Chapter 6: No Escape In Sight

Orodan’s vitality had recovered to roughly three-quarters, which was good enough in his opinion.

But this was not an easy fight.

Undead minions were naturally weaker than their living counterparts, and the Elite-level skeleton he could crush in the Plaza by now wasn’t indicative of the battle-strength of a living Elite soldier.

He was still confident in beating a few, even by himself.

But ten Elites at once? And they were trained in working together?

Orodan found himself incredibly pressured, and took serious blows from the pressure despite every single defensive skill synergizing with Impregnable Bladewall. Furthermore, unlike the abomination these troops had active combat skills which could get past his Iron Body and Resistance skills.

But by this point… simply inflicting shallow wounds on him wasn’t enough.

True, they were skilled and the old Orodan would have been killed many times over. But Orodan now was a different beast altogether.

Two of the soldiers were skilled in some sort of movement or evasion type skill. They were the first to die as they landed their attacks on him, but found their ability to evade his blows… failing.

He could take their hits, but they couldn’t take his.

Furthermore, the raw ferocity of Death Rage genuinely pressured the rest of them and gave him a psychological edge.

After ten seconds of furious fighting they started to realize he wasn’t going to die to the myriad of blows they were delivering, and so they switched gears and started forgoing defense to instead go all-out in offense.

They died very quickly after that, albeit not without causing some genuine damage to Orodan before they did.

Damage, which still wasn’t anywhere near the abomination fielded by the necromancer.

Down to a quarter of his vitality now, the scene was a grim one. The bodies of the slain Elites lay scattered across the rocky floor of the chamber, and the gates loomed ahead of him.

Orodan approached the metal gates and pushed them open. They likely weighed as much as a building, but his strength had grown and with some effort he pushed them till an opening formed.

And he stepped inside.

The sight inside wasn’t what he was expecting to see.

There were corpses everywhere. Some wearing Novarrian colors, many more bearing Republic insignia.

A battle had taken place here, and the Imperials came out on top, if just barely. The sheer destruction which scarred the stone floor was good evidence that Master-level combatants were involved. Frankly, it was a surprise that the tunnels hadn’t collapsed.

There were three people present inside the chamber.

One, the ogre-barbarian Guzuharan he was slain by in his first life. The second, a wiry man with a sword and shield strapped across his back, bearing Imperial colors. And the third… Baron Viglas Argon himself, the head of House Argon.

The Novarrian’s hand lay on a glowing red orb, the same color as the jewel he recalled seeing on the head of the machine many loops ago. A look of concentration upon the man’s face.

The ogre-man stepped forward and drew his great axe.

“So this is the warrior responsible for forcing us to act early? That was some fight you had against that corpse-lover’s pet demon! I approve!” the ogre-man bellowed with a chuckle. “I’m Ovuru World-Drinker! Warchief of the Leviathan tribe! Tell me your name before we fight warrior!”

“This street rat is Orodan Wainwright, don’t waste any more time. Kill him now Northman,” spoke the Baron with a cold tone. “I’d act myself but for the risk of collapsing the tunnels… and his particular abilities seem to render magic ineffective.”

Ovuru’s grin subsided at the imperious order coming from the Baron.

“Feh… you Republic worms are no fun. Warriors should exchange names before engaging in honest battle, he’s a worthy opponent. You mages wouldn’t understand,” Ovuru derisively replied. “I don’t understand how you aren’t chomping at the bit to kill him yourself. His shield took off your little princeling’s head did it not?”

“I can always sire another son, now do as you were brought here for!” the Baron barked, and one might wonder why the hell such a powerful warrior like Ovuru was tolerating the barking from a mage such as the Baron. Particularly when they were within melee range of one another and Ovuru held a supreme advantage in such a position.

The answer was a deadly glare towards Ovuru from the Novarrian man handling the orb. The sword and shield wielding Novarrian did not care to move, but even then the ogre-man seemed almost… scared of him.

