Eric took a moment to appreciate just how far he’d come. Despite all the trials and tribulations suffered, he had well and truly grown at a phenomenal rate. Archery and Bardiche were both getting extremely close to an absolutely unbelievable Rank 20, and he couldn’t wait to see what boons Adept status would grant him.

Best of all, his core infusion had surpassed 90%. Eric couldn't be positive, but he was pretty sure that alone was a significant accomplishment that might have opened a number of Adept, perhaps even Elite Classes to him. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what would be available, should he actually manage 100% complete fusion.

Of course, there was the not insignificant drawback of being stuck at level 9 for what felt to him like quite some time, while countless potential adversaries surged ahead.

But he refused to let himself get overly worked up about it, appreciating like never before the incredible boon the titles he had earned so far had given him. Many of them worth the equivalent of a handful of Conscript levels, in addition to Title-associated perks and boons.

As far as potential competition went, from what he had been able to surmise, most survivors started as Conscripts just like him, only locking in a standard class, which earned about 5 points per level, or if they were really talented, an Advanced class, which earned 7 points per level, at around level 15. That meant that a level 20 hero would have, on average, either 72 or 84 points which, if they were focused strictly on the four physical attributes that gave them around 28 or 31 points in each of the primary 4 attributes, assuming they invested nothing else in any stat, including Perception.

Thus compared to even Advanced tier level 20 classers, Eric was already head and shoulders above them. Even for the few who hyper-specialized in Strength and Vitality, they still wouldn't match his Quickness or his Finesse. That, along with his weapon skills, meant that he should be able to take care of himself without having to resort to using his essences or necromantic edge, should any ruffian, even a relatively powerful level 20 thug, see him as easy prey once he got to a decent-sized city. One would need to be level 25, with an Advanced class earned at level 15, to match his physical stats alone.

And that was completely discounting the advantages of a 34 Perception and the ability to see heat signatures in the dark with the same exquisite precision as his eyes normally functioned during the day. With a bow in his hand able to shoot modified arrows at twice the speed of sound? He already knew he was a force to be reckoned with, especially when hunting his foes in the darkness that so favored him.

Over 400 orc corpses could attest to that fact, even now.

Of course, a few adventurers might have earned a handful of points pushing combat skills to Journeyman level, but from what he could tell, this was the exception, not the norm, at least for most people. Certainly, none of his friends had yet to do so. Of course, he doubted most of them had the benefit of years of the basics being ingrained into their heads by professional trainers for the sake of movies that never got released, and that most learned by smashing in the skulls of dungeon-crawling horrors, or in the crucible of combat with just a few basic lessons, the wisest learning from trainers when they had the time and coin. Of course, that was mostly guesswork, but it rang true with his sense of things, at least.

He shook his head and sighed, doing his very best not to think of the exceedingly disturbing possibility that maybe all his intense, hands-on weapon practice, with a focus on learning how to actually fight, as opposed to just waving his weapon around in flashy, pointless moulinets, had much less to do with preparing for a failed movie launch… and much more to do with what was to come.

He had so many questions and too few answers, and it was more than clear, as signified by the overtures of she who would soon be the absolute ruling authority of this place, that he’d be better off finding answers to his questions anywhere else but here.

Because if the System really could enforce marriages, he might find himself trapped in an exquisitely beautiful golden cage choking him to within an inch of his life before the week was out.

And that was a fate he had every intention of avoiding.

Almost as much as the question even now circling the back of his mind.

How the hell had his mother gotten in so tight with the Sylvan alliance? Was she actually this Winter Queen’s puppet?

Was there something in his own background heritage that he'd really be better off not knowing? What if even formally acknowledging what he feared to acknowledge would tie him to duties and obligations, and place him firmly under the command of others?

He shuddered at the thought.

Fully human, fully autonomous.

That was him, as far as he was concerned, and it was the stance he must stick to above all others, if he would hold tight to the dark gift that would allow him to keep an edge over the future tyrants and scions who might one day rule this world.

For he intended to rule nothing and no one at all.

Save himself.

But there was another path to power and influence that had nothing to do with rulership or the Path of Conquest at all.

And that was the Path of Commerce.

Why seek to conquer that which one could just as easily buy?

Especially with stolen gold.

A whole fucking vault, full of sweet, sweet, golden lucre.

He couldn’t help but flash a fierce grin, now peering carefully down from the lip of the massive horticultural structure that had so recently been a high-rise, peering down at one of the few buildings that remained completely the same along both causality streams. The Golden Eagle bank, fortress of stability, arcane enchantments, and a priceless fortune in black book Federal gold reserves, down below.

