Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 56 – Among the people – Part One

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 56 – Among the people – Part OneOgre Tyrant: Chapter 56 - Amongst the people - Part One

Observing and assisting my champions served as a wake-up call. I was wasting their potential by limiting them to the initial Abilities I chose for them. The smart play was to give them the Grimoire of Flesh.

I had been limiting my selections based on my own personal and perceived immediate needs. However, if I planned on sharing Grimoire of Flesh, my choices would need to reflect a more utilitarian selection to account for a greater number of potential scenarios.

One of the first examples that came to mind was the Ward Spell. The Spell was practically useless to me the majority of the time. However, assuming I was keeping my champions busy, there would be several opportunities for them to drive wild monsters while on the move.

Similarly, Summon Servant and Thundering Strike were known to me already, so I dismissed them as potential candidates immediately out of hand. However, not sharing them with my champions seemed like an incredibly poor decision. Losing out on a few personal empowerment options in exchange for making my champions that much stronger and more capable seemed like a worthwhile investment.

Especially since my number of champions would increase as my stats improved, making those Spell selections even more valuable.

Before annexing the first floor of the Trost Labyrinth, I changed out the Ability Selection for Randle, Jayne and Faine to the Grimoire of Flesh. Half expecting the selection to be rejected, I was surprised when the change went through without an issue.

After making the change, I realised that I had taken for granted that my champions would receive a copy of my Spells selected for my copy of the Ability. I had just assumed that would be the case, which perhaps might be responsible for the outcome.

It was difficult to be certain. My authority as Tyrant made certain information available without my actively noticing or realising it. Simultaneously, it also allowed me to shape certain options otherwise presented to my subordinates.

Taking great care to separate the second team’s base camp implant the ground just outside of the Hunters Gate. With the unidentified eggs secured, I extended the opportunity for Promotion to Underlord to Jesset as thanks for her service. Her projection hadn’t been in any true danger, but it was the sentiment that mattered.

I would have sent one of the Daemons, but the sheer distance involved made Summon Servant incredibly expensive. So I needed a ‘weak’ volunteer that would otherwise be recognised on sight as a citizen of Sanctuary.

There had been several volunteers amongst the younger Serpent-Kin and Goblins who had yet to Evolve, but I was pressed for time and Jesset had won the random selection.

Separating the Foothold next, I temporarily transplanted it beside Sebet’s semi-completed fortress. I was still waiting on Sebet and her clones to return with the promised Shape Flesh Spell in magic item form, but I wasn’t particularly worried about them taking longer than originally estimated.

To accommodate their absence, I sent Garn to transfer the captured adventurers, guild employees, and shopkeepers to alternate accommodations. I wasn’t sure if Sebet had better accommodations than the original prison cells, but I gave Garn special instructions not to treat them too poorly.

So far as I knew, the storekeepers and adventurers had done nothing wrong. The staff of the Adventurers Guild held a higher degree of potential responsibility, but I was willing to wait for Sebet to get to the truth of it before doling out punishments.

Returning my focus to vetting Spells for my Grimoire of Flesh, I began trawling through the Registry to try and spot any Classes that might have Spells I could look into.

For the most part, I was disappointed.

A fairly large number of Spells were directly linked to their respective Class and were functionally Class Abilities outright as a result. Sёarch* The nôvelFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The Mage Classes had surprisingly few Spells to pilfer. Most of their Abilities were oriented toward improving their Spells or altering mana efficiency. However, my focus on the Mages, Druids and Necromancers included, reminded me of Lash’s Barrier. Overlooking the nullification Spell was incredibly foolish.

In a fight against a Master Necromancer like the Liche, Barrier would be invaluable for countering and outright negating the Liche’s aggressively destructive Spells.

Wisp’s personal recommendations had already been added to the Grimoire or were written down on a stone tablet stowed away in a pouch on my hip.

I outright refused to learn the Spells that would spread disease, damage the soul, or raise the dead. I also outright refused to learn the Ensnare Soul Spell. However, after discussing the potential complications involved with fighting the Liche, Wisp convinced me that we needed a way to prevent her from reviving herself after falling in battle. Otherwise, the Liche would simply return over and over again.

Barring exceptional luck in locating and destroying the vessel that stored and protected her soul after each defeat, creating a trap with the Ensnare Soul Spell was the only real option available to us.

Without access to the correct recess to Entropy Resistance or an incredibly high Toughness, any living spellcaster would be damaged by using the Spells.

A second concession was the Drain Life Spell. Intended for use only in emergencies, I hoped I would never have a cause or need to use it.