Ovuru chambered his great axe into prime position, and he moved.

Orodan wasn’t ashamed to admit he felt genuine fear for the first time in thousands of loops.

His sword and shield were both instantly cut straight through and his arm was almost dismembered if not for a narrowly timed evasion.

Undead minions were weaker than their living counterparts. And if he thought fighting a Master-level necromantic minion was near his limits… then this ogre-man’s abilities were on a completely different level.

He received a pommel strike which crushed all his ribs, and a punch that almost certainly shattered his skull and neck. If not for his skills granting him unnatural durability and survivability that allowed him to function for a time without certain organs, he would certainly not be able to move right now.

A sonic boom occurred as he was sent flying into the stone wall of the chamber, and the impact finally brought his life force beneath a certain threshold.

Dying Struggle activated, and alongside the existing Death Rage the two times boost allowed him to begin a desperate struggle for survival instead of the outright bullying that was occurring in his first battle against a Master-level melee specialist.

He had thought himself strong after beating that undead Demonic Berserker… but he was wrong.

The world was a big place, and Orodan was a small fish in the ocean.

“I felt the Blessing from the get-go… but you have a second one? You’re a Favored like myself then?!” Ovuru exclaimed as he shot towards Orodan, trying to splatter him into the wall he was already cratered into.

Orodan barely avoided the certain death and began narrowly holding onto life by the slimmest of margins, even with maximal effort. Every exchange was a losing one, and he would just only manage to survive by an inch each time.

But what Orodan did manage to do even in his desperate struggle, was force the fighting towards the orb, and consequently towards the other two in the room. Something which Ovuru did not take kindly to, but was too late to stop now.

“Why won’t you die you cockroach!” Baron Viglas yelled.

In desperation to keep Orodan away from the orb, the Baron blasted him from behind with an incredibly powerful fire beam which carried a level of power and heat well beyond Lord Aeglos, hoping the impact force would at least send Orodan away.

Which, unfortunately for him, still had no effect. Orodan was used to taking magical impacts and standing his ground. And the Baron’s beam helped lessen the immediate pressure on him by forcing Ovuru to back away for a moment as he lacked the Legendary Mana Resistance that Orodan had.

And a moment was all that Orodan needed.

He could have lashed out and killed Baron Viglas Argon, but Orodan’s target was a different one.

He rushed, with as much speed as his empowered body could muster, and headed straight for the orb.

The Novarrian was strong. But he was a little too strong, which was to his detriment as his free hand not on the orb shot through Orodan’s chest and out the other side instead of batting him away.

The man maintained eye contact with Orodan, and his own eyes widened in shock as both of Orodan’s hands came to rest on the orb.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing you pest!” the Baron screamed. “What even are you?!”

Truthfully, Orodan didn’t know what he was doing in the slightest, but even as the Novarrian’s eyes trembled with rage, he could not speak for so great was the concentration the man was exerting.

From the moment Orodan’s hands touched the orb, he felt the very same energy that the mages of the Plaza had hit him with fruitlessly. Mana… a near bottomless well of it, powering the machine.

And as Ovuru bore down upon him from behind, death coming for him, Orodan did the only thing he could.

“I am Orodan Wainwright… and I… am a warrior!”

He felt the mana… and he pulled.

“No! don’t d-”

The Novarrian’s first words were cut off as the world turned a glowing red in his eyes.

The whole room, the inhabitants of it, the very stone, it all turned red.

The Novarrian was undoubtedly powerful, he had to be in order to make a Master-level warrior like Ovuru fear him. But the man just… melted and disintegrated.

As did the Baron and Ovuru.

The red-colored energy in the air was so utterly thick and rich that it was turning liquid and Orodan was essentially drowning in it.

It was mana.

And it was a colossal amount, an almost… divine quantity of mana.

Orodan should have been vaporized millions of times over. In fact, the entirety of Volarbury County should have been vaporized. Yet Orodan tried his absolute hardest to pull the mana into himself.

