Chapter 45: Bramblevale Frontier

“Bramblevale, finally!” Zarian pumped his fists into the air, his Parasite Cloak flapping dramatically in cheer behind him.

Together, he and Para scared the nearest soldiers. The outburst was uncharacteristic of him.

For the last three days of the journey, he’d acted like a dark and mysterious wraith. He would move around the formation of soldiers from within and outside, at least when he was in their view.

“Well, not yet, Lord Zarian,” said a soldier, who held his head down while addressing him.

The soldier then realized his mistake of correcting someone ‘superior’ to him. He blurted flustered apologies while shaking like a leaf.

“Relax, relax. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. Now tell me, what are we looking at?” Zarian asked, smooth and kind, with just a touch of sinister darkness in his voice.

“That would be the lookout fortress,” explained a different soldier. “We have multiple around Bramblevale. They stand between the wilds and savage lands and act as forewarning. Between the lookout fortresses and Central Bramblevale are the farm village fortresses.”

A different soldier drifted in carefully: “Bramblevale is quite built up. It’s a frontier location. It’s always been a contested point from past eras, back when elves and orcs used to war here. Though, it’s a little safer coming from the east compared to what’s up north, but still, you’ll find our fortresses quite hard and sturdy, ready for any challenge.”

“Any challenge, aye?” Zarian chuckled.

He nodded at the uneasy soldiers and thanked them for the info. Then he stepped ahead and examined the lookout fortress himself.

The World of Castles and Caverns continued to live up to its name.

The lookout fortress wasn’t a simple medieval place with tiny little walls. It didn’t have buildings that would catch fire if a pyromaniac looked in their direction.

No, it was quite the opposite. The humans living on the frontier stayed behind immense walls that were sturdy, stony, and built like they could withstand a war band of ten thousand angry, juiced-up green boys with tusks for teeth.

Turning about, Zarian saw there was no random block of stone left in the green fields and tall grass flanking the dirt road they walked on. The builders from long ago must’ve taken all the stone as part of constructing the fortress. All that remained other than the tall grass and fields of flower were sparse bushes and trees.

They didn’t even leave cobblestones or any grounds with hard foundations, like a courtyard. Zarian didn’t blame them. Behind those massive walls were stone towers that stood even higher while surrounded by more stone dwellings.

In a world with themes surrounding castles and caverns, why not take advantage of that?

Curious still, Zarian let his intrusive thoughts win. He launched into the air – scaring the hell out of the nearest soldiers – and flew up on twin jets of darkness.

He rocketed upward until he reached an altitude that was higher than the tallest construction, then he entered a hover. He judged the wall to be one hundred feet above leveled ground, but based on the higher foundations the fortress sat on, the wall was truly seventy-five feet in height.

The tallest tower was a little over one hundred feet. Each of the towers was made thick. With metal bars covering the windows. He could see faces looking out from the top of the towers as fingers pointed his way.

Zarian smiled under the darkness of his hood as he kept looking around. He saw crowds of people, mainly soldiers, milling about in an orderly hurry that reminded him of being on a military base. That was the last trivial thing he examined before his attention was glued to the magical siege engines covered in glowing runes on the ramparts and stone roofs.

He wondered if those ballistas could pierce tank armor from the old world. It probably could with all the magic infused into them.

“Yeah, this is high fantasy to the max.” Zarian chuckled, ignoring the shouts of warning from below.

Then he noticed something glowing on the wall before realizing his life might be in danger. An enchanted ballista flew in a fast streak from the nearest rampart section, tracing a blue aura across the air in the wink of an eye.

The speed and power of the ballista promised to deliver in credible damage. It could most definitely take down a large beast in the Level 40s or even make a Level 50 think twice.

Zarian blasted the enchanted ballista out of the air with a quick dark bolt. It was a close thing. He barely struck in time before the ballista landed.

Undeterred, he kept sightseeing from high above. They kept shooting magic ballista at him, which became a dangerous game that worked on his anti-projectile and anti-air defense.

He soon realized that Straight Darkness +1 wasn’t the best for defense against projectiles while in the air. It was easy now because of how he could overpower most challenges, but anything serious could probably get past that. He also didn’t want Para to soak the damage directly – a ballista projectile could still pack a punch.

Finally, Zarian lowered from the air, having arrived at a shocking realization.

He was weaker in the air than he was on the ground. It was easier to build defenses on the ground and hold a position, which was probably true for most people, but it was still a surprising thought for him. That and his swampy gator magic liked the ground better.Điscover new chapters at novelhall.com

Most fights are ground based, thankfully.

Zarian landed on a boulder Naomi was carrying over her head. She used it as a weight while doing walking lunges next to the marching soldiers, ignoring all of their gawking.

“Is that you causing trouble like usual?” Naomi asked.

“I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t,” Zarian answered.

“You’re a damn troublemaker, and someone ought to get you in line, Lord Zarian.”

He could hear the humor in her voice when she called him ‘lord.’ He grinned under the darkness of his cloak while trying to hold back a laugh.

Because of the soldiers’ perception of Bianca as a princess from a distant land, especially after she’d washed up and became more presentable with the elven dress, everybody in the party was associated with high nobility.

Bianca was Princess Bianca. Behind that was Lord Zarian, Lord Gilbert, Lady Naomi, and Lady Hannah.