I was just about ready to turn in for the evening when Sebet returned. Having shed her earlier disguise, Sebet had assumed her European supermodel form instead.

“Great one! I have returned as I have promised!” Sebet called out eagerly as she hurried to close the remaining distance between us. Sebet held up what looked like a large steel bracelet, “For you! A ring to provide a Human disguise!”

Graciously accepting the ring, I couldn’t help but notice the five manastones prominently arranged on its surface. I also couldn’t help but notice the pair of spikes on the inner surface of the ring.

“They will ensure the ring can only be taken by force!” Sebet declared excitedly, “And so you can use your blood without cutting open your palm for every spell!”

Experimentally pressing against the spikes, I was relieved to see the two manastones on either side of the central stone rise from the surface of the ring to a certain point before they could go no further. Channelling mana into the ring as a whole, the ring began to slowly expand in size.

“I assume the Sculpt Flesh Spell is stored in the ring?” I asked warily while considering which finger to test the ring on.

“Of course!” Sebet replied eagerly, “We took great care in preparing a Human body!”

I was about to slip the ring onto my left index finger but paused, “On a scale of one to ten, how much does the Sculpt Flesh Spell hurt?”

Sebet appeared to give it some serious thought, “About a three,” she decided confidently.

Sliding the ring onto my finger, I felt the thin spikes assert a mild pressure. “Do you know what Empower will do to the Spell?” I asked curiously, unsure if I should try the Spell as is or Empower it.

Sebet took a few moments to think, “It might make the transition smoother?” She suggested uncertainly.

I wasn’t overly thrilled by her lack of confidence, but I doubted there would be other means of disguising myself to the same degree.

“The Spell isn’t permanent, right? I will turn back to normal when the mana runs out?” I asked warily.

“Of course,” Sebet agreed with far more confidence, “And the auxiliary manastones will make sure the ring changes along with your body.”

That was another oversight that made me seriously begin to reconsider my options.

“It’s perfectly safe!” Sebet insisted in a mildly insulted tone, “We tried it on several other people first!”

I couldn’t help but notice she failed to mention the participation of willing volunteers.

“And there shouldn’t be any problems related to my size?” I pressed dubiously.

“Nothing serious,” Sebet countered without batting an eye.

“Sebet?...” I released a long drawn-out sigh.

“Yes?” Sebet asked with a hint of nervousness.

“How about we make a Contract instead?” The song from Disney's Princess and the Frog came unbidden to my mind.

“A Contract?” Sebet’s eyes flashed and she licked her lips. Then rather abruptly, she shook her head, “The ring is perfectly serviceable! There is nothing wrong with it!” Sebet insisted.

“I want guarantees,” I growled, “And I want them in writing.”

Sebet relented and we spent close to an hour discussing the details of the transformation and under which conditions it would take place.

After signing the Contract, a tattoo of a human skull appeared on the inner side of my left forearm.

To activate the transformation, I would need to press my right forefinger and index finger against the tattoo, channel mana into the tattoo and call upon Sebet’s True Name. Any one of the safety measures would have sufficed, but I had the impression that I really didn’t want to trigger the effect accidentally.

With no immediate use for it, I returned the ring to Sebet for the time being.

“Are you going to give it a try?” Sebet pleaded, “We put a lot of work into the body!”

“You seem oddly fixated on it...” I scanned Sebet’s face for signs of malicious intent but found nothing besides earnest frustration. “Fine,” I relented and pressed my right forefinger and index finger against the skull tattoo.

“Eeeee!” Sebet tensed with excitement.

Taking a steadying breath, I began gathering my mana, making sure to direct it toward both the tattoo as well as my magic items, “Sebet.”

Everything went dark.

Anticipating a sudden surge of pain, I was pleasantly disappointed when I felt only a temporary tingling itching sensation. However, the wet crunching and cracking sounds were less than reassuring.

As my vision slowly returned, I felt a surge of panic upon finding Sebet’s face hovering an inch away from mine and on a larger scale than I had experienced thus far.

“Are you alright, Great One?” Sebet asked nervously, her slitted pupils moving to and fro as she scanned my face, “Did the pain exclusion clause function as intended?”

“I...” I paused uncertainly upon realising my voice didn’t quite sound right. My voice was several octaves deeper than it should have been. “You changed my voice,” I accused with a scowl.

Sebet leaned back and squirmed nervously, “Well, it’s part of the Human disguise,” she insisted defensively, “You would be recognised if we left the voice the same...”

“Hrmph...” I grunted irritably and slowly sat myself up. My arms and legs were splattered with mud, so I wasn’t sure I could trust my eyes. Staggering awkwardly to my feet, I slowly made my way over to the lake and looked at my reflection.

