The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop
Chapter 89: Peace, Quiet and Consolidation II

[Draconic Fireball 79 → Draconic Fireball 80]

Draconic Fireball was a spell meant for wide area destruction and devastation. It was in fact the very first pyromancy spell Orodan had learned. However, what it wasn’t normally meant for, was compression and then channeling through a medium, which in this case was an ordinary iron sword.

Immediately, Orodan learned his lesson as the metal began to warp, uncontrollably tremble, and was on the verge of exploding.

[Elemental Living Enchanting 13 → Elemental Living Enchanting 14]

With a screech, the sword utterly exploded, the collateral damage stopped by his palms coming together and compressing the building-destroying eruption within his hands with physicality alone. He should have expected this, but it was a good reminder of the fact that Elemental Living Enchanting needed the material itself to have a certain level of strength.

Orodan was a warrior with a body forged through battle and violence. Yet even his powerful form barely survived the backlash of fully empowering and enchanting himself with a living element and then striking in tandem at full force. Naturally, if his body couldn’t tolerate such cosmic force, what hope did regular metal have?

“Experimenting, Mister Wainwright?” Gormir Eltros, who was reviewing notes and working on his own projects in the same chamber asked. “I don’t think you’ve paused to rest, neither physically nor mentally, since we’ve started.”

They were in the middle of a break from Orodan trying to grasp the proper theoretical foundations of Body Enchanting. A break he’d decided to experiment during.

This was the arrangement he had with Bluefire and the Republic. Unrestricted access to the academy’s libraries, knowledge and instructors, while he simply helped enchant weapons with Elemental Living Enchanting from time to time. Of course, what better place to set up and learn Body Enchanting than right inside the personal workshop of Gormir Eltros himself?

The man was ordinarily rather reclusive, but the thought of exchanging knowledge with a fellow Master-level enchanter who had a never-before-seen skill was too tempting to pass up.

“Every moment of time or thought should be devoted towards something.”

“Would that not burn you out?” Gormir asked.

“I said every moment should be devoted towards something, not necessarily training. The question of what to devote that time towards, can only be answered by the individual,” Orodan replied. “This fire can only be pushed so far, or rather, the material can only sustain so much…”

“It surprises you?”

“No, even a blind man would have seen this coming. The strength of a material can only be pushed so far,” Orodan explained. “It’s interesting, that this skill doesn’t directly give me any elemental power but rather allows me to enchant things with the elements I can already use.”

“Why not try another element then? Or are you still going to doggedly pursue fire? I can respect that single-minded perfectionism, the refusal to move on until you really have it in hand,” Gormir said.

“Aye, better to perfect something and get a good handle on it first before I move onto other things. Not only does the element matter, but the spell I use does as well. Not only would using Candleflame to weave the elemental enchantment make for a less destructive process, but it would mechanically alter the enchantment a bit. Furthermore, I could use raw Fire Magic Mastery to just use basic magic flame manipulation, but that too has its benefits and drawbacks.”

“Oh? This is quite fascinating, do explain further,” Gormir spoke, taking notes.

“The Draconic Fireball is meant for wide area devastation. With it, I could annihilate entire mountain ranges at full power. Naturally, this results in a rather volatile but powerful enchantment… if the metal can survive it of course,” Orodan elaborated. “Candleflame on the other hand isn’t a spell meant for destruction, not intrinsically. It’s meant to conjure and sustain a flame in my hand, a steady source of heat and illumination. This makes any fire weaved enchantment using it as a base far more stable and sustainable than one made using Draconic Fireball. And of course, Fire Magic Mastery is the true blank slate method of all these, just pure manipulation of magic fire, not quite good at anything but not quite bad either. Lacks punch and specialization though.”

“And all these methods… do they result in any noticeable difference for the end product? Couldn’t you achieve the same end goal no matter the base if your proficiency in the skill was high enough?”

“That is the end goal, yes. Right now, if I want to make the most powerful fire-weaved enchantment I can, then nothing but Draconic Fireball will do. Similarly, if I want something subtle and sustainable that will survive for many years without needing a recharge, then Candleflame is currently the only way to make that happen. Needless to say, being able to make high-power enchantments with a Candleflame and sustainable ones with Draconic Fireball is a goal of mine,” Orodan said. “And then… there’s the living nature of this enchantment. It has a will of its own, derived from mine of course, but that adds another layer of complexity to the matter.”

“A complex skill Mister Wainwright…” Gormir muttered.

“Mythical skills are rarely simple.”

“Of course it’s Mythical rarity… that comes as no surprise,” the enchanter said shaking his head. “Now then, I suppose I’ve taken enough of a break, shall we return to looking into body enchanting?”

“Aye, let us continue. I’ll admit, even with my existing insights in Enchanting and this new Mythical skill I have, understanding how to enchant living flesh is harder than I thought,” Orodan said. “My own is easy enough, but to work upon the body of another… is a different matter.”

“Your progress is already leagues beyond what I expected… enough to almost make me jealous Mister Wainwright. Now come, let us have a look at these cockroaches once more, you must first seek to understand their composition and…”

And so, time passed as Orodan worked with Gormir Eltros to understand just how body enchanting worked.

Orodan could already enchant his own body. He had done it during the final stretch of the battle against the Prophet, by imbuing himself with the full power of an overcharged Draconic Fireball and then directing all those flames to form the enchantment for an explosion. The combination of that fire-weaved body enchantment and a Smite of Abrupt Deliverance… had been truly cataclysmic.

Three entire star systems had vanished under the unfathomable raw power he’d delivered. Of course, the strike had nearly killed him too, but it had also defeated an Administrator. Weakened and bereft of Mantle and System as the Prophet had been. Orodan had grown strong, but he would need to grow stronger, especially if he meant to reliably unleash such power many times over the course of a battle.

Learning the concepts and theoretical foundations behind the Body Enchanting skill would not only allow Orodan to grant greater power to others, but it might also improve his own enchantments of his body.

Still, it was no easy skill to understand, even with his keen mind and relentless drive to learn. Finally, as Orodan channeled fire into another cockroach which exploded into ash, he had to admit that it was a tougher skill than he’d thought it would be.

“I have a decent enough understanding of how a cockroach’s anatomy functions, as well as the composition of its flesh, but it still seems to react poorly to my attempts at infusing it with fire…” Orodan muttered.

“Hmm, your dogged insistence on learning the concepts of Body Enchanting through that Mythical skill of yours rather than through regular enchanting might be quite the steep hurdle,” Gormir said. “We can always learn the basics through regular enchanting first and then attempt it with your Elemental Living Enchanting, Mister Wainwright.”

“We could… but that would simply be too easy,” Orodan said with a grin. “And I’m not the sort to do things the easy way.”

Gormir looked taken aback by the declaration but remained silent. If the enchanter had any opinions on Orodan’s training philosophy, he kept them to himself.

Another hour passed as Orodan worked. Although, his Mana Manipulation and Fire Magic Mastery gained a level each as he attempted different methods of inserting the flames into the cockroaches’ bodies.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to meet with you for a long, long time now, Gormir Eltros.”

“With… me?” the Master-level enchanter asked, surprise evident. “I must profess Mister Wainwright, I have not heard of you before your introduction, which is exceedingly odd when you’re such a powerful individual. But besides that, I’m not that famous of an individual myself. Your ability to enchant with the very elements is far superior to the mere art of Body Enchanting. Why, there are at least two Grandmaster enchanters in Novarria who also ply my trade but I’ve heard of none who are capable of yours. It begs the question of why you would have sought me at all.”

“Then would it surprise you to know that I’ve been meaning to meet you for thousands of years now?” Orodan replied.

“E-eh?! How is that possible? Surely you jest?”

Well, technically it was the truth. After all, he’d been in the loops for quite some time now if that stint of madness where he empowered the loop mechanism itself was taken into account. And since he’d wanted to learn body enchanting long ago in his early loops… technically Orodan had been meaning to meet the man for thousands of years now.

“Not really,” Orodan replied. “Consider it a grand application of chronomancy. Though, only partially by my hand.”

“Chronomancy? How can that be? None of the chronomancers I maintain contact with have spoken of such disturbances, nor have the dragons of the Time Wind declared any alterations to the currents of time. Unless, you are a reincarnator and you speak of time metaphorically?”

“Not in the slightest. I speak quite literally when I say it’s due to time. I’m in a time loop.”

“You… you’re in a what?” Gormir asked, utterly surprised.

