The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop

Chapter 112 - The War Council & Formal Duel

In contrast to the grand stature and titanic profile visible from outside, Glyphward Fortress was rather barren within. He’d seen it once before, prior to engaging and overcoming his set of death loops against the Mage, but the austerity within was something noteworthy all the same.

Orodan had seen the capitals and grand cities of various worlds. Xian, Lonvoron, X2 and even Druhmiyan in the hells themselves. All of these places had a level of… culture to them. Some sign that the place belonged to the inhabitants, little things which gave away their way of life. An aesthetic which told a story beyond just the visual.

Glyphward Fortress had none of that.

There were no murals, no specially designed furniture, no trinkets, books, art, music. Nothing.

Hells, even X2, the world of the Unity, had more robotic character to it than this place did. And the Unity were machine-beings!

He stood within the war room of Glyphward, and everything around him, from the walls to the table to the stools, were made of a sleek black stone which revealed nothing about its makers.

A gigantic map of the System, its galaxies and the cosmos outside of it was sprawled before him on an equally large table.

“A grand but soulless fortress, is it not?” a quiet voice spoke up from behind him. “The duties laid upon us are of an engrossing sort which leave scant time for furnishment.”

Orodan took in the features of the speaker. Skin paler than the white of a star when viewed from the void, and a tall lankiness to the Embodier which was covered by loose-fitting robes. All topped off by a hood of midnight obscuring the face. From surface-level appearances, the Master of Death, a being he’d seen on his last visit here, was not a combatant.

But a part of him refused to believe that, for the subtle danger sense which he’d had since his street rat days in Ogdenborough poked him sharply whenever looking at the being’s hands. Those were hands which were used to gripping a weapon.

He had heard that the Master of Death, was responsible for ensuring that the souls of the System’s casualties never left System space itself. An important task, especially prior to his takeover of the time loops, where if a soul was taken past the boundary it became irretrievable.

“The decor does inspire a sense of dull uniformity,” Orodan admitted. “Though I suppose my own home is no better.”

He hadn’t changed the furniture or bought anything to add to his hovel since he’d bought it. Just as the day-to-day of Glyphward left little time for such things, so too did his daily training leave him no interest in decorating what was, to him, just a place to sleep.

Back when he needed such things anyhow.

“None call this skeletal bulwark home, time looper, not even the Administrators. For those of us who are not among their ranks, our own duties and meditations beckon us attend them. Every moment spent here is a moment wasted in a service with little reward, but such is the price paid for the mutual defense of System space which harbors us all,” the pale Embodier spoke.

And though the Master of Death’s voice was icy cold and full of dispassion, Orodan felt those words carried much frustration beneath them.

“I suppose it’s fifficult to go about your business with Invaders and anomalies everywhere,” Orodan replied. “I was in the midst of my own endeavors as well when something got through a number of loops ago. I intend on ensuring that doesn’t happen again.”

He had slain Anomaly #3 and the alliance now had countermeasures for enemies which used memetic attacks, but that had still been a most unpleasant intrusion of foreign predators.

“A rather proactive time looper I see. Versus some of your predecessors I daresay the attitude is an… interesting one,” the Embodiment of Death spoke. “Mayhap you shall find more ails in need of remedying here at Glyphward. More than just the foes without, what is within at Glyphward may be of more pressing concern than you know. Be wary, Orodan Wainwright. For the truly powerful such as yourself, the dagger of consequences rarely ever comes from the enemy in front.”

Orodan’s eyebrow rose at that. Cryptic words from a cryptic being.

“I don’t do well with riddles and tongues. Speak plainly,” he directly said in return.

If being cryptic was the aim, then the Master of Death had chosen the moment well. For just as Orodan finished speaking did more people enter the war room.

A familiar zealot and an unhappy spellcaster came in behind the orc, as did a dwarf Orodan was familiar with and had battled in the past. The Prophet, the Mage, Azkar the War-Father and Kharadun Voidfortress. Two Administrators and two of the strongest Embodiers in all System space.

“Shepherd of the unfortunately lost, patient guide with a heart of frost,” the gigantic orc walking into the room spoke, addressing the Master of Death with a pleasant little rhyme. A contrast which was more than a little stark considering that the speaker was over sixteen feet of height while not even attempting to stand straight. “And Orodan Wainwright the time looper. Come to bring Glyphward out of its stupor.”

“Hmm… a warrior and a bard both. Impressive,” Orodan hummed in approval with a nod. He himself certainly had no talent for song, but could appreciate this sort far more than any frilly performance he’d ever seen put up in the noble functions of House Firesword.

“War and song go hand-in-hand, warrior. I am still working on composing what will come to be known as yours. Grezka-Thal the Celestial owes you a great debt. As does all of Azkar’s Gate for your role in repelling the assault tendril of Swarm-Lord Excrodatar’s hivemind.”

Excrodatar? Twice now had Orodan seen that name affiliated with Fallen Void Archons.

It was not Azkar, but one of the Administrators who spoke up. Specifically, one who had recently been the victim of kidnapping and then received a rather savage beating from Orodan’s companions. The Prophet looked better than it had right after facing Almyra, Zaessythra and Talricto.

And in a surprising move, the Prophet even gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement. In it, Orodan could sense no grudge off of the dogmatic Administrator.

“It is clear to see you recognize the last name. It is no secret… I and every other Fallen Void Archon within System space bear that name. A continual reminder of our roots, our lineage… the chains we were beholden to before the grace of provenance descended during the great formation and brought us into System space, liberating us,” the Prophet explained. “Excrodatar… a powerful Embodier. One of the Swarm-Lords of the Void Archon hive and their strongest.”

A bit rich to be speaking of former chains when the Prophet had merely traded one form of servitude for another. Orodan wouldn’t say he trusted the Fallen Void Archon at all. Even reformed, the Administrator’s loyalties lay solely with the Eldritch Boundless One. And prior to Edrosic’s artwork curing it of its madness? It was no different to the mindless drones of the Void Archon swarm he’d seen among the Invaders.

But… he supposed he did not detest it nearly as much in this liberated form of its.

“It’s an Embodier? I slew a number of them the last time I ventured past System bounds. Perhaps it was among those?” Orodan pondered out loud.

“Impressive, and quite helpful if you are to repeat such a feat, but no. Swarm-Lord Excrodatar controls the largest Void Archon hivemind in the cosmos. Excrodatar bears a particular grudge against System space for stealing a large portion of the swarm during the formative era. The lord of the swarm is not so easy to slay; in fact… you will find that they are not even a Void Archon of flesh and blood like you are used to.”

“The Prophet speaks truth. For long have we tried in futility, to catch the Swarm-Lord in an assault. The Warrior has even attempted to sally out in years past. All for naught. It is as wily and averse to engagement as it is dangerous at directing the coordinated armies of Void Archons we face,” Azkar added, stoic in his reminiscence. “I saw it once… briefly, thousands of years ago. I have never seen a thing like it… pure consciousness, no form of flesh, metal or even air. Just a shadow of thought passing over the arrayed armies of the enemy.”

“A craven then… or a very elusive enemy,” Orodan added.

“The line between coward and cunningly evasive is thin when the result is so lethal. Entire regiments of my children have perished fighting the hordes whenever the Swarm-Lord descends to take control. Their already deadly coordination turns hyper-effective whenever it assumes direct control of a commanding node,” Azkar elaborated. “Those Embodiers you slew? Mere parts of the swarm themselves.”

Which begged the question of why Orodan had never seen or felt the presence of this Swarm-Lord before. Unless… his display of what the Eidolon of Violence was capable of had caused it to wisely monitor from a distance rather than risk a direct engagement. From what these two were telling him of it, such cautious and assessing behaviour lined up with its temperament.

Still… what good was a commander without an army? Orodan wondered if he could cause enough casualties among the Void Archons that the Swarm-Lord would be forced to intervene.

“I see that look upon your face, Orodan Wainwright. Your mettle in defense of System space is admirable, but be warned… the Swarm-Lord is not without recourse in a direct confrontation nor would it be alone,” the Prophet warned. “It only ever emerges whenever Lord Talasgan attempts sallies, and in those moments it controls the most powerful of the Void Archons as a combat form, to fight as part of the Seven Tyrants.”

“The Seven Tyrants?” Orodan asked, though he had a feeling he had vaguely seen them last time even if he hadn’t gotten to meet them face-to-face.

“Seven of the most powerful Embodiers among the Invaders’ ranks. Be they their leaders, or merely their most powerful weapons we do not know. But they are dangerously powerful all the same,” the zealous Administrator clarified. “Even mighty Talasgan cannot beat all seven of them arrayed at the same time. In the days of yore, when we were less constrained and the Custodian was not bound to the thankless task of preventing the spread of the truth, we barely drove them off. Four of us to their seven, and even then it was a close thing. They have only grown more powerful since then.”