Of all the changes in my appearance, my eyes were drawn to one change in particular.

I had eyebrows.

Walking into the lake, I washed my hands and then gingerly stroked my new eyebrows.

“You like them?” Sebet asked proudly, “Clarice mentioned that you would appreciate the extra hair, and it does help frame your new face-”

“My face?” Tearing my attention away from my eyebrows, I looked down at the bald, clean-shaven face of the stranger staring back at me.

The face was mine only less squashed and blunt like the clay had been given room to cure instead of pressed against the wall. The eyebrows added an appreciable depth and broke up my brow and the deep tan made my skin look like I spent more than a handful of seconds in the sun each year.

The face was who I could have been, would have been, if I had been born without defects.

I resisted the urge to begin howling over the unfairness of my previous life. It was over. All that mattered was the here and now. I wasn’t human anymore. That Tim was dead and gone.

I took a deep breath and sighed.

This form was for convenience only, it wasn’t me.

“You will, of course, have noticed that your Racial Abilities and stats have remained untouched!” Sebet crowed pridefully, “Proportionalism is something of a hobby of mine!”

Checking my Status, I confirmed that Sebet was indeed correct. My outside appearance had changed, but that was all.

Leaving the lake, I reverted to my true form. “Thank you, Sebet. Your work exceeded my expectations, but I need time to process things.” It was a profound understatement.

No matter how many times I reasserted that I was, at the very least, content with my new life, dark thoughts would continue to gather. Motivated by pride, jealousy, spite, and envy, these thoughts made fantastical claims of how my life would have been different if I had been more human and less of a monster.

It didn’t matter who I was on the inside if everyone judged me by my foul exterior...

“Of course!” Sebet replied brightly, “Adjusting to one’s altered appearance can take time for the morphically challenged. However, it does get easier!”

I gathered up my mundane belongings and returned home to spend time with my family.

“This is also you?” Lash asked slowly as she circled me in the privacy of our cave and indulged her curiosity.

We had rehashed the question a dozen times already from slightly different angles but the answer never seemed to satisfy her.

“Just a disguise based on who I could have been,” I answered somewhat numbly, “If I wasn’t born defective...”

If I hadn’t been thrown away...

If I had been born with a face worthy of my birth mother’s love...

“Do you think our children are ugly?” Lash asked bluntly, catching me completely off guard.

“Wh-what?” I sputtered.

“Do you think our children are ugly?” Lash repeated with the same mild tone of challenge in her voice.

“Of course, I don’t!” I replied vehemently, “YOU know I don’t!”

“They came from YOU, not me alone,” Lash challenged, “OUR children are NOT ugly.”

Even as my brain geared up for a vitriolic retort, I felt something in my subconscious give way as I watched Suzy and Pete drool open-mouthed into our new pillows.

As much as I hated myself, I loved them.

Hating myself, and loving them unconditionally couldn’t coexist. Something had to give, and it had. I had been handed a reason, an excuse, a justification, to abandon so much of the negativity that had defined my life.

So, I let it go.

I staggered and nearly fell as I felt an immense emotional weight lift from my shoulders. Already tired due to the late hour and thoroughly emotionally exhausted, I didn’t resist when Lash gently guided me to bed.

Waking up comparatively late, it occurred to me that in all the months of our relationship, this was the first time Lash was larger than I was. Not just taller, but quite literally larger. It was a fact that she seemed determined to take advantage of while she had the opportunity.

Wrestling someone so much larger than myself was a unique experience on several levels. I was so used to having superior leverage and weight at any given moment, that I had somewhat forgotten how to compensate for their absence.

However, despite shrinking in size, I still retained most of my strength and durability. Which was just as well considering how aggressively Lash was establishing her holds and locking my joints.

It felt reinvigorating to experience a true physical challenge after going so long without it. The endorphin rush also helped with settling my somewhat unstable mood.

For her part, I was quite certain Lash was enjoying the tables turned in her favour.

Taking care to swear those frequenting the grove to secrecy, I otherwise took care to avoid revealing my human disguise to the residents of Sanctuary at large.

It was just as well, because readjusting to normal human proportions and decreased gravitational pull took a great deal of active exercise.

Determined to get some real combat experience in my human form, I donned some basic low-level magic items and then used my authority as Tyrant to relocate into my personal Labyrinth.

As I had expected, the first floor was bustling with newcomers of all ages. What I did not expect was to find several gathering areas with large signs and even larger crowds.