Which was disastrous, as Orodan’s body slowly flaked to pieces, his Legendary Mana Resistance being nowhere near enough to disregard this much mana.

But his vitality allowed him to persist.

And even as he began dying, the persistence allowed him to increase his skill levels.

[Mana Resistance 19 → Mana Resistance 23]

Came the first message.

As time passed Orodan’s body disintegrated further, although the rate began to slow, and more messages came along.

[Mana Resistance 23 → Mana Resistance 30]

Until finally, the last set of messages came along.

[Mana Resistance 30 → Mana Resistance 39]

The very mountain exploded upwards, and Orodan could see the beginnings of the sun peeking through the night sky and illuminating the world.

The many miles of rock above were sent high into the air in the colossal explosion of mana from the main control chamber, and enough of the rock had cleared away that Orodan could also see the somewhat mangled but still functional metallic frame of the machine itself now.

Stolen story; please report.

It was inert of course, given the mana pool he had now pulled on and stolen.

And as the last of the mana drained from the orb and flowed into him, Orodan received a message.

[New Skill (Legendary) → Mana Black Hole 4]

It was interesting. His body was essentially torn apart. His now incredibly high Legendary skill was strong, it let him adapt and grow with a County shattering amount of mana… but it still wasn’t enough to prevent his death this loop.

He felt strangely full, as though he had an unlimited reservoir of energy within him however.

If he hadn’t pulled it all into him, who knew how much utter destruction the orb’s out of control mana pool would have wrought?

As he lay dying and the entire mountain for miles above which had exploded upwards now came flying down he received one last message.

[Quest Completed → Battle of Ogdenborough - Guzuharan leader killed, Novarrian leader killed, House Argon leader killed, ancient war machine disabled]

[Reward Granted → Permanent +1 Action Increase]

What even was an Action Increase? Orodan didn’t know.

And honestly, he might not even wake up after this.

As the rocks descended towards him at speed, Orodan couldn’t help but have a smile on his face.

The battles he had gone through to get to this point were worth it in and of themselves.

A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke him.

He was… awake and returned?

[Quest Bestowed → Battle of Ogdenborough - Defeat the Novarrians and their allies as they attempt to activate and commandeer the ancient war machine beneath Mount Castarian]

Orodan’s eyes widened at the message.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

This was wrong.

He had succeeded!

Why was he back?!

An angry downwards fist from him shattered his bed and threw out the walls of home, causing the entire hovel to collapse.

“What the flying fuck?! I succeeded! I won! I completed your damn Quest! Why won’t you leave me be!?”

His furious roars into the night sky along with his entire hovel collapsing necessitated the militia being called.

Of course the night-shift squad that came by as response looked at him incredibly fearfully and kept a distance.

A destroyed building, even if it was a hovel, implied at least the Adept level.

“And what the fuck are you looking at?!” he roared at the responding Sergeant who stood there and cowered.

Eventually, thirty minutes later a mounted unit came by and their captain, an Adept, attempted to arrest him for causing a disturbance.

Which lead to the captain being sent flying through a building the moment he put a hand on Orodan.

He simply stood there in fury, the area was cleared of any non-combatants and soon the flapping of griffin wings signified the arrival of the Militia’s Elite response unit.

“Orodan Wainwright! I don’t know how you got so strong! Surrender yourself and come with us! You’ll be treated amicably given your newfound strength!” the captain of the Elites riding atop a brown feathered griffin called out.

It seemed even he was wary of offending someone who had shown the strength to throw an Adept through a building, at such a young age too.

But Orodan could only reply one way currently, for so great was his rage.

“Fuck off!”

He roared, backed by a War Cry which caused the griffins to panic and go out of control and attempt to fly away.

“So be it! Don’t blame me for the beating you’re about to get! Perhaps you’ll learn some manners and we can work together in the future after some time to cool down in the holding room!” the Elite captain said, and then the Elites rushed him.

