“This tea is quite good…!”

“It’s a small sample of what the elven continent has to offer.”

Orodan meant it too. The tea was absolutely fantastic.

It had an inexplicably sharp flavor of the forest, but not the dirty parts like worms, soil and roots. It was as though the flowers and berries came alive with each sip.

Perhaps he should have had tea with Osolon Velrayn sooner.

The headmaster of the school of woodworking was an excellent host, and quite the knowledgeable character to talk to.

It was an hour just before classes on the first work day of the week, and Orodan decided to take the man up on his offer.

“How have I never had this before? Is it an incredible rarity?” Orodan asked.

“Far from it my young disciple,” Osolon answered. “Rather, it’s the tea of choice we offer to guests on Eldiron. The people of Inuan simply favor their Auslivik leaf tea. You must not have had tea often for you to find the elven Ildisiar leaf so good. Most people I’ve met see it as a novelty.”

“Well, I’ve only had tea once before,” Orodan replied, recalling his time at Eldragon manor. “I don’t know what type it was… but it tasted sweet with an herbal flavor to it. Not nearly as incredible as what you’ve provided.”

“That would be the standard Auslivik, although likely the common market variety. Magically tended variants of it are often served at special occasions. If you sampled high quality Auslivik, I suspect you would find the comparison a far closer one,” Osolon replied. “Unlike what some elf-obsessed folk like to claim, not everything from Eldiron is better than its Inuanan counterpart.”

“Oh? I’ve only read about society on Eldiron on a surface level,” Orodan honestly replied. “As a half-elven man, you must have an honest idea of the truth then, no?”

“My life isn’t as adventurous as you would think,” Osolon replied. “I only spent six centuries of my youth growing up in Eldiron. And of course, I’ve been living on Inuan for the last three-thousand years or so.”

Which placed the man at roughly thirty six hundred years of age. Older than the three-thousand mark where human Grandmasters would typically die of natural age. Osolon still looked quite healthy too. The half-elven blood must have given the man quite some natural lifespan alongside his lifespan increases attained from becoming a Grandmaster.

“That’s still six centuries more than me. I’ve never been to Eldiron,” Orodan replied. “But back to the topic, what would you say is superior on Inuan versus on Eldiron?”

“Well, it might sound surprising… but Inuanan woodworking and the ability of humans to empower the wood is quite profound,” the man answered. “This isn’t to say that elven woodworking doesn’t have secrets and profundities of its own… but in the aspect of sheer durability, human woodworking is quite excellent. Understandable given how war-ridden the history of the continent has been.”

It was quite interesting to hear that humans were supposedly capable of making tougher wooden crafts than the elves were. Every story Orodan had heard about elves growing up painted them as in tune with nature and trees. For humans to outperform them in an aspect of woodworking went against expectations.

“Our Wood Communion skill then… is something like that the basis of Inuanan woodworking versus elven?”

“To an extent, yes. The humans of Inuan are quite proficient in making things bigger, stronger… adding more power. Perhaps it’s a cultural trait that they took from the dragons,” Osolon replied. “After all, once civilization on this continent collapsed thirty-thousand years ago… the earliest civilized species to resettle who hadn’t been entirely obliterated, were the dragons.”

No wonder human relationships with the dragon flights were so important.

In contrast, from what Orodan had read, the elves weren’t necessarily as close-knit with their dragon flights. And the dwarves ruthlessly enjoyed dragon hunting.

“I see… I suppose the philosophy of always striving for more power isn’t necessarily the worst idea,” Orodan remarked. “Novarria is the oldest existing nation from the early days, and we take after them in the Republic. Even if the Novarrians took that mindset a bit too far.”

“While power is always good to have, what is the end you seek with that power?” Osolon asked. “After all Orodan, it would be a lie to say you aren’t my most famous student. Yes, you are learning Woodworking and how to improve Wood Communion under me… but we both know your destiny is grander than merely shaping wood. Why, I have the headmasters and headmistresses of other schools asking about you during tea time.”

“Isn’t it a bit… childish for Grandmasters to be asking after such gossip?”

“On the contrary, when we enjoy tea together, what else is there to do besides chat to bide the time?” Osolon remarked. “Your recent venture into the energy well has been a hot topic of conversation.”

“Well, you won’t hear anything from me that you haven’t heard already,” Orodan replied.

“Oh, you mistake me my young student. I don’t care to ask you about the details, but rather to ask you something along a more philosophical line,” the headmaster spoke. “You’re a profoundly powerful young man, whatever your secrets may be. But what is the end you seek with all that power?”

What did Orodan seek?

Osolon wasn’t wrong, that power was but a means to an end.

But what was that end?

“I don’t completely know myself yet,” Orodan replied. “I… quite enjoy fighting, that is all.”

The man actually laughed in response.

“I’m aware of your proclivity for battle and violence,” the Grandmaster woodworker replied. “Ilevida certainly told me enough about your feats inside the energy well. But surely there is more to your goals than merely fighting?”

Orodan actually had to think about it for a moment.

But then gave his answer.

“Freedom,” he muttered. “Freedom wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“Freedom? In what regard?” Osolon asked.

“The freedom to make my own choices, the freedom to help those who’ve done me a good turn,” Orodan replied, thinking of all the Gods who had wronged him and the one he’d have to face to save the people he owed. “And most importantly… the freedom to control the situation I’m in.”

The ability to influence the time loop in some direction of his choosing. Who knew how incredibly far off such a goal could be?