“A time loop. Every time I die, I return to this day over and over. Long ago, when I was far younger and weaker, I heard of you when attending the Bluefire Academy. I sought your knowledge of Body Enchanting and the possible methods of learning soul-powered enchantments.”

“I know the theory of what a time loop is, Mister Wainwright. Certainly there’s enough speculative fiction and academic theory craft surrounding the concept,” Gormir Eltros replied, though his face took on a serious edge. “My question is… why are you telling me about it? Something about you tells me you’re not the type to make idle jests.”

“I am not. What I’ve told you is the truth,” Orodan replied. “As for why I’m telling you… why not? Almost every loop of mine I have gone around revealing the truth. I have little time for secrets and dancing about. Tried that in the last long loop and it went as poorly as could be expected.”

“I still think it was comedic, watching you skulk about as though you were being subtle,” Zaessythra said.

Orodan rolled his eyes at her comment and took in Gormir Eltros who was looking rather nervous, as though on the verge of having a panic attack.

“Mister Wainwright… if this is not some grand jest, I must again ask why you have bothered to tell me of all this. I’m but a Master-level enchanter of the Republic, hardly anyone qualified to hear such cosmic secrets!” the man said. “Do any of the elders know about this? The Gods? Are they the ones responsible for these time loops?”

“Adeltaj Simarji knows, the Gods do not know this loop, and no they are not responsible. This is something well beyond their power,” Orodan casually replied.

“Well beyond their power? But that’s preposterous… nothing is beyond the Gods,” Gormir said, sounding as though he was attempting to convince himself as much as he was Orodan. “This must be some elaborate scheme, right? A big practical jest? Come now Mister Wainwright, are such things not below someone of your power and station?”

“Whether you choose to believe it or not, that’s the truth. Setting the matter of the time loops aside, I’ve been meaning to study Body Enchanting under your tutelage for a while now,” Orodan said.

Gormir still looked disbelieving and Orodan wasn’t intent on pushing the issue when the notion had already caused the man a level of distress. For now, they both chose not to speak of the time loops, even if Gormir clearly looked as though he was in deep thought.

If anything, Orodan wasn’t too surprised. He normally associated with Grandmasters and combat specialists who knew the ins and outs of power and the hierarchy of the world. Even if they logically had a difficult time believing the notion of these time loops, most beings Orodan met were more believing of the tale after they witnessed his sheer might and improbable abilities.

But for an enchanter like Gormir Eltros who’d never seen any combat and spent the entirety of his life within the sequestered walls of civilization? The notion seemed far more outlandish, and even though he was a Master-level enchanter at Bluefire, the man’s faith in the Gods and their superiority was far stronger than a more world-traveled person’s might be.

The silence was eventually broken by Gormir.

“So, not only enchanting, but pyromancy too? And I doubt the sword and shield you wear are for show… a good supplement to have in case the battle gets physical eh?” Gormir asked. “I imagine a pyromancer who has some ability with a sword and shield would be a difficult foe for anyone.”

“Hah! Being referred to as a pyromancer would have offended me once upon a time, but I’ll take the praise for what it is now. In truth, the sword and shield are my bread and butter,” Orodan corrected. “I grew up poor and magic was seen as the trade of the wealthy. The honest work of fighting face-to-face is my real specialty.”

“Truly? I’ve often asked the warriors and battlemages on campus but… does that not frighten you? The prospect of fighting up close and getting hurt?” Gormir asked as he released another cockroach for Orodan to continue working on. “I profess, I’ve only fought three times in my life and all three were against weak monsters during travel and I was accompanied by party members or escorts who helped in dealing with the matter. Though, I did use a modified pre-charged spell rod to burn a wolf during one of those.”

“Hmm… well let me ask you a question in turn then. All these books and remaining cooped up in a workshop all day, does that not bore you? The idea of remaining sequestered away and toiling towards theory work your entire life?” Orodan questioned.

“I suppose I see your point; I do enjoy working on the bounds of Enchanting. In the same vein, I can understand how someone might enjoy the dreadful gruel of physical punishment and bloodshed. Whether you do it out of a sense of duty, or because you’re good at it, or due to being one of those frightening folk who actually enjoy battle… who am I to judge?” Gormir asked. “I hope you do not think any less of me for being a reclusive peruser of scrolls and artifacts.”

Perhaps the young Orodan Wainwright might have seen it that way… but he’d grown out of such judgmental and narrow-minded arrogance.

“Not at all. Where would society be without enchanters and alchemists around? Now then, back to these cockroaches… I don’t understand why I’m failing…”

“Let me query you this Mister Wainwright. When you channel the flames into your own flesh, how does it feel? Surely you have some protective spell working in tandem? An enchanted item maybe?”

“No? I just channel the fire through my arms and form it into an enchantment. Why?” Orodan said.

“…what?” Gormir asked. “And your flesh does not burn?”

“Of course not, well it does, particularly at the maximal power I can exert, but that’s because…”

“Has someone finally seen the obvious?”

Fire Resistance. Of course.

How had he overlooked such an obvious but important detail? Enchanting his own arms with Draconic Fireball’s flames and weaving inscriptions was radically different from doing the same on these roaches, not just for the sheer resilience and strength of his cells, but also because he had Fire Resistance.

These cockroaches were dying very quickly from the moment Orodan’s flames entered them no matter how low and sustainable he tried to keep the fires from his Candleflame spell.

But if he had to somehow cultivate Fire Resistance in other living targets before being able to use Elemental Living Enchanting on them, then Body Enchanting would remain altogether too time-consuming and inaccessible. At least if he tried enchanting others.

“I see that look on your face Mister Wainwright, the natural question of how you can surmount this obstacle might be closer at hand than you think,” Gormir said, looking at his notes. “You mentioned that your Elemental Living Enchanting skill also has a will of its own, does it not? Perhaps… leveraging that will towards not burning the cockroaches… mayhap that is the key you are looking for.”

“Indeed… that is a good observation,” Orodan remarked, having made up his mind.

“Then, you shall focus on understanding how to influence the living will of your enchantments, yes?” the enchanter asked.

“Indeed.”

“Then er… why do you uh… why are you looking at that cockroach so menacingly?”

“That would be because… it’s time for it to get some good training.”

Quickly identifying the most reasonable method for solving this problem Gormir Eltros had helped Orodan already. Of course… since when was Orodan known to be reasonable?

“Training? What do you mean by that Mister-”

Orodan grabbed the cockroach in the palm of his hand and brought it nearer to his face as he stared into its beady little eyes.

An imperative… no, a commandment, left his lips.

“You… you’re going to train Fire Resistance.”

[Commandment of War 54 → Commandment of War 56]

And before his very eyes, a bug that he’d often been likened to himself, one that wasn’t sentient and had no capacity for thought or feeling… began to quiver in fear as the immensity of the task, the charge Orodan had laid upon it.

The cockroach’s beady little eyes gained a sharp level of awareness. Of itself, of the world around it. And it felt, and it understood.

His Commandment began to draw out not just its innate talent and resilience, but also the potential sentience and sapience it could eventually attain. However, developing sentience in something so small was energy intensive. There was a reason why every little bug or unseen living thing didn’t have the capacity to think or feel the way a sentient being did. Often, as in the case of the cockroach in his hands, higher skill levels needed to be acquired and the body and soul made stronger before a bug could feel, let alone think.

And before his eyes Orodan could see that the cockroach’s body was suffering under the strain of possessing a soul which was too strong for it. His drawing out of its sentience had disrupted its natural bodily balance. A problem of his own creation that he would rectify.

He sent out a thread of connection between himself and the bug. His Blessing, granted unto a most unexpected recipient.

“Focus. Stabilize your body and soul.”

To the side, Gormir Eltros was utterly flabbergasted and could only stare on in fright as Orodan Wainwright began training a cockroach to become more resistant to fire.

“T-this…!”

“Even by your standards this is a bit…”

Of course, training the cockroach to acquire Fire Resistance wouldn’t be the only thing he did. Gormir was right that focusing on the living aspect of the elemental enchanting was the key forward. If he managed to have a say in the living will of the fire that he weaved the enchantments with, not only could he possibly make the flames more bearable for other living things, but could also instill in them less desire to burn his own flesh whenever he amplified attacks with it.