The Militia Elites were… lacking.

The ten Novarrian Elites Orodan had defeated under the mountain were the cream of the crop, chosen to guard the main control chamber of the ancient war machine. Those Elites had active combat skills of decent rarity.

But these amateurs? They couldn’t even break past his Iron Body.

The Elite captain’s face turned to one of disbelief, and then fear. He and his subordinates stopped their blitz of attacks once they realized it was having no effect on Orodan.

“As I said… fuck off!”

And with that proclamation, the Elite captain was sent flying into the air with a punch.

The Elite response unit simply flew off and maintained a perimeter after that.

It was fifteen minutes after that individuals he’d never seen before started to appear.

A man in luxurious clothes and a flowing cape bearing the symbol of a flaming sword. And behind him, members of the Capital Guard.

“Hail friend! I hear you’ve been causing a ruckus in my County! I’m Burgher Ignatius Firesword, why don’t we talk peacefully? I don’t plan on approaching you roughly like some of the overzealous but well-intentioned men of the Militia,” the man calmly greeted with a friendly attitude. Orodan almost found himself swayed, undoubtedly the work of a social skill.

“Burgher Ignatius… I must refuse. I am in no condition to speak to anyone right now,” Orodan replied out of respect for the man’s own cordiality.

“Hmm… well you leave me in quite the pickle. I don’t want to escalate the matter, you’re clearly a very talented young man, who from what the reports tell me, was rather average before this. Have you awoken a Bloodline or been Blessed?” the Burgher asked. “Regardless, I still can’t stand idly and have a neighborhood in one of the towns of my County terrorized, even if you’ve been merciful and haven’t killed anyone.”

“I have no intention of harming anyone who doesn’t bother me. I just… require time to myself right now.”

“Hmm… unfortunately, your very presence is now a threat given what you’ve done. It necessitates the reality that I must regrettably bother you. Please, I implore you to come with us and we can get you whatever it is you need,” the burgher spoke.

Truly, the difference in treatment and regard was almost nauseating. When he was but an Apprentice in his first life, he’d have been given a beating and thrown into the holding cells. But now when he’d displayed battle power beyond an average Elite? Even Burgher Ignatius Firesword who wasn’t a Master-level combatant himself, was forced to tread diplomatically.

“I’m afraid not. I respect your manners in approaching me Burgher, but I must respectfully decline. Send whoever you need to at me.”

And with that the man had a sad smile on his face. He seemed like a good-natured noble and was appreciative of the fact that Orodan had given him face and not insulted him during the conversation.

Ten seconds later the Capital Guardsmen captains approached.

Being an Adept was the basic requirement for being the lowest rank of the Capital Guard. With corporals being average Elites and Captains being near-Masters with high rarity combat skills.

Additionally, many members of the Capital Guards often served in military operations part time. It wouldn’t do to waste such high-level warriors as simple guards.

So when the five captains came at him, the entire neighborhood went silent, when after a furious exchange of steel on steel he threw even them backwards.

The senior most among the captains must have realized it was a losing fight, for he activated the amulet around his neck and sent out a message to someone.

“Young master… I don’t know if you’re a reincarnator or have some absurd Blessing, but we apologize for offending you, I hope you understand we had to act as is our duty… our Master will be coming by shortly to speak with you himself.”

The man’s words were unusually respectful, and Orodan could understand why.

For a 17 year old to suddenly best five captains of the Capital Guard at once… was unprecedented unless one was a reincarnator, and those were closely tracked and known of.

It took five minutes for the man to arrive.

He wore glittering silver armor and rode a lustrous gold feathered griffin. His very aura screamed power, and Orodan knew that this man was a step above Ovuru and was likely on the same level as the Imperial manning the orb.

Sarvaan Ilsuan Arslan, the High-Burgher of the Republic of Aden, the leader of the council of Karilsgard had arrived.

And his presence brooked no quarter.