But, at Osolon’s question, it was a goal that was now starting to enter his conception.

“Truly… your goals sound simple, despite the grandiose nature of the battles you fight in,” the man replied. “But you’re far too young to be speaking as though the weight of the world is on your shoulders. Live a little, enjoy and experience life before old age begins to settle upon you.”

The half-elven headmaster joked… but it was a grim reality for Orodan.

The World Guardian Cyvrosdyr had bestowed a Quest upon him that really did mean the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

In four months, the Avatar of all three Eldritch Gods would descend. A mutated Void Horror that would lead to the destruction of almost everything he knew.

How Orodan would stop it, he still wasn’t sure.

But he had time.

All the time in the world to stubbornly grind away at the problem and earn his freedom.

The first part of that would involve seeking tutelage from a new mentor.

---

Rockwood manor was located near the largest commercial district of Karilsgard.

They were an aggressively expansionist house and thus wanted an opulent display of power. One that placed them as close to the Palace as possible while being located near areas of note and influence.

Finding Rockwood manor, wasn’t hard.

It was easy to spot.

Orodan’s kick which sent the double doors flying inwards was also easy to spot.

“Greetings! I come seeking Alcianne Rockwood!”

Terrified servants and staff scurried away in fear.

Guards who knew him by sight and reputation, immediately fled to fetch their superiors.

Orodan lingered for a little bit until a voice finally confronted him.

“I-it’s you!” exclaimed an angry Claridin Rockwood who barged out to the upper landing of the grand stairs of the manor. “Come to take revenge have you?! Was bullying me not enough?!”

“You challenge me to a contest fair and square and now want to complain that I bullied you?” Orodan asked, almost outraged. “What kind of farce is this?”

“You shattered my protective amulet and made me look a fool in front of everyone! If I knew how strong you were then… I never would’ve dared offend you!”

“How is that my problem? Stop trying to pick fights with people then,” Orodan sharply rebuked. “The world is a dangerous place and there are terrifying things around, you’d best get into the habit of watching who you try to bully.”

It was utterly hypocritical of Orodan Wainwright to lecture anyone about watching who they picked fights with, but that was besides the point.

“Look, I apologize for my transgressions earlier but-”

An older man came in from behind Claridin Rockwood and put a hand upon the Bluefire student’s shoulder.

“That’s enough Claridin, do not speak to your betters in so informal a tone.”

The voice was strict and would brook no argument.

A regal looking appearance and outfit, with a large club strapped across his back. The description he’d often heard alongside the context he was in meant that it could only be Burgher Alarduin Rockwood.

The current nominal head of the house.

The man was a Master and not a threat in the slightest to Orodan, but he could lead him to who Orodan did want to see.

“Mister Wainwright, I am Alarduin Rockwood. Might I ask why you’ve entered my home in such a way? If this is about my son disrespecting you at the beginning of the school year, I am happy to discipline him in front of you,” the man offered, and Claridin’s eyes widened at the words. “I hope that will be satisfactory.”

Quite diplomatic.

Perhaps Alcianne had warned her house about his capabilities and true strength?

“That won’t be necessary, I’ve actually come to see Alcianne herself. But I don’t know where she is,” Orodan honestly replied. “Can you let her know I want to talk?”

“I see… I will inform the revered ancestor of your presence,” the man diplomatically said. “I would also like to apologize if the front doors of Rockwood manor were unsightly to your eyes. I presume that can be the only reason why you deemed it necessary to kick them inwards when simply paying the ancestor a visit.”

Orodan felt slightly ashamed about his entrance.

Perhaps it had been a while since he ‘introduced’ himself to House Simarji in a similar way, and he wanted to scratch an itch?

The other part was because House Firesword had been bullied by the Rockwoods not too long ago. This was simply him acting on behalf of Burgher Ignatius and reminding them of the pecking order.

“Hrm… I was just testing the quality of the wood,” Orodan muttered.

But, he did make a mental note to use his Woodworking and Wood Communion to fix and leave the door stronger before he left. His Woodworking was at a level where he could do such things now; and he might even get levels in Repair and Maintenance.

“Of course, your judgement in such matters is undoubtedly wise given your prowess at your age,” the man remarked. “Please, allow us to host you and in the guest parlor while we await the venerable ancestor’s arrival.”

Orodan saw no issue with this, and went along with the offer.

He was lead to a rather glamorous parlor which would make anyone’s eyes hurt with how bright, shiny and gaudy everything was.

Within sat a number of elderly folk sipping tea.

When human Grandmasters could live for up to three-thousand years, a noble house didn’t just have the nominal head and the most powerful ancestor.

They also had multiple generations of ancestors in-between.

Orodan hadn’t really had the time to slow down and interact with these various generations of old folk in House Firesword. Mainly because the Liberation War had devastated House Firesword and they only had the high-Elite Ignatius Firesword as their nominal head of house.

House Rockwood however, had fared better during the fighting. They had multiple elderly Elites and Masters from older generations who were still alive, albeit inactive.

Now, he was seeing these miscellaneous members of House Rockwood. And it seemed they enjoyed biding time in the manor’s parlor.

Orodan was offered a seat, and Burgher Alarduin Rockwood departed to allow him to speak to these individuals. Many of whom were stronger than the nominal head of House Rockwood.

The oldest looking man greeted him. The elderly individual looked to be practically a fossil and his every action looked burdened by age.