[ Defenders ]

[ Utility ]

[ Strikers ]

[ Healing ]

A large but fast-moving queue of people took turns being seen by a row of clerks who accepted payment from those in the queue and gave them a large wooden token on a rope to wear around their necks in exchange. The tokens had symbols that matched the signs in the gathering areas.

Every so often, someone would collect people into a group, take them to a different queue, retrieve their tokens and then send them off into the wilderness.

With the exception of the Healing group, which looked like it was a first aid station, the other three groups had a reasonably high turnover rate. I didn’t know who thought up the idea of paying someone to organise their groups for them, but it certainly seemed to be working out for both sides.

Of course, not everyone seemed to be paying for the premium matchmaking service. Most of the people I could see coming and going seemed to pay it little mind at all.

After thinking about it for a little while I realised that the matchmaking service itself was likely responsible. Groups who worked well together had no reason to pay for the service a second time, and anyone who had a group, to begin with, did not need their services either.

That said, the outdoor triage seemed to be making a tidy profit all on its own. Even though most minor injuries could be healed rather quickly through eating food, time seemed to possess a certain economy all its own and many people were willing to pay to have an injury removed immediately so they could get back into the action again.

I didn’t recognise any of the Surgeons working at the aid station, but I was impressed to find two Underlords using their retinues to optimise the collective Exp gain of all the Surgeons as a whole. It was a neat trick and to everyone’s obvious benefit, so I had no doubts that they were likely receiving a cut of the profits as well.

While I had technically donned magical equipment, it amounted to little more than a two-handed axe, an exotic-looking leather cuirass, a slatted leather kilt, and a steel nasal helm. I had intended to look somewhat odd on purpose to play up a sort of exotic mystique. None of that seemed to matter though. I had forgotten just how many monsters were actively participating in my Labyrinth.

A dark skin tone was about as exotic as mayonnaise when a pack of Gnolls was standing three feet to your left and a Goblin was standing on an Orc’s shoulders five feet to your right.

“Ah, uhm, exscusse me?” A hissing voice asked nervously.

Looking for the source of the voice, I found a pair of Venomblood youths awkwardly standing a distance behind me.

A somewhat rare Evolution of the Serpent-Kin, the Venombloods had more pronounced serpentine features and even had tails. True to their name, they had a Racial Ability that made their blood venomous. Unfortunately for them, that fact seemed to be somewhat common knowledge and they were being given a wide berth.

The owner of the voice had deep midnight blue scales contrasted with a striking inverted tiger-like orange pattern while her companion had a bright yellowish-green. “Um, would you be interessted in joining our group?” She asked anxiously, “I am Nassca and thiss iss Hisst.” Nassca motioned to herself and then to her companion with her long delicate fingers.

Accessing Nassca’s and Hisst’s information from the registry, I wasn’t particularly surprised to find that Nassca was a Venomancer. The venom-specialised Spellcasting Class was somewhat common amongst the Bale-Fang since the mana flowers had been made more widely available. What did surprise me was that Hisst was also a Venomancer. However, it now made their predicament that much more serious.

“Sorry, I hadn’t seen Venombloods in person before,” I lied to cover up my delayed response and buy some time to come up with a cover name for my assumed identity, “You can call me Fharad,” I extended my right arm in greeting and only realised my mistake as Nassca’s eyes widened in surprise.

Before I could retract my arm, Nassca transferred her spear to her left hand and then firmly clasped my presented forearm to seal the greeting.

Recognising that it was too late to back out now, I returned the arm clasp and held it for a few moments before retracting my arm. Being so gung-ho with an obviously poisonous Species wasn’t necessarily going to break my disguise on its own, but it was a serious blunder all the same.

“My name is Fharad,” I made an affectation of thumping my chest over my heart with my right hand. I wasn’t exactly certain what Clarice’s ancestral ethnic group was like, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong if I played into the general meathead archetype to cover for a lack of cultural identity.

“Ah, so, will you join uss?” Nassca asked with fragile optimism, “You are a mighty warrior, and our Sspellss are powerful. Thiss one and Hesst need only ssomone to hold the enemy at bay!” She explained hastily, attempting to cut off a refusal with flattery and completely failing to mention the risks associated with friendly fire.

They were obviously desperate.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” I asked curiously.

Nassca shrank back slightly and Hisst stepped forward, “We musst prove oursselvess before the Motherss Moon,” he hissed in a slightly challenging but otherwise reserved tone.

I took a moment and noticed how the pair naturally gravitated toward one another.

I hadn’t been aware that the Serpent-Kin’ Mothers Moon was approaching, but it only took a few moments to confirm it.

