Day 10

“Recreational games help relax the mind, Themistocles. Maximilian is a fool, however he is not wrong to drag you away from work every now and then. Besides, I've never played this bridge." Eudokia took the most comfortable wooden chair she had found in the recreation area of the barracks. "If you comply with this little request of mine, I promise to answer all the questions you want to ask me."

From the moment of his arrival, Eudokia had instructed the Vanedenis on how to acquire new classes in the shortest time possible. She began to make appointments with the villagers, giving them real consultations: the following day she would have to meet Drenger to help him organize a new forge to better purify the steel. And, if Drenger would accept, they could try to make him acquire one of the classes that previously had belonged only to the Ahalis ... In another life, she would have found all this work for a people abandoned to their fate of extinction beneath her.

She had been a Queen, once upon a time. But now, after so many years, she deserved a vacation from her throne. She didn't need to rest on silk beds or nap for centuries on a pile of treasures - that, by the way, she had already done. She felt the need to mix with life and finally see a new world, different from the one she had known.

But she was no longer certain that the past was so different from the present. She was so old that memories mingled with reality and dreams took over actions.

"Bollocks, Eudokia, is a game of cards, not a theoretical-practical lesson," Maximilian grumbled.

Tukker smiled sideways, hiding the curve of his lips behind his intertwined hands. Since the woman had arrived, Maximilian had been forced to wear a kind of muzzle. He talked a lot less, he didn't say so much nonsense and, what's more, when he had tried to steal another pig, Eudokia had captured and punished him. And she had also scolded him. Even Tukker had found the tirade on the importance of respect due to the Vanedenis, which also entailed not stealing the village pigs, too emphatic.

Seeing that ear pulling had been quite disturbing. Eudokia had a tendency to behave like a wet nurse, finding full satisfaction in Maximilian's undisciplined behavior.

Between one and the other, Tukker was certain that he would soon lose his mind, but he consoled himself by thinking of the advantages that the presence of Eudokia had brought: one, thanks to the woman, the Vanedenis were rediscovering knowledge that had been dormant for centuries; two, Maximilian had finally been tamed.

"Maximilian, don't be rude," Eudokia said reproachfully.

The Londoner mocked her with a grimace on his face. "Maximilian, don't be rude, meh meh meh meh meh."

Eudokia looked at him as a kindergarten teacher looks at one of the most active children in the class.

"So, what are the rules of this game?"

"Since there are four of us, we can play in couples."

Maximilian took out the very white and glossy cards, very similar to those that the Vanedenis used in their free time, but illustrated in a different way.

"You like them?" he asked proudly, showing them to his companions. "I created them exactly like those we modern Earthlings use on Earth."

Then he began explaining how many cards the deck was made of, which suits were drawn on it and how many cards there were for each suit. Then, distributing the cards, he began to lay out the rules of the game for the first match:

“In bridge every player has thirteen cards, and no cards on the table. So, every turn you place one on the table, and at the end of the turn the player who has played the strongest cards wins all the points."

"Maximilian, why is there this strange leaf on this card?"

“Bollocks, Themistocles, that's the ace of spades, that one! The aces are used to calculate the contracts, which means..."

"Are those the spades?"

Themistocles showed Maximilian the king of spades.

“But that's not possible! That's the king of spades and it's very strong. You all have to play cards from the suite the first player uses, unless you have none. The highest card takes the trick, if we're playing without atouts, otherwise..."

It didn't take long for everyone to understand how to play and to play their first real game. They split into pairs. Themistocles and Tukker decided to play together because there was something in Eudokia's attitude and in the grimaces she made when she looked at the cards that inspired them with an excellent foreboding. Maximilian, of course, had to ally himself with the woman.

However, he didn't seem the least bit worried about this eventuality, so much so that, rubbing his hands, he asked: "What are we going to bet on?"

Themistocles immediately had an idea. "If we win, you have to produce as many weapons and armour as possible for everyone, put Enchantments on the ones we already have, if possible, and stop stealing food until the end of the month."

"What if you lose?" Maximilian moved his eyebrows languidly.

“If we lose, Tukker'll get your name tattooed on his buttock. I understand that you have already proposed it to him, or am I wrong?" the Athenian said with a smile on his face, one of the few he addressed to Maximilian.

“Aha! Accepted!"

"What?!" shouted Tukker, losing his temper in front of Eudokia for the first time. Although among his soldiers he was known for his calm, he would never allow them to smear his body with something that would remind him of Maximilian for life.

"If we lose, I will undergo the same treatment to keep you company."

…

"Eudokia, but why did you lead with an ace?!"

Maximilian had believed that allying himself with the woman would guarantee instant victory. But he never imagined that Eudokia could be so unreasonable about anything.

"This drawing looks disgusting, Maximilian, I'm not going to hold it a second longer."

…

"Oh no! You let him take three kings in this match!"

"Look how cute this queen card is, though!" the woman answered, laughing.

…

Thus it was that Maximilian immediately abandoned the couple in search of a new alliance. Not until he had lost enough games to lose the bet, too.

Hence, the village of Ankon would receive considerable help with regards to equipment; and, considering that possession of artifacts was one of the things that made enemies so dangerous, it was no wonder that Tukker and Themistocles had shown a big grin even before finishing the last hand.

