Bloodline assimilation increased!

  ????????????????: 90%

  Quest complete!

  The sixth-floor trial was considerably easier than the previous ones. It was one that required Eric to control his strength and that came easy since he was already familiar with his body.

  All he had to do was hit a wooden practice dummy with the same intensity and in the same spot as the dummy hit him. Failure was punished severely, with the dummy returning the difference in strength multiplied by a factor. Each time he made a mistake and was hit, Eric’s bloodline assimilation went up by one point.

  The weakest of the hits he received almost severed his arm. While the most severe cracked his entire ribcage, damaging everything within.

  Glancing around the dimly lit wooden dojo-like room, Eric found nothing of interest and crossed through the portal.

  ----------

  “This looks pretty secure for how little time it took them to make it,” Connor said, pounding on the exterior door of a recently built room. “How long did it take them? Four—five hours?”

  “Six,” Clara answered, fastening her shield.

  Connor nodded and opened the lock that held the doors closed. While a lock from old Earth may not seem like much, it achieved its purpose by delaying any would be troublemaker. The real security lay in the two guards that stood watch outside and the alarm that would alert the entire town if there were trespassers.

  Turning to face Clara, Connor spoke. “Ready?”

  “I still think we should ask one of the owners to help us,” Clara answered with an annoyed and lazy tone. “They benefit, so they should shoulder most of the risk.”

  Connor stared at her, unresponsive.

  “Ok. I’m ready,” Clara said, giving up.

  Once inside the small building, they saw what appeared to be a small shed made out of the same bricks the original cafeteria was made out of. It was about three meters tall, a meter and a half wide and about two meters deep.

  “It’s a good thing that the doors are still the same,” Clara said, peering through the glass doors and looking directly into a set of stairs that descended.

  Connor nodded and touched the door.

  “No words to prepare us?” Clara asked with a tired mock.

  This was the most low-energy combination one could think of, at least in terms of distractions. Clara would want to finish fast to get back to doing literally anything other than work. While Connor would finish in a fast and efficient manner because that was the type of person he was.

  Once inside the dungeon and behind the glass doors, Connor signaled to the guards to close the doors once more. After they did so, both Connor and Clara began their descent down the stairs.

  “Two stories,” Connor said, making a mental note.

  Clara only shook her head in annoyance.

  After the stairs ended, a small passageway that was as wide as the stairs led them to the first room. It, like the stairs, was oddly illuminated by some strange material on the ceiling.

  Clara immediately took some things out of her bag, a map, notebook and pencil. “Here,” she said, gesturing for Connor to move toward where she commanded.

  She first put the map on a table and then she began to walk around the room, taking note of the changes. Making her way back to the map, she took a sheet of paper about the same size as the map and began to copy most of the original, now with the modified layout.

  The cafeteria remained mostly the same, except that were there were stairs going upwards, now there was nothing, but it seemed prepared for something. Clara tried to imagine what could go there but quickly got bored. Turning to Connor, she shook her head and made a note.

  Where there once were glass windows on either side of the main entrance, there was now a glass entrance that led to a dark room and another that led to a well-lit one. As people who had run the dungeon multiple times, they both immediately recognized it for what it was.

  Clara turned to Connor who was still where she had instructed. She pointed at the dark room. “Boss?” Then she pointed at the other. “Language?” she said, both times with a questioning tone.

  “Highly likely,” Connor answered.

  “The kitchen and storage area remain the same. As does the gallery, from what I can see.” Putting everything down on a table, she took a short sword from her bag and readied herself. “I’ll deal with the gallery and catch up with you in the language center.”

  There was no discussion, both simply walked into their respective rooms and did what they were supposed to.

  With a practiced movement that had been honed for months, Clara blocked the spiders with her shield and quickly cut them apart. On the other hand, Connor had a much more distanced approach.

  Walking into the language center without a care, he released a mental attack that left all the spiders in the main room paralyzed. The attack caused the spiders to fall to the ground and as they did so, Connor took out an experimental handgun. The gun looked normal and still shot projectiles; the difference was that it did so with mana instead of gunpowder.

  As he retrieved the bullets, Connor noticed something. Wanting to make sure that he was not mistaken, he waited for Clara’s arrival.