“Ah! Orodan Wainwright! It’s good to have some young blood in our manor,” the old man spoke. “I’m Teltheston Rockwood, Grandmaster tailor at your service.”

Powerful noble houses such as House Rockwood often had more than one Grandmaster.

For Orodan’s purposes, Alcianne Rockwood was the only member of real relevance to him. But that didn’t mean that there weren’t some single and dual-Grandmasters among the Rockwoods. For a house with a history, they had a decent number of people whose age exceeded five-hundred years old.

These people either worked behind the scenes, were retired and enjoyed life, or were even nominal heads of the house themselves at a certain point.

“Thank you for having me,” Orodan politely replied. “I haven’t met a Grandmaster-tailor before… how does the craft look at such a high level?”

“My descendant Alcianne tells me you’re quite the hand at Alchemy, so I’ll relate it to that,” Teltheston Rockwood answered. “Much like potions, the materials and their quality are quite important. Cloth is often weaved from magical sources, the material is then worked upon and empowered much like how a high-level alchemical potion might be. Of course, the method and skill of the weaver is also a great contributor. Many things come together at the Grandmaster-level, much like in Alchemy.”

“Alcianne… is your descendant? I thought she’s the strongest Grandmaster in the house? How are you so old?”

“Hahah! I’ll not take offense to your forward manner of speech young man! Yes, I admit I am quite old… many generations older than Alcianne,” Teltheston replied. “Why, I still remember her trying to wrestle with the elder griffins when she was a little girl. Her talent and destiny for greatness was apparent from early on.”

“I see… how old are you then?”

The old man couldn’t help but burst out laughing once more.

“Truly… little Alcianne did not lie about how blunt you are. Please… do not ever change young Orodan. In a society of sycophantic flatterers, it is good to see one with a straightforward tongue,” the old tailor spoke jovially. “But to answer your question, I’m just over three-thousand years old. My time to depart this world will naturally come in the next century or so. But I don’t quite fancy the thought of losing myself slowly, so I’ll likely move on in the next few years.”

This man… was old. And he was nearing death.

It was Orodan’s first time meeting a Grandmaster who was nearing the end of their natural life.

Were they all as accepting of it and as carefree as Teltheston Rockwood?

It explained why the man spoke with none of the fear and careful treading that non-combatants usually would around combat specialists.

Teltheston was close to death already, what did he care if he offended someone by speaking freely?

“What was it like back in your day?” Orodan asked honestly.

“Oh you know… war, politics, wooing pretty lads and lasses, raising skill levels,” Teltheston replied. “Not much different from now. Admittedly, we were part of the Empire, but anyone who’s a Master can tell you that. Our little Republic is only a hundred-and-twenty years old after all. Don’t know why you’re asking me, if you want to hear about truly ancient history, go ask the dragons… if they feel like talking, hahah!”

Good point.

Orodan had met older people and beings, but it was interesting to meet someone whose death was coming soon.

‘Soon’ by the standards of Grandmasters at least.

“I suppose Alcianne was quite talented for her age then?” Orodan asked.

“That she is. That girl’s always been the forefront of House Rockwood. Eager to rush headlong into battle, although she was a bit subdued after that nasty fight she got into while assaulting Novar’s Peak,” the old man said. “She was quite elated to get that nasty curse taken care of.”

“I imagine she would be,” Orodan said. “I’ve faced a hex mage in the academy during a bout of training, but none of her curses stuck to me like the one I hear the old woman was suffering from.”

Frankly, while the curses of the headmistress of the school of hex magic had hurt. They hadn’t stuck to Orodan’s soul or body.

When the time came to fight that reincarnator in a future loop, Orodan suspected his soul skills and near endless energy might give him an edge over the Novarrian curse master.

Although, Orodan wouldn’t be so quick to write the man off.

The feeling of danger he got from meeting the reincarnator Demosthenos Albathrax was far more pronounced than any other mortal Grandmaster Orodan had encountered.

“Old woman am I? I’m not even fifteen hundred years old yet,” a familiar voice called out as footsteps drew closer. “Children these days… they go fighting in an energy well and think disrespecting their elders is now acceptable. Orodan Wainwright, what brings you here?”

Orodan turned around to see the familiar burly figure of Alcianne Rockwood approaching.

“I’m here to talk about that offer you made me a while ago,” Orodan replied.

“Ah… yes. This is better discussed elsewhere. Particularly away from this old codger who enjoys telling everyone he meets embarrassing stories about me.”

“Why I hadn’t even gotten to that point!” Teltheston protested.

The two of them left the parlor while ignoring the aged Grandmaster-tailor.

“He’s quite carefree about the prospect of his impending death,” Orodan remarked as they walked towards one of the balconies. “Does he tailor anymore?”

“His hands have begun losing their strength and he can no longer work with magically enhanced cloth varieties. It nearly broke him when the signs first came… but he is a resilient man,” Alcianne answered. “He will be remembered… and missed.”

Orodan had nothing else to say about such a morose topic. So he decided to move to what he came here for.

“I know we haven’t broached the matter… but my mentor…”

Orodan hadn’t spoken to Alcianne about his mentor’s situation. But they both knew that something was wrong with Arvayne Firesword.

“If you’ve come to ask me for help on that matter, then I’m afraid you’ll be leaving empty-handed,” Alcianne bluntly replied. “Arvayne chose his own path when he took that third Blessing. Not even another God could salvage him from that now, nor would Halor be willing to cause strife among the Prime Five even if I asked.”

