Eric crashed to his knees with a sob, trembling with horror and exhaustion and the sheer shock of having survived the most perilous battle he had ever endured while receiving absolutely nothing for his efforts, only losing. Losing his innocence, forced to accept that he damn well knew who his father was… or had been. Losing the chance to rescue Rising Sun Corp and countless thousands of souls he would have dearly loved to save by the one unique path open to him. Because he was simultaneously losing the right to shape and transform what would have been a grand marvel of an ascending territory he would have infused with as much power as he had New Arcadia, turning horror into hope and absolute wonder. He had lost the chance at incredible power, because sure as hell, Malice had been a Contender. Yet so forcefully had he been pulled from this plane with his death, that Eric had no chance for even the System to register his boon. Not to mention losing over half a million troops, all 600,000+ that had been guarding the rift breaches, that Malice had somehow managed to pull with him as he scrabbled for desperate purchase, his fading soul falling to what Eric could only imagine was, for that monster, a very real hell. And worst of all, he had lost any hope of rescuing a girl he had been STUPID enough to think he could actually keep safe. Not only could he not save her, he hadn’t even been able to rescue her now forever consumed soul.
He crashed to the lush grass-covered knoll and wept bitter tears of regret. For the miraculous revelations that had shuddered through him, when he had become one with that version of himself that had once wielded a multi-mile long blade that had blasted through entire dreadnoughts… that too had bee cleaved from his soul. 14 Essence ranks had been enough to keep his foe from clawing free his gift entire, but that final epiphany that would have led him to a legendary perk at no cost to himself had been torn completely free of even his memories.
So much lost. So much sacrificed.
Eric couldn’t help his bitter laughter. “Is that why that fucking bastard was allowed to live for so damn long? He had set things up perfectly to assure that any victory would be pyrrhic at best? That the cost of taking him out would be too high for anyone, no matter how powerful. So who cares if Earth pays the price for that monster’s foul ascension. So long as he’s gone, right? And if by some miracle, some sad sucker actually managed to stop him, to save his home… he’d still be the one forced to pay for the privilege while countless jaded assholes playing us all on puppet strings get to enjoy a galaxy free of that monster at no cost to themselves at all!”
Eric snarled the words, seething with bitterness, though he knew not who to blame. And as furious as he was, glaring at the wavering grasslands stretching for miles as the air thrummed with distant roars and piercing screeches… he wasn't stupid.
He wouldn’t dare to name names, even if he knew exactly where to point the finger.
Sure as fuck, he had no hope of surviving any such encounter as things stood.
“Which is why I need to get stronger,” he snarled under his breath even as he sensed the massive predator leap for his back, eager to make a meal out of any foolish adventurer daring to tread in Orange Tier territory so close to Red.
“Stronger at all costs!” He roared, spinning around to lash out with his fist, filling the night with a massive ball of roaring flame that utterly incinerated the beast and the lush grasslands for twenty yards in all directions, vaporizing the very ground to bedrock as the prairie caught ablaze.
“A giant level 70 Cat with over a hundred in Strength and Quickness, which makes you a deadly elite compared to most.” He took a hard look around him, catching sight of more than a few pairs of reflective eyes staring back into his own. “And I landed right in the middle of a hunting pack.”
He flashed a fierce grin. “Good. GOOD! Because for the next two week, all that matters is getting stronger, and making all the FUCKERS that think they can hide from me in New York pay a damn bitter price for setting up my friends.”
Eric flashed the cats his brightest smile. “Well, what are you assholes waiting for?” He cracked his knuckles. “Don’t worry. I’m not even going to fill you with flame. I want you shitheads intact, after all. I think you’ll all make excellent scouts for what’s to come!”
The great plains predators glared at Eric through the grass, their snarls filling the air, and Eric couldn’t help but smirk as he sensed the pair circling him from behind, eager to ambush the arrogant intruder who dared to invade their terrain.
A part of him admired their ruthlessness.
Almost as ruthless as he.
Quickness check made. You effortlessly avoid your foe’s ambush!
You have critically struck your prey!
You’re over 14 times faster than your opponents!
Critical Success! You have broken the necks of half a dozen targets before they could blink!
Eric took a shuddering breath as Battletime faded, the fight already over in the time it took the first one to collapse fully to the ground.
