Anything ~ 8!

“What in the abyss, Luke?” Taylor gasped as the rest of the room collectively sharply inhaled. “Did you kill a demon or something?”

Luke shrugged and stared at the Crown Prince hungrily. If there was even a hint that the amount due wouldn’t be granted, he was fully prepared to Open Up a portal and vanish forever. As soon as the magic binding him loosened…!

“O-one hundred!” Prince Vir’s voice shook, and he looked like he was about to pass out. Even King Alexander was looking at that number in shock. He knew it was impossible for an Ascender to monkey with their Sigils, else he’d directly accuse Luke of doing so. “So many months worth of… I… refuse…!”

Luke leaned forward, ready to make a break for it. The Prince swallowed and amended his statement, looking like he might vomit. “Forgive that lapse… I understand this lesson, Your Majesty. The Potentia shall come from my personal stock.”

“Good.” The King nodded proudly. He had been concerned with the company his heirs had been keeping, and it was good to see that his top choice to inherit had been able to realize his mistakes with just this small event. The show was over, and it was time to move on to the meat of this audience. “As for you… that is, Namer Taylor, what is your team name?”

“Reporting to Your Majesty, we have… not really-”

Zed stepped forward with a wide smile on his face and swept into a bow. “Your Majesty! Lords and Ladies, please pardon my interruption. We, the prospective Archmage, the Archdruid, the Murderhobo, and perhaps one day the King’s own Herald…”

The True Bard trailed off and waggled his eyebrows at the King, earning a chuckle from the vast majority of attendees. “Though we have high hopes for our futures in the Kingdom, we know that the first rule of propriety is to stay humble and know our proper standing. While today you truly make us feel grand, we hope you will allow the official designation of ‘The Four’ to our team.”

A smattering of applause rang out at this ‘humble’ display, and even the Prince managed a bitter smile at the Bard’s antics. King Alexander nodded and waved his hand magnanimously. “Let it be done.”

Achievement gained: Named by the King. Your party has achieved an official Royal designation. +500 exp.

Luke slapped away the notification that was buzzing around his head like an annoying fly. At that moment, a small platoon of Royal guardsmen pushed a cart into the room. They uncovered the cart, and the revealed contents glowed, a rainbow appearing around the revealed vials.

“If you will come into the private meeting chambers, there are a few matters we need to attend to that will bore the Lords and Ladies to no end.” King Alexander stood, and everyone else scrambled out of their seats and offered a proper bow or curtsy as the King walked out. A guardsman motioned for The Four to follow, and moments later they were in a far cozier room. They  sat at the King’s behest, and Luke noticed that there wasn’t even a single guard present. Only The Four, the King, and the Archmage who stepped in a few moments after they did.

“The room is sealed?” The King murmured, getting a nod in reply. As soon as he got the all-clear, King Alexander deflated like a pierced waterskin and looked at The Four with sorrowful eyes, “I’m terribly sorry for the position I’ve put you in. You need to vanish, likely for the next few years. The little farce I put on today was the best I could do to outfit you with the proper resources you deserve without causing an outcry, though I fear even that has earned you the enmity of Vir. Archmage, assist their escape.”

“Grab your rewards. The Scarrocco Desert is a good choice, a decade or so of work and making little progress should help the vermin infesting the capitol forget about your contributions.” Don stepped forward, power reaching out around him and beginning to pull at the fabric of reality.

King Alexander spoke before any other questions could escape the group’s lips, “There are many, far too many, who look at the vast resources you’ve delivered on a platter and are now content with our lot. You’ve given us the opportunity to have a golden age in our Kingdom, and many fear that any more will be what turns the full attention of the Dynasty of Dogs upon us. They want their benefactors to vanish forever, or to discredit you to the point that anything else you do will be distrusted in the extreme. I will likely never see you again, but I thank you for all you have done for us. Run.”

A portal snapped into place, a strange purple light emanating from it. The others took a step forward, following the will of the King, but Luke resisted long enough to say, “I want more time in my world.”

“The Archmage told me of your circumstances.” The King stared at Luke levelly. “I can’t give you more than you earn, but I can make sure you are never denied. I, King Alexander, decree that you are permanently allowed to enter your personal portal to Murder World every thirty days at the absolute minimum. If your handlers allow more time, that is acceptable. If you are in a dire situation, and the best course of action is to enter your world, you have permission to do so without repercussions for up to a week of your subjective time, only to exceed that if your injuries are too great to return.”

“Good enough.” As Luke walked to the portal, the last thing he heard was the Archmage instructing Taylor.

“Ambushes should be near constant. If you are attacked first, I grant authority for you to deal with any attacker however you will. This is backed by King Alexander’s authori-”

Luke looked around this strange world, his mind reeling from the alien… everything. Taylor stepped next to him a moment later, and the portal behind them vanished; accompanied by the sound of static electricity discharging. She took a deep breath and looked around comfortably. “Welcome to ‘mundi sunt nominibus singulorum’. This is my world.”

“It’s nice.” Andre offered as he watched a book launch into the air and started circling them like a vulture. “Homey.”

“I think Zed’s dying.” Luke mentioned to the others as Zed tried once more to take a breath, failed, and sank to his knees.

“Son of a-” Andre grabbed the bard and tried to decipher his issue, seeing through the problem in an instant. “He’s getting a mana baptism! The mana in the air is too dense, his body is going to shut down. We need to get him out of here!”

“We can’t! The King ordered us to escape at a point where the desert is at maximum a day’s travel away.” Taylor shook her head grimly even as she wracked her brain in an attempt to find a solution.