“I understand… I’m not asking for your help in that regard, but I am asking for advice,” Orodan spoke. “Hypothetically, how would someone go about dispelling a God’s influence from a Chosen? Or at the very least, reversing the change in personality?”

The old man was fine until he attempted to warn Orodan about something, and then Agathor took over.

Maybe not in this loop, but in the future, could there be a way to save Arvayne Firesword from the God of War’s molding?

“You’re frighteningly powerful, beyond anything I’ve ever seen at your age. Your secrets must be world-shaking, and I will not pry… but it will take you a long time to be capable of defeating Arvayne in his full Avatar state and capturing him,” Alcianne replied. “If you somehow managed to do that, perhaps a powerful psionic could reverse the mental changes. Presuming Agathor doesn’t channel enough divine power through his body to kill him out of spite.”

“Is there no other way? Is becoming a Chosen truly such an inevitable conclusion to one’s free will?” Orodan asked.

Alcianne’s fist clenched.

“Look boy… you saved my life down in the energy well. You saved all of us by protecting Destartes and occupying that vampire,” she spoke. “But this is a sensitive topic. I have asked myself that same question hundreds of times over the centuries I’ve lived and found no satisfactory answer. Arvayne shouldn’t have taken the third Blessing from a God that’s known for ‘gifting’ his Chosen with the mind of a true warrior.”

She spat the last bit out venomously.

Whatever history she and Arvayne had, was something Orodan decided not to broach.

Orodan remained silent for a few moments to allow the woman’s emotions to subside.

“I understand, but I mainly came here to ask about a new training partner,” Orodan spoke. “Ever since the old man’s been acting different, I haven’t had anyone to batter myself against.”

It was left unsaid that Orodan also didn’t trust Agathor to be near him. Perhaps the God might try to push Orodan into churning Eternal Soul Reactor hard enough that Fate Disconnect would deactivate.

His action increase ‘clones’ just weren’t cutting it either.

He needed a stronger opponent, and even dual-Grandmasters weren’t strong enough to truly push him to the limit.

He needed a Chosen, a triple-Grandmaster.

“A training partner you say?” Alcianne asked with a manic smile on her face. “I think I could help with that.”

Orodan was excited to finally get some real work done.

---

Alcianne was a brutal training partner.

Just how Orodan liked it.

He always felt that Arvayne was holding back somewhat. That the old man had a bit of hesitation just before savaging Orodan.

Alcianne did not have any such moral compunctions.

She immediately set about utterly brutalizing him.

He was grappled, mauled, slammed into the ground, thrown at the walls and beaten in just about every way possible.

She was a triple-Grandmaster. At Unarmed Combat, Wrestling… and Healing.

Which meant she had no problems beating on Orodan as hard as she wanted, for she could happily afford the damage tradeoff.

If the healing got too mana-intensive for her, she would just chug a mana potion. This happened with far less frequency than Arvayne drinking healing potions during their sessions.

Orodan almost never got the chance to get to his feet when fighting her.

Every time he rose, he would be on the receiving end of another takedown. He was effectively being suppressed through grappling.

His only way out was at times having a piece of himself torn apart, and reforming away from her positional dominance.

On the other hand, she greatly approved of every insane training method he had. Such as having the endless gravity core in his stomach, and using the lasso on himself.

Unlike Arvayne Firesword, she had places to be. So they ended up training for two hours a day, equaling twelve hours with Bluefire’s six to one time dilation wards.

It was great training, but the lower training time was a hindrance. As was the fact that like with Arvayne, it wasn’t true life and death combat. His skill level gains had virtually stopped coming for his higher level skills as a result.

His lower level combat skills slowly increased across the board though.

Body Tempering began to finally slow down in skill level gains, as Orodan found that the endless gravity core had a limit. He flooded it with enough soul energy that it began to show some minor cracks. He still kept it on at all times, but it now began to get lighter as he grew stronger, with no way of really increasing its weight.

He’d need to find something better in a future loop.

As for the lasso, he continually cycled between different elements to assault himself with, but without the edge of life and death it seemed like it would take a good while before he could obtain resistance skills from it.

His soul skills steadily advanced, but anything that was past level 75 increased very slowly, if at all.

Alcianne Rockwood didn’t know about the time loops, and Orodan wasn’t sure if he should tell her either. For now, she never asked, and he was content to simply train.

Aside from training with her, Orodan also continued his training with Rosvedir and Hymelrass at Millenium Roost, the Time Wind dragon flight’s settlement.

They were still secretive about the ‘reward’ he was supposed to get from placing first in the trial. Hymelrass insisted it would be given to him very soon, as he progressed further down the path of Draconic Mana Channeling. Which was steadily gaining levels alongside Flare.

Of course, his crafting classes at the academy continued too. Albeit, progress got slower as he advanced further in levels.

Orodan felt that the opportunity to meet with Master-enchanter Gormir Eltros would come nearer to the end of the loop, he could ask for it now but felt his skill levels were too low to gain anything feasible from it. He insisted on reaching at least the Adept-level in Enchanting first.

Enchanting was a craft where endless mana and limitless willpower allowed him to advance far faster than most students. He needed no breaks and his concentration never broke.

But he was no genius of Enchanting.

He saw an actual prodigy in the class weave an Elite-level enchantment onto an item while only at the Apprentice-level herself. Orodan doubted he would be enchanting above his weight class like he could when it came to fighting.

Not yet at least.

