Victor of Tucson

Victor waited until all of the soldiers who’d been lined up at the stone had collected their prizes and moved away. He’d hoped to be able to interact with the relatively small, slowly spinning System artifact without making too much of a scene, but his hopes were in vain. As soon as he strode forward, the hall grew quiet. People stopped eating, and their conversations lowered to hushed whispers. As he lifted his palm toward the stone, it stopped moving, but he hesitated, looking toward Valla. He wasn’t sure why; he needed to do this, had to find out if he’d be awarded the colony stone, but for some reason, he was nervous.

Valla sat on the bench near Kethelket, both looking small next to Lesh’s hulking figure despite the dragonkin sitting on the floor. She looked him right in the eye and nodded, and something relaxed in his chest. Part of him was annoyed by the reaction. He was Quinametzin; why should he care what anyone thought? Was it not his right to claim his award for his contributions during the campaign? Victor growled, driving that voice down, and turned away from Valla, focusing on the weirdly shifting golden and silver runes that seemed to be buried just under the stone’s surface. “Okay, System. You want me dead, huh? Well, tough shit, ‘cause it ain’t happening today. What you got for me?”

When his large, wide palm rested on the cool surface of the stone, the runes all flared for a fraction of a second, and then System messages flooded his field of view.

***Congratulations! You are victorious! Your exceptional bravery and skill have earned you the apex position in the campaign against the invaders from Dark Ember. Your pivotal role in vanquishing the enemy forces, defeating their commanders, and sealing the invasion portal stands unparalleled. For your heroic deeds, you will be awarded a legendary conquest chest, guaranteed to contain a colony stone, allowing you to establish a third System-recognized capital on the world of Fanwath. Do you wish to claim your prize at this time?***

“Third?” Victor narrowed his eyes in confusion. Was there another capital on Fanwath? He’d thought Tharcray was the only one. Perhaps his confusion showed on his face because the whispers of anticipation became speculative murmurs, and Victor thought he saw movement to his left where Valla sat. Was she coming over? He shook the feeling off; it didn’t matter if there was another capital somewhere. What mattered was that he needed this stone to set up the capital he and everyone else had fought for. There wasn’t a menu or anything that he could interact with, so he just said, “Yes.”

Nothing happened for a few seconds, and Victor began to reread the System message, wondering if he’d missed something. He’d just gotten to the part about his “heroic deeds” when, with little sizzling crackles, sparks began to pop into existence above the faded blue carpet at his feet. He stepped back and watched as more and more sparks sprang into existence, flashing and crackling. With each spark, a brilliant, shimmering golden cloud of smoke or mist or steam began to take shape. Before he knew it, the cloud had grown large enough to engulf him up to the waist. Excited chatter broke out in the hall as people leaped up from their seats and crowded closer.

Victor stood still, waving his hands through the cloud, unable to feel or smell it; he decided it was simply a visual artifact of whatever summoning magic the System used to conjure up his award. He’d wondered before, but the thought reoccurred to him that he had no idea if the awards the System granted were crafted on the spot from the System’s tremendous stores of Energy or if it had awards in some magical dimension, a repository of sorts, and simply sent them forth with a kind of dimensional magic. He added the question to the list of things he didn’t know and probably never would.

The sizzling, crackling flashes were new to him. He’d seen the System deliver items in colorful gasses, but never with all those sparks. They sort of reminded him of his glory-attuned Energy, and he began to get excited; was the System tailoring a prize for his particular affinity? It took longer than usual for the golden steam or smoke to fade away, but when it did, the crowd erupted in excited chatter and a smattering of applause—a large, golden, metallic chest sat at Victor’s feet. “If size is any measure, you’ve won quite a prize,” Kethelket said. Victor turned to the man, surprised by his nearness, only to find Lesh, Valla, and a dozen others had crowded close.

“Yeah.” Victor felt he should say more, but he didn’t have the words, and he still didn’t feel like himself. He still had that nagging worry about Edeya hanging over him and the lingering guilt that hundreds had died because of his foolishness. With that thought, he clenched his jaw and tried to shake off the gloom—what good was he doing anyone by moping with self-doubt? Rather than saying more or worrying about what everyone around him was thinking, he lifted the metallic clasp on the chest and flung the heavy lid wide, sending it to crash against the back of the chest, straining the ornate hinges.

A cloud of golden steam rushed into the air, and Victor waved it away, peering inside the big, red-velvet-lined container. He leaned forward to look within, and behind him, he heard Valla sternly caution the crowding soldiers, “Stand back. Your legate will share with you what he wills.” Victor heard more chatter, questions, exclamations, and further warnings, but he tuned them out as his eyes fell on the objects within. He reached down and picked up the first reward, a folded pile of what seemed to be supple, silky-smooth, black leather. A card embossed with golden, curly, elaborate lettering told him what it was.

He decided he’d put on a show for the soldiers; they’d been through hell, and he owed them at least that much. He turned and held the supple leather aloft and read the card, “Master-artisan-grade hide of a lava king.”