[Fire Magic Mastery 67 → Fire Magic Mastery 68]

[Mana Manipulation 67 → Mana Manipulation 68]

Exceedingly small, almost to the point where the untrained naked eye would be unable to see it. This was the fire glowing off the tip of his finger. It was the single smallest Candleflame Orodan had ever conjured, an entirely different method of working flame that he hadn’t ever tried before which came with corresponding gains.

The cockroach, whose insectoid eyes now carried a hint of determination, strode towards the flame…

…and began throwing quick peppering thrusts with its front legs towards it.

It was a ridiculous sight. A man holding up a Candleflame almost small enough to be invisible to the naked eye, and a cockroach with newly gained awareness and determination attempting to punch it with its forelegs.

“Oh? Practicing your unarmed combat in tandem? I approve of the multitasking,” Orodan said, nodding in respect at the roach. “But your jabbing technique could use some improvement, here, let me show you how to throw a proper punch.”

And as the only other inhabitant of the room was subject to the utterly insane sight of a man demonstrating proper fist fighting technique to a cockroach with alternated sessions of helping it learn to resist fire… Gormir Eltros could only question why the hells they had stuck him with the madman that was Orodan Wainwright.

#

The sight of all that efficient training and the repeated number of surprises in the day had caused Gormir Eltros to call off training for the remainder of it. They would reconvene tomorrow, after Orodan’s planned meeting and presentation to the Republic’s council. He felt the man was being a bit dramatic, but he’d gotten his practice in, and his newest student decided to remain within the workshop of Gormir Eltros, who had been told that she’d developed sentience and was not to be mistreated.

The Master-level body enchanter of Bluefire might have thought him ridiculous for attempting to train a cockroach to resist fire, but the level in Teaching and another in Candleflame spoke for themselves.

In any case, Bluefire and Karilsgard could wait until tomorrow when the academy opened once more and the council convened to receive his new weapons and finalize the arrangement between him and Bluefire.

Now, as Orodan passed people, many of whom knew him, he found himself back in Ogdenborough, specifically near the Castarian’s Boot Tavern. The area was bustling with activity with foot traffic being abundant.

The Castarian’s Boot Tavern was of course within Eversong Plaza, formerly the territory of house Argon. Even back in the day the tavern had a high level of foot traffic. Of course now with recent events involving the ancient machine, that had swelled further.

He spotted squads of county militia patrolling the area alongside soldiers of the Republic military. These well-armed and armored men and women were clearly a cut above the county militia. An insurance policy, in case Novaria or any interested third parties with malicious intentions came trying to unearth the secrets of the ancient machine once more.

More importantly though the town's economy was now thriving without the corruption of house Argon the locals had access to far more jobs and local opportunities of course it need not be said that old man Hannegan was among those who benefited from this happenstance

And as usual, Old man Hannegan had a scowl upon his face as he ordered workers about. There were far more workers than he expected too. What was formerly a small and poverty-stricken town was now a flourishing place with a bountiful economy surrounding it due to the recent destruction of the ancient machine under Mount Castarian.

“I see you’re hard at work. No rest for an old man like you, eh?” Orodan asked, a rare smile on his face. “Shouldn’t you be resting a bit more at your age?”

“Old man? Who are you calling an old man?” his favorite foreman asked, growling at him while shaking a fist. “Orodan… I was wondering when I would see you again. Where have you even been? You didn’t even come by to help me with the lumber this morning.”

Which was something he regretted a bit as the assault by those Embodiers had thrown his usual loop routine off. He’d faced their assault, slain the harpies and then quickly dealt with the ancient machine before heading directly for Velestok.

“Apologies. My usual routine was disrupted by something unexpected. Moving forward, I assure you that won't happen again,” Orodan promised. “I've learned a few new tricks since we've last met. I'm looking forward to trying them out on that warehouse of yours. Well, that’s for next time though.”

“You haven’t worked with me in a few years brat, you even remember how to hoist a beam and haul bricks? Besides, the warehouse is in limbo now, government paid big money to free all available workers up for helping out here. The aftermath of whatever happened yesterday is what I’ve got my hands full with now,” the old man replied. “Noble houses and their games… don’t know what happened in that tavern last night, but the council’s paying big coin for us to help clean things up and build infrastructure. For some reason they want me and the crew to unearth some tunnels. Didn’t surprise me when they confirmed what I’d been saying all along, that the tavern leads to the other side of the mountain.”

Typically, after Mount Castarian and the ancient machine were dealt with, the subsequent flow of traffic and attention from the Republic necessitated the movement of old man Hannegan towards the important work of securing the mountain and helping establish more infrastructure.

This was nothing new. Still, he fully intended to begin helping with the warehouse once more from next loop. He’d learned a great many skills while on Lonvoron, and was itching to put them to use.

“There’s more beneath that mountain than just tunnels, but that’s not why I came here. I’m looking for work old man,” Orodan said. “Looks like you could use a hand with this tunneling the Republic wants done.

Old man Hannegan frowned at him.

“What do you mean, Orodan? You're a member of the county militia. What are you doing, going around asking to work with me again? Just yesterday I had an angry Sergeant Woodgard come by and ask where the hells you were. Don't tell me you skipped out on duty. What's gotten into you, boy?

“Nothing's gotten into me,” Orodan replied. “I just have a desire to work on some of my other skills. Fighting will always hold a dear place in my heart, so you need not worry about me having a sudden career change.”

Of course, as he said this, a familiar troop of the local county militia came by and noticed him speaking to the old man. Among them were Parthus Edrosic and Corporal Bistrid. It was his troop.

“Oh? Hey! There he is corporal! We found Orodan at last!” Edrosic exclaimed.

“Wainwright?” Bistrid muttered as she walked up, a hint of questioning in her gaze. “Not like you to miss any shifts Wainwright. What happened?”

“Or rather, what’s about to happen as he’s punished for desertion and that perfect record of his is finally tarnished,” Edrosic said with that same jesting tone and casual demeanor that had always irked Orodan in the past. “He might finally feel human like the rest of us!”

“With him? The only punishment they render might finally involve sending him off to Trumbetton, or some other more dangerous place in the county for some experience, both of which he’d certainly be fine with. Disciplinary measures are meant for lazy louts like you, Edrosic,” Corporal Bistrid shot back, causing the man to act as though grievously wounded. “Ignore this fool’s barking Wainwright. Why did you miss your shift yesterday? It was an all-call given the political incident which occurred, everyone was called in even from their days off.”

“The council didn’t even make an announcement for Liberation Day, which was quite unprecedented,” Edrosic added and then snicked as though recalling something funny. “You should have seen Sergeant Woodgards’s face though… he was so red.”

Orodan simply shook his head.

“That’s nice and all, but you can consider this my formal resignation. I’m quitting the Volarbury county militia.”

For now anyways.

Yes, they had an oath of service that they took to protect the county, but it wasn’t a binding one and simply stated that militia members had to protect and serve the people of the county and act with due diligence and valor throughout the course of their duties. Unlike the Republic’s military or the capital guard, the militia for each county was considered a civilian job.

It was a paramilitary organization in charge of the safety and security of the county, but it wasn’t a sworn service with binding terms which one had to serve out. Since Orodan had simply announced his resignation, the punishment for desertion would be considered a civilian one rather than criminal. Fines and the requirement that he either return his equipment or reimburse the cost of that and his basic training.

Bistrid looked quite shocked, as did the remainder of Orodan’s troop who didn’t really talk much to him. Frankly, besides Botterson and Edrosic, nobody in the barracks spoke much to him for fear of his reputation and tenacious drive to train which pushed most away. Even Bistrid and Sergeant Woodgard only interacted with him in the context of spars or discussion regarding his duties.

Orodan didn’t see what the big deal was. Plenty of people resigned from the county militia either because the life wasn’t for them or because they found better opportunities in a more prestigious organization.

Edrosic however, was the most affected.

“W-what? You? Quitting the militia? But fighting is all you live for? How will you…”

“At ease Edrosic, you act as though quitting the militia means I’ll never fight again,” Orodan replied. “While I’m not about to jump into an adventuring party, there are plenty of fights ahead of me. Sooner than you think too.”

“But… without you… who’s going to motivate me to become stronger? Damn it Wainwright, I thought we were friends!”

Now that came as news to Orodan. He had only two words.

“…we are?”

Edrosic looked crushed, and Orodan could swear he saw the man’s soul dim noticeably.

“You truly are a villain Orodan. Look what you’ve done. He looks like a kicked dog,” Zaessythra remarked.