Then he looked across the bank at what had once been an empty parking lot, according to his rapidly updating interface map.

Now? It was another massive 30 story hydroponic farm filled with blossoming miracles of horticultural wonder, radiating enough arboreal magic for the entire building to all but glow to his Arcane Perception, as did the building he was on.

With a beautiful view of the majestic river whose origins he did his best not to think too deeply on, and the formerly rubble-strewn no-man's-land that was now a rapidly growing forest adjoining the primeval woodland that was Lady Valorn's territory just beyond, both towering structures adjoining the bank were perfectly positioned for catching glorious thick shafts of golden sunlight every morning.

Of course they were also positioned perfectly for a massive arcing bridge made of reinforced skeletal bones and a strut-supported arch that was more than strong enough to support the weight of a 200 or so pound fully armored man whose heart was most definitely not pounding frantically in his chest as he gazed 30 stories straight down was a happy coincidence, of course.

Eric flashed a tight grin, surprised to find that the valiant hellion of just hours before was seriously considering the bizarre life choices that now hand him dangling with no more support than Drake’s former rope and harness from a bridge of bone that really had no business even supporting his weight, spanning as it did a full block, even if Rank 20 Adept Tier flesh sculptor was making his necromantically forged creations far, far stronger than they had any business being.

And Eric couldn't help but wince, sensing that reality itself was agreeing with him as both his level 9 excess experience pool and Soul Reserves were slowly but steadily ticking away.

He licked dry lips and he swore he could hear the wind howling in his ears, hoping that the glare of the rising sun at least kept him out of any elven sights, for all that the blinking greens in his interface made it clear that the Sylvan Alliance was only now entering Lady Valorn’s newest territory in force, now examine and securing each building, one by one.

And they were at the other end of the city.

No doubt glorying in the magnificent city-wide horticultural wonder that Eric hadn’t brought into existence, so much as helped existence recall as having been there all along.

And the city's newest guests still had absolutely no idea of the glorious prize nestled at the other end of the city.

His end of the city.

Eric swallowed, going over his mad plan one more time.

Recalling so vividly how awed he had been, seeing Morlekai and Drake, and later Louie and Alice, going over blueprints and plans with a professional air that would have made OceanBreeze Twelve seem like amateur hour.

Alice, in addition to unleashing massive bolts of lightning and coming off as the sweet if overly sexual damsel in need of a stallion of a hero, proved herself a hard-eyed professional, Eric recalling the recorded clip where she had pulled out a tiny chrome wand he had never seen before, unleashing exquisitely controlled pulses of lightning Eric saw actually snapping open spring locks and triggering a minute amount, less than a hair's worth, of C-4 in the bathroom just to make sure it would work just as it had before they had been invaded by monsters and magic.

And his bathtub had the marks to prove it.

Almost as impressive was just how graceful Morlekai was, with a Finesse now clearly beyond 20. Whether he truly had mafia connections or just the air of a made man, the half-vampire was a magician with his hands as well as with, well, actual magic.

And the way Drake was nodding as he practiced spinning the combination of a safe pulled out of who knows where was damned impressive, making Eric quietly certain that Morlekai was so knowledgeable about bags of holding because he actually had one.

It was clear that the enforcers of their crew were as skilled burglars as they were adventurers.

Eric shook his head, having taken Morlekai’s warnings to heart.

He had no doubt at all that whatever traps were involved really had reset, and that without keys, codes, and a four man team of professional burglars, he didn’t have a chance in hell of pulling the largest caper he could imagine off.

He then flashed a manic grin as he gazed down 30 stories at the impressively fortified bank below.

Thanks to the blueprints and his updated interface, he knew exactly where the central vault holding an inconceivable fortune in gold was located.

Exactly three stories down, surrounded by sealed doors, arcane wards, and unholy traps that would obliterate anyone lacking a master burglar’s skills and the keys and codes Stibbs had done everything he could to keep out of their hands.

Even with all his gunpowder, there was no way he was breaking in.

"Fortunately, I'm not the one breaking in!" He said with a manic laugh, launching himself free of his fragile bridge, for an endless heartbeat in freefallfreefall, supported by nothing but five feet of slack in his rope harness.

Giving him just the split second he needed to release the massive burden he had been carrying since first embracing a Berserker's Fury, the real reason why he hadn't been blasting orcs with cannon.