That’s when he felt it, his eyes lightening with a wondrous sense of near euphoria, so at odds with the growing bitter fury that had all but consumed him.
Congratulations!
You have dared peril in the crucible of combat, successfully besting: Plains Lion Pack.
You have not fought this (precise) type of predator before!
PRISTINE Foundation allows for maximum rate of evolutionary growth!
Cultivation level alone has been counted in the crucible of your battle!
Level 70th Jungle cat exceeds Level 54 Death’s Disciple (Four Seasons Cultivator)
You have had a breakthrough! You are now a level 55 Cultivator!
“Fuck, I don’t believe it! Something good actually came of taking out that wannabe Gold besides alerting the whole damned sector about what I can do and inviting god knows how much trouble to come?”
Taking a shuddering breath, he forced himself to look at what he had been putting off, his abbreviated character sheet.
_______________________________________________________
Eric Silver Level 99 PRISTINE GOLDEN PHOENIX (Adventurer)
(3rd Tier Core Saturation at 90%!)
You and your progeny may now ascend to Light Gold without any planetary sacrifices needed at all!
Rank 55 DEATH’S DISCIPLE (Four Seasons Cultivator)
(You have achieved a PRISTINE Foundation!)
Level 74 Master Necromancer
Physical Characteristics
Strength – 1100 (You can easily shatter tanks with your fists!)
Vitality – 1120 (Your Vitality is beyond monstrous.)
Finesse – 872 (You’re nearly as deadly as a Bronze-tier sniper. Even without all their perks!)
Quickness – 1461 (You’re over 70 times faster than an Olympic Fencer. ABSURD!)
Appearance – 36 (If this were pre-apocalypse, you would star in all your mother’s movies!)
Mental Characteristics
Scholarship – 35 (Your still yourself, but your thoughts are clear and your memory is sharp!)
Perception – 858 (A deadly marksman who always spots his prey. No one’s sneaking up on you!)
Willpower – 146 (You were forged in fire, and it shows!)
Charisma – 20 (No comment. This isn’t your path.)
Potency Pools
Arcane Potential – 1040 (An Archmage would be proud to make you his prodigy!)
(Mana Pool = 12847)
Spiritual Energy – 343 (You have paid a steep price, maximizing your defenses, but none can deny your incredible resilience!)
(Qi Pool = 4122)
Psionic Potency – 277 (Despite your flaws, you’re worthy of a Psion Knight’s regard.)
(Psion Pool = 3330)
Soul Reserves – 1063 (You could be a Master Necromancer... You ARE a Master Necromancer!)
Stamina – 11201 Points
Health – 13841 Points
Resistances & Recovery
Physical Resistance – 442 (Artillery Shells no longer hurt you! With Battletime? You’re ABSURD!)
Physical Regeneration – 112 health per second (As if you even needed it!)
Elemental Resistance – 410 (615) (Resistances this high means that no elemental master weaker than your own headmaster is stopping you! Not even bearing the weight of 3 Hyperion Cores in your familiar’s leaky ES Space!!)
Qi Resistance – 498 (You’re unlikely to be harmed by cultivators below Silver!)
Mental Resistance – 485 (No faerie enchantments, persuasion, or illusions are effecting you!)
Psionic Resistance – 231 (Dense Neurons mean squid-brains won’t find you easy prey at all!)
--__________________________________________________--
You have achieved 90% 3rd Tier Core Saturation!
Your Cultivation Foundation has been fully cleansed!
Swordsmanship is now Rank 38! You have dared to fence a gold at Mach 30 and pierce his defenses before he stole your greatest skill evolution and nearly killed you! Even now, your mind flashes with everything you could and should have done differently!
Charge is now Rank 17!
Charge is now Rank 18!
Charge is now Rank 19!
Charge is now Rank 20!
You have achieved Adept Tier in your Charge skill! Speed Racer Synergism detected! Skill evolution automatically chosen: Inertial Transference! Now, with a successful skill check, you can transfer most or all of the inertial impact of your charge to your target for even MORE damage upon striking, taking even LESS damage yourself! Because if you can stop on a dime and make inertia heed your will, why suffer any impact damage at all? Give it ALL to your now closest friend! A friend so close he’s just an atomic smear obliterated against your hide!
NOTE! Phoenix Strike has resisted corrosion! Your core art is still in pristine state!
Current rank remains 19!