Blacksmithing’s progress was infuriatingly slow as expected. Orodan just didn’t have an avenue of quick skill level gain in it like Alchemy did. The later levels were coming slower and slower too.

The talent in the class was a young man who was a savant with metal. Barely spoke to anyone, yet just knew how to shape metal perfectly. This man’s forge work quickly had him scoped out and taken away for personal tutelage by the Masters.

Woodworking was going well, as was Alchemy. The levels steadily increased in those two skills, and Orodan was beginning to understand the finer points of the crafts.

Like this, his days went on.

Crafting classes during the day, training with Alcianne Rockwood and then heading to Millenium Roost to train with the dragons.

Like that, two weeks passed.

And soon, he got word from Mahari one morning that Olsinius’s clan had agreed to Orodan’s offer of charging up their settlement’s mana batteries.

---

“Feels far smoother than flying with a griffin.”

“Of course it does, the griffins I’ve seen you fly were mere Apprentice-level hatchlings. I am a true ruler of the skies.”

Orodan decided not to instigate the pegasus he was riding by asking it how it compared to a dragon.

A fall wouldn’t harm him, but the haughty pegasus might choose to drop him into the deep parts of the swamps they were flying over.

Orodan had lost enough sets of clothing to enemy attacks.

Losing an outfit to a dirty pit of muck would just be embarrassing.

But he had to admit, Olsinius flew far faster and smoother than any griffin he rode. There were no jostling shakes from wing beats. It felt as though he was riding the very winds, as though the pegasus wasn’t even flying, but simply gliding through space.

“Isn’t it exhilarating Orodan? I’ll never quite get used to it,” Mahari spoke as she and her companion flew alongside them.

"Quite," Orodan replied.

The Apprentice-level pegasus was only able to keep up thanks to one of Olsinius’s skills that allowed him to create a tailwind that following pegasi could ride.

Among pegasi it was a widely taught skill to allow for different tiers of aerial mounts to keep up within the same formation.

They were going fast enough that even Orodan wasn’t entirely confident he could keep up with the pegasus’s top flight speed without causing serious environmental destruction by running with full strength.

Pegasi were naturally meant to fly, they were creatures whose flight speed was among the fastest in the world. They could even fly faster than dragons, although combat was a different matter.

A multiple day’s journey for the regular ground-based caravan was made in less than an hour.

Of course, Olsinius’s clan was based in the Eastern Kingdoms.

So it was Orodan’s first time there.

The swamps of the Republic’s eastern border gave way to sprawling rainforests. They had crossed into the Kingdom of Ravastaran.

The trees and vegetation were packed incredibly densely. He had seen the Aenechean forest in Volarbury County before, but they were two different things.

Compared to the open clearings at parts of the Aenechean forest, this rainforest looked as though the sun never reached many parts of its floor. If the bordering swamps were any indication, the floor might also be similarly wet.

“The Aenechean Forest is said to have some pretty powerful monsters deeper within… does this rainforest also have similar?” Orodan asked.

“Quite so. The Altarban Rainforest is home to some very powerful species. Crocodiles and naga stalk the river coasts and waterways; while tiger-men and gorilla tribes have settled in some of the calmer parts of the jungle,” Olsinius explained with a series of neighs and whinnies. “My clan is often at odds with the local eagle tribes that dare to contest our reign of the skies. But deeper in the forest where the sun does not reach the floor… even the trees are rumored to come alive.”

“Sounds like a fight would be fun, do you go hunting in there often?” Orodan asked.

“Do you go delving into the deep-” the pegasus paused. “Nevermind… an incorrect comparison. You actually do go delving into deep, dark and unknown places.”

“I’ll take that as a no then?” Orodan queried. “Surely there are treasures to be found deeper in the rainforest?”

“If there are treasures to be found, it is human adventurers and expeditionaries from the Kingdom of Ravastaran who lay claim to it,” Olsinius explained. “Us pegasi do not fare very well scouring such an environment. The pegasi of the White Cloud clan owe allegiance to the King of Ravastaran. We provide military aid and train alongside the pegasus knights, and in return we are lavished with resources and our clan is protected by the kingdom.”

It was a good arrangement.

What need was there for the pegasi of the White Cloud clan to risk themselves foraying into an environment unfavorable to them?

Humans and pegasi had a very symbiotic relationship in the Eastern Kingdoms after all.

“We are close,” Olsinius spoke. “That mountain peak over there is where my clan resides.”

As they got closer, Orodan could see various dwellings come into clearer view as they approached the misty mountain overlooking the rainforest.

Both pegasi landed not upon the landing zone, but instead directly flew towards a building with an open roof.

It appeared the pegasi also took after the dragons in having structures with roof access points for flying beings.

The buildings weren’t anywhere near as gargantuan as the structures of Millenium Roost. They were more man-sized, and almost looked akin to human architecture.

They landed directly into the open courtyard of one of the larger buildings, and upon landing Orodan saw more pegasi surrounding them. Alongside a number of human guards in glamorous armor who had pegasi accompanying them.

Perhaps these were pegasus knights?

“A little rude to just barge in with visitors isn’t it Olsinius?” asked a golden maned pegasus. “Even if you have the girl with you, we still must abide by protocol.”

“Apologies ancestor… this is the man we spoke of. Orodan Wainwright,” Olsinius spoke as he ushered Orodan to dismount. “The human who took first place in the Time Wind’s trial of abundance.”

The golden pegasus looked him up and down as he set foot onto the ground.