His regal griffin touched down onto the scarred ground of Briar Court in Ogdenborough, which by now had become a savage debris-laden landscape due to the fighting, even with Orodan trying to hold back.

A hammer was slung across his shoulders, its massive head the size of Orodan’s torso. He suspected it could bring down a mountain.

The High-Burgher slid off the back of his majestic mount and his feet touched down.

He stood about fifty paces from Orodan, and started with two words.

“I see.”

And then silence stretched on as the man’s eyes began glowing gold, although Orodan didn’t get the feeling it was harmful or offensive magic.

A minute of silence ensued. A silence Orodan was neither in the mood nor willing to break. The rage still ran hot through his veins.

After this minute another gold-feathered griffin touched down, bearing a dark-skinned woman in a flowing white robe. She too touched down and moved to stand beside the High-Burgher.

And the man finally spoke once more.

“Do you see it as well Lakshiya? I wished to confirm it with you… but I’m almost certain he is Favored,” spoke Sarvaan. “I sense not the usual presence of a single Blessing, but two Blessings of Agathor from him. The only other person I’ve ever felt that from was High-King Vokrim.”

Lady Lakshiya, the High Oracle of the Cathedral of the Gods in Karilsgard. She was a woman who kings would travel to speak with. And her abilities in divining the future were almost god-like from the stories he’d heard.

“Yes… I sense it. His destiny is…” she spoke. And then she stopped, and her face twisted. “Impossible… impossible!”

The High-Burgher raised an eyebrow at her outburst and waited for further clarification. Even Orodan himself who hadn’t said anything all this time, came out of his stupor at the question of just what Lady Lakshiya found so impossible about him?

“His threads of fate… they do not have any connection to the world… it’s as though they are a coiling ouroboros, devouring itself over and over… growing larger and larger with each cycle,” she spoke with widened eyes. “You… what are you?”

And for the first time in a while Orodan spoke.

“I don’t know what I am, but I seem to be stuck in a time loop. I relive this day over and over, every time I die I wake up in bed deep into the night,” Orodan explained as his audience’s eyes carried utter disbelief. “I’ve done this thousands of times now, and I thought completing the Quest I received to stop the Imperial invasion and activation of the machine beneath the mountain would set me free in my last try… but instead I wake back up once more and the Quest is simply bestowed upon me again. There is no escape for me.”

High-Burgher Sarvaan and Lady Lakshiya stared at him for two full seconds before deciding to speak.

“That’s not possible… I am communing with my lady Ilyatana, Goddess of Fate as we speak, she says neither she nor any of the other Gods are aware of this. No time magic can affect the gods, a time loop even on the scale of a world would only affect the mortal plane. The Gods are beyond the flows of time!” she exclaimed, almost convincing herself as much as she was trying to Orodan. “Your story sounds contrived, and yet your threads of fate are-”

She was cut off mid-sentence and suddenly stopped speaking. She stopped speaking to Orodan and began speaking to herself.

“But my lady… for this…” she muttered, and the High-Burgher began to take some distance from her.

“…it is as you command… in your name…”

What was going on? Orodan didn’t know.

But what he did know was that a massive beam of light descended down upon Lady Lakshiya a second after.

Orodan had to shield his eyes from the sheer luminosity and intensity of the light. Even the rays of the sun itself were not so brilliantly blinding.

And as the light settled down, Lady Lakshiya’s eyes were glowing, her skin was cracking, and light seeped through these cracks. Whatever the magic was, it wasn’t exactly good for her body.

Even the High-Burgher Sarvaan Ilsuan Arslan, took a knee in respect.

“So this is the mortal that has caused such upheaval and confusion. Orodan Wainwright.”

The voice spoke, as though testing out the name like a curious syllable. It spoke through the body of Lady Lakshiya, but he knew it was not her speaking. It was something beyond him, a level he could never hope to reach, power beyond this world.