At a certain point Maximilian had decided to play with Themistocles, but he had preferred not to bet anything else, after the scorching defeat he had suffered.

"My lady," Tukker said with a smile on his face, "would it be rude if I asked you for some advice about my class?"

One of the real reasons Tukker was at that table was the promise that he could get stronger. Having lost to Themistocles, when the latter still had not even a level, had left a bad taste in his mouth.

How much could have improved thanks to Eudokia, however, was still to be seen.

"Sure. I have never hidden that I am here also to help. I have chosen not to fight, but I gladly offer my knowledge to your people. Indeed, it is a pleasure to be able to do so."

Tukker seemed to light up at these words. "Where shall we start, then?"

Maximilian was too busy peering at Eudokia's cards to get involved in the conversation.

“I questioned the soldiers about your character. Everyone has described you as calm and measured in making decisions. You founded the village of Ankon because no one was in a position to fight anymore; yet, many others would not have made the same choice. You have been careful and you have preferred to give people breath, taking all the responsibilities and the eventual storm that a military command would have caused to fall on you."

"Thanks, my lady."

“Don't mention it, young soldier. As always, a class is but the expression of who we are. Unfortunately, so many paths already trodden have been forgotten, but there have been countless empires in history that have collected and catalogued this information. Your people were one of them, before they were subjugated by a twist of fate."

Maximilian and Themistocles turned to Tukker.

Eudokia was speaking of an event that took place three hundred years earlier. Three hundred years was a long time. Even if, in that world, some managed to exceed one hundred years of age - and many had -, the Vanedenis did not fall into this category: since the tragic moment in which their people had been irretrievably reduced to a heap of ashes and regrets, they had seen the birth of at least a dozen new generations. The war continued to kill old and young, and even this could not break them, because life went on and new children were born. However, their average life expectancy had plummeted.

No Vanedeni still alive knew the splendour that their own people had proudly possessed in the past. Many, in their place, would have forgotten the feeling of belonging, the traditions, the glory.

But not them. They knew everything.

The blood pumped from the ventricles of their hearts was the same that had created the legend of the Red Wall, the same that had brought the whole world to its knees.

None of the Vanedenis forced to live south of Kome had ever seen the capital, except in some drawings. But there was no one who hadn't been told of its splendour, no one who hadn't heard of the flying ships that had terrified even the sirens and hydras. It was an absurd phenomenon, difficult to describe. Tukker's face, however, was more eloquent than a thousand words. It seemed that he himself, just the day before, had taken part in the decisive battle for his people - but the war, according to them, had only just begun. The pain that creased the wrinkles and the anger that squeezed the lips were immeasurable.

"Thank you."

Tukker nodded slightly towards Eudokia.

“Don't thank me ahead of time, young soldier. There's a class that's more than suitable for you, but it's typically only acquired during the toughest battles. We need special weather conditions. You're lucky: Maximilian is capable of creating them. You will have to endure seventy-two hours under a storm without sleeping, eating or drinking, together with your soldiers. If all of them survive, they will acquire a special class, [Stormbreaker Warrior]. Your presence will serve to calm and guide them in this exercise. If someone were to back down, your efforts may be of no use."

Themistocles threw his cards on the table, showing them to the other players and thus ending the game.

“It's inhumane. They won't last long. More than training, it sounds like tortu-”

Tukker looked at Eudokia and almost let out a tear - whether of anger or emotion was not known, and perhaps for his people there was not so much difference between the two.

“All our soldiers will want to participate, so we will have to stop training for three days. Maybe four, considering it will take them some time to recover. Themistocles, stay out of it. This concerns the future of my people."

The Athenian was dumbfounded, but did not have time to react, because Maximilian immediately started protesting.

"Bollocks, maintaining such weather conditions for three days is tiring!"

"Maximilian, your body has to get used to moving large amounts of mana and this training will be useful to you too, although a [Necromancer] has little to do with a [Weather Mage]." Silence fell. For a few seconds the buzz of life that swarmed outside the barracks stormed through the ramshackle bricks that made up the building.

Everyone, at that moment, thought only one thing: that was the life they had the task of protecting.

“The heroes who walked the soil of my land were very different from those who shaped yours. The salvation of our people passed through a single man who fought for many. The community was protected by a single person, invincible but mortal. Instead, you gather your forces under one great storm and grow stronger together. And become divine.” Themistocles spoke with his eyes fixed on the king of spades, abandoned on the table, which had been in his hand again. "What would your men be without their levels?"

"Maximilian told me about your world," said Eudokia, slowly passing her hand on her cards, as she had seen the Londoner do several times and, smiling, continued. “There are many interesting things, like means of transportation that can only be matched by the greatest magic of this world. In your world it is possible to fly without using any form of magic, levels or classes. It is this lack that makes it difficult for you to rise above others. You have never known power, you have created a fictitious image of it, based on the perception that others have of you. And under this veil of appearance there is emptiness. Everyone has the same chance to emerge, it's true, everyone yearns to climb peaks that seem unattainable. It amazes me that they do not realize that whoever is at the top is also a few steps from the bottom. I don't think I would appreciate such a world. Put safety first, even if it means living a life of mediocrity."

