happy state. 'I'm still a big sister.' Followed by, 'He needs my protection.'

Understanding the ploy worked, Luke refused any offered refreshments to the side.

Target neutralized. Operation weak little brother successful. Hopefully, she forgets all about whatever else is irking her, and I can get peace and quiet.

Outside of his calculations, such operations left Iona unaffected. The elf verbally jabbed at the Reaver. "Played her like a harp, didn't you? Are you going to use some sort of tactic to get into my good graces as well, when the bath is prepared?"

"What would I need to do that for?"

"Why else? I'm joining it, it soothes the spirit."

Very suddenly, Luke was reminded of the deviousness that often hid behind a wide smile and a pretty face. At least Wayfinder got a laugh out of it. His springs audibly coiled.

"You know what? Fine. Any reason you're sticking to me now? Not that I'm ungrateful for you taking me away from the crowd, but I'm returning to normal quickly. In another day, I should be set."

"To get you up to speed on what's happened ever since you took a five day beauty nap. Things are different, and many people want or demand your presence again, Luke."

"I never get a break, do I?"

"None of us do."