  A few minutes later, Clara walked in, wiping crumbs from her mouth. Looking at the rooms still full of spiders, she frowned. “What have you been doing?”

  “More rooms are closed than before, correct?” Connor asked, as he leaned against the central column.

  Glancing around, Clara walked up to the classrooms on the right and confirmed that they also had spiders. She didn’t do the same with the ones on the left because they were made of glass, and she could already see that they had five spiders each.

  Without a word, she began to walk toward the cafeteria once more but stopped short of the door. “Clear them. I need to make a note of the room’s conditions.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  After Connor did as he was told, Clara came back almost at the same time. While Connor cleared the following room, Clara took notes of the previous one. They were fast and efficient, no small talk was exchanged, and they naturally made their way back toward the cafeteria.

  “We should kill the boss together in case there are more spiders,” Connor said, reloading his gun.

  “That seems like the easiest way,” Clara said, agreeing.

  Once inside the music room, Connor immediately located the boss with his mental attacks and began to shoot at it.

  Clara removed an eastern talisman paper from her back pocket and threw it into the air. The white paper began to burn from the bottom up and a bright light overtook the room. It was now clear as day and with great ease, they quickly dispatched the spider boss.

  Dungeon clear!

  Connor made his way toward the back hallway, confirming that the doors were still open. While Clara knelt down and opened up the spider.

  “Damn it,” she muttered in a low voice.

  “Still after that bounty?” Connor asked, making his way back.

  “Not all of us have an ‘in’ to get special weapons.” Clara said with envy as she eyed the gun in Connor’s hand. “Just one of those black mana stones and Marcus will make one just for me,”

  Connor ignored her comments, he had no desire to explain how the gun wasn’t his, or how he didn’t have an “in.” He was merely a tester, one that almost lost his hand due to one of these guns.

  Once back at the cafeteria, Clara noted the message they got after killing the boss, gathered her stuff and made her way toward the main door, ready to leave. But before she did so, she ran into the kitchen storage and took out a box full of various meats.

  “Need to test if it still recovers the same way,” she said with a shameless smile.

  Connor shook his head and they both began to make their way up.

  Tournament of the Strong: 18:11:09

  ----------

  “Great Devak answer our prayers,” one man said.

  “Great Devak answer our prayers,” the filled chapel said in unison, following the man.

  The man who was leading mass wore a white robe with light gray accents. His face showed true devotion toward his prayers. His eyes were tightly shut as he mouthed more prayers in silence, while the others were still repeating his words.

  His desperation was palpable, as were his efforts in prayer. Sweat dripping from his brow and downward, falling from the tip of his nose, a small “plop” was heard.

  The priest was kneeling down before a marble fountain full of crystal-clear water. The fountain itself was a half-circle that jutted from the wall and at its center, stood a statue: the great god, Devak, the traitorous orc who betrayed his own kind and protected humanity.

  With an axe in one hand and a skull in the other, he protected all who knelt before him in worship. His savage visage was a key element of his church’s teachings:

  “Life is not pretty. Kindness is not pretty. Life is savage. Existence is savage.”

  “Great Devak! Your servants beseech you for guidance! Grant us a sign so that we might feel your aid!” The priest shouted, clasping both hands together and gripping them tightly. “Please Devak, aid us in our defense against the undead! We implore you, Devak!” the priest shouted, tears now streaming down his face and falling into the fountain.

  “We implore you, Devak!” the filled chapel said in unison. “We implore you! We implore you!”

  A portal began to open above the fountain. As the priest noticed the odd sound, he began to open his eyes slowly, and his mouth widened in surprise.

  As if it were in slow motion, the priest saw a single foot emerge, and a figure falling forward, followed by a light thud. The sound while muffled, demanded everyone’s attention.

  ----------

  Eric crossed the portal and as his foot crossed through, it failed to find any ground, so he tumbled forward. But thanks to his increased reflexes, he was able to land on his feet without issue.

  “Oh! Our prayers have been answered!!” a priest exclaimed. “Oh! Great Devak, we thank you!”

  “Great Devak, we thank you!” the others that were present in the room shouted, following the priest.

  Surprised by the noise, Eric quickly glanced around, noticing that the entire room was larger and fuller than he might’ve guessed. While the chapel wasn’t particularly wide, it was significantly deep. Four benches on each side and about thirty benches deep, he had quite the audience.