“For eons of siege did the sadist assail, its tyrants battering the boundary to no avail. Yet on the eve of the time loops’ capture, does the foe return with renewed rapture.”

The orc’s rhyme summarized the situation well. Orodan thought as much. Not all did however.

“If your attempts at waxing poetic were but a tenth the measure of your martial prowess, we might succeed in enticing the Invaders to our side, War-Father,” the Mage coldly remarked. “We have little time for such frivolities. While you rhyme words, our enemies amass in force beyond the boundary. Their battering ram, that black hole, draws ever nearer.”

“And if your magical skill matched a tenth of your obnxiousness, you might’ve bested me in our duel of magic,” Orodan interrupted, crossing his arms with undisguised contempt as he looked down upon Kalmiron.

“You are not a better mage than I.”

“But is combat not the critical part of being a mage? If another warrior were to best me in a fight, I would accept them as my better. Therefore, I am a better mage than you.”

“You…!”

“I bested you while throwing spells at you, thus I am your superior. Does this line of reasoning seem unsound?” Orodan asked, scratching his chin as though in great thought.

“Your churlish attempts at pricking my pride will not gain you the satisfaction of seeing my temper unleashed.”

“I have seen it unleashed once already and found it unimpressive. Try facing me while calm next time and you may yet reclaim the honor of calling yourself my better.”

Orodan didn’t actually think himself the better mage. That would have been delusional.

But he did enjoy mouthing off to this arrogant bastard and feeling the scoundrel’s hatred simmer underneath.

Of all the Administrators, he hadn’t thought it possible to hate anyone more than the Prophet. But Kalmiron, the Mage, had upended that assumption. The cur mistreated his own allies, acted exceedingly prideful and was now yet again mouthing off to another ally of his merely reciting a pleasant rhyme.

Perhaps a repeat of their duel was in order?

Just as the question crossed his mind, the doors on the opposite side of the war room flung open and the most powerful Administrator of them all walked in.

A presence which made the entire war room feel very small, as though a galaxy contained within a body had just arrived. The room itself felt inadequate for containing such a force of nature.

Talasgan. The Warrior.

“Kalmiron. Do not mock the War-Father so, he is a valued partner in the defense of our home,” the Warrior warned, and then the obsidian-skinned giant looked at him. “And Orodan Wainwright, such petty barbs are beneath a warrior of your caliber. We share aims; is this truly the time for such things?”

Orodan shifted his stance off-center from the Mage, showing that he was done with the matter.

“I am always happy to fight. If he can’t temper his mouth towards an ally of his then I’ll take that as an implicit wish to fight again,” he replied, and then grinned while giving the Mage a brief but predatory glance. “A wish I’m more than pleased to oblige.”

The Mage seemed more than a little angered at the direct challenge. But also… afraid. Good. Even with tricks involved in Kalmiron’s favor Orodan had solidly proven who the better was in direct confrontation.

“Peace,” Azkar firmly interjected, making a downward cutting gesture of denial with his hand and stepping between the two of them. “I am not so easily offended that I require you to defend my honor over mere words, time looper. Though the gesture will be remembered.”

Orodan settled down at that. As did the target of his contempt. Still, despite the cooling it was evident there would be no friendship between them anytime soon.

Yes, Talasgan and Kalmiron had their memories ferried over via Fenton’s orb. It was part of the agreement to work together that they’d negotiated the last time Orodan and company had made it to Glyphward. But the memories of an orb being transferred to him still didn’t mean the Mage liked him or vice versa.

The Custodian, despite being the reason for Orodan’s lot in life and his parents dying, was possessed of a strange sense of honor and honesty about the whole matter. That wound and grudge was still present, but some days he wondered whether he would even carry it out when the time came.

The Reject was a madman whose crazed violence was straightforward. He owed that lunatic his sword to the heart for killing Zhou Shan and W78 in a prior loop, but that was the extent of it. Life for life. The nutcase had helped him more than once, so there was that too. Which meant, at the very least, Xia deserved an honest warrior’s death.

And the Prophet, despite being a zealot… was not so bad once reformed. And Talasgan the Warrior had done him no ill whatsoever.

But of all these Administrators, none had a character he despised as much as the Mage’s.

Even though they were currently aligned, Orodan made no secret of his dislike for the cur. Similarly the ancient spellcaster wanted nothing to do with him; and if the non-reply to his challenge was any indication, Kalmiron knew how the outcome would go a second time.

“There are enemies enough for us all to do battle with beyond the bounds of this fortress,” Talasgan spoke, shaking his head. “Kalmiron, have your skills returned to normal?”

“Despite the most… underhanded ability used against me, they are functional once more,” the Mage answered, shooting a barely concealed glare at Orodan.

“A Celestial skill which can lay waste to one’s direct capabilities. Not so far removed from my own. It shall be a great boon when we take to sallying out against the foe beyond the boundary,” Talasgan spoke, looking at Orodan. “His skills are truly returned to normal?”

“He has nothing to worry about. I made sure to strike in a non-permanent manner in case he wanted another go at me later,” he replied. “And if his skills were so easily crushed by me… it was only because his insights into those were shoddy to begin with. It’s not as though I can simply eliminate someone’s most important skills on a whim.”

It would be functionally equivalent to slaying their soul outright.

Which exposed the real limitation of that avenue of attack. Just like how Orodan had skills he was absolutely comfortable with and were integral to him, so too did other people. His advantage in having his own System and the ability to turn off the flow from the central rune of knowledge meant that the overwhelming majority of his skills were earned the honest way. System or not, he knew how to fight, how to swing a sword, how to maneuver a shield and turn all that towards killing someone.

If someone removed every skill level he had, he would simply smile and run them through right after.

Kalmiron, in the skills Orodan had temporarily disabled via Eidolon of Violence, did not.

That being said, the Mage did have skills he was comfortable with. The skill levels and knowledge of which were woven deep within the soul core. In their recent fight Orodan had disabled fringe skills and the sudden shock of that alongside the relentless pressure he put Kalmiron under led to the Administrator’s defeat. Such a feat could not be repeated with the ancient spellcaster’s core skills.

Those dual black holes Kalmiron liked to conjure and that powerful spell dispelling ability seemed quite integral to the Mage’s skillset and self. If he wanted to target those? He would have to kill the Mage. For getting to that necessitated total destruction of the soul core itself.

It was nothing out of the ordinary. Someone attempting to eradicate Orodan’s own Celestial skills would have to do the same.

“Now then… I believe we are still missing a few important individuals,” Talasgan spoke. “Your companions are not yet here, Orodan Wainwright.”

“They shall be arriving momentarily,” he replied.

Which meant all they could do was stand there and wait.

Azkar and Kharadun were on opposite sides of the table. The dwarf had remained oddly quiet, a notable divergence from the headstrong and authoritative King of Kings he’d fought not too many loops ago. The Prophet and Mage were on opposing sides too, the both of them remaining silent. The Master of Death was off to the side, a few feet away from the individuals gathered around.

And Orodan and Talasgan were on opposing heads of the giant table.

The Warrior looked at Orodan.

Orodan stared right back.

Vaguely, he could sense that the others in the room were unnaturally quiet. And this staredown between the two of them might’ve been why. But here and now, Orodan tuned all of that out as his senses were fully occupied with the Administrator across the table from him.

Over fifteen feet of height with skin darker than volcanic obsidian. He was at a reach disadvantage then. Nothing which couldn’t be surmounted and then turned to his advantage in a grapple should the fight get much closer. Greatsword too… Orodan had fought those many a time, though this would be no Balus Mogram.

Talasgan’s eyes were scanning Orodan up and down too. And as the instants passed the severity and wariness in those orbs only intensified. Whatever the Administrator saw… he did not dismiss arrogantly.

Had the blood coursing through his form always rushed so quickly? And since when had he been smiling?

Orodan’s finger briefly twitched.

Talasgan’s arm briefly moved.

And the door to the war room swung open from the other end.

“Oy! Mister Orodan! Rather spooky lookin’ hollow you’ve brought us to eh? Plainer than a headsman’s shack!” Fenton loudly exclaimed while walking in, then paused and frowned. “It’s not even that hot in here… why’s the lot of you sweating?”

That snapped Orodan out of it.

He looked around to take in the rest of the room.

The Prophet, the Mage, Azkar and Kharadun… they were all guarded. And as his student had pointed out, the orc and the dwarf were indeed sweating.

The Warrior met Orodan’s gaze one more time.

That burning question between them remained yet unanswered.

This wasn’t over.

Almyra was under the same multi-spelled guise which Orodan had seen her in when they’d first met. One which gave absolutely nothing away about the owner’s identity.

Yes, Kalmiron had once stripped her of all illusory, concealing and misleading magics during their first battle many loops ago, but that she had them on meant his fellow time looper did not trust the inhabitants of Glyphward Fortress at all.