In his defense, Orodan didn’t even know that Parthus Edrosic considered him a friend. From his perspective the man was a somewhat irritating and lackadaisical individual who failed to put the appropriate effort towards training or anything in life. Hells, Edrosic didn’t even try to jockey for promotions, work on any notable skills on the side that would allow him to make a career change or even dream of anything big. All he had ever heard his fellow troop member talk about was one day making enough money to move out of Ogdenborough.

On one hand, Orodan certainly preferred him over those sniveling slimes who politicked and schemed to get ahead, at least Edrosic was a simple soul. Yet on the other, he had no common interests with the man at all.

“Now wait a moment… I don’t mean to brush you off. I’m just uh… confused. The people I associate with are few and far-between. Could you at least tell me why you consider me a friend?” Orodan honestly asked.

There was no sugarcoating it, besides Old Man Hannegan, Orodan had nobody in Ogdenborough he considered a friend. Which was why Edrosic’s admission came as such a surprise. Furthermore, from the feeling he was getting off the man’s soul, it wasn’t like Edrosic was lying or attempt to falsely butter him up either. The confession of friendship was genuine!

“You… you really don’t recall all those times I was in trouble and you bailed me out?” the man asked. “We even shared our first kill together!”

“You were there when I stabbed… hmm, nevermind,” Orodan stopped himself, not bothering to tell his fellow troop member that he’d taken a life well before joining the militia. “I honestly can’t recall what you’re talking about. When did I bail you out?”

And for someone who was making big claims about all the fights they shared together, Orodan did recall Parthus Edrosic turning tail and running at the very beginning of the time loops. Still, that was Orodan’s fault for standing his ground and fighting in a battle he had no business being in.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“How can you not remember? That time when we fought off an entire wolf pack with our troop alone, or that time a herd of acid slimes came by and we had to fight them off. You fought like a madman, cleaving wolf skulls and splattering slimes in both fights,” Edrosic explained with vigor. “I admit it, I'm not the strongest member of the militia. Hells, I'm barely middle of the pack. But looking at you, it made me want to do better each day, even if it was by just a little bit.”

Orodan was baffled. It was with complete honesty that he had to admit he never knew Edrosic thought of him as a friend. But what was this justification for it?

“Edrosic… have you stopped to consider that those times you thought I saved you were really me fighting for myself?” Orodan bluntly asked. “I truly don’t mean to sound harsh, but I also will not lie.”

“That’s fine Orodan! I figured that’s what the matter was, I’m not stupid you know? When I say you’re my friend, what I mean is, you’re the friend I need to help give me the kick in the rear to do better… even if you don’t know that you’re doing it,” the man said with a goofy smile. “From the day I met you, your gaze has been set towards ambitions someone like me has no business considering. But even if you don’t know, even if it was from the shadows… you helped make me better. I was bottom of the barrel in basic until I saw you acing the class and beating everyone in spars you know? You propelled me to at least reach the middle rankings by the time graduation came along. Spared me from having to work that horrid jail.”

“Quite the character this man is. I don’t mind him.”

And if he was being honest, even if the answer had been different before the time loops… Orodan didn’t mind him now either.

“A strange definition of friend you have, Parthus,” Orodan said, amused. “I’m still leaving, that part’s set in stone no matter what you say.”

“Heh… that’s alright Orodan. With the shock of it now passed, I can accept this… not like I was in any position to stop you anyways,” Parthus said. “I’ll just bother Old Man Hannegan here about what you’re up to, and with that knowledge in hand… I’ll better myself.”

“I don’t think the old man will enjoy being badgered by you on the regular, but do as you wish.”

“Say, where are you headed off to anyways? Adventuring work? The military?”

“Just helping the old man tunnel beneath Mount Castarian. But in less than two weeks I’ll be facing enemies invading our world in search of my head,” Orodan replied with a smile.

It was no surprise when Parthus burst out laughing. Even the normally stoic Corporal Bistrid had a smirk on her face.

“You actually cracked a joke! The Orodan I know never cracks jokes!”

“Right, well I’ll be seeing you Parthus, take care now.”

And with that he left Edrosic behind. Old man Hannegan was waiting for him by tavern entrance.

“Well that took you long enough. Rather colorful fellow you work with there, or… used to work with,” the old man said. “I didn’t want to step into your affairs, but did you really resign from the militia Orodan? You’ve always wanted to be a warrior right? Why the sudden change?”

“Nothing about that has changed old man. The county militia is hardly the be all and end all of combat,” Orodan replied. “Now let’s get to tunneling I’m sure you have plenty of rock that needs to be mined before we can reach the area the Republic wants unearthed.”

“Well all right then, if you’re offering a hand I won’t turn you down. Always good to have someone with a bit of heft in their arms,” old man Hannegan replied. “Not my business what you choose to so with your time.”

The hustle and bustle of alcohol and jubilation could be heard as the two of them entered the Castarian’s Boot Tavern. Compared to the secretive and exclusive establishment this place used to be, the Castarian’s Boot Tavern was now a different sort of joint. Commoners, merchants and various folk from other towns inhabited the first floor, and Orodan could sense plenty of the second floor rooms occupied by larger groups who wanted a reservation. Drinking and merriment were aplenty and the overall mood and morale of the townsfolk here was a stark difference to what he remembered the beginning of the loops.

Understandably so given that the Republic’s desire to see the tunnels unearthed meant the creation of many jobs and the infusion of wealth into a formerly poor town.

“Hey Gregory! Who’s that you got there with you?” one of the less inebriated patrons asked. “Gathering more workers for the tunnels?”

“Orodan here offered me his help of his own volition in fact.”

“That so? He certainly looks like a big man. Is that a militia uniform? Is this a part-time job for you?” the man asked. “I suppose I’ve seen stranger things than militiamen trying to diversify their skill set; that drudgery can’t pay well, can it?”

“A gold coin a year isn’t a horrible salary,” Orodan said. “But money isn’t what I’m here for, rather, the old man here runs a tight ship and working with him is a good way to sharpen some of my skills.”

“One of those sorts who seek to better themselves through odd pursuits I see. I can respect that, Gregory and I used to apprentice under a man who held the same mindset,” the patron said.

“I still think you’ve lost your marbles Orodan,” old man Hannegan replied. “Don’t know what would possess you to work with an old codger like me again. But we can always use more workers, and I’ve never known you to be the type who acts aimlessly.”

“At least you’re not getting worked up about how the Burgher’s going to punish you for poaching me,” Orodan replied. “But then again, with the recent mess I doubt Burgher Ignatius Firesword has the time to care about a resigned militia man working someplace else.”

“Right you are, with how bad the Republic wants the tunnels excavated I doubt House Firesword has any room to complain even if they wanted to. Oh by the way, Have I introduced you to my friend here? Orodan this is Gerace Stenguard, we used apprentice under the same master carpenter back in my youth. Gerace, this is Orodan Wainwright, used to be a militia man but quit today and wants to work with me for some Gods damned reason.”

“And weren’t those the days? I still remember that old madman telling me to saw a dozen wooden boards in a minute while blindfolded. He would throw rocks at my head during the process too!” Gerace replied to the old man and then shook Orodan’s hand. “Orodan Wainwright is it? If you’ve quit the militia, why not come work for me? A strong warrior with a doughty sword arm is always welcome in the Stenguard Company.”

“No. My goals carry me elsewhere for now. And guarding caravans isn’t in my interests.”

“Worth a try. Keep this one close at hand Gregory, I get the feeling he’s no ordinary man,” Gerace said. “Wainwright, Wainwright… I feel like I heard that name floating about before I left Karilsgard for here.”

“You might hear more in the coming days. Rather well-informed for someone drinking in a shoddy tavern in the poorest town of the Republic aren’t you?” Orodan asked. “Let me guess… you’re a noble?”

“You’re an observant one,” Gerace said. “What makes you think that?”

“I’ve heard the name Stenguard once upon a time, a number of the goods at market bear your house’s seal,” Orodan answered. Although it bore mentioning that the goods from House Stenguard were of the more expensive variety whereas Orodan oft skipped that section whenever getting groceries at Fodgarton’s before the loops. “Basic training for the militia made knowing most noble houses in and around Volarbury County a necessity. Never know when you run into some blueblood with a chip on their shoulder. Leadership didn’t want the grunts getting into trouble with their benefactors.”

