Chapter 30: Rising Hell

“For the Giant’s… I’ll take the Oliphant and the Blood. Same for the Troll; I’ll have the Blood.”

[Items added!]

[Drop of Royal Faeblood x2!]

[The General’s Oliphant]

[Interesting choices. They would not have been my picks.]

“Is that your subtle way of saying you disapprove?” Axel laughed.

[The Giant’s, I can understand. The Blood is of great value, and the Horn’s ability to boost your stats is of greater advantage because of your Class Boon. However, choosing the Blood for the Troll’s Loot Chest is a waste. The other two items are of arguably greater use, even if we were to consider the long-term.]

A carafe of unlimited strong alcohol, and a liver that would grant him super healing. Both of those options were of considerable value. The former would have expanded upon his list of available combat options. Potent alcohol held so many uses beyond mere beverage — A high purity, flammability, and solvency mixed in one, the possibilities were endless. 

As for the latter, healing would be a boon of great value; an undeniable positive to his combat endurance. The fact that he would receive it as a permanent trait rather than as a one-time consumable was almost too good to pass up.

Almost.

Axel held up the two vials of Fae Blood in his hands. “The description mentioned combining all four Blood into an item of value. I’m already this far in with three. We may as well make a gamble once more and hope that the end product will be worth the sacrifice of the other choices.”

[Assuming you do manage to kill the last Boss.]

“Oh, you of little faith…” he sighed. “Well, last choice on the list, and this one is a tough one…”

[It is a curious range of options. I can’t tell if your luck is excellent or poor. All three choices are ideal, but you can only pick one.]

Axel eyed the first option with suspicion. “How would I even use an 8-Gauge Rotary Shotgun? Superhuman or not, I would just dislocate my shoulder firing the thing. Does it even work?”

[It is an Exotic weapon, meaning their kind is exceptionally rare within the world from which they were created. It may even be the only one within the System. The rank modifications would also ensure it is in top working condition as well. Were it not for the ammunition issue, I would advise you to grab it for its rarity alone.]

“The recoil is still far too substantial to be effective,” Axel tsked. “It’s automatic fire, too. This isn’t a viable infantry weapon.”

[That is far too harsh. The weapon is a marvel of firearm engineering. It utilises an advanced magnetorheological recoil-damping system; the oil within the stock of the gun becomes a viscoelastic solid when exposed to its magnetic field. The recoil is significantly more controllable than you believe it to be, even under automatic fire conditions. Additionally, it fires quadruple-ought, tungsten-pellet Magnum rounds, with a 20-round multi-tubular magazine and a fire rate of 300 rounds per minute.]

Axel blinked. After a moment to compose himself, he chuckled. “You are far more passionate about this than I realise.”

[It is an Exotic piece of Death, unwieldy though it may be. The Rank given to it by the System would ensure its damage is up to par. You will most likely never see it again should you reject it. Its value in an Auction alone would be tremendous. And yet, I cannot recommend it as an option, given your circumstances and the other alternatives available. It is a shame.]

“That it is. Let’s move on. You are making me sad just thinking about leaving it behind,” Axel chuckled. “The spellbook, how would you rate it?”

[You lack context, but what you have there is an item entire guilds would go to war for.]

Axel tilted his head. “Guilds?”

[Mass groups and organisations in the Hub. You may think of their strength and numbers as equivalent to a small private army. Allow me to ask you a question, such that I might impart to you a little perspective: How long do you think a magic spell would take to learn?]

“I’m guessing very long.”

[Years and decades. Even a simple F-rank spell could take an amateur months to learn. A B-Rank Spell like Simulacra is so complex, it could take a master of the magic arts centuries to even glimpse its basics.]

“Centuries?” Axel blurted out. Another thing the Handler said made him curious, however. “Wait, the spell is B-Rank, not B+?”

[The spell itself is Rank B; the spellbook containing the spell is Rank B+. But that does little to convey the sheer value it possesses. It might only be a one-time use, but the transfer of knowledge is instantaneous, safe, and applicable to anyone, even a complete amateur of thaumaturgy.]

“Could a master of magic not just… create their own spellbook and sell it?”

[No. It is literally impossible for anyone to create a Spellbook that might instantly transfer the knowledge without effort. Spellbooks are exclusively a product of the System’s reward, and thus even the lowest rank Spellbook would be of great value. For a B+ Spellbook, especially for a spell as powerful, versatile, and sought-after as Simulacra… It would easily fetch thousands of Auction Coins on sale. You would become richer than most guilds overnight.]

“And the spell itself? How would it fare on a scale of magic?”

[You can create fully functioning, independent clones of yourself. Its utility is immense, but it is also easily one of the hardest spells to learn, control, and master without fatal failure amongst all the spells in the System, save for the S-rank spells. Most magic-focused Participants would trade their mastery of A-rank spells if they could for just a passing competence of the B-rank Spell ‘Simulacra’.]

To create clones of himself… To be honest, the idea chilled him to the bone. He could see the endless benefits of it, no doubt, but he could also see a hundred ways how it could backfire. 

He did not particularly like himself, nor the idea of being a slave. If he were a clone… What would be the first thing he would do to his creator?

Nothing pleasant, that was for sure.

And so, he was left with the last option…

“Let’s grab the potion.”

[Illegal Re-Class Potion (Exotic) added to inventory!]

[From the start, I knew that to be the optimal choice… But still, it breaks my heart to see the Spellbook gone. It would have multiplied the avenues of agony I might harvest from you.]