Perhaps she and the Master of Death saw more to the situation than Orodan himself did.

“Rein yourself in,” Zaessythra calmly spoke, looking at him. “We have numerous people here who are below the Embodiment-level. Such potent desire to do battle between you two won’t be pleasant for your students or Gregory.”

And speaking of Gregory…

“Rather sorry looking place you’ve brought me to Orodan. A lot of things here need some work before I’m satisfied with calling it presentable.”

Orodan pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

“I was under the assumption you were re-arming or restocking on supplies before returning to Glyphward. Why’re Fenton and Old Man Hannegan here?”

“Part of our agreement to help the Administrators combat the Invader threat,” Almyra spoke up, the Reject’s Mantle draped over her form yet perfectly molded to an aesthetic of her choosing. “You did not think we would simply go chasing after you into battle like wolves following the pack leader? The enemies outside are dangerous, your information on them proves as much. To that end, certain key personnel from the alliance have come to provide logistical support.”

“Who asked you to do that? I was in fact hoping to charge out by myself again-”

“Denied.”

“Absolutely not.”

“No.”

Spoke Talasgan, Almyra and Zaessythra simultaneously.

“The enemy Boundless is involved,” Zaessythra cautioned. “We’ve been over this Orodan. Any battles of an extreme nature where you’re forced to use it… and Incipience of Infinity may just reach the peak of Embodiment. From there what shall happen, we do not know, but given all the trouble the concept of Infinity has caused you thus far… it cannot be anything good.”

A fair reminder and why he had waited in this war room at all. He couldn’t risk either Incipience of Infinity or Domain of Perfect Cleaning from reaching level 200 before Eidolon of Violence got stronger. It was no more than an instinctual hunch deep in his gut, but something in him knew that if that occurred… disaster awaited.

And a fight against that evil Boundless beyond System space meant his highest level Celestial skill would doubtlessly be involved. Both Infinity and Cleanliness reaching the peak of Embodiment while Eidolon of Violence yet remained at Transcendence would be a calamity scenario. Orodan did not know how, but in this he trusted his instincts.

“Well then, I suppose we have some assistance in our preparations. Glad to see you haven’t brought the rest of my disciples here though. Strong as Zukelmux is, he isn’t going to fare very well against the threats outside,” Orodan spoke. And of course, Aliya and Wainroach weren’t yet anywhere near that level of combat either. “But no Edrosic? A good opportunity for him to gain some experience in drawing is it not?”

“Edrosic is quite exhausted. We felt it best he remain behind,” Almyra replied, monotone.

Odd. Parthus wasn’t fond of fighting, but the chance to experience new things and see some novel sights for drawing wasn’t something his fellow militia man would turn down even if tired.

Hells, only time he recalled the lazy artist being tired after drawing was when sketching something to help reform the Prophet. And the man had only gotten better at the skill since.

Just what had he drawn that had him so exhausted?

“Enough of this farce. Talasgan, never before have we allowed those bereft of Embodiment into this sanctum. Not since the System’s formation has this occurred! You defy all known norm and tradition in doing this! What’s more… to have an agent of the enemy within these walls… it is outrageous!” the Mage interjected with force as his finger pointed right at Zaessythra.

“Agent of the enemy?” she repeated back. “We come in peace offering to aid in your battle against the invading foe and you declare me one of them? A poor lackey of theirs I must be.”

Even the Prophet seemed quite uncomfortable at the prospect of it when looking at her.

“Duty bids we unite in our charge to safeguard the sanctuary given unto us by our creator. Long as our aims align, I do not see any harm in allowing those who have not achieved Embodiment into the sacred walls of Glyphward. But this creature… I have felt her wicked power when she did battle with me. It is not of the System, it is distinctly foreign,” it spoke and then maintained a wary gaze towards Orodan and her. “Time looper. Your soul is a blank canvas. In some aspect, it unnerves me more than any other’s, but at the very least the question of enemy influence can be ruled out. But hers… it bears the mark of our most hated foe.”

The sadistic Boundless One. One half of the power used in the reforging of her very being, and likely the source of these strange new abilities of hers which he still hadn’t questioned her on.

“Save you, Orodan Wainwright, the souls of us all are touched and intrinsically marked It who resides at the very center of System space. Our Eldritch shepherd who created and empowers System space,” the Master of Death spoke, his chill voice cutting through the argument. “Hers bears the mark of the enemy invading us. Do you understand why we may have concerns? As we speak she could well be an agent of theirs, sent to infiltrate us. If you wish to assist us in battle, we would have you. But not with her in accompaniment.”

Orodan frowned. His heart was taken by her, but that did not blind him to the fact that the words of Glyphward’s inhabitants held logic in them. Yet, there was one fact they were neglecting to mention.

“If the enemy Boundless’s influence over her soul concerns you… then the influence of the Eldritch Boundless too should assuage you, no?”

“Explain,” Talasgan demanded.

“Zaessythra is originally of the System,” Orodan revealed. “She is not some foreign thing I have dragged inside and made part of the time loops. She is of my galaxy, from the world which is sister to my own. One she ruled over as World Conqueror. Her soul was destroyed a long time ago, by the very enemy you claim she is under the influence of.”

“It is impossible for her to be standing here then. Boundless are the only beings we know of which can destroy souls completely. And when that occurs… there is no hope of recovery,” the Master of Death argued. “What you have could well be some imitator, an imposter forged by the foe which assails us.”

“That would be a reasonable concern… if it was not my own hand which reforged her.”

“…true soul genesis?” the Prophet asked, eyes wide. “It is… possible?”

“An outrageous claim! To perform genuine genesis of a soul would require the power of-”

“A Boundless One,” Orodan interjected and finished for Kalmiron. “Two Boundless Ones in fact. The sadist beyond the boundary… and the Eldritch Boundless One residing at the center of System space. At the end of the last long loop, when the two of them clashed… the conditions were sufficient for true soul genesis with me at the center stabilizing the environment. You claim she is of the enemy… but what of the mark she bears from your Eldritch patron? The picture is not as clear-cut as you assume.”

Silence greeted his revelation.

The Administrators all seemed to be grappling with his words, uncertainty across their faces. Talasgan looked as though veering towards pragmatism. The Prophet, conflicted. Kalmiron still looked hostile and unfriendly, but it was good to know where you stood with someone.

Azkar and Kharadun were not exactly trusting, but seemed willing to accept the matter. And the Master of Death held an expressionless face.

“We argue over receiving aid from an additional Embodiment-level fighter while the true travesty occurs right before us,” Kharadun suddenly spoke up, his eyes full of barely restrained anger as the dwarf glared at Almyra. “The Administrator’s Mantle belonging to the Reject. Hand it over. It does not belong to you.”

“No.”

The tension in the room thickened, hands looked just a bit more ready to whip for weapons or spells, and Orodan smiled as he realized Almyra was beginning to take after his school of diplomacy.

“Hold your ire, Kharadun Voidfortress,” Talasgan spoke up. “Kalmiron and I yet retain our memories granted by that orb device. We did reach an agreement to allow her to retain possession of that Mantle. Something we would not have at all without her deciding to bring it to us. Now, whether that means she will step forth to claim the position of fifth Administrator… that is a different matter.”

The dwarf did not look willing to accept it however.

“An Administrator’s Mantle, a combat-specialized one, given away through some closed door trade? Pathetic. I question the legitimacy of you Administrators if this age of weakness and politics if what you’ve stooped to. I reject your backroom schemes and petty deals,” Kharadun spat with hostility and then pointed his axe at Almyra. “In the hands of a weakling mage who I could break in moments , that Mantle would be wasted. You; fight me.”

Talasgan looked ready to step in, but Orodan made eye contact with the Warrior and shook his head.

If Almyra was going to negotiate a deal which ended with her having an Administrator’s Mantle, then she needed to be strong enough to handle any dissenters to the agreement. This was her matter to handle. And by the looks of it… she was no longer as averse to head-on conflict as she was eight-hundred loops ago.

Time spent training with Orodan had caused her to see the value in his mindset.

“I accept. I shall even divest myself of my Mantle for it. But me taking on such a risk will not come so cheaply,” she replied sternly, “If I prevail, you shall grant me access to that void fortress of yours. Its inner secrets intrigue me.”

The King of Kings was not a fool when it came to making deals. One did not build wealth and strength enough to survive the full wrath of the Administrators by being hasty in making decisions. The dwarf’s eyes narrowed in calculation as a range of assessments went through his eyes. But the allure of getting an Administrator’s Mantle won out in the end.

“Agreed, and let it be witnessed by all,” the dwarf assented, though looking far more cautious now. Perhaps Almyra’s easy acceptance of the challenge had him reconsidering how strong she truly was? “After this war council, we shall have our duel.”