He had had no room. No room for anything but his constantly mutating lizard carcasses, crucial supplies, and four massive cast-iron cannons, each one weighing multiple tons, all of them bound together by bronze melted with a white-hot arrowhead and used to effectively solder the multiton cannons into one enormous bunker-busting missile, complete with four fins of lizard hide and bone, effectively making a massive steel dart with a 4000-degree head and a far more temperate tale that truly looked impressive when pulled out of thin air, beginning its descent in slow motion before rapidly picking up speed as the rope around Eric’s waist abruptly jerked him to a halt.

He couldn’t help laughing with relief and wonder that he was actually going through with his mad plan as he dangled in the air, the wind howling against his face. And the split second he had feared the bridge would collapse under the weight of a massive, multiton sledgehammer he had hoped to sidestep by summoning it while in freefall proved a pointless worry, the rope jerking no harder than if he had jumped without pulling forth any magnificent prize even now spiraling downward with an audible shriek in the air before pounding into the roof of the bank.

Eric's eyes widened with sheer delight, cackling like a madman when the reinforced rooftop exploded with a magnificent thunderous boom, and the entire bank came tumbling down like a house of cards smashed by Drake’s fist.

Of course that much Eric had intellectually expected, yet it was another to witness the beautiful destruction firsthand, no matter the cloud of rapidly rising dust and just a bit of flame shooting out as Eric dangled from his rope harness.

Only then did Eric's gleeful smile turned to a terrified grimace when he sensed one of the bone supports keeping him firmly in the land of the living abruptly snap, and that his entire bridge was just seconds away from collapsing, sending him plummeting 30 stories down.

He knew he had only moments to act before his story would come to a painfully abrupt end, and act he did.

Iado skillcheck made! You have successfully freed yourself from rope and harness!

You have successfully pulled yourself up to base of bone bridge.

You are now sprinting across bone bridge.

Eric flashed a manic grin as he raced across the rapdily tilting structure, knowing he was going to make it to the rooftop, just feet away… now falling, falling…

WINDOW! JUST HIT THE FUCKING WINDOW!

Eric screamed to himself as he launched into the air when his bridge gave out completely under his feet, desperately scrabbling fingertips just catching the lip of a high-rise windowsill.

Strength check made!

Before smacking into the side of the building with such force that he knew damn well that the Eric of just months ago, even at his prime, would have bounced right off, stunned by a smashed nose as sore fingers were wrenched completely clear of a desperately scrabbled for window ledge.

But with an absolutely absurd 43 Strength, and a Finesse even higher, he held on with no problem at all.

And he felt no shame at all as he sobbed in relief and terror and disbelief that he had even dared this madness, that he was even alive, before taking deep breaths and pulling himself together.

Just grateful as hell that these massive hydroponic growing centers alternated horticultural floors with living levels. Because if it hadn’t… he would have had nothing to grab on to.

And by some miracle, the window was made of actual glass, so when his armored fist punched, it broke through with hardly any effort at all as he widened the hole, smashing out all the glass while holding on to the lip with the desperate claw of his other hand.

Then he was pulling himself through the ruined window with a desperate intensity, wincing at the sight of wide-eyed children gazing at him from the kitchen table, the mother spinning around with a cry and a cast-iron pan filled with the delightful sizzle of fresh eggs and something that looked very much like hash-browns all slipping out onto the floor as she raised the pan, clearly to smack his skull with.

Eric raised his hands the moment he was safely inside. “Sorry, didn’t mean to break in!” he hurriedly said as the air echoed with the crash of his support bridge smacking into the bank ruins, far below. “My bridge sort of gave out from under my feet. Ha ha. Say, I don’t suppose you can point me to, um… the door?”

The young mother blinked at him with soft brown eyes for long moments, too stunned to say anything.

“Mom, the eggs!” said what looked to be a ten year old boy, with the frazzled blond hair and clear blue eyes so common at that age. He patted his wide-eyed sister’s hand, looking so much like a younger version of their mother, before grinning up at Eric.

“You’re an adventurer, aren’t you?”

A bemused Eric nodded.

“Did you help fight off the orcs?”

“Actually… yeah. You know what? I will take credit for that.”

The boy snorted. “Of course you will. What adventurer doesn’t boast? Gives a nice Ex bonus, if the bard likes your tale.” The boy then paled and swallowed. “I mean… it did in Geoff’s campaign. We had our own house rules. Only now he’s… um… dead.”

Eric lowered his gaze, bemused smile instantly fading. “I’m sorry.”