"One: Themistocles has never seen a plane in his life, except through those blurry images that the Harbingers showed us." A pack of popcorn appeared in Maximilian's hands, which made Tukker frown. “Two: assuming that this universe is not substantially too different and that this planet, if it is a planet, isn't just only in another space-temporal fold, we must deduce that our world and your world are subject to the same laws. If you run every day, you'll get faster. Following my reasoning, we could say that there is a slight possibility that even on planet Earth someone could hypothetically have learned to use magic."

As soon as the last word fell, everyone looked at him.

"You were able to use magic on Earth."

What Themistocles said was not a question.

"Well, bollocks, never said the opposite, don't act all upset."

…

Tukker had wasted no time and, immediately after the fruitful game of cards, had gone to gather all the soldiers. Meanwhile, Maximilian had decided to annoy Themistocles in every possible way, to cheer himself up a little. The thought of having to go through three days of magical training just because Eudokia had decided so bothered him. As if he didn't already have enough things to do!

He teased the Athenian by walking around him, hitting him with an elbow from time to time, to no avail. Themistocles was focusing all his attention on the conversation he had begun with Mummer. He had asked him if there were bigger cities, [Commanders] to ally with. He didn't even tremble when he heard the [Weapons Master]'s answer.

“One of the strongest people on the continent? Among the Vanedenis, the strongest ones are found in Vissart. The city is administered by Lady Goldith of the Rodinia family, one of the most dangerous people here in the south. If the Ahalis have not yet exterminated us, we owe it only to her, who decided to try to exterminate them all, ah! A great woman, but a little too stubborn even for my tastes."

Maximilian stopped to look at Themistocles, smiling sideways. “Uhh, a woman. Doesn't your whole body itch at the thought of a woman running an entire city?"

Themistocles's face showed no emotion. He just asked, "Are there any possibilities to ally with them?"

"Ally?" Mummer laughed. “Rather than accept the help of a village in the far south, she would kill her own fellow citizens! I served with her father. I saw that little girl accuse her family and the entire court of treason. Was she ... seventeen? eighteen? She killed them in the square, and flayed all the nobles who opposed her plan to recapture Kome. There hasn't been such a subversive move since our first and only civil war. If other Lords and Ladies had not intervened, she would have killed the nobles of all the nearby cities and would have conquered them."

“Why did you leave the court? Were you afraid for your life? "

Mummer sighed.

“Yes, but it wasn't Lady Goldith who worried me. Unfortunately, my bones have never been able to withstand major fights. If it weren't for my skills, I could hardly move by now."

“Bone problems? Mummer, you cunt, you're stu- "

Themistocles interrupted Maximilian and continued to question the [Weapon Master]. "And so, this woman can bear the weight of the war only thanks to her men?"

“Just as happened in our village, Earthlings will also have arrived in Vissart, new classless men who can be quickly trained and raised on the battlefield. Moreover, thanks to the fertility laws she has enacted, it is not unlikely that, in the next ten years, the population of Vissart will grow exponentially."

"Mummer, cunt, MUMMER!"

The two were about to continue ignoring him.

"Mummeeeeeer!"

Themistocles and the Vanedeni nearly lost their balance. They pressed their hands against their eardrums in pain.

“Bollocks, are you all crazy? Do you have bone problems? Wake up, who's a [Necromancer] here? Come on Mummer, though."

Themistocles was quicker in the [Weapon Master] in understanding what the Londoner meant.

"Can you heal him?"

“Dog's bollocks, I can! But you are really two idiots, eh, bollocks! I mean, I'm here, a great [Necromancer], I rebuilt a kidney in Tukker's back and I can't heal some osteoporosis?"

"You're still without an arm, though," said Mummer, who had just recovered.

“This is because it's chic, ignorant! Come with me! But now I have to solve a hereditary disease in a hurry just because you are two idiots."

"What is a her..."

Maximilian took Mummer by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the wood near the village. Themistocles pulled back a little, praying to all the gods of Olympus that Maximilian would not kill man. The Londoner pulled a kind of litter out of nowhere and motioned for Mummer to lie down on it.

"What is the cause of this disease?" asked the Athenian, curious and intent on observing the procedure about to begin.

Themistocles had suffered from similar problems in old age, but only after having advanced a lot over the years and having succumbed to inactivity.

“Well, there's not just one, fam. His is probably congenital, in the sense that he was born like that. His class must have compensated a little, otherwise he wouldn't even have gotten to level 29 as [Weapon Master]."

"How do you know at what level ..."

The Athenian interrupted the patient's surprise. "Could the disease have made it more difficult to level up?"

“Again, there is not just one answer. Surely having bones that make you stay longer in the infirmary than on the battlefield doesn't help you get stronger. Then, even if the potions or a [Healer] - ah no right, these idiots don't even have this class, I rediscovered it apparently - were able to help him, I don't know how much it would actually have served. These are methods that risk losing effectiveness if the bones do not heal themselves naturally."

The big man lying in front of the two blushed. It wasn't like him to talk about his health problems, but those damned bones had wasted much of his time as a soldier. At this point, the potions could no longer do much to heal them and each time he took an elixir he had to wait several minutes before he could walk again. More than once he had believed that he would be permanently crippled after a bad fracture.