Right, a war council. Something Orodan had quite glaringly not bothered waiting for the first time he’d made it inside Glyphward. But with the threat of Domain of Perfect Cleaning or Incipience of Infinity reaching the peak of Embodiment… he couldn’t afford to rashly charge out into enemy ranks any longer.

Talasgan shook his head.

“Then… our affairs are agreed upon with no further objection,” the Warrior spoke, scanning the room. “I believe we are waiting on just one more. Our keenest eye.”

They didn’t have to wait overlong.

The last entrant to the room did not enter through any set of doors, but instead through a hole in the ceiling.

A gigantic floating eyeball, with numerous tentacle appendages floating off the rear. Orodan remembered this odd individual well.

“Identifier apologizes for rudely keeping audience waiting. Identifier notices that Administrators are present, and time looper who created this whole mess is present. Good, time looper may take responsibility for current state of disastrous affairs. Rude time looper, causing unprecedented invasion.”

What else could Orodan even do but take that accusation? The giant floating eyeball was not wrong.

“Identifier, come, we await your report. What has your eye seen beyond the boundary? Has our enemy moved since?” Kalmiron asked, setting aside his obvious objections to Zaessythra, Fenton and Old Man Hannegan’s presence.

Orodan heard a cough and saw Fenton drop to a knee, clutching his head.

“Gah! Don’t look into the eye ser!”

The Mage simply sneered with contempt.

“For the less stern of mind present, be warned here and now that staring at a Beholder is an ill-conceived act. Doubly so for a rare variant of the species as the Identifier is,” Kalmiron elaborated once, not seeming at all like he wanted to do it again.

Orodan wasn’t sure what a ‘Beholder’ was. The closest thing he could think of was one of the gate guardians of his homeworld, a giant floating creature with a singular eye and many tentacular appendages. Though it had a mouth, while this giant eye did not.

“If enchanter child is done gawking at Identifier, and Mage is done berating enchanter child, perhaps Identifier can give report of findings, yes?” it asked and then wiggled its tentacle appendages around the table, moving certain pieces into place and in a move which caused brows to furrow… adding new ones. “New developments spotted since the arrival of the rude time looper. Additional Void Archon swarms moved into place, black hole moving closer, seven tyrants’ activity increased, moon devourer numbers increased. Rude time looper brings even more trouble.”

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“That is… a lot of enemies,” Orodan remarked, looking at the map upon the table depicting System space and its boundaries. “They seem rather concentrated near where Glyphward Fortress is too.”

“In ages past, this fortress had the advantage of being invisible if submerged within the boundary itself. Predators coveting the System possessed no means of telling where along the boundary we would emerge for a sally or offensive strike of our own,” Talasgan explained. “But now… ever since Xia’s fall, the enemy has found a critical tell, exploited ruthlessly by one among the tyrant seven who is capable of seeing these things. Furthermore, they force us to remain here and defend with that black hole of theirs.”

Zaessythra’s finger tapped the large obsidian piece symbolizing the black hole on the map.

“The centerpiece of the Invaders’ offense. Their anchor, their battering ram which threatens to knock down the gates,” she identified. “We cannot even move the fortress and strike with deception from elsewhere lest they simply press harder upon the boundary in our absence. The breaches in the boundary caused by the time loop’s irreversible changes do not help matters…”

A black hole, harnessed, controlled and slowly advancing towards them, with a hostile army guarding it. Worst of all, even if the black hole was ignored, the numerous breaches in the System’s boundary caused by Orodan’s tampering with the time loop didn’t help either.

He recalled the words of Alovardo Balmento on the matter.

“The numbers speak clear. They say there have been quite a few… external breaches.”

A warning given in that madman’s typical fashion not long after Orodan had irrevocably changed the nature of the time loops forever. And even before that, back when he had taken control over the loops himself and empowered them so much that they encompassed the greater cosmos too… that Eldritch-infected lunatic had warned of internal breaches then as well.

It was evident then, that the System was not normally like this. The price paid for tampering with the time loops was clear. Severe holes and gaps in the boundary between the Eldritch Boundless One and the inhabitants of System space, and openings in the boundary between the sadistic Boundless One and System space. In both cases, the innocent residents of Orodan’s home suffered. Like meat caught between two carvings of bread.

Without Orodan interfering with the loops there would never have been internal breaches keeping the Custodian as occupied as he was. And without him adding ten-thousand loopers to the time loop there never would have been all these external tears in the boundary through which predators and Invaders could come through.

It had been less than a day since the loop started. From the Administrators’ perspective, the boundary suddenly suffered dozens of internal and external breaches. Anyone in that situation would be desperate to prevent enemies from slipping through. Little wonder Anomaly #3 had gotten through and wreaked the havoc it had in that loop where he’d attempted to bring W78’s creators back.

“A true apocalypse,” the Prophet spoke. “If we are to stand any chance of victory… it shall be by working together. With my mind restored, Xia’s Mantle recovered and the time looper and his allies on our side perhaps we may yet attain victory. Orodan Wainwright, we have had our… differences, in these past loops of yours. To make excuses would be to dishonor my lord who has given me freedom from the hive, thus I will not. I was misguided then, and you bear all the right to resent me for it. But I ask now… will you work with us to defend our shared home?”

Orodan’s answer…

…was to draw his sword and drive it right through the black hole at the center of the map.

The Prophet and he shared a look of understanding.

“Then let us begin,” Talasgan spoke, sharply whipping his arm at map, causing certain pieces to glow and the entire thing to shimmer like a lake, shining with depth despite looking like mere paper. It allowed for a three-dimensional view of the war situation. “Listen well, all of you. Our sanctuary, our home, is under siege by the forces of the Great Horror. It is a Boundless One, just as that which empowers the System we all use is also a Boundless One. It has orchestrated the advance of a bound black hole towards our defenses, which if allowed to reach… would shatter the boundary entirely and allow it to directly enter System space. Time looper or no… if that occurs and the Great Horror successfully reaches the System’s interior… no loops will save you if the mechanism within is destroyed.”

That lined up with what Orodan had seen too. Even during his more recent grand change to the loops, the sadistic Boundless One, known as the Great Horror, had gleefully pounced upon the opportunity to hop along the connection created by the ancient machine to enter the bowels of System space.

He remembered its words to the Eldritch Boundless One too.

“Brother of mine… willingly imprisoned all to be rid of me… return and embrace our union.”

With or without Orodan and the shifts he’d caused, the Great Horror had some twisted reason to pursue the Eldritch Boundless One. And unfortunately for everyone else, System space and its inhabitants were in the way as collateral. A collision which swift approached now that the boundary was so riddled with holes.

Certain pieces on the map began glowing.

“Moon devourers. The enemy stole the System’s designs on how to make world cores. Without the guidance and safeguards that world cores within System space have these monstrous things are the result. Worlds more interested in devouring life and keeping mere carrion filth upon their surfaces than growing anything. The enemy’s forward screen, littered throughout the deep void before we can even reach their black hole.”

“Is stealth not an option?” Zaessythra asked.

“Remaining hidden in the deep void with nothing else around is difficult. The hunger in those aberrations necessitates they become adept at sensing any beings of flesh and blood for thousands of miles,” the Prophet answered.

But if that was the case… would beings who possessed not a whit of flesh and blood not work? Orodan knew several who would qualify, though developing their stealth abilities would take time.

“The moon devourers are irksome, but ultimately non-consequential. It is the main bulk of the enemy force which has harried our attempts to strike at them,” Talasgan spoke, gesturing and causing the largest number of pieces to begin glowing. “The Void Archon swarm. If a race of natural spellcasters with multiple arms was not deadly enough, they also function as a hive-mind and can be directed to lethal effectiveness when the Swarm-Lord descends to assume direct control.”

A Void Archon. The true natural state of the Fallen Void Archons Orodan had seen within System space. Even an individual Void Archon was a frighteningly good spellslinger. Multiple arms, naturally generous mana pools and minds used to multitasking by virtue of having six arms to coordinate meant that the humanoid spellcasters wasn’t a match for them one-to-one.

From the briefings Orodan had been reading prior to this war council, it was the Void Archon hive which presented the single greatest bulk threat to the defenders. The Void Archons he’d annihilated in the Crimson Sink Galaxy while aiding the orcs had been but a small part of the overall hive belonging to Swarm-Lord Excrodatar. And Orodan’s own foray beyond the boundary last time had also confirmed that they had plenty more in waiting.

Barring solitary forays by powerful individuals, any assault by conventional forces was doomed to fail in a headlong charge. The deep void was after all, massive.

“A lot of distance to close while under fire…” Orodan muttered. “I can see why the orcs nor the dwarves of Kharadun Voidfortress have charged out.”

Covering that much empty void to get to the enemy’s black hole would be suicide for any force composed primarily of warriors. And the Invaders had gross superiority in overall spellcaster quantity and perhaps even quality, dependent on how powerful this Swarm-Lord was.