You have LOST the grandest of epiphanies. But don’t give up now… your grand flight has just begun!
You have successfully DESTROYED a Gold-Tier abomination using a Necromancer’s arts!
You have achieved Level 75 as a Master Necromancer!
You have achieved Level 76 as a Master Necromancer! (You may now select a new Enhanced Class Perk!)
You have achieved Level 77 as a Master Necromancer!
As much as he keenly felt the hit to his Qi Pool, Eric couldn’t deny how damn good it felt to have all his major defenses in the mid to high 400s. As far as defending against Fire, Lightning and other battle spells went, his effective resistance was a shocking 615. Or 820, if he was directly resisting Hyperion Radiation, which pretty much killed everyone like a roach bomb. Except for him.
Yet the drawback of his foe’s final twisted curse which even now effected him, besides STEALING the revelation even now he could recall himself being on the cusp of truly understanding, was having automatically maximized all his defenses with his latest level-up. The most prudent and defensive of maneuvers that he couldn’t even stop himself from maxing out every single level as best he could. He suppressed a groan. “Fuck. That means I gotta do everything I can to increase my Spiritual Energy!”
Yet his mood instantly lightened with a fierce laugh. “But I can do that now. And my ultimate is fully intact! Save for that final mad charge… it’s just as strong as it was yesterday. And I managed it once. No twice. So I will do it again. I WILL evolve my greatest skill into a weapon even dreadnought’s will fear. One day. I will get back everything I lost and continue to grow. HELL YES! And my impossibly thick necro crud from raising over three million Bronze Tier plague locusts that the System let me handle with my classes so perfectly but was making it so damned hard to push to the next cultivation level… is gone.” He swallowed, shaking his head with awed wonder almost enough to ease the awful ache in his heart.
“I feel so clean. So light. So damned ready to cherry pick encounters and ascend like a madman! And my 3rd Tier Core saturation is already at 90% on the dot! Even now, my awesome Interface is making it clear that I’ve just locked in the ability for myself or any of my descendants to surpass half-step and ascend to actual Gold, even if the levels I can earn at that tier are limited, without having to consume any more planets than Mother and I had, millennia ago. Weeks ago.”
He closed his eyes and smiled, catching a glimpse of understanding from the warm bosom of the planet that was his home.
Just because he had already claimed a certain precious 30% boon as Earth’s Champion didn’t mean it couldn’t help in other ways, coming to it’s rescue once more. So perhaps it was all that potency he had earned was for the shocking feat of taking out a half-step Gold. Or perhaps it was Terra’s doing. So too with all the gunk cleaned from his peripheral meridians, for all that his major gateways forever blazed like a dozen pristine suns. Perhaps it was his kung fu master, or perhaps it was the natural treasures of the Earth, wicking away the care, sorrow, and waste, of a much beleaguered champion.
Eric shook his head, humbled anew by just how far he had come in what had only been a handful of weeks. He had actually managed to achieve level 77 in a Master Profession, 3 levels in a single battle, when he shouldn’t even be past Level 31 as a White-tier classer, or Level 61 as a Bronze. At level 77, he was deep into Silver territory. Because he wasn’t just baking tasty cakes with his chosen profession.
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He was raising armies of Bronze-Tier revenants hundreds of times greater than any Dread Lord.
He was taking out monsters trying to ascend all the way to Gold.
He couldn’t help chuckling and shaking his head, knowing damn well he shouldn’t even be alive at that moment, and it might be a long, long time before he earned another Necromancer level.
He smirked, already knowing that his powerful class synergisms were just one of the reasons why his enemies absolutely hated unorthodox heritage arts that the System worked so hard to incorporate.
Classes that could so easily be exploited and abused.
Yet Eric was now dead certain that such was EXACTLY what Conceptio wanted.
Heroes and Contenders happy to ride the absolute peaks and troughs of the probability wave that was a newly ascending planet incorporating so many normally distinct forces and fields involving concepts he couldn’t hope put into words, only sense, like the glorious melody of an instrument that, for a short brief halcyon period of time lasting the duration of this planet’s ascension, would play any note he so wished. Any note he could coax from its keys and strings.
He flashed a fierce smile. Because after summoning millions of Bronze-Tier troops infused with essence and fury, able to charge his foes at Mach 30 heightened to such an absurd destructive degree as to send a half-step Gold crashing into hell… he would push the instrument of his soul until it played a FUCKING SYMPHONY!