“You are proving yourselves to your families,” I realised, earning a confirmation as the pair exchanged furtive glances. “I might not be the best fit for your group,” I explained and held up a hand to forestall an immediate reaction, “But I will call in a favour so you will not need to go alone.”

Nassca and Hisst briefly exchanged a silent look with one another and then nodded.

Still intending to maintain the integrity of my disguise, I hid behind one of the buildings and Summoned Gric to pass along a request to Rikit on my behalf.

After dismissing Gric, I watched Nassca and Hisst from my hiding place.

To my immense relief, a small group of Gnolls arrived after only a few minutes and made straight for the pair of Venombloods.

Too far away to overhear their conversation, I was glad to see the two groups come to an agreement and head off into the Labyrinth proper.

I probably would have joined them myself if things hadn’t worked out, but I was more interested in testing myself against stronger enemies than they were currently prepared to face. My visit to the first floor had been purely to sate my curiosity.

Using my supreme authority, I transported myself to the highest floor.

In stark contrast to the first floor, the tenth floor had no formal matchmaking service for finding a group. It was difficult to find anyone that was not in a group already. With only a couple of hundred people in the general vicinity of the safe zone compared to the thousands on the first floor, it made a profoundly noticeable difference in the overall atmosphere.

There was also an almost unsettling competitive energy in the air and some of the groups openly stared at one another with suspicion.

I was considering how best to approach one of the groups when I found myself being approached instead.

“Hi there, brother!” A man with a singsong voice called out in greeting as he briskly made his approach, “New to the tenth floor?” He asked with a broad smile, “Hehe, no need to answer, brother, we all are! Just appeared yesterday!”

This was true. I had only gotten around to adding the tenth floor sometime around midnight.

“Name’s Jean, brother!” He extended his arm in greeting.

I clasped Jean’s arm, “Fharad,” I replied neutrally.

“Well, it’s good to meet you, Fharad!” Jean waved back toward the way he had come from and toward another man and two women lounging outside of an outdoor restaurant, “We were just looking for another member to round out our team before we begin scouting out the new environments! So? How about it? Wanna join us?!”

Jean’s energy was certainly infectious, so I decided to give his group a shot. “Alright,” I agreed and gave his forearm another squeeze as I accepted the party invite, disabled my Racial Abilities from Synergising the party and disabled viewing permissions for my Status. Leaving only group Status information available.

“Interesting stats you have there, brother!” Jean commented as he glanced downward at the Group Status.

“I have an interesting Class,” I replied with a friendly grin.

“Ah! One of the custom ones I have been hearing so much about?!” Jean guessed with a broad grin of his own, “Lucky sod!” He gave my left arm a playful jab, only to recoil and hiss while waving his fingers, “Hells bellow brother! Are you made of iron?!” He straightened and smiled it off, “Just playing with you brother! But damned if that didn’t hurt! Is that part of your special Class perhaps?” Jean asked slyly.

I shook my head, “Mostly good breeding and strenuous exercise,” I replied.

“Bwahahaha! I’ll bet, brother!” Jean slapped me on the arm and motioned for me to follow him toward the other members of his group, “Body like yours I would be getting plenty of both too no doubt, brother!”

It was a bad joke but I still couldn’t help but smile anyway.

“This the sub for Jake?” The taller blonde-haired woman, Sarah, asked with an approving nod.

“Better be, the shorter dark-haired woman, Fione, interjected and made a show of looking me up and down with keen interest.

“Keep it in your pants...” The older man sitting next to them, Horrace, released a longsuffering groan before glancing over his cup and very nearly doing a spit take, “Bloody hells, what did your parents feed you to get so big?!” He demanded incredulously.

“This is Fharad!” Jean announced cheerily, “And yeah, he will be standing in for Jake while he visits family. Unless anyone has any objections?...”

“Won’t hear me complaining,” Fione replied with a lascivious grin as she hooked her fingers through her belt and made no attempts at disguising her actions as she leaned back for an alternative view, “No complaints at all!”

“He is taken,” a gruff voice stated coldly.

Stooping slightly to look under the shade awning, I found the remaining party member. Tanner, a middle-aged man polishing a crossbow.

“What do you know?!” Fione scoffed dismissively.

“He’s marked,” Tanner commented, sparing a moment to spit some sort of brown juice from his mouth onto the floor before pointing an absent hand in the vague direction of my shoulder, “Look and see for yourself.”

The strap of my cuirass covered part of the scar but not all of it.

“My Bess has been talking about it just nearly every time I have been home lately,” Tanner continued, “Damned hard to miss when you know what to look for. Which I suppose is the point.”

“So you’re married?” Fione asked with evident disappointment.

“Happily,” I amended.