However, it was Almyra’s hand which came down upon the table, cutting into the topic of discussion.

“The perfect opportunity then, for the Alastaian alliance to provide an edge which your existing forces lack,” she declared. “The Swarm-Lord’s dominion over the void has not been contested by Blackworth gunnery ships nor Vylrystian half-dragon troops. You will find, Warrior, that allying with us has many benefits beyond having Orodan Wainwright on your side.”

“A conveniently timed offer. Your maneuver to gain more influence in the hopes of swaying our minds regarding the Mantle is apparent,” Kharadun icily spoke.

“This offer will stand regardless of what occurs during our duel, Kharadun Voidfortress,” the previous looper calmly replied. “Neither shall influence the other. Your defeat at my hands shall soon lay this insulting notion to bed.”

The dwarf’s face twitched at that response, thirsty for battle. As for him, Orodan held full faith in Almyra. He had seen what she was capable of now.

The grueling training she’d put herself through alongside him, the loops where she too had fought the Mage and experienced death after death? It was so far removed from the sort of looping she’d done in her own time loops that it was a shocker to see. But something in the normally reserved and calculating woman had clearly changed after the first three deaths in combat against Kalmiron.

Whatever it was, it had lit a fire under her the likes of which Orodan could respect.

“A bold offer, shrouded one,” Talasgan replied. “It has been but a day since the breaches appeared, and slightly less since the Invaders began their assault. Your arrival to this fortress was less than half an hour ago and each second which passes is of critical importance. The question is not whether we would welcome your forces, but whether your troops could reach us in time to make a difference.”

“I will make no secret of my skepticism of you and yours, time looper. Yet I would welcome any reinforcements in a heartbeat,” Kalmiron spoke up. “Do you assume that we have not tried summoning aid? That every call, summons and dispatch was not sent out? We have done all of that and more. Beacons have been lit across all corners of System space… but those who would witness them are beleaguered themselves. The War-Father’s orcs and the King of King’s dwarven mercenaries are the only forces currently near enough to reach us in time. The rest are too far or too preoccupied with saving themselves.”

A grim picture. If this was the hand they had been dealt then so be it, Orodan would personally-

“That will not be a concern,” Zaessythra spoke up, causing Orodan’s brow to furrow upward. She gestured towards Old Man Hannegan and Fenton Penny. “With the help of these two and a few others, our teleporter is capable of moving the entire army of our alliance to Glyphward Fortress in less than an hour.”

“…since when?” Orodan asked, surprised. “Weren’t they invading Narictus all this time? They have nothing to do with a battle of this nature.”

“Orodan…” Almyra muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose through the shroud she wore. “You’re the central time looper, but the alliance isn’t exactly sitting around pawing dirt like a pack of lost puppies waiting to follow you. Work on the grand teleportation array has evolved over the past eight-hundred loops. Just as you have gained in power, as have they. This sortie to Glyphward has been in the planning for many loops now. We were hardly about to let you go charging off alone without any support.”

“And might we ask how many troops and of what levels you shall be bringing?” the Master of Death asked, in that voice which sounded like unliving personified. “It is… unprecedented, to have such a large unvetted force in this ancient fortress.”

“Enough of both, that you may be assured of,” Almyra coolly answered.

“A suspicious non-answer,” Azkar remarked. “With the Void Archon assault repulsed, the Crimson Sink is ready to provide twenty-thousand of our finest. Kharadun and his mercenaries, eleven-thousand. We are allies, why do you obscure your numbers as much as you do your face? You demand the Mantle, you ask to bring your own troops inside, and you have yet to reveal your true intentions. Orodan Wainwright, is this the sort of schemer you associate yourself with? I would rather speak to you than this magically shrouded ally of yours who deals in obscurities and half-truths.”

Talasgan’s sharp arm gesture cut through the air. And most inexplicably, also cut through the argument itself, causing both Azkar and Almyra to flinch as though the spark of confrontation within the two had been extinguished.

That was certainly a Celestial skill. Orodan felt his own Eidolon flare instinctually, almost as though offended that a rival was present.

“Our eye should be upon the enemy, not ourselves. War-Father, I hope you shall not be offended if I ask you to overlook our newest allies’ peculiarities. In a time of such grim calamity desperation necessitates we avoid scrutinizing a generous offer of aid too closely. And you… guised one, ally of Orodan Wainwright, we shall welcome whatever aid you can bring within the hour starting now,” Talasgan spoke and then looked down at the map. “The Moon Devourers, the Swarm-Lord’s forces, the seven tyrants and that damnable black hole which draws ever nearer, heralding our doom. And if we delay any longer in sallying out, the enemy will concentrate more and more force with their greater numbers and find numerous ways through all the breaches. A bleak tactical situation… Identifier, was there anything else you saw?”

“Identifier sees nothing else. Well… not true. Sneaky things which enjoy looking at Identifier from deep void also moving towards boundary,” the gigantic eyeball answered. Those could only be Anomalies. “And… religious group. Priests, priestesses… Identifier does not know what they pray about.”

A religious group? Some sort of enemy Avatar or Chosen? Perhaps the Invaders had their own version of Gods? An odd thought, when the only sort of divinity Orodan knew of was that manufactured by the System and kept bound for its own purposes.

“Unfortunately, that is the extent of our knowledge on that front,” the Prophet spoke up as though sensing the question upon Orodan’s face. “Our sanctuary has ever been under threat since its inception. Accordingly, our chances to venture outwards and learn about the greater cosmos are nonexistent. Whether these are apostles of the enemy or not, remains to be seen.”

“Of course, Identifier should not need to remind Warrior of the presence of the seventh tyrant among the enemy,” the floating eye warned.

“Ah yes… the traitor himself. I believe he shall have quite an eye out for you, Orodan Wainwright,” Talasgan said. “You did after all, clash blades with him recently.”

Nothing else needed to be said, for that could only be one person.

It seemed Xia, the Reject, was in league with the Invaders.

He was the seventh tyrant.

#

Glyphward had an inner ‘courtyard’ of sorts, which was really just an endless void whose construction Fenton, Clyburn and Destartes had begged to be allowed study of. Orodan and Talasgan were on one of the viewing balconies of Glyphward, Zaessythra was on another, opposite them. This inner void was an ideal arena and where the current duel was occurring, all while the steady trickle of Alastian alliance forces, orcish and dwarven troops entered as the minutes passed. A final conglomeration of whatever hastily assembled forces could be gathered before time necessitate they act.

Old Man Hannegan was likely somewhere directing work crews to more optimized results, and King Alstatyn was still directing the alliance’s voidcraft to enter through the portal the grand teleportation array of Alastaia had created.

Little time as they had, the waiting before a battle was universally seen as one of the most tense times. And what better way to bide it than by spectating the duel for ownership of the Reject’s Mantle?

“You keep impressive company.”

“For the longest time, I had none. Save a dusty old book of course. But it took me a while to realize my love for literature,” Orodan replied, glancing at Zaessythra on the balcony adjacent to theirs.

Said impressive company was currently dismantling her opponent systematically in the deep void while most of Glyphward’s inhabitants watched.

Talasgan seemed taken aback, but this outcome was of no surprise to Orodan himself. Almyra’s ability to generate and use clones of herself was a real problem for most. The Prophet, she had even bested a few times by now before Orodan even made his way to Lonvoron. Among those at Glyphward, in a head-to-head, perhaps only the Mage and Talasgan could beat her as she was now. And for the former, it was getting to be a very close thing by the time Orodan had successfully beaten him. With Mantle in hand, she was not too far off from Kalmiron.

Eight-hundred loops ago, that wasn’t the case. But now? Kharadun Voidfortress was learning the hard way why a clone specialist mage was a nightmare matchup for him. The dwarven King of Kings was a fearsome warrior in melee, durable, mighty and ferocious. But with a far more limited toolkit for mobility and ranged assault, the dwarf was beginning to feel the innate weaknesses of his style of fighting.

A barrage of spellfire caused the silent canvas of the deep void itself to quake. One thousands pairs of hands from a thousand clones, each of them shrouded in illusory magics. Yet, Kharadun Voidfortress was neither stupid nor incompetent. Reaching the Embodiment-level was no small feat and the dwarf had surely fought countless mages during his ascent to power.

This was evident in how the dwarf’s eyes glimmered with some strange light, and Orodan felt the metallic walls of Glyphward subtly vibrate, alongside the assortment of metals, earth and gemstones he held in his dimensional storage ring.

Some manner of rock sense? How would that help?

The answer made itself clear when Almyra suddenly stilled, or rather, her main body did.

His senses were fine enough to feel it, but Orodan’s new Genesis of Life skill in particular let him get a good grasp of the life flowing through everyone and everything. And with it, he saw Almyra’s blood begin to subtly tremble.

Specifically, the metal within it.