"We have about an hour, I think ..."

Maximilian watched his patient, trying to figure out what would be the best way to solve the problem. If he simply strengthened the bones, the problem would sooner or later reappear. 10% of the bone tissue, at any one time, was being remodelled by specialized cells. It was a system in constant motion. Even if he made the bone stronger, everything would be back to normal in a month or two, if not worse ... Radical treatment had to be done, something that would give him a new life. The bone had to be ...

“Mummer, if I told you now that I have a solution and, luckily for you, also the right materials to put it into practice… Here. I tell you this. Then, say this procedure is very painful and I'm not really super capable - at least for now - of making it less painful ... What would you think?"

The man looked at him as if he didn't understand the question.

"I'm asking for your consent for a procedure that will torture you for a good hour."

Seeing the man breathe a sigh of relief, Maximilian frowned.

“I was afraid it was not possible, in my current condition. If you only talk about a little bit of pain, that's not a problem."

"Ah well, if you say so."

Maximilian stretched his lips into a big smile.

"Themistocles, I don't know if I've ever told you that in my past life I was an orthopaedist."

"You mentioned something like that."

"And do you know which surgical profession is most feared of all for its violence?"

The Athenian had to admit one thing: he had expected some stunt, even a big one, but not the spectacle that his friend would unleash in a few seconds. Maximilian raised his arm to the sky and out of nowhere appeared hundreds of bones, of all sizes. They appeared in mid-air as they accelerated upward, like arrows shooting upward. If Mummer had gotten a better look at his improvised healer, he would have noticed a duffer bag - a kind of bag common especially in the Vanedeni larger cities - hidden in the man's sleeve, from which the bones were gushing at incredible speed.

After a few seconds, the bones reversed course like swooping eagles, heading towards the body of the [Weapon Master]. The Londoner's reasoning had been simple: Mummer's bones weren't doing well, nor were his cells functioning perfectly. Therefore, they had to be replaced. That there was a rejection of the transplant was not a problem for Maximilian, he also had a couple of tricks up his sleeve for that too.

The bones thrown into the air were all pointed and sharp as blades, and as ancient as that world was. When they fell down, they seemed to form the figure of a man. Mummer trusted Maximilian, but not so much that he got stabbed by bones that could have ripped any part of his body. As soon as he saw that storm of death he tried to move away. But - the patient hadn't even noticed this detail - the [Necromancer] had placed stumps made of bone all over his body. The trick of the flying bones had distracted him more than enough.

And so, unable to move and with Themistocles practically paralyzed with astonishment, every single bone in Mummer's body was punctured. Mummer's screams were such that it was unbelievable that no one had yet come to wonder what was happening.

“I blocked the sounds,” explained the Londoner when he noticed that Themistocles was turning to the right and left, unable to understand why no one was intervening. "We certainly don't want them to think I'm torturing him."

While he spoke, Maximilian continued to extract more bones from the bag. Oh, he hadn't even started. Themistocles began to observe the bones that had pierced Mummer. He noticed that most of these were only superficially inserted!

One by one he saw the bones shrink, while Maximilian added others in a scene that, if Themistocles had received more literary notions from the Harbingers, he would have associated with the creation of Frankenstein's monster.

The only thing missing was the mad laughter...

“AHAHAH! IT. COULD. WORK!"

The amazement Themistocles saw in Maximilian did not reassure him at all. The screams of pain and hysterical laughter welcomed a figure who appeared beside them, shrouded in darkness.

“Maximilian, what are you doing? You're using bones from ... "

It was the first time Themistocles had seen such a dark frown on Eudokia's face.

“Oi, bollocks, do you want to distract me, too? This is a delicate operation! I'm not even sure if I have enough mana to carry it out!"

Eudokia seemed to have more than one question in store, but after seeing Mummer's distraught and pleading expression, she decided to keep quiet. It would have spared the man a longer punishment, even if the story didn't end there. What Maximilian was doing was blasphemous to say the least; in other times, he would immediately become the number one enemy of her own race. The minutes passed and the expression on the woman’s face became more and more serious.

“Bones are basically an organic system. Yours, Mummer, suck. These, as old as they are, are the best you can find around. Now, the destruction of your bones is almost complete, cunt. I mean, not really destruction-destruction… I mean… Mmm."

Maximilian would have enjoyed explaining to the poor man what was happening to him, but he remembered that in this world no one would have had any knowledge regarding human cells. Osteoclasts, osteoblasts ... Bah!

“I mean, the new bone eats the old bone. If the new bone is not killed by your body and your body is not killed by the new bone, the new skeleton will work wonders."

“It shouldn't be possible for a mortal to receive those bones,” Eudokia said in a cold voice.

“Well, miss, it shouldn't be possible if the bones weren't altered by me. I cleaned them, re-stimulated them with human cells and reprogrammed them to be as compatible as possible with a human. I have no idea what the immune response will be - yes, oh well, but what I'm explaining - but I hope it doesn't kill him. Long story short, if his body has no bone problems, there's at least a one in two chance… maybe two out of three… a good chance, in short, that this will permanently heal him and make him a little Wolverine. Oh, where is Matthew when I need him, that damned loser would have appreciated the reference very much."