“If you’re looking for tall and ripped, just go chasing after an Orc,” Tanner groused, “Everything’s the same below the belt, nothing new to learn there.”

Instead of being embarrassed, Fione seemed to seriously take the suggestion under advisement.

Giving the group a quick once over, I noticed that most of the group carried similar equipment, favouring light or medium armour to move relatively unencumbered. Everyone carried at least one ranged weapon to go along with a primary melee weapon. Fione had several smaller throwing knives in a bandolier, while Sarah had several javelins stowed on the inner side of her light wooden shield.

“So, Fharad was it? Will you be holding the centre?” Tanner asked while pulling on his boots.

Jean looked at me expectantly.

I shrugged, “I’m fine with being in the thick of it,” I replied confidently, surreptitiously adding a brace of throwing axes to the backside of my belt. Depending on the enemy, there was no guarantee I would have the room to use the two handed axe, and I was very out of practice with using two hands to swing a weapon, to begin with. SHorthafting was an option, but having backups was a good idea anyway.

“I thought you would be, brother!” Jean agreed happily and slapped me on the back, “Just look at those scars!”

Except for the scars on my neck and shoulder, Sebet had taken care to remove my most distinguishing and recognisable scars. However, she had also gone to great lengths to replace them in equal quantity and overall volume. I wasn’t complaining, since it was a sort of resume for close-quarters fighting.

“Right!” Jean clapped his hands together eagerly, “I figure if we go north into the open plains and head for the barren hills, we should be able to get a decent vantage on the surrounding glens,” he waved expansively toward the north of basecamp, “I already spoke with Brannigan and Tilly’s lot, so we won’t get any trouble from them, but I haven’t got confirmation from Bruno or Gubbins, so we still need to keep an eye out. I paid us up for a retrieval Contract already, so yes Fione, it will be coming out of the total halt before we divvy it up.”

Fione kicked her heel at the dirt and hissed, “What’s so hard about not being beaten half to death?!”

“We are still paid up for the auto loot Contract, so we shouldn’t have any other expenses this time around,” Jean continued, actively ignoring Fione’s protests and fishing a necklace out of a pouch on his belt, “Remember to wear your markers! Our Contracts don’t mean shit if you aren’t wearing them!” He offered the necklace to me, “This is Jake’s, but it will make splitting loot afterwards much simpler if you wear it and come under our Contracts. It will also save you some coin’ if you haven't updated your Contracts yet.”

I shrugged and accepted the necklace. It had a simple, but magical leather cord and a rectangular plate of metal attached to it with a stamped identification number on each side. One to identify the floor, the other to identify the person.

Infusing a small amount of mana to increase the length of the leather cord, I then tied it off around my neck and tucked it away beneath the cuirass as best as I was able.

It was interesting to see how quickly people had come to accept Sebet’s rescue insurance Contracts, but more than that, how Sebet had taken the initiative to develop a videogame-like looting system. I hadn’t seen it for myself yet but based on how Jean had described it I had some rather high expectations.

“Before we head out, we should probably all introduce ourselves and our general role in the group!” Jean decided, drawing everyone’s attention back to himself as he spent a tiny amount of mana to activate a Spell.

Draw Focus.

As the name suggested, the Spell could be used as a one-and-done to draw attention to yourself, or you could leave it active and pay mana by the second. Based on Presence that would dictate the range and contest against the target’s Willpower.

I wasted no time in adding it to my Grimoire of Flesh.

Of all the Classes, I hadn’t expected to get such a useful Spell from a Bard.

Jean theatrically placed one booted foot on an open chair and thumbed the rim of his visor, “As you all know, I am Jean the generous! Scholar, adventurer, and lover! I am the party leader and will try to maintain a position in the middle of the group so I can help where I am needed most and use my Abilities without getting torn to bits!” His declarations earned some lighthearted snickering from Fione and Sarah and longsuffering groans from Horrace and Tanner.

Sarah stepped up next. “Well, I’m Sarah, and this is my sister, Fione, we’re both Skirmishers, so we will be hanging out on the flanks. We don’t go in for trading hits. We prefer to jump in or bloody someone up with some thrown weapons before backing off and finding a new opportunity. So don’t expect us to hold the line for long.”

“Yeah,” Fione agreed, “We can distract some of them for a bit if you need a breather, but don’t go looking for us to soak hits. You keep them busy and we can cut’em down no problem!”