“Indeed, we’re mere landed nobility, ascended through opportunistic trade deals and good fortune. A merchant house, ascended through merit and hard work. Not like many of the more arrogant nobility from military houses that you might be used to,” the man said. “I’m only in Ogdenborough to help supply the military and this expedition to unearth the tunnels beneath the mountain. I wonder what they even want down there…”

“A gigantic machine capable of wiping out the entire county?” Orodan suggested.

“Heh! Well a sense of imagination is a good thing to have,” Gerace replied. “But I digress. Tell me, Orodan Wainwright, what’s your aim in helping Gregory here? I doubt someone like yourself needs the money. whatever Gregory is offering you I’ll double it, no I’ll triple it.”

“I don’t know why you’ve got your eye on me, but as I’ve mentioned before money isn’t what interests me. Skills do, as does the prospect of broadening my horizons and bettering myself,” Orodan said. “Come on old man, don’t we have tunnels to excavate? Unless you were planning on getting drunk? Rather inadvisable for your liver at your age.”

Old Man Hannegan of course turned red.

“My liver’s been handling drink since before you were born you blockhead!”

“Eh? Are you admitting you’re old?” Orodan teased.

Which of course caused his long time friend and mentor to angrily shake his head as the two of them made for the tavern’s back door which connected to the tunnels beneath the mountain.

“Orodan Wainwright, before you go… just keep in mind that House Stenguard deals in a rather diverse array of things,” the man said. “If it’s skills you seek, we might have a number of ventures that interest you.”

Not the worst idea. Definitely something to keep in mind given the sheer number of tries he expected these two weeks would take. Given the fact that all of the universe’s Embodiments of Cleaning were coming after him… Orodan had no delusions of being able to beat them within any reasonable number of loops.

But for now, mining awaited.

#

[Mining 29 → Mining 30]

[New Title → Mining Apprentice]

An entire hundred meter stretch of caved in rock before him… gone.

Of course, if Orodan hit hard enough he could likely break Alastaia itself, but raw force wasn’t the aim here. Skill and control were.

The pickaxe in Orodan’s hands wasn’t doing too well from the devastating blow he’d struck. He’d decided against empowering it with soul energy, chiefly because he felt that attempting to also preserve the pickaxe during these strikes was important to developing the Mining skill.

After all, good mining technique wasn’t just about hitting the rock at the point which would cause the most damage, but also about putting the least amount of stress on the implement he was using. But… given the splintered mess of a wooden handle in his hands lacking a pick head entirely… Orodan still had a ways to go.

Good thing Old Man Hannegan’s crew had plenty of pickaxes on hand.

“Right, your crew can get back to it now old man,” Orodan said, moving to the side and beginning to polish a raw garnet he’d mined from a sub-tunnel earlier.

This was his training within these tunnels.

Every fifteen minutes, after meditating on what a proper pickaxe blow was supposed to be, he would get up and dedicate his all towards clearing as much of the tunnel in a singular swing of as much technical perfection as he could manage. Of course, it was rendered more difficult by his self-imposed requirement of preserving the pickaxe as best he could, and his other requirement that he not cause a single bit more damage than necessary besides clearing the cave-in.

No new tunnels, no destruction to the surrounding subterranean pathways and no overt detection of quakes or tremors by the regular people on the surface. Control and discipline were the key factors here.

And in-between each swing of the pickaxe? Orodan would work on polishing the raw gemstones and valuable jewels he found occasionally dotting certain sub-tunnels which weren’t officially mapped. There’d been a monster or two in these places, but most of them had monstrous instincts which told them to flee at the sight of him.

“R-right… of course… Orodan,” Old Man Hannegan muttered, still looking frightened and unsure of whether it really was him.

“I’m not possessed. And calling the Cathedral to come check would cause an escalating chain of fights ending in me killing a number of Gods,” Orodan replied.

Indeed, the old man had been in for the shock of his life when Orodan had delivered the first blow of his pickaxe, clearing almost a hundred meters of rock. Furthermore, the soldiers of the Republic accompanying the work crew had immediately used their communications amulets to report the incident to their superiors. He had little doubt that someone would eventually be coming by to meet him and possibly with an offer for joining a noble house. Of course, Orodan’s goals in this loop were of a different bent. Joining a noble house was not in the cards. Mainly because the Republic intended on making him the founder of one.

Now, as Orodan continued polishing the raw garnet in his hands the old man could only look on, speechless.

“That look on your face doesn’t suit you,” Orodan said. “The old man Hannegan I know isn’t the sort to be so easily flabbergasted.”

“Can you blame me? Look at all the things you’ve done. Annihilating a hundred meters of rock with a singular swing, slaying elite level monsters and even polishing gemstones like some damn jewelsmith," old man Hannegan exclaimed. "It feels as though you've been possessed by some powerful demon… or maybe you're a reincarnator."

In some loops, if Orodan displayed abilities still within reason, the old man might simply wonder if he’d been blessed or awakened a Bloodline. But then, there were times like this, where the level of power he displayed was so far above what poor Old Man Hannegan knew of his baseline that the only quick conclusions reached were that he was either possessed or a reincarnator, both possibilities implying he was no longer Orodan Wainwright.

“I’m neither a demon nor am I a reincarnator,” Orodan corrected. “I’m still the same bullheaded fool you’ve always known. Who else but Orodan Wainwright would suddenly quit his militia job just to work at excavating tunnels alongside you?”

“Well… when you put it like that, you do still have that same stupid look in your eyes,” the old man said.

“After all this time and everything I’ve been through, it’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed about me,” Orodan said, pausing his jewelcrafting for a brief moment as he gave the man a serious look. “I suppose you’ll want to know how I acquired all this power.”

“It isn’t adding up. Just two days ago you had to put in decent effort to unload the lumber from my cart, you looked a little winded from your run too. But now you can just swing a damn pick and wipe an entire cave-in? Not even a Blessing or a Bloodline would explain that!” the man exclaimed and then looked Orodan up and down. “And I can’t see any fancy enchanted treasure either. I’ve known you as a talented lad, but still an Apprentice. To clear that tunnel… I don’t think I know even an Elite who could do it so easily in a single swing.”

“Heh! True enough! Let me be direct then. I’m in a time loop,” Orodan bluntly declared.

“A… a time loop? What is that?”

“Then sit down as I tell you, and at the end of this, I have a proposal…”

And so he explained everything as he worked, alternating jewelcrafting and mining. And if the workers who were part of Old Man Hannegan’s crew overheard, Orodan cared not, for this loop was due to end in less than two weeks. He told the old man about how the loops started and how he became stronger. He also spoke of his various enemies and the need to grow stronger to face them. The Gods who stabbed him in the back, the Eldritch Avatar, his journeys beyond Alastaia where he met otherworlders and the domineering Administrators. And finally, he explained the truth behind the System and the Eldritch Boundless One, and his goal of eventually solving the problem by purging the corruption and offering the universe his own System if they so chose.

[Jewelcrafting 54 → Jewelcrafting 55]

He finished perfectly polishing and cleaning the raw garnet. Not bad. In doing so, he felt not just the improvement to Jewelcrafting, but the small insight added to his comprehension of Cleaning. This way, he hoped to slowly build up his understanding of cleanliness, brick by brick, through cleaning different things and exploring other crafts.

Even the mining he was engaged in that had gained another level throughout the conversation, wasn’t a whimsical pursuit. Through understanding it, Orodan hoped to better hone his sword and fist.

Cross-training and borrowing insights from other skills to add to his main ones. This was Orodan’s aim and one of the ways through which he hoped to improve his martial prowess over these two week loops. Hells, he’d even forced his Transcendent Combat Mastery to remain suppressed this entire time for he wanted to understand Mining and Jewelcrafting purely on their own merits first.

Having multiple skills work together in tandem in order to achieve a greater result was nice, and might even gain him plenty of skill levels. But as Orodan had learned when becoming System-less for the first time, skill levels were but a crutch. And his combination of multiple skills via Combat Mastery would only become better if he first painstakingly earned insights in each skill in and of itself in isolation.

His training ethos aside, the primary recipient of his tale didn’t look very accepting of things. Or rather, the old man seemed quite overwhelmed.

“Orodan, this is utter madness that you speak of. I stopped being capable of comprehending your tale past the descent of this ‘Eldritch Avatar’ you speak of. Other worlds? Administrators? Some unfathomable creature which controls everything we know and love? This is all far too much for me!”

“Hmm, perhaps this is a bit much to expect you to grasp right away…” Orodan muttered.

Of course, a random miner who was nearby chimed in.