Another half hour passed and Mummer was now passed out from the pain, several times. He was drenched in sweat and blood. Maximilian had had to reassure Eudokia and Themistocles several times that the [Weapon Master] would not bleed to death, thanks to the regenerative abilities he had guaranteed him. The most intriguing thing for the two spectators was the fact that Maximilian had stopped talking and was pale as a sheet.

"Next time I'll use them for broth."

BUt he hadn’t stopped, of course. Otherwise he would not have been Maximilian. He began to gesticulate in mid-air.

“The final part of this process is extremely complicated. He needs more control over his magic if he is to succeed in not killing Mummer. He complained when we told him he would have had to withstand a storm for three days, but this operation is on a completely different scale; it's the same difference between stealing a toy from a human cub and fighting armoured soldiers."

Themistocles listened to Eudokia's whisper without taking his eyes off his friend for a moment. He had no way of comparing how important that magical feat was, but if causing a storm for three days was easy ...

He really needed more information.

After winning the battle, new encounters and opportunities would unfold. He had to find out how strong they were compared to the rest of the world. He had no doubts that Maximilian was a monster, but the question was how big a monster he was.

“Every single bone constitutes an array, a formation capable of supporting the whole process on its own. If I'm not mistaken, it all has to happen together so that the odds of success are as high as possible. Otherwise, judging by the energy in Mummer's body, it would be too unbalanced and some organs would begin to fail."

The bones were gradually disappearing one after the other, absorbed by the flesh; they melted like molten metal and penetrated old ones.

“Not only does it all have to happen together, but it seems that his organs are already on the verge of collapsing. Maximilian has created barriers within his blood and has just stopped his heart."

Despite this, the man was not pale, but bright red in the face. It seemed as if he had had a sunstroke. But his eyes were closed and he showed no signs of life anymore.

"He had to stop all the blood."

Eudokia was muttering, while Themistocles couldn't help but notice the concentrated expression on Maximilian's face. There was an insight into his features, now so sharp, that he could not remember having seen before. A minute passed, then Maximilian looked at Eudokia.

"Give me a mana potion, a good one."

She asked no more questions and threw a glass bottle at him. In a fraction of a second, the Londoner had already gulped it all down.

"Well, now the show begins."

Maximilian levitated Mummer's body in front of him and slowly raised his arms.

"Let's start."

He began to move his arms like an orchestra director. Up, down, left and right. An upward and then circular movement. One diagonal with one hand, one ellipse with the other. It was as if Maximilian was taking strands of mana and sewing them together, before wrapping Mummer with his creation. He whispered softly words that had no syllables, only sounds, and were similar to the breath of an organ in a church: powerful, deep and lasting.

The more he pronounced, the more a structure of words was created that supported the previous ones, and their sounds overlapped, becoming deafening. Some words suddenly disappeared, replaced by more raucous ones, which now fought against the more shrill ones. It wasn't the usual magic he'd gotten used to in the few days he'd learned to live with that art.

Not even teleportation seemed to be able to be compared with such a ritual, because Maximilian's class had to do with death; therefore, he understood how the Londoner was using only one aspect of necromancy, the one related to bodies. Mummer was still alive and this prevented the Londoner from really showing all his strength. A shiver ran through the Athenian's body, who was increasingly shocked by the amount of power that pervaded the air, with or without the potion Eudokia had given him.

The woman patted Themistocles on the shoulder, who almost winced. The atmosphere had become heavy and all that energy around made being there nothing short of unpleasant. She pointed to Mummer's body, which seemed to have become purple-ish and… bigger?

Themistocles was a rational, controlled and cold person. Damn, he had fought endless ranks of Persian soldiers, at the risk of ceding the domain of his polis to Xerxes.

But this ritual was so… wrong.

The fact that one man could change the physical nature of another was nothing short of terrifying. It was one thing to influence people in politics, another to alter the very shape of matter.

He could not help but stare at Mummer, mark the scene in his mind, take it to a recess in his soul and never forget it.

These were the stakes in the new world. And if so much good could come from it, a real blessing, there had to be the other side of the coin: somewhere, in a secluded and forgotten corner, there had to be an evil so great as to define a new measure for wickedness.

The Vanedenis had their heroes ...

But where were the monsters?

…

Eudokia had witnessed a ritual that, in other times, would not have been so upsetting. But in an era with none of the great heroes alive, where all races still licked wounds of the past… It had been an unspeakable sight. Knowledge and study were needed such that only the great [Archimages] of yore would have ventured into such an enterprise without great catalysts, without objects to facilitate it. Only a person from a world without magic could have thought of doing what Maximilian had done.

Now, Mummer was resting and would not wake up for three or four days. The thing, considering that Maximilian had already rolled up his sleeves and was creating a storm with a very small radius and unprecedented power, was very comfortable. After completing the experiment, the Londoner had not declared that he had accomplished a great feat, he had not said that he was the best of all. He seemed to be leading his life for the sole purpose of having fun and being happy, even if someone would call him a hero.

"Often, you are just the happiness you are able to generate."