“Ahem,” Horrace cleared his throat somewhat noisily, “I am Horrace, Paladin of the Holy Lady and rear guard of this fine troupe. While we travel, I shall watch our backs and do my best to ward off and provide warning of enemies who may attempt to outflank us! If there is a desperate need, I will join the fray and fight shoulder-to-shoulder alongside you! And should the worst befall us, I shall beseech The Lady on our behalf so she might bestow her miracles. Provided we are worthy, of course.” Horrace twitched his walrus-like moustache and donned his helmet.

I tried not to grin in amusement.

Horrace was not a Paladin. He was a Warlock, and Ophelia was his Patron.

Tanner didn’t bother getting up, continuing to double-check his equipment, “Tanner, Sniper, centre. You keep them off me, I make’em dead. Nothing more to it,” he gave me a perfunctory nod before spitting out some more of the brown juice onto the floor.

Everyone looked at me expectantly.

“I’m Fharad, a special guest of Sanctuary.” I earned a knowing nod from Tanner as he continued to check his gear. “I have a custom Class, but I am not permitted to disclose what it is.” I figured that excuse would hold for a while. The promotions and custom Classes were a special enough subject that people would probably expect some degree of secrecy. “I have several Spells at my disposal, but I am fine holding the front line.”

As I had expected, mentioning the custom Class drew immediate curiosity, but no one seemed overly keen on being the one to try their luck at finding out what it was.

It was nice to see that even though they had a Contract for being rescued, each member of the group carried a pouch with varying amounts of bandages and even painkillers.

“It’s part of the Contract brother!” Jean explained sagely, “Costs less if you can prove you took certain precautions, and the Surgeons charge less if you bring your own stuff too. You get gouged once for the ‘sourcing of materials’ and you make a habit of finding your own before you need them!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, wondering which one of Wraithe’s students had taken the tough-love approach to preventative care. I made a mental note to ask her about it later. It was a damned improvement over the adventurers' attitude I had witnessed in the Hurst Labyrinth. That was for sure.

Leaving the base camp, the other members of the group took up their positions just as they said they would. Leaving me in the somewhat awkward position of leading by default until such a time as Jean decided on a definite heading.

One of the core limitations of my Labyrinth was that the monsters were not able to keep up with the accelerated scale through normal means. With each floor possessing an increased range of five tiers over the floor before, this floor would technically be doing its best to emulate tier forty-six to fifty monsters. Because my Labyrinth could only work off of information from the floors integrated into my Demi-Plane, that meant that most of the monsters would have inflated stats from reapplying the same generic Evolution progression over and over again.

A wild Orc on the tenth floor of my Labyrinth would be an entirely different degree of danger to an Orc from the first floor. Then there were the Environmental Evolutions to consider as well. Fighting beside a lake would be a good way of tempting any amphibious monsters to take advantage.

My Labyrinth was limited to spawning wild Beasts to avoid certain ethical issues and potentially encourage certain xenophobic tendencies.

Fighting wild Beasts had the benefit of giving peace of mind that the monsters wouldn’t have Classes of their own. However, Beasts also had higher base stats and stat progression.

So, when I spotted a rather ordinary-looking boar in the distance, I made sure to point it out to everyone else. The last thing I wanted was to begin my adventuring debut by having a boar violently root around in my digestive tract. Then again, I needed to establish myself in the group somehow.

***** Jean - Tim’s Demi-Plane ~ Tim’s Labyrinth ~ Tenth Floor *****

“Looks like an Ironhide Boar to me,” Tanner grunted in mild annoyance, “At this tier, that hide’s gonna be near impenetrable.”

“I am not stabbing a boar up the arse again!” Fione stated grimly, “The Exp ain’t worth it.”

“We might want to reconsider our approach to the hills,” Sarah suggested, sharing her sister’s grimace of distaste.

Jean was inclined to agree but found it odd that his new recruit, Fharad, didn’t appear to be particularly phased by the prospect of fighting the Boar.

The Ironhide looked like it was close to four feet tall at the shoulder, making it a little over half as tall as Fharad himself.

“Should have brought a club,” Jean heard Fharad mutter before glancing back toward Sarah and her spear, “DO you mind if I borrow that?” Fharad asked in his deep rumbling voice, nodding toward her spear.

Sarah, rightly, looked back at Fharad as if he was mad, “You’re our frontliner, you can’t expect us to hold it off while you get in position behind it. You’ve got our roles all mixed around in that bald head of yours!”

“I wasn’t planning on stabbing it from the back,” Fharad countered, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes dangerously.

“Fuck it, fine!” Sarah held out the shaft of her spear but retracted it slightly when Fharad moved to take it, “But I want your axe as collateral! This spear wasn’t cheap!”

It had been a group item drop, but since the group split all treasure equally after covering costs, Sarah had to go out of pocket to cover what the group could have sold it for.