“Found you!” Kharadun roared as the dwarf closed the distance with impressive speed. In a straight line, the King of Kings was quick indeed.

Orodan’s eyes narrowed.

“Blood bending?” he asked out loud.

Still, Almyra did not look distressed or in pain leading to Orodan concluding that it did not seem like the blood bending he knew.

It was Talasgan near him, spectating alongside, who answered. “Ground Commandment; A Mythical skill. A step beyond its lesser, Earth Communion which is merely Legendary.”

Merely? What was ‘mere’ about Legendary-rarity? His own Wood Communion skill was so. The very notion was just…

Orodan shook his head and kept his mouth shut about his ‘mere’ Wood Communion skill. He finally understood how people felt when he spoke about his Celestial and Mythical skills as though they were standard.

Brushing aside the blow to his pride, there was no denying the fact: Ground Commandment was a powerful skill. That a level of control beyond communion existed was news to him. And evidently, the commandment version encompassed a far greater scope of control than its lesser sort.

Ground, not earth. What was within the ground? Not just earth, but metals, precious stones. Iron of course, was under that. And the blood of most creatures contained it. Little wonder the dwarf was able to differentiate between Almyra and her clones. The King of Kings was sensing the very iron within her lifeblood in the midst of combat.

Impressive. Even more so when he realized that the dwarf made no move to press such a skill harder by assaulting Almyra’s very blood or whatever other minerals were present within her body.

It was far from an omnipotent skill, and Kharadun would need to overcome Almyra’s sizeable mana and soul energy pools before being able to freely do such things. Yet despite the new avenue of potential attack the dwarf had chosen not to press it.

“Arrogant,” Almyra icily hissed. “Your pride in refusing to utilize that skill of yours to its fullest will spell your most-certain defeat today.”

In response, Kharadun Voidfortress simply grunted; an offended and dismissive noise.

“Warriors don’t use mage tricks. Either I prevail with my axe, or falter with it.”

Zaessythra not too far off, rolled her eyes.

She was more the pragmatist than he was. She wouldn’t understand. Not like Talasgan beside him did. The two of them were smiling in response to that declaration.

It was warrior pride, pure and simple. Orodan could not fault the dwarf for it when he himself insisted on such things. Almyra would call it inefficient. Zaessythra would tell him to focus on victory first… but Orodan would not have gotten to where he was today without it.

His eyes returned to the battle as it progressed.

Kharadun was fast, ruthless, brutal and violent. An ideal warrior. Against most other mages, seeing through their clone trick and identifying their real body would be the end of the matter.

Two years of training was nowhere near enough to allow a spellcaster to bridge the gap against a warrior who’d been training all their life. The speed gap was just too much… without magical tricks.

And the dwarf was facing no ordinary mage.

Kharadun was facing a mage who had spent the past two years’ worth of loops intensively training and sparring with Orodan Wainwright.

At the start of each loop before he delved into his training, Orodan bullied Almyra.

Before setting off for his fights against Kalmiron, Orodan bullied Almyra.

And sometimes, the very moment they met at the beginning of the next loop, Orodan bullied Almyra.

All that bullying had the upside of giving the previous looper access to one of the strongest warriors in System space. It was something she’d never bothered to properly delve into before, nor had good access to in the Blackworth Collective.

A mage who was good at casting spells was one thing. But a mage capable of that and then also familiar with how warriors moved on top of it? A deadly combination. And Orodan’s quality of martial instruction was, at a conservative estimate, quite good. After all, sparring with a warrior better than Kharadun Voidfortress for eight-hundred loops counted for a lot.

A nearby clone glimmered, and suddenly Almyra’s main body had switched places with it. Kharadun’s greataxe swings connected with substanceless void instead of their target.

“A wily little mage you are. You don’t move like most of your spindly sort,” the dwarf spoke as his opponent evaded and barely stayed ahead of each strike before the next came in.

Orodan hummed approvingly as his eyes picked up on exactly what the mechanism of her movement really was. All her clones were tethered to one another, and she was spatially hopping between them at rapid speed via these connections. A move which would’ve presented some serious vulnerabilities against a peer spellcaster such as the Mage or this Swarm-Lord he kept hearing about, but against a warrior whose primary toolset was close-quarters violence? A different matter.

Still, Kharadun was no stagnant bull to be led around a corral in a planned dance. The King of Kings was a warrior, and any good warrior worth their salt knew the basics of feints, cutting off angles and closing distance in strategic ways. At the Embodiment-level, these skills were honed by millions of years of training and life experience.

And yet…

…the dwarf warrior’s eyes narrowed in frustration and suspicion as his feints were not bitten down upon and his attempts to cut off his foe’s avenues of egress were ineffective.

Orodan had a smile on his face.

[Teaching 109 → Teaching 110]

He’d become a Teaching Transcendent quite some loops ago.

What was teaching? Anyone could sit down and expound upon a topic for an hour. Certainly it was not difficult to arrange for a gathering of desperate folk in search of wisdom and waste their time.

But what separated the jabbering of a useless lecturer’s jaw from the sagely words of a true master?

A technically proficient master might not be the best suited to teach. Nor might a good teacher be worth much in the actual practice they gave instruction on. The ideal then… was someone who had both.

It explained why Orodan had never seen any Transcendents of Teaching in the places he’d been to. They were either good at their field of study, or good at expounding upon it. Nobody with real mastery had the time, patience or inclination to bother with students and also getting good at the craft of Teaching itself.

But more importantly… so many teachers, even the good ones, insisted on one way of teaching. Even if they were masters at their craft, they had a way of doing things and accepted no deviation.

This, Orodan had the fortune of overcoming by virtue of having a gentle and slightly lazy sort like Edrosic as a student. Alongside zealous nutcases like Wainroach, Orodan had a diverse range of students for whom he had to individually tailor his teaching methods.

Brutalizing Edrosic the way he did Zukelmux during their spars would be counterproductive and harmful for the man’s development. Going soft on Wainroach the way he did Edrosic would’ve been fruitless.

But most importantly of all… a good teacher knew their limits and was themselves an eternal student.

Orodan could no longer teach Fenton anything about Enchanting, nor had he ever bothered to try giving Edrosic any advice on the technical aspects of his artistry. Aliya continually surprised him with unique facets of her spearwork, Zukelmux with his mastery of defensive fundamentals which was so unlike his own aggressive style and Wainroach with her pyromantic ability.

Each and every one of his students had, in some way of their own, surpassed him. And in turn, each of them taught him something too.

This was the true essence of teaching. The master becoming the student, and in turn striving to become the master again. Mastery of teaching paired with mastery of subject matter. The end goal being the student coming into their own by viewing the subject mastery of the teacher.

Which was what his most powerful student was doing currently.

Orodan did not need to teach Almyra everything. He had only needed to teach her how warriors fought.

A lesson she had internalized over the past eight-hundred loops through constant grueling practice. A lesson now being painfully made apparent to Kharadun Voidfortress whose attacks, charges and attempts to corral her into a kill zone were proving ineffective.

The dwarf thought multiple steps ahead with each charge, hoping to lure her into prime path for the next one, or towards a cluster of clones which would lead to a dead end and no ways out in the web. However each time, Almyra thought a few steps beyond her foe and refused to fall into the trap.

Orodan had heard of the strategic board games played by tacticians and commanders upon his world. He was no enthusiast of such things, but his mind was naturally attuned to combat and reading multiple moves ahead like any half-decent warrior’s was. But this? This was calculation on a monstrous level.

Even if it would take more time to wear the dwarf down… it was apparent which side of this fight was remaining consistently ahead.

On the adjacent balcony, Zaessythra was smiling, not at all concerned about the outcome just like Orodan. Azkar the War-Father was frowning but had a look of respect in his eyes which Orodan could recognize among warriors. The Identifier simply stared, unblinking. And the Master of Death’s hands were clenched.

Perhaps the pale Embodier wanted a go himself?

“This battle has been decided,” Talasgan predicted, finality in his voice.

The Warrior’s pronouncement summed up Orodan’s thoughts as well.

Kharadun was simply taking too much damage. Each futile attempt to corral Almyra forced the dwarf to receive large amounts of spellfire as she cleverly led him down pre-arranged, intersecting zones of spellfire from her clones. And while the King of Kings was durable, over dozens of such failed advances the damage began to add up.

From behind their position on the inward-facing balcony of Glyphward, the two other Administrators entered.

“Clone magic… a powerful thing. It shall be a most useful counter to the Swarm-Lord’s hordes,” the Prophet spoke. “Backed by an Administrator’s Mantle…”

“Assuming this aspirant can prevail over the Voidfortress,” Kalmiron spoke, unenthusiastically. “The concept of mirroring… that is what is being touched upon, is it not?”

“They did mention that as we trained,” Orodan answered, recalling what his compatriot had told him throughout their time spent sparring. “Mirrors have always been important to them. Rather… vexatious to deal with at times.”

