《The Genesis System》Chapter 19
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An excerpt from “A Treatise on the Nature of the Judicators” by Unknown Author
Perhaps the most interesting group from the 2nd Wave, the Judicators are unlike any other in the Universe. Comprised of only 10 members, each one is given their own field and granted complete authority in all matters relating to it*. For example, Samael, The Butcher of Fortitude, was tasked with ‘Punishing the Guilty’. This is a rough translation from their own unique language, an oddity given that there are only 10 of their species, but it is apt given his past actions.
*Of course, this is an educated hypothesis based on hundreds of recorded interactions. The Judicators themselves never fully explain themselves or why they believe they need to exist.
I let myself breathe for a few seconds, calming my mind and letting the anger flow through until it no longer has a hold on me. My response was melodramatic but I couldn’t stop, his strange calmness in stating his intention to kill me filling me with anger.
I’m also taken aback by his actions. Even with the tension of knowing that he wanted to kill me, I didn’t expect him to leave me to conquer the next few zones on my own. I’d become used to his psychotic presence pushing me forward. He may not have done it intentionally but his teaching was a constant reminder that beings far more powerful than I could comprehend exist in the Universe.
Well there’s nothing I can do about it now. Picking up my quarterstaff, I begin walking towards the direction of the next zone. The only clue I have to its location is something that Faul had mentioned to me during our training. While we had been out looking for Hunters, I had begun walking north and Faul had forced me to walk the opposite direction, informing me that I would die if I continued to walk that way. With that knowledge in mind, I begin to head north.
I reach the boundary a few hours later, clearly delineated by a notification that enters my vision.
Caution, you are about to enter the Zone of Albasalas. Enter the domain of the one that is all at your own peril.
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The one that is all? Standing at the edge of the zone, I look out and see that the forests I’ve come to associate with Helldarvin are more sparse, trees only growing tens of feet apart from each other. Each of these trees also lacks the vibrancy and life that I’ve come to expect from their species. The purple bark appears to be slightly drained, half of their branches spotting the ground around them as if the tree itself no longer has the life to support them.
Keeping my senses open and falling into Effortless Presence, I walk across the boundary and into the new zone. I’m immediately overwhelmed by the sheer amount of ambient Mana in the air, so thick that it threatens to overwhelm my own Field of Mana. Only my strong willpower is able to keep the field in place. I’m intrigued by the sudden change that occurs right on the boundary. Will the enemies in this zone use the ambient Mana or is it a byproduct of the creature that controls it? Does this amount have anything to do with the drained trees? I look around for a few seconds and, realizing that I won’t answer any of my questions by standing still, then continue forward.
I begin to trek further into the dying land, determined to gather information before I make a retreat to the novice zone. I’d considered forcing myself to stay but had decided to take the cautious route, playing it safe until I know what I’m up against. Knowledge and how to handle my enemies is the foundation of my power.
It doesn’t take me long before I’m confronted by an enemy.
A slight tremor shakes the ground beneath me, feeling it milliseconds before due to the sensation input of my field, and I activate Mana Infusion. Mana flows from my Well and strengthens me as it simultaneously begins ripping my muscles apart, allowing me to throw myself backwards into the air. I deactivate it the instant I’m off the ground, flying backward, and I watch as what appears to be a very large mole bursts out from where I was standing. It takes a large bite and seems surprised by the fact that I’m not currently inside of it.
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I land on the ground and skid back a few feet, leaning forward to make sure that I don’t fall over. Its then that I get my first real sight of the Corrupted Helldarvin Butcher [Lvl 37]. About 7 feet in length, it has the characteristic nose of a mole, currently sniffing the air around it as it tries to find me, and a mouth that opens up to expose three different rings of sharp teeth. It is covered in brown fur, matching the color of the ground beneath us, and there are countless scars all over its body. Talons extend out of its six fingers, each of them half foot long and tapering to a deadly point. Perhaps most interesting is a strange purple fungus that seems to grow outwards from its brain, occasionally lighting up. That is most likely the reason it has Corruption in its name.
My mind jumps to the warning that Genesis gave me, careful to mention “the one that is all”. I remember, vividly due to my Intelligence increases, reading about entomopathogens, fungi that take over the host body, when I was back on Earth. I may have stumbled into a Zone that has been taken over and controlled by a single organism. If this is true then it is fascinating. Is the corrupting entity native to this part of Helldarvin? How does it take over other beings? Is it intelligent or is it an unthinking entity? These are the questions that go through my mind as the Butcher finally sniffs me out and begins to slowly run towards me, massive six fingered claws digging into the ground.
Clearing my mind of any intellectual curiosities, I conjure up a Mana Bullet and fire it at the beasts head. Unlike the Hunters, it appears that the Butcher uses scent as its main sense, giving me an edge as it can’t fully see my projectiles. The Bullet hits it right in the chest, piercing through its coarse hide, and detonates inside. The beast doesn’t even slow down.
Needing to buy myself time, I cast a Chilling Wind from above me and watch as it washes over the Butcher, coating it in frost. Instead of just slowing down, however, the beast also lets out a cry of pain, the purple infection stemming from its head pulsing into a darker and almost angry shade.
Interesting. Casting another Chilling Wind, I begin strafing the beast, not letting it get too close but remaining within 30 feet. The infection begins to darken further and further, causing the beast to descend into some sort of rage. It roars and charges at me, making me dodge to the side with another second of Mana Infusion.
With both my Health and Mana regenerating, we continue this dance for another 5 minutes before it is dead. The Butcher’s body appears to be completely fine, apart from the massive amount of frost covering it, but the corrupting fungus erupting from its brain has gone completely black, evidently unable to handle the extreme cold that I threw at it.
I look at the notifications and notice that I gained 8 levels in Chilling Wind, 3 in Effortless Presence and Mana Infusion, and 1 in Mana Bullet. With the passive bonus of my Class, that means that fight would normally have gained me half that amount. While my class may not grant me any Skills at the same level as Arcane Gunslinger, it gives me massive growth potential in the long run.
I also managed to reach level 29 but I hold off on investing the Attribute Points at this time. I could focus on my Mana related attributes but I don’t want to ignore anything that may become necessary in the future.
Looking up at the sky, I see that I still have another few hours before it gets dark. Time to explore a bit further.
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Wings of Sorrow
Tension permeates the city of Bleakridge as forces within its walls struggle for supremacy. Grim Thorne, the disinherited son of the Earl, is a fly caught in the web of power struggles between these forces. When Grim closes his eyes, he can still see the bodies piled high from the first day of occupation. The day he was branded a bastard in the southern fashion. The day his father let them. Soldiers from the south bearing green cloaks and royal seals maintain order in the streets of Bleakridge, ensuring that the lifeblood of commerce continues to flow through the port city. In the slums beyond the outer wall, the Sons of the Reaper lurk. Some call them heroes, others villains. But all fear them for their relentless devotion to the old ways and the freedom that entails. In the castle above the city, resides the Earl of Bleakridge. The man who bent the knee and saved the lives of his people, if not their souls. After twenty years of occupation, the tension is coming to a head and Grim has to choose. Sympathetic to the Sons, duty bound to his father, and forced into service to the king. He must rise above the brand on his neck and decide where his true loyalties lie. But, after so long, it can be hard to tell who is deserving of loyalty. The King’s men who enforce order with a blood-soaked iron fist? The Sons who more resemble terrorists and crime lords than revolutionaries? Or the father who watches the bloodshed and does nothing? In the end, it is always the place of the young to bear the sins of the old.
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