“Oh? Do you truly possess an ability to charge a mana battery so quickly?” the pegasus asked. “We are more than agreeable to your request to browse our treasure hall if you charge ours up. You can take any one treasure you wish.”

Orodan assented to this arrangement, and soon he was lead to where the settlement’s massive mana batteries were kept.

“We have three mana batteries. All three accept any form of energy, which is then converted to mana,” the pegasus explained. “Charging just one of them up fully will honor our agreement. Do not worry about that larger orb up there, that is the settlement’s master battery. It can hold upto a millennia of energy, thus we are not expecting you to fill it up.”

Orodan could only think of two words while looking at it.

Challenge accepted.

---

The rate at which he could fill these orbs was higher now thanks to his Harmony of Vitality.

His body could heal faster and consequently he could channel at least half again more soul energy safely.

It still took him four hours to fill all three mana batteries and then fill the master battery.

The golden pegasus could only stare at him once he was done.

“…are you perhaps a reincarnated dragon? A transformation spell or potion which allows you to exist in human form?”

“Nothing of that sort, I just have my unique methods of generating endless energy,” Orodan answered.

“I will not pry, we are beyond grateful that someone possessed of such raw power would deign to come to our settlement and just help us,” the pegasus said respectfully. “You’ve granted us many centuries of prosperity as we won’t have to source mana crystals to fuel the batteries for a while. It’s a substantial expense.”

A single mana battery could hold perhaps a century’s worth of mana, while a settlement’s master battery which the auxiliary ones fed into could hold upto a millennium's worth.

Needless to say, safely filling up the three auxiliary batteries and then the master one took Orodan four hours altogether.

A rate that still left the pegasus nervously looking at him as though he was a monster beyond the ken of dragons.

“It wasn’t a problem,” Orodan replied. “Now then, shall we peruse some treasures?”

The pegasus practically let him have full run of the vault.

It upped the reward and offered three treasures of Orodan’s choice, but there was a minor problem…

…most of the items in the vault were somewhat useless to him.

Grandmaster-level horse barding, enchanted horseshoes for travel, magical jewelry to aid pegasi in casting ranged magic in battle.

Orodan found nothing of value for himself, so he offered a treasure apiece to Mahari and Olsinius, which they were flabbergasted by and exceedingly grateful for.

The haughty pegasus could be humble from time to time it seemed.

He was on the verge of leaving, when he noticed a strange stone door within the vault.

“What’s that?”

“Gracious benefactor, that doorway leads to our sanctum of cursed items,” the pegasus spoke. “Foul objects which cause much misfortune. I would not wish for one who has aided us to have himself sullied by being near such disgusting things. Some of those items can cause negative effects through mere proximity.”

“That sounds exactly like what I need!”

The pegasus could only look askance at Orodan’s reckless mannerisms.

It offered him a set of protective items, but Orodan refused.

But, the door was opened all the same, although the pegasus hung a good distance back.

It was as it promised.

Upon stepping past the warded doors, the first thing Orodan felt was multiple sources of psionic and soul assaults upon himself.

He determined the source to be a fell and ominous crown upon a stand, and a scepter that looked as though it belonged to a necromancer.

The assaults were middling at best, nothing like what a true Grandmaster psionic was capable of. His resistance skills and the power of his soul allowed him to casually brush them off.

He began reading the descriptions of the various items in this cursed chamber, etched into stone tablets.

The crown and scepter apparently belonged to an ancient lich from a bygone era, and most importantly… was a book that contained the lich’s phylactery within.

Orodan strode up to it, and opened it up. Perhaps there were some secrets within?

Suddenly, all he knew was utter, mind-consuming pain.

It was almost endless, and it was so maddeningly intense that even his Pain Resistance skill was unused to it. His soul, his entire body, his very being and thoughts… were all excruciating agony.

Orodan didn’t know how he held on, but as the seconds passed by he realized he was still holding the book open and attempting to read the letters.

Pain Resistance had levelled up twice in just seconds.

What a valuable find… this was real treasure!

“How… how are you still holding on mortal?” a feminine voice rang out from the book.

“A talking book? And it helps train Pain Resistance, what a valuable item… I have to come here from next time…” Orodan muttered to himself.

“Unhand me immediately you masochistic buffoon! I am not a mere training aid!” the book spoke, and then it winced in pain as though struck. Warrior’s Reciprocity made it feel as though it had been insulted in return more than twofold. “What foul skill is that? Who are you? Do you not know that you speak to someone beyond the ken of mere mortals who has threatened even the Gods?”

“Oh? Who are you then? All I see is an angry talking book that’s good for training Pain Resistance,” Orodan quipped. “Why’d you stop? Continue the assault once more please.”

“You… what even are you?! If you wish to experience true pain, then I will oblige your foolish request!”

Yet again, Orodan knew only blinding pain.

He somehow managed to remain in contact with the book even as he fell onto the ground, holding it open as he forced himself to continue looking upon it.

“Yes… yes! Continue the assault! The gains are quite profound!”

“You lunatic! Your foul skill is returning the pain to me as well!”

“That’s the point! I can train two skills for the price of one!”

“Madness! Get away from me!” the book exclaimed and stopped its assault.

“Alright, alright…” Orodan muttered. “Look, I don’t mean to offend you, but this is an excellent form of training for me. It’s quite difficult to make gains outside of real life and death combat nowadays.”