He wiped the sting in his eyes, overwhelmed by exhaustion and gratitude in equal measure. Because as perilously close as he and his entire world had been to losing absolutely everything, maybe happy endings would now be allowed for him, after all.
“Now’s the perfect chance. I have two weeks. Two whole, glorious, wonderful weeks to push myself to the utmost, and encounter every different kind of beasty that I can find. Even if I hardly clear any territories at all… I can finally ascend as a cultivator without limit. I can boost my Qi Pool so I never have to worry about...”
That’s when he felt it, his happy chatter to himself turning to a tight, anxious rictus, sensing gravity warp and shift ever so slightly. Ever so minutely. And it was happening right behind him.
So easily dismissed.
Not even the System made note of it.
But Eric, hyperdimensional wings now carefully folded, perhaps for years to come, still had the senses he had gained in those perilous moments battling Malice. He still recalled so clearly those revelations, his 855 Perception now acutely sensitive to shifts in spacetime in all its permutations. Even now, he sensed the minute gravity well just an infinitesimal distance between this vulnerable realm and New Arcadia’s resilience.
He shivered, his heady euphoria and relief of just moments ago popped to ice-cold dismay, realizing that the tiny warp would get bigger over time.
At first, slowly. Maybe over minutes.
Maybe over months.
Then exponentially, as his monstrous doomed foe sought to ascend upon the pyre of this world… even if he had to crawl straight up from the depths of hell.
“No fucking way that bastard gets to come back!” Eric cursed, snarling his sudden frustration. “I don’t care how many second chance bullshit cards he’s holding in hell. He is NOT getting a free pass to mess with this world again!”
He shook his head, already knowing what he would have to do. What he had no choice but to do.
He would embrace his Necromantic heritage to the fullest, immediately and without delay. He would claim this territory and all other adjoining regions, and do his absolute utmost to lock in the story of this world as a tale that he and those he cherished could enjoy for generations, leaving no room at all for any bloody dimensional vortex to consume the entire world in Malice’s desperate attempt to raise himself from the dead once more.
“FUCK!” He snarled, clenching his fists. But he refused to let himself be goaded by the imagined mockery of his already past-tense sire.
“Well, fuck it. I guess I won’t be enjoying a pristine foundation for more than a couple of seconds. But if I can keep my home in one piece? I’m still ahead of the game.”
Eric’s eyes flared with intense resolve, instantly knowing what he had to do.
He peered down at the lifeless shells that had been opponents worthy of almost any other adventurer’s profound respect.
“Surge Centuria! Imperator Imperat Tibi!”
His words echoed and flared across the lush fields stretching for miles on all directions, before echoing from distant mountain ranges upon worlds unseen. A reverberating echo heard by the half dozen cats that now rose in perfect unison, each of them covered in glowing runes and filled with the essence of Wrath. Their sleek, reformed bodies were now as resilient as liquid steel.
You have successfully summoned 7 Greater Lions into eternal service! Effective level of your lions is… 145! Note! Your Greater Revenants have been enhanced by multiple offensive and defensive Necromancer Perks!
Eric shook away all regret as he sensed the tiniest bits of crud grace his no longer pristine foundation once more. Instead, he kept his focus entirely upon his creations, making absolutely sure that they were well and truly his.
Fiery yellow eyes peered deeply into his own.
Eric’s cracked a hard, satisfied smile.
The cats were well and truly his, no matter his mixed feelings. For not even their fur blew in the direction he feared.
He took a relieved breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding. “Good. Hopefully that means it’s finally over.”
He glared into the wild grasslands all around him, refusing to be soothed by the beautiful twinkling stars and the sense of serenity and majesty almost as great as the sense of peril any normal adventurer would be feeling, so deep in Orange-tier territory. “But I won’t believe it until this territory and all the territory around that hell pit have been claimed. A bulwark against the madness that almost claimed us all.”
He flashed the now attentive looking cats a cheerful grin. “So, how about you meet a few of your brothers-in-arms? Just a few. We’ll keep most of the bad boys in reserve until I know that absolutely no one and nothing will be hitting us from unexpected angles.”
He decided he wasn’t alarmed but rather pleased when his newest recruits gave intelligent nods, looks of sapient curiosity upon all of their feline features.