“That’s alright sir, I’ve been listening this entire time! I think this tale of yours is amazing! In fact, I’d like to be the first to write a book about it all!”

“…what?” Orodan asked, befuddled at this random man who had paid rapt attention. “Who in the seven hells would read something like that? You’ll have an easier time selling glasses to the blind.”

“B-but, but…”

“Enough of this nonsense Orodan, your tale is utter lunacy! How can you expect me to believe all this?” the old man asked and then sighed. “Look… even if what you say is true, and I truly am willing to believe the time loop part, what about all these other fantastical things? And why have you even told me all this? On the slim chance that you aren’t just some demon possessing the body of Orodan Wainwright, and this is all true, what part does old Gregory Hannegan of Ogdenborough play in all this?”

[Mining 31 → Mining 32]

Orodan’s pickaxe shot forward, the speed of it causing the air to tear and a sonic boom to erupt outwards. The pick was only two-thirds destroyed this time too. But more importantly, the eradicated rubble from the cave-in was now gone, revealing a shattered giant double door leading into a familiar chamber. One he’d fought and died within in his early loops.

And within it…

“By the Gods… what is that thing?” Old Man Hannegan asked, his eyes wide as he gawked at the metallic creation within.

“That, Mister Hannegan, is the ancient machine beneath Mount Castarian. What the Republic and Novarria had their little spat over and what House Argon tried betraying their homeland for,” Orodan explained. “But this isn’t the original ancient machine, no… this is…”

“A bit… off?”

“Huh?” Orodan exclaimed, surprised. “Explain.”

“Whoever built it, or rather, looks like someone tried building over it a bit, it just looks a little off is all,” the old man clarified. “More than a few parts… not that there’s anything wrong with the construction itself, but the organization is just a little bit off, and there might be a thing here that seems mildly inefficient, and another bit here that might be hard to perform maintenance upon.”

Orodan could only lower his head in shame and not meet Old Man Hannegan’s gaze. In truth, at the beginning of this loop, after he’d slain the enemies under the mountain and sent Baron Viglas Argon packing, he’d also knocked the Republic’s Masters out and tried his hand at reconstructing the ancient machine to the best of his ability.

Needless to say he failed. It was a great improvement; with his learned skills from Lonvoron he’d done far better than he’d ever managed in the past. But it still wasn’t enough. He’d then caused a cave-in to block the place from the Republic and went about the rest of his business.

Of course, for even Old Man Hannegan to spot the oddities in its attempted reconstruction… just how bad a job had Orodan done?

“Nevermind that… I shall let the architect know of your displeasure,” Orodan said, his voice sullen. “But I’m curious now, how can you notice these things? You’re not exactly an engineer, blacksmith or enchanter.”

“Right, but I’ve worked alongside them often enough and for long enough that I can tell when something’s just slightly off. Bah, I’m just an old man past his time, don’t mind my ramblings about this,” the man said. “These things you’ve told me… they still weigh heavy on my mind. It’s like I’ve aged ten years in the span of an hour. Even in this time loop of yours you’re still causing me headaches you damn blockhead!”

Orodan smiled at the familiar descriptor.

“And that’s where my proposal comes in. Old man… I might have a way to transfer people’s memories across these time loops,” Orodan said, pulling out Fenton’s orb. “This, it was given to me by someone I came to care for quite a bit.”

“I see… it was that boy on that world of metal and steam you spoke of, right?”

“Oh? You were listening?” Orodan asked.

“I might not have understood a quarter of the convoluted concepts you told me, but to hear you took on a student does rekindle some hope in me that you won’t forever remain a stone-headed fool who can only charge in one direction,” the old man said with a smile. “I’m sorry for what happened to him.”

“He died a warrior, of his own choice,” Orodan solemnly said. Though he left unsaid that Orodan blamed his own lack of strength for Fenton’s death. “But with this orb he gave me… I can bring your memories back to the next loop. Will you not join me?”

“And be subject to world-ending terror? From what you tell me lad, you’re now thousands of years older than I am. Why would I want to encounter the sorts of foes which give even you pause?”

“By my honor you won’t have to fight anyone. And the memories are only taken from the time of capture,” Orodan explained. “If I simply capture your memories now and then return them to you in the next loop and simply capture them again before any disasters, you can continue living in blissful ignorance of anything truly terrible.”

“But… why me? I still don’t understand why you’re bothering to approach ‘old man Hannegan’ when there’s bound to be hundreds of powerful allies that could help you.”

“Because, old man… I don’t need powerful allies. Matter of fact, I don’t strictly need anyone’s help with this orb,” Orodan said. “But I do need to see if this thing works, mainly because my student wants me to ferry his memories back. And if I’m going to ferry anyone’s memories back, I’d rather it be someone I trust. An old man who gave a stupid street rat a job and a chance when no one else would.”

“Tch… you damn idiot, don’t go getting me sentimental now…”

“Well? What do you say?” Orodan asked.

“I say… that the Republic’s soldiers seem to have arrived, and in quite some force too,” Old Man Hannegan said, looking quite worried at their numbers.

Orodan however, cared little for these interlopers, nor did he consider the beating he was about to lay upon them to be any form of good training.

#

The High Spire of Karilsgard was the building from where the Republic of Aden’s elected council ruled the nation.

“Are you the Mister Orodan Wainwright I’ve heard so much-”

“Master Gormir Eltros of Bluefire has spoken highly of you! Might I introduce-”

“I see elder Adeltaj Simarji is with you? Allow me to-”

“Orodan Wainwright? Didn’t the military report that one of their response forces was assaulted by-”

“Hey wait! I wasn’t done talk-”

“Is that a… cockr-”

[Teaching 81 → Teaching 82]

Orodan put out the miniature flame he had emanating from the tip of his finger and bade his newest student to go inside the lapels of his militia uniform where she would not be seen. Thankfully, he had cleansed her of the natural filth which tended to accumulate over the course of her previous lifestyle.

His Domain of Perfect Cleaning, now at the Embodiment-level, gave him a rather unerring intuition for whose personality he would really detest and a vague idea of how they operated. Prior to now, he hadn’t really been in an environment where he felt it utilized, but in a building full of rotten nobles and wealthy officials with an overinflated sense of self-importance… it was quite handy right from the get-go. He wasn’t normally the sort of man to brush people off but certain sorts he preferred to stay well away from since they were neither direct enough to get to the point or spoke in circles as though they were playing silly games.

Having grown up in the dregs of society, he knew the sort of person that was happy to smile to his face and then work against him from the shadows. Better to avoid such people altogether, Orodan would never get along with them.

Personally, Orodan felt that the building was full of incompetent officials who’d secured their positions through nepotism or corrupt politicians pretending to care about the people. The number of real leaders in this place could be counted on one hand, and he hadn’t run into any of them yet.

He had been inside enough times by now across his loops to know the layout, and Adeltaj Simarji who he’d come with showed no surprise at that fact as Orodan strode directly for the chamber of the council.

The ornate double doors leading to the chamber were shut and the capital guards looked resolute in not letting anyone pass. The duty of guarding the main doors for the council chamber was a ceremonial one with a lot of prestige to it. It was no regular capital guard, but a commander herself who stood stoically before them. Orodan gauged the stern-looking old woman as a Master peltast of decent strength for her level.

“Hold, the council is still seeing someone… er, Elder Adeltaj Simarji?” the commander asked, recognizing the old man accompanying Orodan. Her tone changed. “Apologies my lord, Count Rohanus is within as well but did you wish to attend too? Allow me to direct you to the council member entrance.”

“That will not be necessary,” old Adeltaj denied. “My friend here has important things to discuss with the council and they are awaiting him.”

“I would not dare bar you my lord, but please consider that another speaker is currently on the floor, I believe it pertains to the matter of newly acquired strategic assets for the Republic.”

“That will be fine, their discussion can wait, or rather… if they’re discussing what I think they are, it’s closely related to my friend here,” Adeltaj said.

The commander wasn’t stupid and had no interest in denying a Grandmaster who had every right to interrupt the council if he so wished. Whatever social mores that would be violated, the Council and their associated houses could deal with.

The woman opened the double doors and marched in, her voice booming in announcement, likely used to heralding important speakers taking the floor.

“Pardon the intrusion. May I present, elder Adeltaj Simarji and company.”

The capital guard commander swiftly exited and shut the double doors after that for announcing the reason why they’d entered was beyond her station.