“…if you insist on keeping me, we shall have training sessions at a designated time from now on. I don’t even know your name yet,” the book muttered in a resigned voice.

“I am Orodan Wainwright,” he answered. “How about you? Some powerful lich from an ancient age?”

“Yes, yes… I am a powerful raiser of undead and zombies from ancient times, my name is forgotten to everyone and you are not yet worthy of it,” the book replied.

“If you threatened even the Gods, how can your name be forgotten so easily?” Orodan asked.

“I said no such thing, perhaps have your memory checked fool,” the book replied with a blatant lie, and then cried out as the insult was returned. “Ugh! Such a foul skill… how does it return both insults and attacks? What rarity is it?”

“Mythical.”

“Hrm… not bad. Perhaps you do have some potential,” it replied.

Orodan felt that this would be the start of a beautiful partnership.

---

“For a rock-headed idiot like you, I’m surprised you can sit still long enough to silently meditate,” the book remarked and them promptly cried out in pain and indignation as the insult was returned. “Guh… that skill is unfair.”

The skill defaulted to returning every source of harm he faced.

What he didn’t tell the whiny book though, was that he could choose not to return an attack.

He just didn’t want to.

Not when hearing its pitiful cries was so satisfying.

Well, Orodan supposed that it could very well be a she. But he wouldn’t assume just because the voice sounded feminine enough.

“I’m not just sitting here… this clearing, is where the very first mentor I ever had used to bide his time,” Orodan said. “I like to ensure this place is looked after, and it’s not a bad view.”

“I see… I too had teachers a long, long time ago,” the book replied. “I could not bring them back when time or battle took them. My parents neither…”

“I never knew my parents, supposedly they were slain during a caravan raid when I was but a babe,” Orodan remarked and the book hummed in silent acknowledgement. “Also, couldn’t you have extended their life a bit with your powers? The guards at the pegasus’s vault wouldn’t stop warning me about how dangerous your necromantic prowess was, they almost didn’t want to let me leave with you. Your voice does sound rather womanly for a historic necromancer named Exus Baldrimon.”

Not that Orodan would judge. Who cared what gender identity someone had?

What really mattered was how good of a fight they could give him.

“Hmph! Of course I am Exus Baldrimon!” the uppity book replied with arrogance. “That you deign to use my name without having shown yourself worthy of it is a black mark against your character!”

“Tell me a bit about high-level necromancy then. I killed a Master necromancer in my early days, she had an undead Demonic Berserker as her minion. Fighting that thing when it was empowered was quite the chore at my level,” Orodan spoke. “How does that work? We don’t have any powerful necromancers in the Republic that are open about the fact, its a rather strictly regulated practice around here.”

“Why, how else does necromancy work? You snap your fingers and the magic does the work,” it replied sarcastically. “Do I look like I would share such fell secrets with the uninitiated?”

“Given that you’re a book, whose purpose is to spread knowledge… yes, you do look like you would share such nefarious secrets.”

“A mere temporary vessel!” it protested. “In my true form I can make even Gods quake!”

“I thought you said you never mentioned anything about threatening Gods?” Orodan pointedly asked.

“Of course I didn’t, it’s just a figure of speech,” it quickly replied.

By now, Orodan was sure it was hiding something. But as long as he got the training he wanted out of the book, he was happy.

The overly talkative and haughty text could keep its secrets. He had enough of his own too.

Their conversation was interrupted however as he heard the beat of pegasus wings approaching.

It was probably one of the most glamorous pegasi he had ever seen. Sparkling mane of jewels, glorious coat of gold, how ostentatious!

Riding it was an unassuming old man who dismounted once the pegasus touched down.

Orodan met the man’s gaze, and in turn the man stared back at him.

The silence lasted for a few seconds until Orodan simply decided to return to his meditations on his soul skills.

The old man must have seemed satisfied, as he too sat down and quietly meditated.

The silence was broken a minute later.

“I’ve heard from Kuonthus that he achieved level 100 in Phoenix Thrust before he died… did it make a difference?” the pegasus rider asked.

“In harming it? No,” Orodan answered. “That creature was far too powerful… but he did save us in his final moments.”

“I see… that was always Adeltaj’s character. A do-gooder… a real hero,” the old man remarked. “Even when we slew the worm many centuries ago, he also stepped in front of its attack as it was about to kill me. I suppose it is only fitting that he died doing such a thing.”

“Then you… must be the hero who received the Quest he’s famous for assisting with?”

“Heh… ‘hero’ they call me,” the old man muttered. “Can’t say there’s anything particularly ‘heroic’ about being given an order from the world to do its bidding and slay a rampaging worm.”

Orodan could understand where the man was coming from.

What grand purpose was there in being given a Quest? He didn’t know. Neither did the history books and records of people who received them. He got a Reward, and that was it.

While there were many noble and legendary figures who received Quests to slay something or prevent a disastrous occurrence… there were also just as many people of dubious character who received them as well. The goals were similar, to prevent great catastrophe and devastation.

But being a heroic and noble character certainly wasn’t a prerequisite.

“So, in your experience, is it the world that orders us to do its bidding? Is that where the Quests really come from?” Orodan asked. “The ‘Quest Bestowed’ message doesn’t give any other clues.”

The man gave him a sharp and knowing look.

“I will not pry into your affairs… but for the most part, yes. The world itself is what commands us to carry out the grand demands it has,” the man spoke. “I do not know how it knows of future events, but you would do well not to trust it overly much. The world has its own agenda, one I have come to learn is not always in accordance with your own goals.”