All sorts of comments, questions, and exclamations resulted from his pronouncement, such as, “What’s a lava king?” “Master artisan grade? Is that the highest?” “It must be magical!” “Is it because of the volcano?”

Victor laughed, sent the hide into his ring, and turned back to the chest. He purposefully ignored the object at the center and reached in to lift out a shimmering red-orange gem. As soon as he touched it, he felt the deep wells of Energy within it, and his magma Core flared and roiled. He held it aloft, turning so all could see it clearly, and read the card, “A legendary-tier magma-attunement gem. Use to enchant a suitably powerful artifact.”

“What will you enchant, Legate?”

“Amazing!”

“Ancestors!”

“It has to be the volcano!” The same soldier piped up about the volcano again, and Victor couldn’t help the smile that tugged his cheeks toward his ears. The hype was getting to him. He sent the gem into his ring and reached into the chest again. He tried to grab a shimmering ball of golden Energy, but it wouldn’t move, and as soon as he touched it, he felt the power within trying to flow into his pathway. He pushed his will against it and quickly pulled his hand away. It seemed the System would award him with an infusion of Energy, but he didn’t want to do that yet. There was something else to examine first. He moved his hand to the right and lifted the next item and its card.

It was a black pouch the size of his fist, and when he read the card, the soldiers erupted in a clamor of disbelief and rowdy excitement, “One million magma-attuned Energy beads.” Victor laughed, watched, and listened as the soldiers cheered, joked, and speculated about the amount, comparing it to their much smaller prizes. None seemed bitter, and the smiling faces told him they were happy. Their good humor and excitement made it seem like they were winning the prizes alongside him, and Victor was glad he hadn’t taken his awards in private.

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“Two more!” Victor shouted, his deep, powerful voice booming over the noise. The soldiers grew quiet with anticipation, and he reached into the chest and touched the ball of golden Energy, this time allowing it to flow into his pathways. Victor had won Energy in System chests before and earned plenty of infusions after battles. This one was large, but nothing like he’d gotten after slaying the reaver army. It flowed into his Core, swelling each of his attunements to bursting before flooding into his body, lifting him off the ground. A golden, shimmering halo exploded around him, eclipsing the glow lamps in the hall.

The soldiers exclaimed, some of them shielding their eyes and stumbling back. Victor spread his arms and arched his back, enjoying the infusion, and, not for the first time, he noted the euphoria that came with it. Perhaps it was because of his underlying guilt, his worry about Edeya, but this time, he really noticed how his outlook changed—how, when the euphoria passed, he felt better, less troubled than before. It struck him how he always seemed to bounce back after traumatic, horrific ordeals, and he wondered how much of that was due to the Energy healing his mind as much as it did his weary body. Whatever the cause, Victor felt better, and it was with a wide grin that he read the new System messages floating before his eyes.

***Congratulations! You have achieved level 60 Battlemaster, gained 10 strength, 9 vitality, 4 agility, 4 dexterity, 3 will, and 3 intelligence.***

***Level 60 Class refinement is available. Class refinement is permanent. Quinametzin Energy cultivators will next be offered a Class refinement selection at level 70. To view your options and make your selection, access the menu through your status page.***

Victor lifted his hands in the air, turned in a slow circle, and roared, “Level Sixty!” The crowd’s reaction was thunderous, and Victor laughed when he heard them cheering, stomping, and howling. They slapped each other’s backs, summoned drinks from dimensional containers, downed them, and shook each other, faces flushed with excitement. Looking over their heads, Victor saw the crowd had grown, that most of the ninth cohort’s survivors were now gathered in the great hall, and he nodded at them, proud and pleased that he could give them something more to celebrate. After a while, he shouted, “One more!”

When the noise died down, he reached into the chest and lifted the impossibly heavy, pint-glass-sized, oblong stone. It had six facets, each etched with the now-familiar gold and silver runes of the System. He held it aloft and shouted, “Our colony stone!” It probably weighed a hundred pounds, which was a lot for such a small item, but, really, nothing to Victor. He held it up for a long time as the crowd went wild again, and the chest disappeared in a cloud of golden steam.

After a while, Valla pushed closer to him and wrapped one arm around his waist, pressing herself against him. When he looked down at her, she smiled, and nothing but happiness could find a grip on his heart at that moment. Even when he looked around the hall, over the heads of the cheering soldiers, and saw a large group of Naghelli sitting at one of the now-empty tables with Kethelket, he didn’t let dour guilt invade his mind. They weren’t celebrating as raucously as the soldiers, but they wore friendly expressions, and he could see drinks in their hands. They’d lost many and suffered, but their long exile was over. They had a home. Plenty of people would think that was worth dying for—Victor certainly did.

A long time later, after much drinking, feasting, and story-telling, Victor and Valla left the celebration and moved Chandri to one of the empty rooms in his home, furnishing it for her with items taken from plundered storage containers. She was still out of it, her body working hard to regenerate her damaged and missing tissue. The process required Energy, and her Core had to slowly recuperate it, constantly being drained to feed the elixir she’d been given. While they were making Chandri comfortable, Lam spent time with Edeya, sending messages back and forth to Rellia; they were trying to figure out where Victor should plant the colony stone.