He had more levels, more years, and possibly more stats from his own progression. But he had nothing on Bianca.

Still, he tried to defy the power of her goodness. His hammer grew to the width of a tree trunk and came crashing down onto Bianca’s head.

He hit an illusion. It didn’t seem to stop him from wanting to strike the earth and cause havoc.

Maybe that would’ve been the case if the patch of road Archibald and his soldiers stood on hadn’t turned swampy and unstable under their feet. Archibald splashed himself and his nearest soldiers as the Oak Hammer Smash collided with a mire that hadn’t been there a split second before.

The pages of Zarian’s new grimoire flipped next to his face, the book hovering over his shoulder.

He felt something heavy, ancient, and ghastly looming over his head and further behind him. If he looked back, he would see nothing. Nobody could see the lurking phantom while Zarian used a spell from the Grimoire of the Dread Mire Gator.

But they could certainly feel its weight and the high humidity in the air. They could smell something that belonged in a swamp while it stalked invisibly among them. Everybody could tell it was massive, bigger than what a hundred men could face, and its presence grew stronger when Zarian used a spell from the new soulbound grimoire.

So far, he’d learned one spell from the folktale style book of spells. Learning folktale spells differed compared to how he’d learned spells from the black magic grimoire. The Black Fire spell had required him to learn more about magic chemistry through symbols and runes.

The first spell from the dread mire gator covered the story of the man-swallowing quagmire. It spoke of how quagmire was cursed, how every king and army had fallen to their doom in the quagmire, and how the quagmire was home to the evil gator.

Zarian saw it for himself now. Archibald’s soldiers kept sliding, falling, and sinking into the boggy, quicksand-like manifestation of Zarian’s folktale spell.

<Quagmire Pit (Uncommon): Transmute the ground you can see into a magical quagmire that can slow, trip, drench, or even drown those caught in it. You and those you deem your allies can traverse over the pit without trouble. Scales partially with Wonder and Mysticism.>

Bianca reappeared next to the struggling Archibald, standing perfectly on the quagmire like an ethereal being. She fit the image while in her elven dress and going barefoot – she didn’t want to dishonor the dress wearing plain footwear.

Her eyes shone with brilliant light. More light glowed from her body, making her seem even more otherworldly. Her smile was as radiant as the suns. Her dress fluttered like a curtain of flowers caught by the wind.

“You will let these young men return home. You will grant us safe passage. You will not harm my friend regardless of his evil alignment. This is the will of good +3,” Bianca demanded.

She pulsated with high crusader energy.

Archibald tried to argue.

But he wasn’t good enough. Bianca’s crusader energy rolled over him. He could still try to fight her, but it was easy for everyone to see he was struggling with that prospect.

Archibald had the good alignment, too, but a lesser version. And it seemed like people of good alignment had a strong urge to adhere to order and hierarchy. This was probably worse for the local humans compared to the Outsiders who’d grown up differently.

The struggling man sinking into the Quagmire Pit thought twice about who he was messing with. He looked up at Bianca’s radiant form and epic dress and seemed to realize he was outmatched, regardless of level.

“How?” Archibald asked shakily. “Nobody in the kingdom, not even the king, has a level of goodness that high!”

Zarian couldn’t help but break out into evil laughter. The type of laughter that scared all the normies around him. It scared Roland greatly, and it made Archibald angry.

They couldn’t do a thing, however, because Bianca laughed along with Zarian. She sounded glamorous, good, and sunny compared to his sinister, evil, and dark laughter.

Thankfully, she was good +3 while Zarian was evil +2. Her laughter had more weight and covered for him. Archibald’s sense of goodness wanted to listen to Bianca more than he wanted to execute evil.

Archibald and his men gave up and let them go. Zarian found it funny looking back at them as Archibald’s soldiers gawked at the rest of his party members.

Hannah hadn’t looked up from her study of the White Spider Dungeon Core, which was apparently precious and worth a heavy amount of gold. Roller and Loner kept her company while she sat at the back of Zarian’s comfort cart.

Gilbert was training with random young soldiers. He’d gotten more invested in coaching the youngsters and seemed to relish being a ‘big brother’ type to them.

Then he would let them take hard swings at him, even to the point of injury, before he healed up and kept sparring with them and trading pointers. He’d even gained a stat point in Strength, which was reassuring for Zarian.

And, like always, Naomi was training like a madwoman. She was now running laps around the formation of Roland’s marching soldiers, back to holding her massive boulder above her head.

With the drama out of the way, Zarian returned to his spot on top of Naomi’s boulder. His presence forced her to hold the big rock with more stability so she didn’t rock him off – which was good for her core muscles.

She didn’t complain much and seemed to appreciate his company during her exercise.

Zarian lounged on his side as Naomi ran beneath him. He flipped through his dread gator grimoire, deeply invested in the next story about rising teeth belonging to an unidentifiable monster living in the quagmire.

The second folktale built on the foundations of the first folktale. Unfortunately, to access the next spell required him to remember a more complicated folktale story with bigger words, and he had to know it perfectly.

Still, he kept at it, not bothered by any mistakes along the way as he learned. Now and then, he did find himself distracted.

A part of his Fractured Mind contemplated what skills he should steal. Because he saw the better versions of what he wanted from the older, more veteran foot soldiers.

Why go for the basic stuff when I can go for the more advanced ones?

There could be more options waiting for him at Central Bramblevale.