But before he did anything else, he wasn’t taking another move forward until he had checked on the person he would always do his utmost to keep safe.
E.S. - Elonia, you ok? I got a few loose ends to straighten, but if you need me, I got your back.
Eric took a deep breath and slowly let it out, forcing the tension to ease, even as he sensed the ground behind him begin to slope in odd directions.
He spun around, glaring back at the perfectly innocent looking field, knowing damn well that he had to act without delay. And he would. He would act and he would embrace this moment and the dark glory of the path he was finally in position to embrace. Fully. Without any more roadblocks thrown in his way. Roadblocks which he had used to hone himself, blossoming beyond his enemies’ worst fears.
There was a tiny part of him that wanted to curl up in a ball, claw the ground, and scream his heart out.
What he had been through… everything and everyone he had lost, all he had endured… he gave a curt shake of his head, a trembling laugh escaping his lips as he rubbed the sting out of his eyes.
“Sorry, Eric, but you wanted this, remember? You wanted the strength and power to play with the big boys and make a fucking difference. You wanted a life filled with adventure. Well guess what? This is it. All the fucking adventure and horror and tragedy and sweet, sweet rush of mad fucking power like the greatest high imaginable that I could ever want, and so much more. And I sure as fuck can’t stop for a fucking breakdown because if I don’t quite trembling like a BITCH and lock in these territories… that fucking bastard who will never be my dad still wins.”
He glared at his trembling hands. His BULLSHIT trembling hands that was NOT happening with 146 Willpower, hell no… Or maybe it just meant that he could deal with physical pain or the social pressure of manipulative fucks because his own soul was screaming with so much horror and pain and fear and he couldn’t even mourn for the girl he could have…
He angrily shook his head. “I took out that fucker from ORBIT! I gave it EVERYTHING!! so no fucking bullshit guilt for me. No guilt, no regret, no child’s screams… NONE OF IT!” He forced a laugh, taking a deep whiff of air that smelled of lush loam, delightful wildflowers, animal musk, and the sense of vicious claws skittering for purchase between worlds.
He snapped his eyes open once more, glaring behind him before taking a deep breath and turning his gaze southwards, daring to paint a hopeful smile on his features.
His ultimate short-term goal, just a handful of territories away. “After so many Civ games… maybe New York can be a place worthy of plopping a few wonders?” He said with a chuckle, wondering if the halcyon dream he had of progress, innovation, and American exceptionalism at its best, over a century ago, would be the final key to unlocking a second chance for his poor doomed world.
“Only one way to find out, and this time around… I’m not holding back.” He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the cost as he belted out the words that would soon change the surface of Terra for all time.
“Surge Centuria! Imperator Imperat, Tibi!”
The ground rumbled for long seconds, Eric savoring the glorious sight of dozens, then hundreds of leaf-shaped spearheads bursting from the grasslands, tall stalks soaring a good 6 meters before the base of those stalks erupted in showers of grass tufts and soil, revealing massive armored spearmen wearing thick bronze suits of armor that were absolutely covered in eldritch glowing runes radiating strength, resiliency, and outright impermeability.
Their eyes pulsed with the essence of Wrath, as did the tips of their sarissa, all of them now looking far more like ancient Hellenistic phalangites with their massive long spears than when Eric had first reforged them, for all that they were as heavily armored as the most elite hoplite, or even a medieval knight, thanks to their locust heritage.
Eric gave a satisfied nod. His creations had been pristinely forged from both the shells of his Bronze-tier foes and the spirits of ancient warriors eager to protect their world in its final hour that had lived and died on the other side of the globe. But to Eric, moving at the shocking speeds they did even when he wasn’t flaring wings that would get him into serious fucking trouble if he didn’t start behaving himself… they would always be his sarissophoroi. As elite as any cavalry or mobile infantry that had ever raced across the plains of Earth.
Eric flashed a fierce smile for the thousand almost completely human-looking revenants now radiating a shocking degree of potency and power… and not one strand of the now very human hair he could sense slipping free of rune-forged helms blew in the direction of the resting place of Eric’s ultimate foe.
He gave a relieved nod.
Good.
He waved his hand toward the vast, rolling plains from which the roars of hunting cats, the screeches of distant birds and the grunts and calls of giant herd beasts could all be heard, the air alive with the scent of wild magic and deadly peril.
He couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear.
No matter the desperate necessity, or what he was having to ruthlessly give up, he was FINALLY DOING IT!
No more going in circles, shoring up his friend’s defenses, countering one twisted scheme or gambit after another. And profiting mightily the whole time, of course, at least in terms of powering up… but still.
He was finally breaking free of whatever had been holding him back. Card of Fate, random mischance, or the simple desire to keep his sister and closest friends safe.
All understandable reasons.
Yet he froze, fierce resolve turned perilous when his Dominion Interface message box was pinged by one of the very few individuals who had free reign to hit him up whenever she wished.
EL.S. - Ernest! Thank God! You’re alive! What happened? It looked like… no. Tell me all about it when next we meet but NOT A WORD to anyone else before then, okay? Please be careful, please be safe! What you did was incredible, and I fear that way too many eyes will soon be looking your way. So please be CAREFUL! If you need someone to talk to, I’m always here. And Ernest? From the bottom of my heart, thank you. From all of us.
P.S. School starts in just two weeks! Not that someone like you even needs to… considering what you just did. (Do I even want to know just how strong you are now?!?) But if you’re still interested… you should definitely get back here in 14 days. You’ll also need a full day to prepare yourself! Because once school semester starts… no force on Earth is slowing it down :) I’m almost scared to think of how strong you could become, once you graduate!
And the message he finally received after waiting long seconds was the final lock removed from the cage of his worries, Eric giving a triumphant laugh as he finally sprung free.
“Spears at the ready, boys! We got a territory to claim!”
With those words, a hooting Eric spread his thousand troops in straight line, evenly spaced with spears five feet apart, each wing of his forces spread out for half a mile to either side of him.
He chortled softly as he peered at the wondrous spectacle of spear heads flashing in the sun.
He then closed his eyes, feeling such a shiver of delight when he felt his entire body of spearmen like an extension of his hand. A thousand fingers. Only now, he was truly taking a moment to focus on what he had embraced with such fierce instinct in his desperate battle to save them all from a doomsday plague. If any locusts had managed to hide, by some twisted miracle… he was pretty damn certain they got sucked up and consumed with the territory he feared that even now was at risk of pulling the neighboring territories down to hell.
And that would just be the start of yet another nightmare.
“Which is why it’s time to get busy,” Eric said to himself, before squeezing his will, his lips curving in a fierce grin when the earth rumbled with the emergence of more spear tips.
Hundreds more.
Thousands more.
Hundreds of thousands more, gently curving out of sight, Eric now no longer holding back the speed of their emergence.
Yet to keep track of all of them, all he had to do was focus on the interface map in the corner of his eye, requiring just 5 of his 833 Perception points to have up at all times. “Reveal all greens and reds. And any adventurers or mercenaries entering this territory,” he said aloud, yet all he needed to do was think it as the forty by forty mile map of this territory lit up to brilliant focus. Revealing a sea of light red hostiles that would attack if approached, but at that moment weren’t aligned in total against him.
For they had no idea at all of the doom they now faced.
A doom that only grew as a thousand straight green dots became forty thousand, a straight row exactly 40 miles wide. Before the green dots doubled. Then doubled again. And a final row of lights making five rows of elite, Bronze tier troops of Level 180+, blessed with, among other perks, Rank 2 Mark of Resilience, Marks of Pristine Flame, Rank 2 Dreadlord’s Frenzy, and Rank 5 Dreadlord’s Wrath.
Most importantly, Call to Battle and Deathmarch meant that they could keep up with him effortlessly, no matter how slowly or quickly he moved… still awed to find that there were absolutely no limits to that speed… or the mad multiplier his Charge skill, now Rank 20, not surprisingly, would bring to bear. Even the speeds he could achieve with his own two feet, racing without air resistance or terrain slowing him or his men down, was downright shocking.
And he was capable of more, of course. But since he was here to save his home, not imperil it, or himself, he kept his feet firmly on the ground… or hovering just a few feet over it, so rough terrain was no issue at all.
“It’s time, boys. It’s finally time.”
He took a deep breath as he gazed out at the predator-filled prairie before him,, every muscle tingling with anticipation. There was nothing he wanted to do at that moment than launch himself forward. But first, because today was all about victory and an end to pointless tragedy, he took a very careful, final look at the land before him, sensing absolutely no green or neutral blinking lights on the map.