“A-ancestor? You are here…”

“You look as though I’ve caught you stealing honey from the hives Rohanus. Don’t look so surprised boy, you’re not in trouble,” Adeltaj snarkily replied causing Count Rohanus to bury his head in his hands in embarrassment.

The High Burgher himself sat atop the highest chair and the man’s eyes quirked upwards in surprise at the impromptu entrance.

“Elder Adeltaj? I believe your acquaintance was scheduled to take the floor before us a half hour later… no? I was not aware you would be joining as well, but we are honored by your presence,” Sarvaan Ilsuan Arslan said and then shook his head. “As it so happens your timing is fortuitous, we shall be glad to hold the next discussion now. Not like this back and forth bickering for the past hour was getting us anywhere.”

If anything, the High Burgher looked relieved at the interruption.

“Back and forth bickering? Your trivialization of a most sensitive issue at this critical juncture is not humorous Lord Sarvaan,” spoke a Master-level noblewoman wearing the sigil of noble house Altamari. “The recent phenomenon near Ogdenborough cannot be ignored.”

“But we are not ignoring it in the slightest. Of course, what you and your faction have truly been pushing for is the matter of its ownership,” the High Burgher replied.

“As we absolutely should. Our coalition is concerned that our nation’s security might be threatened if we allow the ailing House Firesword to retain control of such a place. As our scouts and multiple readings have now confirmed, it’s a site with higher readings than the energy well at Anthus,” the Altamari councilwoman spoke. “Which is unfathomable and already drawing increased monster activity. While the soldiers of the Republic maintain brave vigil they cannot remain forever. The long-term ownership and responsibility must be determined.”

Of course, a familiar face who’d done much for him in his early loops was not happy about these words.

“Ailing House Firesword? For how long have we held onto Volarbury County without any assistance from the rest of the Republic? For how long have we safeguarded the remainder of the county from the traitorous House Argon’s schemes? Which other county of the Republic has an unprotected shoreline subject to raiding by Guzuharan scum?” Burgher Ignatius spoke, his face red with indignation. “In spite of all these maladies working against us, time and time again has House Firesword and Volarbury County prevailed. Certainly, we have done so without any assistance from your lot… Altamari.”

“My lot? My lot has a Grandmaster backing them, alongside more than one Master. You, however, are a mere Elite! Your house has no Masters and Elder Arvayne’s affairs with Agathor keep him preoccupied,” the Altamari scathingly rebuked. “House Argon’s traitorous schemes were dealt with by a yet unknown third party, not by House Firesword. These are worrying times, a zone of strategic significance has emerged just outside Ogdenborough and an unknown party also helped excavate the tunnels beneath Mount Castarian and then assaulted a responding military force. We have had far too many alarming security incidents occur in a short period of time and we cannot allow a house with no Master-level individuals and weak leadership to steward such an asset near the border. Lord Sarvaan, I simply wish to remind the council today that House Altamari and its coalition members are in far better position to safeguard this critical asset than House Firesword is. Novarria is ever watchful, and this may be further excuse for them to make aggressive moves.”

Harsh words, but true. Besides Arvayne Firesword, Burgher Ignatius was the second strongest member of the house, and only an Elite. Not even a particularly powerful one either. Just south of Ogdenborough was Jerestir, which was on the border between the Novarrian Empire and the Republic of Aden. And Orodan’s hometown also bordered Mount Castarian, on whose other side was Novarrian territory.

Naturally, this meant that Ogdenborough was a border town, and such a location made it vulnerable.

“Your coalition which involves the Cathedral and House Aeronsul?” Burgher Ignatius sharply asked in turn, angry. “Why not allow the Republic’s military to directly maintain care of such a national asset? The Cathedral need not concern themselves with such affairs. Why, I believe Lieutenant-General Tegin Carrotfoot, a decorated hero of the Republic would be up to the task.”

At this, the Altamari and Aeronsul council members clenched their fists. Orodan knew that the Lieutenant-General was somebody who detested the Cathedral and they in turn were cautious about allowing more power than necessary to enter the halfling general’s hands.

Still, this political discussion tired him and was a waste of time. Regardless of what Orodan did in each loop, the factions of the Republic continued moving and enacting their own plans.

Politics and skullduggery were not his forte.

But blunt honesty and straightforward directness were.

“I can make more of those if you’d like… as long as House Simarji and House Firesword are granted joint control over them.”

Pindrop silence permeated the chamber of the council after Orodan’s words.

Adeltaj could only sigh.

“While the support is appreciated… did you stop to consider that House Simarji might not want such trouble upon our heads?” Adeltaj asked.

“Ancestor! We definitely want trouble of that nature!” Count Rohanus immediately countered, standing up from his council seat.

“And have you considered boy, that the one handling all the Grandmaster-level disputes during such trouble would be me?” Adeltaj politely asked with a saccharine smile. “I’m getting far too old for this…”

“You’re only seven hundred…” Orodan reminded the old man.

Of course, the rest of the council didn’t look too happy about Orodan’s casual words.

“Why to House Simarji and Firesword?!”

“What sort of unsubstantiated claims are these?!”

“Have him thrown right out for wasting our time!”

The voices were many, and they were angry. Though most of them came from the section of council members affiliated with the Cathedral, which included Houses Altamari and Aeronsul.

Finally, the chitter and protests came to an end as Sarvaan Ilsuan Arslan himself intervened.

“Order! This is an elected council, not a flock of clucking hens! Act like it!” the High Burgher roared, banging a gavel down upon a designated spot. The man then gave Orodan a serious look. “Now then, Orodan Wainwright. You were supposed to come here to discuss your inclusion into the Republic’s ranks of noble houses merited by the Mythical-rarity skill you bear. There is also a recent incident where eyewitnesses claim a man by the name of Orodan Wainwright, matching your description, assaulted a unit of the Republic’s army. Yet despite all these pressing matters which you must answer for these outrageous claims of yours are akin to oil being thrown upon an already burning stack of timber. I will ask you two simple questions… are you the one responsible for that zone’s creation? And are you the one who assaulted our soldiers beneath Mount Castarian? We’ve received word that the machine has also been modified, was that your doing as well?”

“For all your questions, my answer is yes. I am the one who disabled the ancient machine under Mount Castarian and ruined the schemes of House Argon. It is also I who created that special zone near Ogdenborough through the activation of my Celestial skill. And it was also I who laid a beating upon your soldiers when they attempted to arrest me.”

Adeltaj’s face was buried in his hand as the old Simarji shook his head in resignation.

“You were not joking about how direct you are, were you?” the old man asked.

Orodan simply smiled.

“This is ridiculous. Why are we entertaining this notion? What in the seven hells is a Celestial skill?” a council member affiliated with House Aeronsul asked.

“We should arrest him here and now!” another barked.

“Allow me to get this right High Burgher,” the Altamari began. “Putting aside the alleged criminal charges against him, not only is this Orodan Wainwright the strategic asset we’ve heard of who possesses a new form of enchanting, but he is also the same individual who put a stop to House Argon and Novarria’s schemes? And he then went and caused the emergence of the special zone too?”

“Councilwoman Altamari makes a good point, these are many bold claims, especially for a singular individual. And yet… for a single individual of great power to have done all this does sound reasonable,” the High Burgher muttered, looking at Orodan. “But… who even are you and where did you come from? The only record we have of Orodan Wainwright-”

“Ogdenborough, former private in the Volarbury County Militia, yes? A mere Sword Apprentice?” Orodan finished for the man. “You would be right.”

“Then.. how…” the man muttered, his eyes running through multiple possibilities.

“A more important question is why we’ve received the strange request for their to be no Chosen of Agathor, Eximus and Ilyatana here. Where do your loyalties lie stranger? I’d heard that this meeting was to discuss granting you the rank of nobility for your merits, but if you cannot abide by the laws of the Prime Five are you even fit to mingle among us within our Gods-protected nation?” the Aeronsul asked.

“Gods-protected nation? We are a republic of humanity ruled by our own laws first and foremost,” Burgher Alarduin Rockwood muttered in disapproval of the descriptor. The man wasn’t alone in his disapproval either as many of the council members seemed to be at odds with the Cathedral faction. Doubtlessly many of these were allies of the Anthus conspirators.

But Orodan had little time for this drama.

“I am glad you asked. Let me lay it all out then. I am Orodan Wainwright. The Gods whose representatives I asked not to encounter? They are my enemy. And I… am the time looper.”