The boy sighed. “Me too. But waking up and finding out that I’m not being tortured to death by inhuman monsters and my mother wasn’t… and that all of that was a dream?” He flashed a brilliant smile. “Best day of my life. This is the best day of my life! And I woke up actually knowing how to farm. Those eggs mom’s cooking? Were cooking before they slopped into the floor? I grabbed them from the rooftop nest. Something I never would have dared before, even if we had a rooftop coop, for fear angry hens would peck the hell out of my hand. But now it’s like I woke up inside my favorite isekai adventurer, transformed into a version of myself that actually has a class!”

Eric whistled. “No kidding. A pod-free class? That’s pretty awesome.”

The boy nodded proudly. “Mom doesn’t have a class, but it’s okay. I told her I’d take care of her. Even if Farmer is just, um… a Profession, it still counts. And I can level it up by, you know, farming.”

Eric grinned. “When you think about it, it’s the most important class. Anyone can learn to fight. But actually having the skills to feed an entire world? That’s on a whole different level. We can all survive a world without battle. We’re shit out of luck, if it’s also without food. My favorite Isekai novel stars a farmer and his spirit animal rooster. Even has a cute cat girl. Point is, all the adventuring in the world doesn’t mean shit, if no one has a full belly.”

The boy nodded enthusiastically. “I love that isekai!” Then he sighed. “But this hydroponic center doesn’t have any Gold Tier rice for me to grow. Just green leafy vegetables, flowers, and lots of chickens to look after.”

Eric gazed longingly at the cast iron pot full of tasty food, at least half of which hadn’t spilled on the ground.

He then smiled warmly at the mother who blushed and reflexively smiled back, even if she was still too stunned to speak. “You don’t know how much I’d love to try some of that delicious food. But I’ve got a bank to rob, and not that much time to do it, so I’ll leave you all to a wonderful breakfast, and sorry about the window! Now which way is that door?”

Timothy laughed. “Good luck with your heist!” he said, pointing to the door, eyes widening when Eric flipped him a bag of silver. “What?”

Eric grinned. “The orcs I got it from sure as fuck won’t be needing it. Maybe you can get yourself a clever rooster sidekick and some high tier rice grains with it? Sorry about the window!”

Eric said the last while storming out the door, a bit bemused that he didn’t intuitively sense the layouts of these buildings for all that he had certainly… influenced reality’s memory of them, needing to make a few Perception checks before he finally found the wide, spiraling staircases artfully decorated with a miniature waterfall and vines bearing luscious fruit, such that he felt as if he were in a jungle as much as a staircase, not hesitating to help himself to a few delectable tangerine-like prizes that burst and sparkled with flavor on the tongue, chasing away the last of the dust, grime, and blood that no amount of hastily sipped water had managed to rinse away.

Yet for all that he was smiling with delight at the exotic flavor of fruits that had never been at any inner city market he could recall, his heart was racing with a curious mix of anxiety, excitement, and tension.

Because he had absolutely no idea what awaited him at the bank.

And even if by some miracle his plan worked… and if the skill he now sensed more as a probability wave, or a blur of potential, after hitting a major milestone just an our or so ago, a skill for which he refused to lock in a perk, would just hold on for a little longer before it settled on some bullshit default option, he might actually get out of this wealthy beyond his dreams.

Or at least… alive.

But it was only a matter of time before the magnificent explosion drew unwanted heat.

Eric winced as he focused on his interface the second he popped into the forest-like atrium, alive with the cries of exotic song birds, spotting more than a few blinking greens now heading this way.

“Shit, five minutes on the outside,” he whispered to himself, sprinting for the door, doing his best not to wince too badly at the massive cloud of smoke and grit he saw outside, instead fitting his blood-smeared goggles and sponge and ducktape breathing mask, silly looking as it might be, before heading out the door.

A quick look in both directions and he couldn’t see a soul as he quickly jogged across the street to the bank. And that made sense. After all that had already happened, what fool lucky enough to even survive this long would dare look for trouble now, when a good turn of fortune meant prosperity and full bellies for them and their families, and what seemed to be the blessing of a farming profession for at least one member of any given family?

No one, he thought.

No one was that stupid in this day and age, where TV heroics had been replaced by a practical drive for survival and avoiding perilous trouble at all costs.

Besides, if there were shadows in the dusty gloom, Eric sure as shit didn’t see them, not with the blood-tinted goggles that blocked heat perfectly...and his infravision.

But still.