Meeting Maximilian awakened emotions in the woman that had remained dormant in her heart for centuries. A ... companion ... she too had loved someone, someone who had abandoned her forever to join a conflict in which she had refused to take part. There had been battles during which the woman had decided not to act and had slept, making herself complicit in the extinction of some races, including her own, and also in the complete extermination of others.

Curiosity had prompted her more than once to take too great a responsibility, to replace men too small - and not just men, but creatures who declared themselves perfect from head to toe, above all. Eudokia, at one point, had simply found herself tired. She had decided to stop meddling, not to get so excited as when she was young. And he had lived with those who had chosen to love for beautiful years, however boring.

Those like them weren't used to moving often and, above all, not for a little while. It took so long to convince them ... He looked at Maximilian. He had succeeded. He had succeeded with her and with the Vanedenis, who had come in a circle, ready to risk their lives during the dangerous ritual. In the centre, among the men, was Strith.

The Londoner was handling mana, creating leaden clouds over their heads. He spoke calmly to the others, the people around him did nothing but listen to him, as if it were the most natural thing to do.

Everyone did not consider what Maximilian did more than a subtlety. The fact that a mana-induced storm was on the verge of unleashing between them was, in some ways, a subtlety. It took a Maximilian to move it, a person capable of making his life so light and yet so heavy.

Why do you have to force yourself not to live just because you have suffered?

And so Maximilian had ignited a spark in Eudokia's chest.

The woman's thoughts were interrupted by a light drizzle, which became stronger minute by minute, giving shape to the prelude to a downpour.

The Vanedenis began to fight against Maximilian without losing even a second. Eudokia saw Strith fall to the ground and the Londoner counterattack without any weapon. Now that she thought about it, Maximilian had hinted that he wanted to use nothing more than his bare hands, especially against her. The reason for this decision eluded her, but there was the possibility that his fighting style was just that. Of course, if he hadn't made up his mind to regenerate his arm soon, it would have been difficult to carry it forward. Strith, on the other hand, fought with a sword all hilt and no blade.

What a fool.

Maximilian took a step back, dodged a slash from Strith's sword and punched her in the head so hard that it would have killed any girl.

But Strith had already used the weight and the slippery ground to cushion the impact, trying to bring the sword on the man's only arm to sever him and leave Maximilian with no alternative but to surrender.

Eudokia saw the Londoner narrowly avoid the girl's blow and throw another punch, this time in her side. He did not miss. Strith doubled over, trying not to throw up; yet, despite being practically incapacitated, she found the strength to throw the blade towards Maximilian's face.

It was particularly difficult for Eudokia to guess what Maximilian's next move would be, despite having only one arm for… boxing - that's what he called that fighting style, right?

But how Strith was able to use unconventional moves and capitalize on any seemingly impossible opportunity… it was simply absurd. She was a bulwark of talent, a total war machine. Eudokia had immediately noticed her fury and her coldness, so much so that she had advised Maximilian to take it slow and moderate her. She had seen so many such personalities, although they had hardly developed the instinct that the girl possessed, and none of them had survived for long.

“Do you want to play with fire without getting burned? Ah! Bollocks, what bullshit! If you want to help her shape her character, you have to stoke the glowing coals."

And stoking was what Maximilian was doing.

It was amazing how, despite being a [Necromancer], he had no problem using his hands like a [Martial Artist]. Although Eudokia was aware of most of his secrets, she could not contain her amazement at seeing him put on a show.

The most intriguing thing? Since he had begun to fight, Maximilian had hardly ever used his legs. It was just punches, all fast, some devastating, but just punches. He moved his legs like lightning and shifted his weight with sinuosity, without tripping over the ground, almost sailing on the rain-soaked lawn. Against all odds, Strith lasted nearly an hour. Eudokia was stunned.

"Let a wyvern claw get me in my sleep!"

Maximilian looked around in search of the next opponent. "Oi, then, Tukker, move!"

The [Captain] gave him a dismayed look, wondering what he meant - or rather, trying to figure out if he meant what he imagined. That madman couldn't really think he was going to train with him! Staying awake for seventy-two hours straight was exhausting enough!

"What? Do you think it will be easy? You said you are ready to die, right? You and Strith will train with me, first individually, then in small groups and, for the last 24 hours, all together! And without pauses. Eudokia said the more difficult the circumstances, the greater the reward! Who knows, maybe we can even give you something more than a class for losers."

"Maximilian, they can't last that long fighting."

Eudokia was irritated by the man's behavior. She had decided to do that training. Maximilian should have been only a tool for its realization. But now he intended to make the exercise absurd to the point of paradox, to ruin it. How did he dare, that...

“Don't give a shit, woman. Here you live or die. They are all Vanedenis, aren't they? Let's see if they really are, or if their heroes are just old women’s tales."

"Maximilian, do you really believe that such a provocation can convin..."

Eudokia immediately took it all back.

At Maximilian's words, Tukker had sprinted forward, had rolled on the now soggy ground and was ready to cut off his leg, while behind him another soldier was about to plunge a sword between his ribs. Maximilian took a step, grabbed the arm of the soldier behind him and threw him at Tukker.

“Maximilian, stop behaving like a child. It's a [Royal Order]." They all shivered and stopped, pinned down by a higher power. Tukker looked in disbelief at Eudokia, who had stopped all his men with simple words.