“Here we go… and I was enjoying taking in the architecture of the building too,” Zaessythra remarked.

The entire council chamber listened with rapt attention and in disbelief. He didn’t bother giving them the full story, for he cared little about the overwhelming majority of these sycophants.

“Preposterous! We cannot allow the follower of an enemy God to become nobility! Commander, have the capital guard seize this man!” the Altamari demanded.

“A time loop? No chronomancers have mentioned anything amiss with the flows of time,” the High-Burgher said.

Adeltaj however stepped in.

“I would strongly recommend against that, and I would very strongly advise against trying to send any further people after him either,” the old man spoke, a look of resignation on his face. “This will go poorly for everyone involved and dump a whole load of work upon my lap.”

“Elder Adeltaj? Are you in the league with this heretic? You would betray the Republic?” the Aeronsul pointedly asked.

“No, he is not in league with me. I speak for myself when I say that any Chosen and lackeys of these three Gods will face a reckoning at my hands if they come before me,” Orodan resolutely declared. And even if they didn’t come for him, on principle alone he intended to rescue his mentor Arvayne Firesword no matter what.

“Enough of this heresy, Orodan Wainwright! You have spoken out against the Gods for too long and dared insult our lady Ilyatana far too many times in my presence!” the Aeronsul council member spoke, his eyes beginning to glow with divine power. “Goddess! Your humble servant beseeches you come unto me!”

In hindsight, he really should have expected that the Aeronsul, wearing priest robes embroidered with copious amounts of holy imagery depicting Ilyatana, would be a Favored.

But Orodan had had enough of the Gods.

And his restraint was at its end. Especially considering the volatile grief still within his heart at the loss of Fenton Penny.

It was a poor idea and something he ordinarily wouldn’t have done, but he considered Ilyatana a fair target. And so, Orodan let go of the self-imposed restraint he held upon his Embodiment-level skill, allowing the natural aura of it to pour outwards.

This aura, he directed in full against the source of power which dared to come down and empower the council member.

[Domain of Perfect Cleaning 160 → Domain of Perfect Cleaning 161]

[Reality Alteration 60 → Reality Alteration 70]

He did not see her, nor did he hear her. But across the divide between dimensions Orodan could clearly feel that his power had done something very, very final in the context of this loop.

His simmering anger and grief beneath the surface had needed an outlet, but the shock at what his skill was truly doing hit Orodan like a bucket of cold water in the night.

Against the harpies, he hadn’t truly seen it, hadn’t understood the impact of outright cleaning something out of existence. Yet as his Domain of Perfect Cleaning shot out and utterly wiped Ilyatana out from time, space and reality… he saw with growing horror how everything else around him, the people, the animals, the things… anything which was a reminder of her and had been done by her hand.

Became undone.

The council member’s robes which held the fanciful imagery of Ilyatana? It outright vanished. The staff the man wielded which bore her holy energies? Before his eyes it became a staff of Halor.

Around him in the unseen parts of the fabric of existence, the river of time and the tapestry of fate began to truly shake and re-weave themselves into something harmonious upon the sudden non-existence of a God with thousands of years of history and impact upon the world.

The harpies he’d wiped from existence were young, their impact minimal.

But to erase Ilyatana as though she’d never existed? This was a different thing altogether.

“By the System… this is utterly strange. Even the building’s murals are changing… I get the feeling I’m not supposed to be seeing this,” Zaessythra muttered.

And she was right, even the very architecture of the High Spire of Karilsgard changed. Where there had been motifs of five Gods, there were now four. Furthermore, his Vision of Purity went far, and it could see beyond just the physical.

All across Karilsgard, no… across hundreds of miles and even further, things were changing. Orphanages sponsored by Ilyatana became those under Halor’s name. Priests and priestesses of the Goddess of Fate were suddenly people who had different careers all along.

It was… terrifying.

He watched as a man went from priest to struggling laborer in an instant as the timeline, the tapestry and the fabric of reality itself warped to make it so that Ilyatana’s absence changed his life. Another woman, one he’d fought a few times, went from being the High Oracle to living a life as an adventurer.

And most shockingly of all… dozens, hundreds… thousands of people, began to disappear. And in their place an almost equal number reappeared. With time affected so drastically, would the same people and the same souls have even come into being? How many lives had been saved thanks to Ilyatana’s existence and that of her followers?

Orodan and Zaessythra within his mind, watched on in horror as reality snapped back into place, making the necessary corrections alongside the righting of the river of time, in order to account for the Goddess of Fate, one of Orodan’s most hated foes, having never existed in the first place.

He abhorred this, he hated thinking it, but even as his blood and soul boiled from the admission, he was forced to confront the truth. That this was real cleaning.

The erasure of something from all time, causality and reality.

And it was something… he swore then and there to never do again. Not lightly, not without being in full control of the consequences.

He hated Ilyatana, yes, but she didn’t deserve this. All the people affected by her existence didn’t deserve it either. He would rather just slay someone honestly with the blade, not inflict this existential erasure upon them!

Worst of all, he didn’t even have the time to dwell on the immensity of what he’d done. For the people within the council chamber were all too eager to remind him that they knew nothing about what had just happened.

“Now then, as my God Halor has decreed, your abhorrence of Agathor and Eximus, while concerning, shall not be a problem. We of the Prime Four are tolerant of differing faiths for the Republic of Aden is a nation built upon many faiths,” the councilman of House Aeronsul said. “Orodan Wainwright, while I do not condone you assaulting the soldiers of the Republic, I suppose I can understand why you did it. In light of your unique skill and as thanks for thwarting House Argon’s schemes under Mount Castarian, I propose that we grant him clemency for this.”

This man… he had just been ready to have Orodan arrested moments ago. And now he was a staunch supporter of his?

“I concur. High-Burgher Sarvaan, I lend my support as well. With an enchanter of his caliber on our side, the Republic can only prosper. Although this matter of a time loop merits further discussion,” the Altamari councilwoman said, further baffling Orodan.

“Excellent, then we are in agreement in granting Orodan Wainwright the title of nobility. Your thoughts on this, Mister Wainwright?” the High-Burgher asked, the hammer on his back now replaced by a lance.

“A noble? Who has the time to care about such things right now? Can you not see what has occurred…?” Orodan muttered, for once quite afraid of what he was capable of.

But the truth of it was, no, they could not see. Nobody in the chamber of the council knew what had just occurred.

“Ridiculous! I do not assent to this! A new noble house requires more ceremony and screening than just some snap decision made on the spot!” Burgher Ignatius Firesword said, stern and unforgiving. A complete reversal to the friendly man he knew who was all too happy to see the common folk succeed.

It was as though he’d entered an alternate reality. One of his own making.

“Enough!” the High-Burgher shouted, shutting Burgher Ignatius up. “The public are still wondering who assaulted that military force beneath the mountain. The look of it would be disgraceful if we were to reveal that Orodan Wainwright is a stranger who was simply let go after assaulting our soldiers. No… here and now, noble house Wainwright is established by my order, with Baron Orodan Wainwright as the head of house and founder. Consider it an executive decision of the seat of High-Burgher.”

Baron Orodan Wainwright? He would have been sickened if he had the time to care about such things. Not now, he needed to see the full extent to how things had changed, and if these changes could be undone.

“Baron? You’ll have to do better than that if you want to court a World-Queen such as myself,” Zaessythra said, trying to draw his mind away from the gravity of what he’d done and calm him a bit. “Well… former World-Queen I suppose.”

But more importantly, his gaze shot to his right and then to his left.

The sudden disappearance of someone in particular hadn’t been the first thing he noticed, but the absence was quite glaring now.

Even Zaessythra was shocked into silence, the implication quite clear to her.

“Where… where is Adeltaj Simarji?”

Orodan’s quiet voice rang through the council chamber.

“Adeltaj… Simarji?” the High-Burgher asked.

“Yes, Adeltaj Simarji. You know? The Grandmaster of House Simarji and the hero who helped complete a Quest?” Orodan asked. Though… he already knew the answer.

“Oh? I was not aware you had an interest in history Mister Wainwright. We can peruse the library at Bluefire or even arrange a visit to the Kingdom of Shivenduran one of these upcoming days if you wish,” Sarvaan Ilsuan Arslan spoke. “After all, I too have meant to visit the tomb of Adeltaj Simarji, famed ancient hero of the Eastern Kingdoms who gave his life fighting a terrifying depths worm several hundred years ago.”

Orodan’s face went pale.