  “Oh, savior,” the priest began, “tell us of your needs so that we might aid you in your battle.”

  Eric’s eyes darted around, not in panic, but in search of answers. He was readying up an excuse while he waited for the System message, but as if having reached the proper point in the interactions, the messages appeared.

  Congratulations on completing the sixth floor of the Tower of Revelation.

  You have entered the seventh floor: Trial of Mastery.

  New quest!

  Quest: To arms.

  Objective: Overcome all opponents using only your chosen weapon(s).

  Rewards: Access to next floor. +7 Reward points.

  Physical capabilities will be suppressed.

  Concepts will be suppressed.

  Storage items will be blocked.

  System windows will be disabled.

  Your body will be suppressed by way of seals.

  You who has reached a new level in your cultivation, discover your connection to your weapon(s).

  Injecting mana into his ring, Eric confirmed that his weapons would be of no use here. Rapidly looking the priest in the eyes, he answered his question. “Weapons, all that you have.”

  As he, some clergymen and some soldiers made their way out of the church, Eric stopped in place. “Do you have anything I could eat?” he asked, feeling some emptiness in his stomach.

  During his short meal, Eric tried to inquire about what he had to do specifically, but everyone refused to answer him. And those that tried to answer fainted as they recalled the scene.

  System? Cowards? Or am I screwed? Eric pondered as he chewed through oddly soft bread. It was odd because he had expected it to be stale and flavorless, like the web comics and novels that he read tended to say. But in reality, the bread was only slightly worse than he imagined.

  Some short time later, Eric was guided through a medieval city. There were no fantastical elements other than how he arrived or the pristine church. Yet, he still keenly observed his surroundings, his gaze full of curiosity, at least until he was assaulted by horrible odors.

  The dirt streets, unlike the pristine chapel, were full of foul odors. With his senses, Eric could easily make out the sources of the smells. Trash, they haven’t showered, they’ve gone to the bathroom everywhere they could and… As he approached the wall that kept the small city safe, a specific odor became stronger. Are those corpses?

  Nearing the gates, he saw carts and boxes full of weaponry near the gates. Once outside, everyone that had accompanied Eric, the clergymen, the soldiers and even the townspeople, who had remained oddly silent during their weird following, stood behind where the gates closed. Their eyes were full of hope and fear.

  “Good luck!”

  “May Devak guide your hand!”

  “I’ll pray for you, kind stranger!”

  Two soldiers moved to the side and the gate began to close. Motherfuckers. They really want me to do everything on my own. Eric thought to himself while simultaneously mouthing out the words.

  As Eric turned to face the field before him, a thought occurred to him. “Maybe it’s not that bad, and they just think that someone chosen has to do it. That’s common, right?”

  Before him was a large plain, a forest was to one side and to the other were hills. The only thing about what he saw that he found odd was the fact that the odor of corpses remained, but the plains were empty.

  “Does the smell of the dead penetrate through the ground?” he asked himself, eyeing the ground.

  Then, as if on cue, the sun began to descend over the hills, and an eerie red light began to take over the evening sky.

  “What?” Eric exclaimed in surprise.

  From the expansive plains, red phantasmal soldiers began to rise and with it, the odor became thicker, sticking to his nose and clothes.

  The soldiers had different types of gear and weaponry. One was a mere step from Eric, and he could tell that other than the armor itself, there was nothing else. No bones, no muscles, nothing. Only a ghost.

  Quickly darting to the side, Eric grasped a sword from the nearest crate and got into the stance that he had emulated from Anna. But now that he did it, it felt wrong.

  “The Anna in my memories is smaller, her reach is shorter, and she had to make up for a lack of power with pure technique,” Eric muttered. These were realizations that he quickly grasped by simply having a deeper understanding of his own body.

  As Eric began to imagine what he would discover about himself during this trial, a smile began to creep onto his face.

  If someone were to look at Eric right now, they would feel fear. His smile wasn’t particularly frightening, at least not in a traditional sense. There was no hunger or evil intentions behind it. What made it so terrifying was the fact that his smile was wrong. It looked like an imitation that had nothing behind it. It was as if he had forgotten how to smile at all and tried to recreate it from memory.