Of course he was pretty damn certain that there were any number of elite classes and Contenders that specialized in ways that let them hide themselves from anyone’s interface map, so he would give one final courtesy.
E.S. - GENERAL ANNOUNCEMENT TO EVERYONE!
I’m about to do some SPRING CLEANING! So friendly head’s up to ALL the peeps out there I would rather share a drink with than raise your corpse. If you want to avoid accidentally becoming a stain on my boots, please stay OUT of the wild Oranges and Reds surrounding Arcadia and New York and all the territory between them for the next two weeks. Thank you! - Ernest.
He smirked, having absolutely no doubt that his announcement would garner some raised eyebrows and pissed-off glares from the very few elites and Contenders and of course the Administrators that even had access to any sort of message box on the Interface. But hopefully they could at least give other people a heads up.
He shrugged. He knew it wasn’t perfect, but it was the best he could do, so he was closing the guilt-works down.
This needed to happen, and he had no time to waste.
“Which reminds me. I can tell easily enough that this territory has had it’s delves stabilized, and my friends made it clear that held true for all the regions between New Arcadia and New York. But what about for the hundreds, thousands? of other territories in all 48 states dotting the continental US? 49 if I count Alaska and juicy Canadian territories, though it’s mighty dark and cold up there… and I doubt I’ll be clearing those Black-tier hell spots all that quick.”
With that thought in mind, he sent off another quick message.
E.S. - Calibro! How are you, my man? Guess who’s going to be sending some JUICY treats your way? 10% stake for me, and the choice cuts are yours! - By the way, could you do me a solid? See if you can get me any sort of intel on all the delves that various crews, whether Contenders, normie adventurers, or (my money’s on this one) elite squads of Bronze bodyguards in the hire of various scions seeded here pre-apocalypse, have already cleared out at least once!
Eric was surprised by how fast Caliban got back to him. Almost as if he had been waiting for Eric to message him.
C. - Your territorial terms are more than acceptable, as per our earlier agreement. We look forward to managing your future acquisitions.
As for the intel you seek… May I ask the purpose of your inquiry, Ernest? Please note, we do NOT serve as an information broker for the elimination of non-hostile 3rd parties.
Though we sympathize with the state of war you were forced to embrace with multiple factions at odds with the Sylvan Alliance that had been intending the elimination of your sister’s faction and the direct conquest of Terra, most parties presently following the Path of Ascension here on Earth, most particularly along the Delver’s Path, are doing so in good faith.
Using us as an information-gathering resource for the purposes of exterminating neutral or allied parties would put an extreme strain on our relationship.
Eric winced at the latest message, suddenly realizing just how dark his request sounded. And they weren’t talking about cutthroat murderous goblins or orcs either, but adventurers, survivors, and lawful mercenaries trying to get ahead in ways that not only didn’t hurt people, but would provide valuable resources to human towns and cities. Hunting honest adventurers, even ringers inserted by their rich and powerful clans to get a head start here on Earth, just like his own mother had done with him and his sister, if he was honest with himself, was the farthest thing from his intentions.
E.S. - Oh wow, I guess that did sound bad! Especially with my feelings toward certain factions... But no worries! It’s all good. I got nothing but love for good-natured adventurers. I’m even happy with them grabbing juicy first-clears. In fact, I WANT them to clear as many delves as they can! For 2 reasons.
1. It helps stabilize this planet.
2. It saves me time!
So if you could send me a nice juicy and highly detailed map of all the delve-cleared WILD territories here in the continental US, you might just find yourself managing even MORE territory than you can imagine in the next two weeks!
Note. I’m well aware that there are MULTIPLE White-tier cities out there, all of them no doubt filled with Contenders, adventurers, and tin-pot Administrators. I am NOT asking for any intel on any territory that isn’t wild Orange or Red, because you better fucking BELIEVE that the GAME IS ON!
I’m taking them on, Calibro. Any White-tier territory or city that catches my eye. I might claim one, or none, or a dozen already settled territories that cross my path before this run is done. And I am asking for absolutely NO help from you or Blue Corp in doing so.
The only information I’m asking for at this point are wild regions (free of any population centers, ha ha!) cleared of Delves.
Thanks!
Sincerely,
Earnest Edgelord SLAUGHTER