“Then know that the Swarm-Lord vies for that concept as well, time looper. While we may use the System and the Invaders do not, at a profound enough level of skill, we all touch upon concepts,” the Mage explained. “Your and my Celestial skills are no better than the powers the strongest of our foes will bring to bear. And that ally of yours shall face contestation most fierce should they try to use that skill in the upcoming battle.”

That was a legitimate concern. Almyra’s battles in the concept space at the beginning of each loop had been advancing steadily, but still needed work.

“Your ally holds back,” Talasgan noted.

Astute eyes. As expected of the Warrior himself. Orodan remained silent, neither confirming nor denying that statement for it was not his place to let slip details about Almyra. Not even her gender.

Orodan’s silence went unaddressed as the battle continued on. As the minutes passed, Kharadun Voidfortress grew more and more frustrated while Almyra only grew more calculated and assured in her counter spells which hammered him every time he advanced.

Worst of all, the dwarf’s pride had been cast aside a bit too late. Only too far into the duel had Kharadun realized the impending death by ten-thousand spells which was on the horizon. His eyes were frantic and searching for a strategy, but he was too wounded, exhausted from shielding against all the spellfire and no nearer to cornering Almyra.

Still, as honor demanded, the dwarf pressed on.

“Stubborn,” Orodan remarked approvingly.

“Not so different from what I have heard of you, Orodan Wainwright,” the Warrior spoke. “But let not your stubbornness lead you astray when it comes to the order of battle. At some point, Xia will make himself known on the field. When that time comes… I shall face him.”

The tone was equally as stubborn as Orodan’s own. As though Talasgan was staking his claim over territory. Furthermore, from the sound of it, that potential fight meant a lot to the Administrator.

Of course, Orodan had but one answer to that.

“No.”

The Warrior’s eyes narrowed.

“He is strong. Especially beyond the boundaries of System space. He is powerful in a way you have likely not seen in any of your loops prior. A strength he allowed me to glimpse only once. I sense you are… strong, but you are not at that level of might. Not yet.”

Orodan’s eyes had never once left Talasgan’s.

The Warrior stared back, unblinking.

“How about we put that to the test?”

Even if Kharadun was on his last legs, the duel between him and Almyra was still ongoing. But for Orodan and Talasgan, the fact that a duel was going on was irrelevant.

This was a confrontation that had been written since their eyes had met during the war council. When two real warriors met and decided there needed to be a fight, nothing else could stop it.

They were on one of the viewing balconies of Glyphward Fortress.

And Kalmiron and the Prophet had but a singular moment to widen their eyes before war erupted.

“Not here! You’ll-”

[Eidolon of Violence 137 → Eidolon of Violence 138]

Everything else around him faded.

Everyone in the vicinity was an Embodier, and the arena had a shield of sorts, which was the only thing keeping him from caring about using Internal Counterforce to manage the collateral damage.

This was all that mattered. This was a fight he’d been eagerly waiting for since that one time they’d dueled after the creation of his own System.

Who was the greatest warrior in System space? It was a question whose answer could only arise from the clash between Orodan Wainwright and Talasgan the Warrior.

Blades were not what met first, skulls were.

The Prophet and Kalmiron flew away like leaves in a hurricane as the shockwave from Orodan headbutting Talasgan caused the entirety of Glyphward Fortress to jump and the System’s boundary it was embedded in to briefly tremble.

There was no reprieve from either side.

With foreheads locked, fists, elbows, knees, feet and more flew for one another. More than those even, as each punch transitioned into a gouge where each finger and little joint was used to deliver attacks of their own. He even snapped his own joints to make them double-jointed and struck twice and sometimes even thrice in the same motion and return, like a perpetual whirlwind of pure aggression.

And his opponent matched him every instant of the way.

[Eidolon of Violence 138 → Eidolon of Violence 140]

He wasn’t sure when he’d started laughing like a maniacal madman, or whether it was Talasgan’s elated chuckle… but those were the only sounds audible besides the cataclysmic booms of their attacks colliding.

Everyone else. The Prophet, the Mage, Zaessythra, Almyra, Kharadun… they were all frozen. Not frozen in shock, genuinely frozen… in time. For Orodan and Talasgan were fighting at so fast a speed that even these mighty beings who were themselves Embodiers, were but snails when measured against their pace. This was the absolute edge of his perception, the current limit of how fast he could react, think and perceive.

Only Kalmiron seemed vaguely able to perceive what was occurring and in the timeframe it took the Mage to cast a defensive spell either Orodan or Talasgan could launch ten blows and kill him many times over.

This… this was what he needed. What he had been craving all this time. Zaessythra had her strange powers and Almyra her tricks and the Alliance their resources to teach him new things… but only iron could sharpen iron and Orodan had grown far too powerful to fight anyone else.

Nobody else in System space was at this level of martial combat. Every other person in Glyphward would die if they fought either of them right now.

The very mightiest in System space, a position formerly held unanimously by Talasgan… now had its first legitimate challenger in Orodan.

Yet they were not equals. It swiftly became apparent that Talasgan was stronger. By a massive margin too.

He had fought warriors fast and strong. Cunning and ruthless.

This? This was a sort of battle which pushed him to the absolute limits of his talent and combat instinct from the first moment of unconscious thought.

Even if they had edges on him in other aspects, he could typically outwork, outlast or flummox other warriors through sheer aggression and unpredictable combat creativity. After all, on top of his work ethic and violent mindset, virtually every other martial specialist he had fought, he was more of a natural than.

With Talasgan that advantage felt nonexistent.

Every sort of melee attack Orodan threw, Talasgan responded to with brutal skill and efficiency.

This, Orodan had to admit, was the System’s greatest warrior. And the differences and sheer overwhelming might and mastery in all aspects began to show immediately as Orodan started getting pushed back in the deadly exchange of blows which caused Glyphward to begin swaying like a tree despite being embedded in the System boundary.

Talasgan battered him like an overripe tomato sack, using superior might and reach to keep him suppressed. And then, when Orodan recalled his early battles against the undead demonic berserker and tried grappling, the Warrior countered that too. An almost offended look flashed across Talasgan’s features, as though wordlessly asking whether Orodan truly thought he was the only one who’d been through horrific life-and-death battles.

Each and every trick and insight of his was brought out. Every experience.

And it was still only helping him break even at best.

Though not without effect as the Warrior’s eyes widened in shock at the fact that Orodan could even hold out at all in this exchange where the Administrator was truly cutting loose.

And if there was one advantage Orodan held over this almighty foe…

…it was that he knew how to die.

A horrific gouging blow from the Warrior’s hand came in, like a knife threatening to run him through.

Orodan accepted it forehead first, headbutting it.

Naturally, the hand ran right through his skull and out the other side.

But this was fine… for his foe had not expected so casual a switch to a style of combat which was disregardful of his own life. And from there, Orodan’s hand shot out, two fingers extended, to gouge Talasgan’s eyes.

A Smite of Abrupt Deliverance focused upon his two extended fingertips. His fingers broke and nearly disintegrated… but found purchase.

The Administrator did not even grunt. As expected, used to fighting even blind if needed. But Orodan had found an opening, and he intended to press until the wall broke or he did.

The thumb of his gouging hand entered the Warrior’s nostril and his other hand latched onto the obsidian giant’s mouth like a fish hook, and he pulled.

Roars of rage and effort to mask pain echoed out. Regardless of his opponent’s mastery, it seemed sheer pain tolerance was something he couldn’t match Orodan in.

Talasgan’s fists pulverized Orodan’s ribs into nothingness. Simultaneously, Orodan’s elbows, knees and feet pummeled the Warrior like a donkey stomping a snake. All the while, he refused to let go and kept pouring his might into prying the jaw and nose apart entirely.

Like a lizard of the Altarban Rainforest back home, the two of them spun madly and wildly through the void of Glyphward’s inner courtyard as they fought against one another in this brutal contest of savagery.

Finally, Orodan felt two mighty grips settle on his shoulders and he knew exactly what his opponent planned to do.

With a mighty double-legged kick, he smashed both feet directly onto the Administrator’s nose, feeling a satisfying crunch. Just in time too, as he felt the flesh and bone tear and crumple, with both his arms coming off right after.

The two separated, with Orodan looking worse for the wear, but healing almost instantly. Mentally however, Talasgan looked wary and cautious while Orodan was instead elated and thrilled to go for more.

And while his opponent was, without a doubt, the single greatest warrior he’d ever met… Talasgan didn’t seem as quick at adapting to rapid changes.

He would remember that.

[Eidolon of Violence 142 → Eidolon of Violence 143]

Hundred and forty-three? Orodan was so lost in that incredible fight that he hadn’t even noticed the level gains until now.