Fharad shrugged and offered her his axe without complaint, “It has a minor bleeding effect, nothing overly special.”

“My spear also has bleed...” Sarah replied somewhat stiffly as they exchanged weapons.

Fharad nodded and took a few practice thrusts, “Way easier than last time, go figure,” he muttered quietly. “Alright, I’m going to come at it from the southeast or east, depending on how close I can get,” Fharad declared and began briskly walking away.

“Does his axe really have bleed?” Fione asked curiously.

Sarah nodded.

“Why haven’t we seen this guy around before?” Fione muttered curiously, “He’s pretty distinctive. We should have at least heard of him, right?”

Jean nodded in agreement but continued to watch Fharad as he brazenly continued his casual circuitous approach toward the Board.

“Might be one of the Tyrant’s chosen men,” Tanner suggested conspiratorially, “My cousin was telling me about the muckety mucks sniffing about for recruits for something special.”

“And you think our Fharad might be such a person?” Horrace asked with polite but minimal interest as he kept watch behind them.

“Well, he has a special Class doesn’t he?” Tanner tapped the side of his nose and then returned to staring at the Boar.

“You think maybe we could get special Classes too?” Fione wondered aloud, “Like if we show Fharad how good we are, he could put in a word for us?”

“I heard the Tyrant only promotes military, and you need a promotion for a special Class,” Sarah replied.

Fione huffed in disappointment.

“That’s not true,” Tanner challenged, “The Tyrant’s promoted loads of people, just most of them are monsters.”

“And there was that competition, back when the Tyrant first created this Labyrinth,” Jean added thoughtfully.

Everyone nodded as they recalled how hectic those first few days had been.

“So there’s a chance?” Fione persisted.

Tanner shrugged, “I’d recommend blowing him to find out, but I doubt you’ll have much luck. You saw how he has just the one bite mark on his shoulder?”

“Yeah?” Fione answered with baited curiosity.

“Orcs aren’t civilised like you and me.” Tanner earned a derisive snort from Horrace. “Well, Horrace at any rate. Their men take as many wives as they can get, and that’s what their women expect.”

“You sound like you have done entirely too much research into this, Tanner,” Jean accused jovially.

“Well bleed me for wanting companionship!” Tanner replied with a grin showing entirely too many stained yellow teeth. “So anyway, I couldn’t help but notice how neither of our fine ladies got so much as a single lecherous glance earlier or since. Which means, he’s either got a thing for thighs that can crush skulls, or-”

“-He’s the kind that doesn’t mess around,” Fione interjected glumly, “Fuck, why are all the faithful guys already taken?!”

“Because they didn’t spend all their time shacking up with everyone who so much as glanced their way?” Sarah replied with a smirk.

“Hey!” Fione objected vehemently, “I said no to Tanner plenty of times! Doesn’t that count for something?!”

“The establishment of otherwise unknown minimum standards, perhaps?” Horrace interjected smugly and chuckled to himself.

“Hehehe!” Fione snickered, seeming to decide that the joke was more at Tanner’s expense than hers.

“Hrmph, and you wonder why I’m looking outside our Species for my soulmate,” Tanner grumbled.

Jean was about to step in and settle things, but there was a sudden development with the Boar. “It’s on the move!” He warned everyone.

The Boar had noticed Fharad and was aggressively digging at the ground in preparation to charge.

Unphased, Fharad paused his approach and braced his borrowed spear into the ground and angled the head of the spear toward the Boar.

“No way...” Sarah gasped incredulously, “He’s actually going to try and stick it from the front?! That’s fucking suicide! Fucking bastard! I’m going to lose my spear!”

Jean wasn’t so sure.

Objectively, what Fharad was doing was an incredibly stupid thing to do without a full formation of braced spears to outright halt the Boar’s forward momentum.

Each passing second seemed to slow until time was barely passing at all. The enraged squealing of the Boar rolled over the plains to the uneven and muffled accompaniment of its charge.

For a fleeting moment, it looked like Fharad’s aim had been off and that he had missed his mark. Then the Boar began to slow, ever so slightly, and the pitch of its squeals heightened.

Before the Boar could crash into him and bury its tusks in his chest, Fharad stepped to the side and swung a punch to the Boar’s exposed flank.

The Boar’s squeals were drowned out by a wet rumble of thunder and a fountain of blood and faeces as the Boar tumbled end over end away from them and across the plain.

As the kill notification passed before his eyes, Jean could only stare in muted horror at the unholy devastation that had been unleashed across the plains.

He was so shocked he barely noticed as Sarah fell to her knees and cried out in anguish, “MY SPEAR!!!”

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