“How urgent do you think it is?” Valla asked. They’d put a comfortable, blue-upholstered couch next to Edeya’s bed and sat on it together, watching her sleep.

“It?” Victor looked at Chandri and frowned. “Her healing?”

“No, I’m sorry. I was talking about Edeya.”

“I don’t know. I know I’m not an expert, but, well, forget that; I think I know more about Death Casters than a lot of people. I’ve certainly dealt with some real bastards in that regard.” Victor chuckled at himself and scratched his head. “What I’m trying to say is that it seems to me that Death Casters don’t do things quickly. They have big plans that take years, decades, and centuries to put together. I think if Catalina were going to try to destroy Edeya’s spirit, we’d have seen it by now. The attack she used on her, the way she snatched her spirit out of her, wasn’t something she could do to me. Maybe not to you, either; she took Edeya because she’s much weaker. I mean, in comparison to Catalina.”

“That’s not exactly good, though . . .”

“Well, it kind of is. What can she do with a single spirit that’s so many Energy tiers beneath her? Not much. She probably has rituals she performs, a way of gaining power from her victims, but I bet she gathers a lot of them. I bet she locks them away in a phylactery, something like the skull Belikot was inhabiting with his spirit shard. So, she has a big part of Edeya’s spirit, but we have part of it too. I don’t think she can do a lot with that. I think we’ll have time to figure out a way to help her. I have to think that, Valla, or I’m going to go crazy with worry and do something rash.”

“Something rash? I like it when you talk that way.” Valla snuggled closer into his side, and Victor couldn’t tell if she was being serious or teasing him. He decided he didn’t care. He’d already decided he wanted to enjoy good things while he could, and, despite his mistakes, as long as he wasn’t actually trying to harm the people he cared about, he wasn’t going to wallow in grief and guilt.

“What do you think about Lesh?” She sounded almost sleepy, and he wondered why she was bringing the dragonkin up if she was so tired.

“What? I guess I think he’s pretty cool. I mean, he helped a lot during the battle. I’m not sure I’m cool about him wanting to follow me or whatever, though. He’s pretty . . . intense.”

“He’s very strong. He reminded me of you when he faced off against Hector and his dragon skeleton. That weapon of his is conscious, I’m sure. He calls it Belagog. I asked him about it, and he offered to let me hold it, so I tried, and it fell to the ground, pulling me with it. I couldn’t budge it! Oh, he laughed raucously!”

“You think he was testing me when he held it out? You think I should have tried to take it?”

“Oh, that’s an interesting question! I hadn’t thought of that. It puts his supposed fealty in a new light.”

“Well, the System chose him to come after me for a reason. I figure we’re both kind of . . .” Victor frowned, trying to pick the right word without sounding like an ass. Finally, he sighed and just said what he’d been thinking. “I guess the System views us as overpowered for our level. Well, I think—what level is he?”

“I don’t know. Use your little scope thing on him!”

“My scope thing? Am I getting more articulate while you become less so?”

Her eyes narrowed mischievously. “Hush, pendejo.”

“Hey!” Victor’s outburst broke the spell of their whispered conversation, and Chandri groaned and turned to her side. Her unbandaged magenta eye opened a bare slit, and she stared at Victor and Valla for several seconds before recognition illuminated it, and she croaked out a question.

“What’s going on?”

Valla jumped up and gently smoothed Chandri’s hair, whispering softly, “Nothing, sorry we woke you. You were injured in the battle, but you’ll be fine. You need to rest.”

“Mm,” Chandri murmured something else, but Victor couldn’t make sense of it. Then she fell back asleep.

When Valla sat back down, he pulled her close, squeezing her into his side, and whispered, “So, are we going to talk about our Class refinements?”

“I already made my selection. I’m sorry, but I did it while you were missing, hoping it would somehow make it easier to find you.”

Victor’s eyes opened wide, and he stared at her for a long minute. How could she be so cool about something like that? She’d been fifth tier for longer than he’d known her. She had to have been bursting with excitement about the refinement. “Well?”

“Well, I chose something I thought Tes would approve of.” She grinned, leaning back, closing her eyes, and generally taking her sweet time. Victor reached toward her neck, pretending to choke her, lifting his upper lip in a snarl.

“If you make me choke it out of you . . .”

She clapped a hand over his mouth. “Hush! Okay, okay. My new Class is Storm Dancer, which, based on the description, will help me gain more offensive magic and skills to use while in flight. It’s an epic Class, and the prerequisites were interesting. I had to have the ‘power of flight,’ affinity with air-attuned Energy, and a previous ‘dancer’ Class.”

“That’s awesome, Valla! You were a Sword Dancer before, yeah?”

“That’s right.” She smiled, clearly pleased with herself. Victor pulled her tight again, and they snuggled side by side for a few minutes before she said, “Well? What about you?”

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