To the side, Kalmiron and the Prophet were desperately maintaining a protective force field using their Mantles lest the entire fortress be destroyed. Kharadun and Almyra were on opposite balconies, their fight forgotten. And the remainder of the Embodiers were now either afraid of Orodan or Talasgan. Hard to tell which.

“Now then… shall we draw our weapons? That was a good warm-up,” Orodan declared, a maniacal grin on his face. He hadn’t felt this alive in ages.

Talasgan was more cautious now, still nursing the broken nose which was healing visibly, but nowhere near Orodan’s own regeneration. However, it was evident that the both of them had been holding back and neither had truly tapped into their full abilities. Regardless, the Warrior’s Greatsword came out at the same time as Orodan’s sword and shield did.

Only for the entirety of Glyphward Fortress to begin quivering in a very strange manner.

Talasgan frowned while looking around in confusion.

“That isn’t us,” Orodan remarked.

“Identifier regrets to interrupt the show to announce that Invaders are accelerating black hole towards System boundary.”

“Tch…! Very well,” the Warrior said. “We shall continue this another time, Orodan Wainwright. This is not over. The defense of System space takes precedence.”

Orodan agreed, though left his weapons in hand for the impending foe.

Out of curiosity, he mentally called forth his Status.

Name: Orodan Wainwright

Age: 17

Title 1: Wainwrighting Apprentice

Title 2: Weaving Adept

Title 3: Alchemy Elite

Available Titles:

Administrator Slayer

Bearer Of A Celestial Skill

World Conqueror

World Gate Delver

Avatar Slayer

Wielder Of A Mythical Skill

One Who Has Experienced Death

Invader Slayer

Embodiment Slayer

God Slayer

Celestial Embodier

Embodiment ofPerfect Cleaning

Embodiment of Cleaning

Embodiment of the Soul

Embodiment of Infinity

Violence Transcendent

Combat Transcendent

Unarmed Combat Transcendent

Physical Transcendent

Sword Transcendent

Shield Transcendent

Wrestling Transcendent

Stonecutting Transcendent

Halberd Transcendent

Woodworking Transcendent

Mining Transcendent

Spear Transcendent

Club Transcendent

Teaching Transcendent

Space Grandmaster

Dimensionalism Grandmaster

Time Grandmaster

Enchanting Master

Alchemy Elite

Pathfinding Elite

Fire Magic Elite

Blacksmithing Elite

Laboring Elite

Fire Elite

Weaving Adept

Engineering Adept

Cooking Adept

Armor Adept

Masonry Apprentice

Gathering Apprentice

Construction Apprentice

Fate Apprentice

Wainwrighting Apprentice

Lightning Magic Apprentice

Calligraphy Apprentice

Stealth Apprentice

Skills:

Domain Of Perfect Cleaning 194 (Embodiment - Celestial)

Incipience of Infinity 185 (Embodiment - Celestial)

Eidolon of Violence 143 (Transcendent - Celestial)

Balance Maker 150 (Transcendent - Mythical)

Smite of Abrupt Deliverance 100 (Grandmaster - Mythical)

Reality Alteration 91 (Master - Mythical)

Genesis of Life 75 ( Elite - Mythical)

Eldritch Resistance 68 (Adept - Mythical)

Elemental Living Enchantment 74 (Elite - Mythical)

Divine Resistance 65 (Adept - Mythical)

Dimensional Resistance 49 (Apprentice - Mythical)

Memetic Hazard Mastery 24 (Initiate - Mythical)

Absolute Body Composition 10 (Initiate - Mythical)

Vision of Purity 111 (Transcendent - Legendary)

Draconic Fireball 106 (Transcendent - Legendary)

Endless Blitz 100 (Grandmaster - Legendary)

Time Reversal 100 (Grandmaster - Legendary)

Unassailable Fortress 100 (Grandmaster - Legendary)

Bulwark Physical Resistance 95 (Master - Legendary)

Body Tempering 94 (Master - Legendary)

Fate Disconnect 85 (Elite - Legendary)

Mana Resistance 81 (Elite - Legendary)

Wood Communion 76 (Elite - Legendary)

Dimensional Step 66 (Adept - Legendary)

Internal Counterforce 48 (Apprentice - Legendary)

True Soul Weave 38 (Apprentice - Legendary)

Dimensionalism 100 (Grandmaster - Exquisite)

Time Mastery 100 (Grandmaster - Exquisite)

Iron Body 100 (Grandmaster - Exquisite)

Psionic Resistance 95 (Master - Exquisite)

Fire Resistance 91 (Master - Exquisite)

Burst Casting 89 (Elite - Exquisite)

Draconic Mana Channelling 88 (Elite - Exquisite)

Lightning Resistance 82 (Elite - Exquisite)

Vitality Destruction 68 (Adept - Exquisite)

Ice Resistance 60 (Adept - Exquisite)

Darkness Resistance 55 (Adept - Exquisite)

Water Resistance 55 (Adept - Exquisite)

Light Resistance 51 (Adept - Exquisite)

Spatial Shift 51 (Adept - Exquisite)

Wind Resistance 49 (Apprentice - Exquisite)

Curse Resistance 9 (Initiate - Exquisite)

Poison Resistance 4 (Initiate - Exquisite)

Space Mastery 100 (Grandmaster - Rare)

Teleportation 100 (Grandmaster - Rare)

Acid Resistance 85 (Elite - Rare)

Fire Mastery 70 (Elite - Rare)

Fate Mastery 49 (Apprentice - Rare)

Gourmand 48 (Apprentice - Rare)

Stubborn Persuasion 43 (Apprentice - Rare)

Spatial Fold 100 (Grandmaster - Uncommon)

Shield Intent 96 (Master - Uncommon)

Mana Manipulation 90 (Master - Uncommon)

Shield Throw 76 (Elite - Uncommon)

Lightning Bolt 70 (Elite - Uncommon)

Fate Reading 68 (Adept - Uncommon)

Halberd Throw 55 (Adept - Uncommon)

Wainwrighting 46 (Apprentice - Uncommon)

Flash Freeze 49 (Apprentice - Uncommon)

Light Beam 46 (Apprentice - Uncommon)

Earthen Construct 42 (Apprentice - Uncommon)

Waterstream 40 (Apprentice - Uncommon)

Gunsmithing 28 (Initiate - Uncommon)

Physical Fitness 110 (Transcendent)

Teaching 110 (Transcendent)

Enchanting 96 (Master)

Tool Mastery 91 (Master)

Laboring 83 (Elite)

Blacksmithing 80 (Elite)

Fire Magic Mastery 79 (Elite)

Alchemy 74 (Elite)

Pathfinding 72 (Elite)

Flare 70 (Adept)

Jewelcrafting 69 (Adept)

Armor Mastery 68 (Adept)

Cooking 67 (Adept)

Candleflame 65 (Adept)

Weaving 61 (Adept)

Galewind 57 (Adept)

Mana Bolt 57 (Adept)

Engineering 54 (Adept)

Artificing 53 (Adept)

Surprise Attack 51 (Adept)

Masonry 45 (Apprentice)

Construction 43 (Apprentice)

Maintenance 42 (Apprentice)

Lightning Magic Mastery 41 (Apprentice)

Recycling 41 (Apprentice)

Sprinting 39 (Apprentice)

Gathering 39 (Apprentice)

Identify 37 (Initiate)

Logistics 35 (Apprentice)

Observe 31 (Initiate)

Calligraphy 30 (Apprentice)

Stealth 30 (Apprentice)

Repair 29 (Initiate)

Smelting 28 (Initiate)

Swimming 27 (Initiate)

Magical Rituals 25 (Initiate)

Light Magic Mastery 22 (Initiate)

Deception 15 (Initiate)

Lumberjacking 14 (Initiate)

Parkour 12 (Initiate)

Dancing 12 (Initiate)

Thievery 6 (Initiate)

His displayed titles were an absolute joke of course.

Technically, he was in fact a Wainwrighting Apprentice, Weaving Adept and Alchemy Elite. And technically a volcano was a bowl of hot porridge.

Titles aside, the sweeping gains in some specific categories of skills were impressive. Courtesy of all the time spent training his martial abilities and magical skills alongside lending Old Man Hannegan his muscle for his labors in each loop.

The result was this. It was what allowed him to face the Warrior as he just had. Several skills had reached the Grandmaster level, and altogether, the sheer gap in physicality between him and Talasgan, while still wide, was not as vast as it had once been.

But the Administrator was the least of Orodan’s worries.

For now, Orodan could feel Glyphward’s trembling icnreasing in intensity.

The Invaders were coming. The Reject and the Seven Tyrants of the enemy alongside their Moon Devourers and Swarm-Lord would be attacking soon. And behind it all… the enemy Boundless One who coveted entry into System space.

Orodan did not intend to allow any of those parties free reign to go about their designs.

The Battle of Glyphward Fortress awaited.