“Seriously? This is too much for him?” Luke sat down and looked up at the sky, where a huge cloud was drifting. His eyes focused on it, and he realized the cloud was made of tens of thousands of words, each of them describing a portion of its existence.

Cloud. Wet. Float. Dozens of words were written, erased, and rewritten each second that described the distance to the ground. The entire structure was a constantly changing dictionary that floated along. “This is actually pretty relaxing. I can see why you like it here.”

“Wait! What if he levels up?” Taylor struck on the concept as she looked at the light shining from their packs. “Zed! Absorb the exp!”

The Bard’s face flashed with hope under the pain. He grabbed the vial he had earned and drank it. Then he looked at it in despair: he had nowhere near enough to level. Luke saw this and sighed, “Don’t all rush to help at once.”

He pulled out a jug of light that he uncorked and force-fed the Bard. “Here’s ten thousand Potentia. Figure out how to live.”

Determination to live appeared in Zed’s eyes, and the team could practically see the sudden Potentia windfall drain away and change the man before their very eyes. His skin cleared up and seemed to become more vibrant, his eyes deepened and held intense wisdom. Finally, the restraint on his neck seemed to loosen, and he gasped in a deep breath.

“That sucked so bad!” He coughed heartily, and seemed to need to force each inhalation. “This is a temporary measure, I can feel my insides melting.”

“How long does it take for exterior pressure to fulfill the requirements of a mana baptism?” Andre looked first to Luke, then Taylor when he got no reply.

The Namer shrugged helplessly, “It could be literal decades. It’s different for every person, and entirely dependent on the quality of their mana channels. If they’re low quality, the mana needs to not only widen the channels; it might need to open some, reinforce them, and in the most extreme cases: create them. Very few have ever survived the process, and it certainly doesn’t happen often enough to even have a good guess.”

“Can you help me, somehow?” Zed’s face was still pale, and his breathing was ragged. “Please? Any of you? Luke, thank you for saving me.”

“I can tell you that just gaining levels won’t do more than delay your death.” Taylor told him directly as he eyed the pack her liquid Potentia was stored in. “This is an issue with how mana flows through your system, not an issue of pure power. There are very few resources that can nourish mana channels and allow them to reach higher heights.”

“Was still nice to reach level eight in one go.” The panting Bard managed to show an impish, if pained, grin. “How long will it take to get out of here?”

The Namer hesitated, trying to calculate the numbers. “For every meter traveled here, we move four in the base world. That’s why it’s so important to return to the point you entered, or a known exit. The desert… I’d say a week and a half if you walked, a week if you’re carried.”

Luke grunted in displeasure as he stepped close and grabbed Zed, then used his free hand to pull out his bottles and began tossing back his liquid Potentia as if he were taking shots of liquid mana. He paused at the twenty-three thousand three hundred and thirty-three exp mark, and instantly determined where he wanted it.

“Devote eighty-nine hundred into getting me to level ten.” Power poured through him, his body becoming primed for breaking his limits. At this point, he could use the remaining fourteen thousand to reach level eleven, but he knew that he needed to become harder to kill if he wanted to get stronger. “Dump the rest into Walking Arsenal until it won't be enough to reach the next level.”

Skill and Level increase complete! Etheric Xenograft Potentia used: 21,200/23,333. Please choose sub-characteristic to increase.

“Resistance.” Luke had another hundred thousand experience to toss back, but he hesitated as he stared at the remaining vials. His eyes brightened slightly as he made a realization: he didn’t need to use all the Potentia at once, he could devote it piecemeal so that it didn’t sit as one giant chunk in his status sheet. “Get it to level ten, and one point away from breaking through to the next tier. Keep the rest in reserve.”

He tossed back the experience, not wanting to leave anything to chance. These bottles seemed fragile for something so potent and precious. When he had finished, he looked at only the changes in his status sheet.

Cal Scan

Level: 10

Current Etheric Xenograft Potentia: 91,169/14,400 to level 11!

Body: 32.6

Fitness: 40.2

Resistance: 20

Maximum health: 300

Walking Arsenal. Tier 8, Level 9. 10,999/11,000 to Tier 9, Level 0.

“Good. Tier up Innate Balance and Bum Rush.” Luke watched as forty-five thousand and three hundred Potentia was gobbled up by the two skills, and they deactivated as he began to throb with rapidly undulating power. “Mm. Glad I didn’t push to the next tier with my main battle skills.”

The rest of The Four were watching him in horror. Andre sputtered as Luke began throbbing with out-of-time reverberations. “How are you not exploding into little chunks right now? How did you have almost two hundred thousand Potentia in you get used all at once without falling apart?”

“What do you mean two hundred? He only had an additional one hundred given to him.” Andre’s words had broken Taylor out of her stupor. “Have you ever broken through a tier? You get to level nine, then use double that to get to the next tier.”

“Double? Xan told me it was ten times the amount of getting to level ten!” Andre yelped in shock, thinking back over his conversation with his mentor.

“You can’t get a skill to level ten. You can only get it to level nine. I think this Xan guy was messing with you. Wait a second…” Taylor narrowed her eyes, realizing Luke had made an intelligent and decisive decision. She pulled her vials out and started drinking as well, followed by the impassioned Druid.

“C’mere.” Since the others were busy, Luke grabbed the Bard and tossed him over his shoulder. “Let’s get moving.”

“First he gets me drinks and then he carries me home? I didn’t know you cared so much!” Zed fanned at his face, yelping in pain a moment later as Luke squeezed him hard enough to bend his bones.