"Royal? Bollocks, Eudokia, do you think I don't know what I'm doing? I worked on this fucking aura like you told me. I infused it in the last hour just for this workout. The day I have the rush to become the King of this arsehole, maybe it will make more sense, but at the moment..."

"Fight my warriors, stain the ground with the bastard blood of your heroes and show the world that your people are not doomed yet." Strith felt a rush of heat go through her body. Something similar had happened during the clash with Maximilian. It was as if he had received more power, more energy than she should have. But if it had been a slight heat in the chest and a sneaky feeling before, this was black lightning against a white background.

She watched Tukker and the others recover, invigorated by the woman's words, as her aura pushed them where will alone would never be enough. And not only that. Something within their body called them, a force that came from the depths not only of flesh and blood, but from the very soul itself, made up of the fragments of life of their heroic ancestors.

When her mother was still alive, Strith had heard her say that kings and queens were able to lead an army far better than a general, because their skills were able to influence every single soldier. And not only that, their aura could cover all their army and the enemy one alike, with two diametrically opposed effects.

Tukker had two springs for legs and jumped like a cheetah on the one who, at that moment, had become their enemy. He raised his sword to strike him, but Maximilian reached him with a punch in the face. Twice. Twice before he fell.

"Leave him to me!"

Tukker roared as he raised his guard up and tried to use the length of the sword to his advantage. Maximilian couldn't hope to have a better range than his, since he didn't use any-

Plop

The rain hit his eyes, forcing him to close them. He cursed. He had ended up on the ground without realizing it. Maximilian struck him again. Tukker lost consciousness for a second or two. He staggered to his feet, unstable.

And that little girl lasted for a whole hour?

The [Captain] raised his sword and prayed to all the ancestors of his people to give them some luck. He cursed again and promised Maximilian that he would kill him. The Londoner, in response, broke and repaired his nose three times within five minutes. Hour after hour, Maximilian kicked those who were about to sit down, tired, redirecting a lightning bolt a step away from them to scare them.

A couple of times he also used residue from the electric shocks to shock Strith. Judging by the girl's condition, he had also been able to stop her heart for a few seconds. Eudokia could not believe that Maximilian was doing all this for them. If they believed they were the ones who would lead the village to victory, on the one hand they overestimated Maximilian, but on the other they underestimated him.

That man was far from invincible; he possessed a class that was not made for hand-to-hand combat, but yet he fought as if it were. And no one had noticed. But no matter. It didn't matter because he was Maximilian, he had already transcended the identity of an ordinary person.

From Themistocles to Strith, up to Matthew and Todd, Maximilian's imprint was a feather and a brand on the skin. He was a court clown, an entertainer of the calibre of few, as dedicated to his role as no other. And he was also able to give them security, to transform into a supernatural creature, capable of solving any problem with his madness.

Eudokia was honoured to attend that event. She had seen great kings and invincible heroes, witnessed wars that had threatened to extinguish the whole world. From other more recent ones she too had fled out of fear, from the closest ones she had only kept aloof. But here, here, there was a story that was worth living.

…

Tukker was no longer sure he was alive. After forty-eight hours, time had become jelly, a shapeless mass with no reference points. He no longer even knew how it was possible that his legs were still capable of holding his weight. He was so exhausted he could have sworn he'd already died once or twice.

The thought of continuing to fight against Maximilian was now absurd. All the soldiers rushed at him without a tactic, only with a weapon in hand and in silence, or with screams muffled by the raging storm and lightning.

Some of his men had fainted, but a little lightning bolt their his comrades kicked them out of sleep.

No one would be left behind.

The only incessant screams were Strith's, who by now had shown himself to be the scariest person in Ankon right after Maximilian. The girl had the eyes of a beast, her face blocked in an expression of ferocity and opportunism: she had seen Maximilian tired. Another such opportunity would never come again.

Every hour she used her abilities to inflict wounds on the body of the [Necromancer] who was now exhausted from consuming mana and dividing attention to fight everyone. At one point he hadn't even bothered to heal the soldiers' most superficial wounds. Now, everyone was covered in mud and blood mixed with rain and grass. Tukker felt as if his throat was about to break.

After twenty-four hours he had grown used to the taste of blood, but the pain had only increased. His breathing was a continuous gasp, unable to support his body, which remained alert thanks to willpower alone.

…

Strith no longer felt anything but the battle itself. She didn't know, but Eudokia was left speechless at the stamina she'd shown to possess. Although Maximilian played a large role in keeping each of the soldiers engaged in the exercise standing, the girl's screams and blows remained a supernatural spectacle. The sounds were muffled, dead, except for those of battle. There was no place in his mind for anything, not even rain. Each of his attacks was launched with the sole intent of killing and aimed at the vital organs of the [Necromancer].

"Five minutes to the end, brat," laughed Maximilian, "Perhaps by then someone will throw me to the ground?"

Then Strith, Tukker and everybody else realised.

Maximilian had been hit, had received injuries, but he hadn't even bent a knee. While they were thrown into the air like puppets, he had been monolithic, impossible to move.