This… this was an Avatar. A God descending to the mortal plane with but a small fraction of their power to possess one of their Favoured.

He was speaking to Ilyatana, the Goddess of Light and Fate herself.

“I apologize in advance for having to empower and use one of the skills of your body Lakshiya… the strain will undoubtedly leave it unusable for a month.”

And the Avatar’s eyes glowed a deep shade of gold, and she looked.

And Orodan felt completely naked before the gaze of a Goddess, as though his very soul was being peered into.

“Two Legendary skills, two Blessings, a Reward… fascinating. Agathor genuinely does not recall Blessing you… your tale might not be incorrect child. And one of your active titles… One Who Has Experienced Death… incredible. Malzim does not recall you dying and returning to life, he would certainly know and have Blessed you by now as well.”

The normal Observe skill could not see skill levels and available titles. Only an Observer orb could see skill levels and this was with consent. But of course a Goddess could disregard the limitations of such a thing.

“I’ve lived this day thousands of times without end, why would I lie about such a thing? Does my Status not show some proof?” he asked.

“Indeed it does… we have decided we shall assist you, even if we might not remember it in the times to come. I peer into your mind as we speak… and the memories of what you’ve done, what you’ve endured… Agathor has never looked so proud.”

At the thought that his mind was being read Orodan felt distinctly uncomfortable, but any protest would be pointless. An Avatar, even though they were capable of exerting only a fraction of the power of a God at the expense of the life of the host, was still an existence beyond any mortal. If Ilyatana wished to read his mind, he could only sit there and accept it.

“Malzim says he does not remember you dying and returning, but from what your memories show… you return through time immediately upon death. I will train and mold you personally, so that you might survive these trials and discover an answer for the Gods as to who could be responsible for this. First, I will begin by implanting a gift unto you… a memory packet which will meld with your soul and allow you to synergize with my will easier and better enable you to work towards the task before you.”

That did not sound good. That wasn’t good at all.

Orodan would rather not have any sort of foreign mind altering magic implanted in his soul which allowed him to serve the Goddess of Fate easier.

He desperately wished he had a swift way of killing himself, and thus immediately activated Death Rage.

Which the Avatar of Ilyatana swiftly caught on to, and strange bindings composed of pure light began restraining him and healing him simultaneously. He cursed and lamented for once that his damned vitality was so high.

“Do not try to refuse this gift my child, this way you will escape the curse that plagues you and all of us Gods will be in your debt. You are already one to batter at a challenge till it crumbles, so why reject something that assists in this?”

Orodan struggled, he furiously tried to will Death Rage to burn his life faster than it ever had before. It even levelled up twice and granted him a further power boost at the faster burning of life force.

Sadly, no amount of self harm was enough to overcome the healing from Ilyatana’s Avatar.

And as the strange rainbow colored orb approached him, Orodan could only pray to anyone out there that his personality and memories were not altered.

And someone answered.

[Malzim, God of Death, smiles upon you]

[Received Blessing → Death’s Call - Whenever you will it, Death takes you]

Without any further thought, Orodan immediately called upon his new Blessing.

A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke him.

He customarily brushed away the Quest messages, and immediately got to his feet.

“To Malzim, God of Death, Decay and the Afterlife… thank you. I, Orodan Wainwright, will forever owe you a favor which will eternally persist, this I swear!”

To Orodan, the Blessing he received was tantamount to a new life being bestowed upon him.

The God of Death had saved him from quite possibly the worst of fates, which was becoming the thrall of a Goddess.

Ilyatana… was dangerous.

But he would pay this near horrific end back in time.

Despite making it out of that horrid situation in one piece Orodan sighed at the thought that he was back at square one with no escape in sight.

And he needed a break from fighting.

So for the first time in thousands of loops. He resumed his daily routine, but this time… he decided to spend the day somewhere he normally never would.

The entire cart of lumber neatly landed on the pallets in one swoop.

“Mister Hannegan… you have any room on your crew for another hand?”