The old man didn’t speak after that.

He never gave his name, and neither did Orodan bother to give his.

The history books spoke of the name Khassen Alvatel the Quest bearer, frequently enough.

The book in his hands stayed suspiciously silent during the entire conversation. It only elected to continue speaking once Orodan had left the clearing.

---

“I feel you’ve finally reached a point where I can deem you… barely acceptable,” Rosvedir spoke. “Your intelligence is lacking, and your physical size will win you no mates, but your ability to generate mana is truly worthy of a dragon.”

The annoying gravity dragon grunted in pain and outrage as it received its own insult more than twofold.

Orodan normally held Warrior’s Reciprocity back out of respect, but lately he’d been letting the scaly old fool have it.

“Thank you great Rosvedir, I don’t know where I’d be without your peerless tutelage and not-at-all sarcastic comments,” Orodan replied.

The dragon was an annoyance, and Orodan would say he much preferred Hymelrass, but the black dragon was starting to slowly grow on him.

Like a tick grew fat upon the skin.

“Rosvedir’s usual tirades aside, you’ve now reached level 36 in Draconic Mana Channeling… and you possess a profoundly powerful body,” Hymelrass spoke. “I believe it’s now time to teach you something we normally do not share with outsiders. Consider it your reward for taking first place in the trial.”

“I was wondering when you’d bring that up,” Orodan replied. “You were certainly quite mysterious and secretive about it.”

“Given that the spells we are about to teach you have allowed us dragons to remain dominant in the world, perhaps some secrecy is called for,” the dragon replied. “Thus far you’ve been using Draconic Mana Channeling alongside your mana-based skills, and the spell you’ve been empowering with it is Flare… but Flare is a low-level spell, and it is human magic. Orodan, how would you like to learn draconic magic spells?”

Draconic magic spells?

“I thought you dragons just empowered regular magic skills beyond what a human could, no?”

“Most of the time, that’s the case. We dragons have lost much over thousands of years, thus the ordinary dragons you see will typically use a regular skill such as Fireball and then greatly empower it through Draconic Mana Channeling,” Hymelrass explained. “But, far before my time we dragons had our own magical skills, designed from the ground up to accommodate our colossal amounts of power. Dragon magic spells. If any human can possibly learn it, it would be you.”

“That sounds fantastic and all… but given my existing talent in mana and the amount of time it took me to learn Flare, how long do you think it’ll take me to learn?”

“Not very long… perhaps a few centuries?” Rosvedir remarked.

A few centuries!?

They spent the rest of the session reviewing massive and thick tomes about the very ‘basic’ Draconic Fireball spell.

Except, it wasn’t basic at all from Orodan’s perspective.

It was so monstrously complicated. The sort of elemental tuning and internal mana structuring he’d have to do made him doubt that even Destartes could wrap his head around it in one go.

Hells, Hymelrass had outright said that even most dragons weren’t capable of it. She admitted that she and Rosvedir were two of the only three dragons in the entire Time Wind who knew draconic magic spells. The last being the slumbering Kultuanir who wasn’t looking to wake up any time soon.

Orodan kept calm the entire time until his session with the dragons ended, but internally he was deeply disappointed.

He wasn’t going to be successfully learning the first level of any draconic magic spell in this loop. Or even for dozens of loops.

He was utterly talentless when it came to the arts of magic and spell casting, so who knew how long it would take?

As he stepped out of the training chamber, the streets were rather quiet and he took the chance to prod his companion.

“Will it really take centuries? Say something you dusty old tome,” Orodan poked it. “You were alive a long time ago right? Surely you know something about draconic magic?”

“Feh… uninitiated whelps,” the book replied. “Their whole method of going about teaching you draconic magic is amateur.”

“So you know about it?! Share your secrets! How do I learn this in a more timely manner?” Orodan asked. “I’m all too happy to spend years tirelessly working on something, but there must be a better way.”

“Expecting a human to learn dragon magic without immersing themselves in the way of the dragon is an exercise in futility,” the book spoke and Orodan paid rapt attention. “The very body of a real dragon is different from that of a human. That you seem to have somehow learned Draconic Mana Channeling up to the level you have is utterly astonishing. Why, even I…”

“Even you?”

“Nevermind, I’m just an old necromancer from a bygone era, I don’t know anything about these dragons and their way of life,” the book interrupted, and Orodan grumbled.

He truly wanted to throw it into the ocean, but held off.

Whoever the actual being within the book was, Orodan was starting to feel that it wasn’t just a necromancer.

But for now he’d be patient and let it open up on its own.

Like that, another six weeks went by. They consisted of sparring with Alcianne, training with the dragons, leveling Pain Resistance with his haughty book and crafting classes.

Skill level gains stopped coming past 75 due to the lack of life and death battles, and the rest increased passably otherwise.

He had yet to obtain any new resistance skills from the lasso. The lack of mortal conflict meant acquiring anything new was slow… but he felt he was on the verge of obtaining something by the end of the loop at least.

Orodan accepted that he wouldn’t get everything done in one six month loop at Bluefire, but this loop had truly been invaluable for showing him where exactly he had to go.

Four months had passed since he began the loop.

There were six more weeks till the Inter-Academy Tournament.

And there were eight weeks till the descent of the Eldritch Avatar.

The end of the loop drew nearer, and his confrontation against the Eldritch and possibly with Agathor was soon coming to a head.