Strith felt the blood burn through her veins for the umpteenth time and wondered if she would die after this storm. her body was torn, covered with wounds she had no idea how could be healed. She had to knock that bastard to the ground. But as he became more tired, he had begun to use magic as well, creating shields of energy where he knew the soldiers' blows would aim.

Unlike Tukker and the other warriors, who were now frustrated, Strith felt a magic take her legs and arms, pumping into her all the fire she had always and only in her heart.

[Flaming Heart]

She was only fifteen and had a barely muscled build, but her steps began to leave heavy footprints on the ground. Her blond hair took on a lighter shade and her blue eyes sparkled like two sapphires.

She was about to throw herself at Maximilian when Eudokia called her. “Strith! Take this, it's a gift!” A sword flew towards the girl. Sinuous like a snake and with a pink blade crossed by blood veins. it planted himself in the ground in front of her while the girl felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that sword ... She had heard of it in the most ancient legends of her people ...

No, the astonishment could wait.

She grabbed the hilt without thinking twice.

[Critical Moment]

Time seemed to slow down. It was then that the girl shot towards Maximilian, becoming almost a red and golden shade on the greyish landscape. The eyes of the young woman and the monster aligned. Strith could have sworn she saw a grin, almost an ecstatic laugh on his face.

It was strange to describe that feeling. But in the heat there was no room for doubt. She moved quickly, trying not to get caught up in doubt. She lifted one leg and used it to kick the ground with a twisting motion.

She saw Maximilian erect a barrier in front of him, but the scarlet sword rose and tore it in two as if nothing had happened. With a cry of triumph, Strith moved forward, while his opponent could only retreat. However, the circle of people around them was not large enough to allow room for manoeuvre: if Maximilian had continued like this, he would soon find himself surrounded by too many soldiers.

The [Necromancer] watched the girl's movements: stronger, more ferocious than when she had started.

No one had levelled up yet, but that didn't mean their bodies hadn't already acquired new memories. All the kicks, the punches, the dodges, the slashes, had all been unconsciously memorized in their brains. Today's muscle memory would save them tomorrow.

The problem with the girl in front of him was her speed. [Critical Moment] seemed to give her an incredible boost. Everyone had managed to hurt him at least once, but only she had repeatedly come close to doing him real harm. It was so peculiar to find such a rare gem. Even among the Vanedenis, a hidden talent seemed supernatural. Maximilian had to admit that, despite his great experience, he was a bit superstitious.

Or rather, perhaps his own experience had made him superstitious.

He believed that there was a thread binding certain people, feeble and easy to break, but which would always bring similar souls together. In this case, his thread was tied to Strith.

Now, she thought she already had the fight in hand, while the pink blade broke the air towards Maximilian's heart, but he had other plans. As a warm-up, this hadn't been bad. But ... if the Londoner was going to help the girl not to make the same mistakes as he did, well, he needed to put on a good show.

[Enhanced Haste]

Strith saw Maximilian disappear from the path of her weapon. Soon after, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder and she whirled around and tried to cut off his only arm left. Maximilian moved with fluidity and ease, dodging again without problems. For all the next five minutes, he proceeded to dodge every single blow of the girl keeping his only arm behind his back.

The hours it took for the ritual to take effect were over. He stopped stirring up the storm and used more mana to clear the sky. But he continued to dodge Strith's blows until she could no longer stand, exhausted. She was like a doll whose strings had just been snapped.

[Flaming Heart] was exhausted.

Maximilian grabbed her before she could touch the mud, turned her towards him and gave her a wink.

"Bastard," was Strith's only word before she passed out - sword still firmly in hand. The man gave a big shrug and turned off his aura. All the soldiers, including Tukker, fell to the ground with a wet thud.

“Bollocks, what a mess. I never thought that three uninterrupted days of rain could devastate the area so much." He shrugged again. Eudokia took a step forward on the circular embankment, inside which there was now a small swamp, and shook her head. He nodded at Strith and said, "If you were going to not let her win from the start, maybe you shouldn't have fooled her."

“Nah, she had to believe she was close, at least the first time. Then, here, respect learnt. What's better to learn good manners than two kicks?"

"Honesty and magnanimity, I think."

“Oi, how boring. Honesty and magnanimity, meh, meh, meh, meh. Look at me, I'm the champion of bullshit..."

If Maximilian could have continued, there would certainly have been fun, but unfortunately Eudokia decided to hit him in the face with a slap, knocking the man and the girl he was holding directly into the mud.

“Ohhhhhh, are we crazy? Let's calm down, cunt, eh. Oh, ohhh, stop."

Maximilian tried to get up in vain, slipping on the mud, but the woman caught up with him without even giving the impression of having moved. She put his head under water, took a lump of mud and, after pulling him up, tried to make him eat it.

“Maximilian, I've been waiting for three days while you were fighting each other. I'm not in the best of moods. I advise you to avoid cursing, if you don't want another lesson."

The man, outraged, but with enough mud in his mouth to make insults difficult, nodded. Angry, he tried to still look dignified.

“Ugh! Puah! How disgusting! It would have been better if you had put in my mouth..."

Eudokia looked at him coldly, and it was enough to make the Londoner decide not to risk any further.

"Ugh!" He spat out his last mouthfuls of mud and headed for his tower.