Book 3: Chapter 23: A Strong Ruler

Book 3: Chapter 23: A Strong Ruler

There were seven opponents, all of equal skill, though none had the benefit of Roman’s attributes. Even without the enhancement provided by the Seal of Authority, his level far outstripped that of his opponents.

But that didn’t matter.

He was better than them, and to a degree that made him almost a different species. Of course he would have the advantage of superior Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution. Still, he didn’t activate any of his spells or abilities, because that wasn’t the point of the session. Instead, he was training his swordsmanship, and he couldn’t do that if he ended the fight before it could ever start.

That, and he didn’t want to kill them. Doing so would only result in a slight trickle of experience, and they were far more useful as practice opponents.

So, they circled him, their own swords held before them. Some had known something of sword fighting before the world had been touched by the World Tree, but others were more recent studies. Yet, Roman was enough of a realist to know that each and every one of them was his superior, at least in terms of pure technique.

Fortunately, he did have the advantage of his attributes, which served to even the odds. A good thing, considering he couldn’t countenance the notion of losing a fight in his own city. Not only would it affect his reputation – and thus, invite challenge – but it would also scrape against his ego in a way he never intended to analyze.

Suddenly, the first sparring partner struck, her sword flashing against the torchlight of the dojo. Roman reacted instantly, slapping the sword away with enough force that it nearly went flying from the woman’s grip, displaying her weakness for everyone to see.

It was a pitiful showing.

But it also highlighted Roman’s driving force. Only he was strong enough to save everyone. Only he had the power to ensure their safety. And if he wanted to continue rising to the challenge, he couldn’t allow himself to let up.

So, he trained.

As soon as he’d parried the first attack, the other six foes struck. Roman’s sword became a whirlwind as his footwork struggled to keep pace. Fighting one of them was well within the bounds of his capability, but all six – and with the first woman having just recovered – was on the verge of pushing him too far.

Still, as the clang of metal against metal continued, Roman fought on. And with every blocked attack, he grew stronger. It was reflected in his attributes, but that was the ability of his sword at work.

The False Dragon’s Fang had an insulting name, but its viability as a weapon was unquestionable. Not only was it incredibly sharp and durable, but it also came with enhancements to his attributes. But the ability, which was known simply as Escalation, was what truly set it apart.

And as his power climbed, Roman’s tentative ability to defend against so many enemies grew sturdier until, at last, he began to overcome them with sheer Strength. Swords flew from their weak grips, and in one case, a hand followed suit – it was that man’s own fault for being too slow – until, at last, they had been subdued.

“Do not bleed in my dojo,” Roman snarled at the wounded man who was clutching his stump to his chest, sullying his gi. He kicked the severed hand toward the man, growling, “Go see a Healer.”

Of course, a Healer was incapable of regrowing limbs. Perhaps it would be possible in the future, but for now, no one in Easton – God, he hated that name; it sounded so pedestrian when it should be majestic – had that kind of ability. Hopefully that would change going forward. Still, it was possible to reattach the limb, so long as he hurried.

As ordered, the man fled the dojo in search of a Healer. Once he was out of the room, Roman glared at the scattered drops of blood he’d left behind. That was unacceptable.

But he didn’t intend to cut the training session short just for a little blood. So, he said, “Again.”

This time, instead of the False Dragon’s Fang, he used a training sword, but even then, only six of them couldn’t hope to stand up to his might. Still, Roman continued his training for hours more until, at last, Fiona arrived.

The tiny waif of a woman had made some attempts to accentuate her boyish figure – likely to get Roman’s attention – but to him, those attempts made her look more like a child wearing an inappropriate costume.

“No experience at all?” asked Roman, surprised.

“Some of them scholars say it’s ‘cause the system measures effort, too. It’ll give you some leeway early on, but there comes a time when it ain’t gonna work no more.”

“Does this affect the program’s viability?” Roman asked, glancing at Fiona.

“No. It will work. We’re almost certain.”

“Then let’s get to it. Bring them forward,” Roman ordered.

And only a few minutes later, there were twenty prisoners before him. Each one was shackled and looked as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Perhaps they hadn’t. After all, they needed to be kept in a weakened state.

Without hesitation, Roman drew the False Dragon’s Fang, pulled it back, and lopped the head from the nearest prisoner’s neck. As it flew free, he experienced an influx of experience. It wasn’t nearly as much as he would’ve gotten for killing a level thirty-five monster in the wild, but it was still enough to move the needle.

“Did it work?” asked Fiona, her eyes shining with excitement.

“It did. We will proceed,” he said.

Then, he did just that, executing each of the criminals. It was a testament to how weakened they were that none of them even resisted. Likely, they counted death as a release. That served Roman’s purposes, and by the time he’d killed all twenty, he’d crossed the threshold to another level.

He’d already been close, but even that much seemed like a confirmation that they were on the right track. After all, these people were drains on society, but he’d finally found a way to make them useful. It felt good, solving such a problem.

“Good. Very good. How many are in this dungeon?”

“More than a thousand. And there are more coming each day. The issue is capturing the monsters, but we have dedicated teams scouring the countryside,” Fiona explained. “We can provide twenty kills a day, at least for a few weeks. After that, we may have to reevaluate.”

“You’ll have your criminals,” Roman said. “Inform Remus that he is to enforce the strictest letter of the law. That should get us a few more criminals. And if you run out of monsters, have them kill one another.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“What word of Arbor?” he asked, referring to the nearest city-state of any strength. In terms of population, it was even larger than Easton, though its military might left a lot to be desired.

“Primed for invasion.”

“Hold off, for now. We need to handle this delicately. In the meantime, we will continue to develop our strengths. Daily runs of the tower for our elites. And as many prisoners as you can find.”

“Yes, my lord.”

With that, Roman turned away, secure in the knowledge that he was doing everything within his power to ensure that Easton rose to prominence. After all, without his guiding hand, the world would soon fall into chaos. It was his duty to bring everything under one banner, because he knew that things would grow more dangerous with every passing day.