“Trust me, if I had gone with that, all you will reap is clone versions of me killing each other. I am nowhere near mentally stable enough to support magic copies of myself,” Axel pointed out.

[I would not have minded that scenario either. To have a gathering of your crippled, broken fragments surrounding me for all eternity…]

Axel shuddered. “You say the creepiest things sometimes.”

[So says the Harbinger to his Reaper… Will you be using the potion now?]

Axel tucked the potion into his inventory. “Not yet. The problems with your ‘special’ class still remain. Any stat penalty would likely see me reduced to a babbling wreck, given how high its level requirements were. The potion will remain as… insurance, for now. With any luck, I won’t need to use that yet.”

He could use it to gain access to both the Class Boons of ‘Pathless Wayfarer’ and ‘Reaper’s Consort’... Or he could ignore ‘Reaper’s Consort’ entirely and pick something else to supplement his current Class and lack of Class Traits.

He would get the option to change classes again at Level 50. By then, his stats might be stable enough to risk gambling for Reaper’s Consort and praying that any existing stat penalty would not render him a vegetable.

But those were thoughts for another time. Sleep called, the drowsy hands of mental fatigue making itself known.

He had not slept for over 60 hours. He had just returned from that hell of a scouting mission with his team when this whole mess of transdimensional assimilation happened. His body was physically fine, but his brain was breaking at the seams.

So, rest. A few hours of sleep, and he would be right as rain.

Tomorrow will come. And when dawn breaks again, he will find the last son of that ‘Fae Tyrant’ and rip his head off his shoulders.

~~~

Not even thirty minutes later, Axel was running.

The supersoldier cursed and roared, but his words were barely heard.

All around him, flooding the skies and the world, was the buzzing hell of a million flies.

The moon was blocked out, leaving only scant light seeping from between the gaps of giant fly clouds.

The swarms flooded the world. They came at him from every angle. 

Their bites were not those of mundane insects. Axel’s skin had been made into one of superhuman endurance. Even before the System’s arrival, no insect bite could penetrate his hide. Now with all his enhancements, he could probably block bullets and knife wounds with his bare hands.

But these insects, their bites were pricking him. Not always, and the individual wounds were so minor his superhuman healing basically took care of them in an instant, but the fact that they could wound him was slowing him down.

The buzzing was loud enough to drive a lesser man mad. The flooding of dark, festering swarms blocking all light would be cause for any living creature to start screaming.

Axel, his senses honed, blocked out all external stimuli, seeking that one noise within a world of horror.

A bursting, roaring jet of extreme speeds.

Here it comes again!

Axel spun, twin iron axes raised in a block.

Something smashed into him.

Larger than him. Wider than him. It was not an object; no projectile fired at him. The horn that nearly impaled him looked up, showing a manic, human-like face.

[Level 20 Fae-Hybrid Encountered!]

Repulsive in size, it was at least as large as a horse. Chitinous armoured, a massive thorax with leaking orifices filled with flies, hideous moth-wings of enormous size, and a steel stinger the length of his forearm on its antennae head.

The giant, living, smiling insect monster before him took a swipe.

Scythe-like limbs came for his head. He tried to retaliate, but a swarm of flies got into his eyes and mouth. He bit down harshly, trusting his instincts to guide him as he parried a blow.

The first two swings, he avoided.

The next four slashed into his limbs and reaped bloody flesh.

[Warning! Health below 80%!]

Flies everywhere. Crawling in his mouth, eyes, ears, and wounds. They were on his skin. They were in him. He was going to die at this rate, made into a seedbed for insects. It should have been enough to drive anyone to panic.

Axel calmly took out an incendiary grenade, pulled the pin, and dropped it at his feet.

An explosive light. Heat and fire. Axel heard the dying screams of flies and beasts. The giant insect-hybrid before him took off into the skies in fright, its thorax and abdomen blasting out dense air from its side and rear such that it reached supersonic speed in an instant.

Axel allowed the flames to eat at him, even opening his mouth and eyes, such that the flies on his tongue and beneath his eyelids died from the inferno.

One second. Then two. Only on the third did Axel allow himself to walk out of the fire.

[Warning! Health below 40%!]

His skin was melting; his muscles were cooking and locking up.

Nonetheless, Axel spat. The lump of dead flies in his mouth hit the ground. 

He was smiling, lips burnt and teeth blackened by insect blood. He looked up, raised his axe in salute, and laughed madly.

“This one greets you, last son of the Fae Tyrant!” Axel hollered, even as his lips bled.

Beyond the swarm of clouds, far above in the moonlight…

A quartet of monstrous moth-creatures looked down, led by a giant nightmarish armoured insect-dragon creature the size of a house.

Atop it rode a humanoid, noble in silhouette and with a massive lance raised.

[Fae Tyrant Honour Guard encountered!]

[Lv 40 Fae-Dragon][Title: ‘The Queen-Consort of Fae Realm’, ‘The Moth-Kissed Moon’]

[Warning! Boss Entity!]

[Lv38 Eldarin Prince] [Title: ‘Heir of Fae Realm’, ‘Vaulted Dragonrider’]

[Warning! Leader Entity!]

Atop the giant, dripping abomination of a creature, the Dragonrider Heir dipped his head in mutual salute.

The final battle has begun. Axel could not stop laughing.

“I am ready! NOW COME AND KILL ME!”

All of the Fae descended upon him. 

With the Reaper’s breath at his neck, the Demon charged forth, meeting dragon and prince in bloody slaughter.