It was the Manasight enhancement of his infravision that he was pushing to the utmost as he gazed up at the shattered remains of the bank while reclaiming the ruins of his bone bridge with a simple brush of his fingers. He frowned, peering through the dust cloud his twelve ton kinetic bomb had generated, catching the telltale flickers of traps and wards crackling and fizzling within the parts of the bank that were still intact.

But of the roof that had completely collapsed most of the first floor? Nothing. An inert shell that kept its poisons firmly entrenched in the sweet fruit within.

“Except in the pit itself, my delightful little peach,” Eric whispered allowed, filled once more with an excitement that bordered on manic glee as he made his way over shattered rubble, frowning when he sensed multiple breaks between ruined rooftop and the deadly lobby below, settling at last on summoning a stable lizard meat and hide platform assuring that his steps would never slip in crevices leading to a trap-infested lobby that was mostly, but not completely, buried under rubble.

Eric swallowed, breath turning ragged despite the dust-filtering sponge over his mouth as his heart hammered with excitement when careful footsteps at last reached the lip of the crater the cannons had quite literally made of the heart of the bank. A pit even now shooting out sparks, flame, and fearsome heat.

And it was only when he made sure his face was covered with a fresh coating of his own blood, the crimson sponge firmly fastened with lots of essence-infused duct tape, his goggles fastened tightly to his face, that he dared peer over the side, his face washed with shimmering air conveying fearsome heat that, had he not embraced the most macabre of crimson wards, would have set his hair aflame.

Eric shivered, genuinely chilled by not just the devastation he had caused, but that the massive reinforced steel vault at the heart of this bank, the inner sanctum Morlekai and the gang had worked so diligently to penetrate, even with multiple layers of keys and codes in hand, had resisted the bunker-busting power of twelve tons of steel accelerating at close to 40 meters a second.

But not by much, as evidenced by the white hot metal even now stretching and giving way under the essence-covered cannons that had come so close to puncturing the underground vault ceiling completely, after smashing through multiple floors with such force that the scrap and rubble had been blown completely out of its path.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s working! Fuck it all, it’s working!”

It was all Eric could do not to shout for joy when the increasingly stretched and deformed vault ceiling abruptly ruptured under the weight of twelve tons of superheated metal that was not quite enough to melt it, but certainly enough to warp and tear.

Eric’s eyes lit up with wonder and awe as he beheld a sight he’d remember all his days.

His massive cannon bomb crashing into actual brick stacks of gold in the heart of a vast underground vault that was off all official books.

A chamber that shouldn’t even exist, yet did.

Holding who knew how many tons of gold.

Presently being melted by Eric’s cannon.

“Shit!” He hissed, heart skittering with horror at the thought, quickly affixing fresh bone supports at the edge of the crater he was about to rappel down, of a mere ten as opposed to seventy feet length, so not likely to collapse any time soon that he secured a 10.5 mm static climbing rope to, thanks to the supplies Morlekai had thoughtfully left behind.

But not before quickly setting aside his pre-prepped backpack, holding everything he’d hoped he’d need for his getaway.

Because it sure as shit, it wasn’t going into his now empty storage.

He winced at the growing heat that he could only hope wouldn’t damage his rapel line, and realized he was being a complete idiot when he looked at the still red hot crumpled steel roof of the vault itself, pausing only long enough to coat the rope with a thin layer of his blood and a surge of potency as he infused it with the essence of heat. A heat that just happened to be room temperature, and no hotter, paying only the briefest attention to the interface messages that would have otherwise filled him with incredible joy.

Congratulations! Heat Surge is now Rank 10!

You have achieved Journeyman Status with Heat Surge! You have earned +3 in Soul Reserves!

You must now choose your skill advancement path.

The Path of Power, The Path of Mastery, or the Path of Balance!

You have made your choice!

It was a choice made in the blink of an eye. The only choice he dared, with a power that could otherwise hurt himself, were it not for his own blood, infused with the Essence of Flame and his own life-force presently covering every square inch of his body.

A choice made so fast that when the rope line actually brushed the red-hot metal…

Nothing happened.

Not even when he put it to the ultimate test, forcing the rope against metal so hot it glowed as Eric rapidly descended, hand over hand, making the most of his 43 Strength.

And then his decent was done, and he found himself in a golden hell of heat, sparking metal, and a glorious fortune beyond belief as, besides a cannon with a 4000 degree base that made the air like fire as the stack of gold bars it had slammed into had already turned to a pool of golden slag, his blood-soaked sponge all that kept him alive, and he still felt the heat in his lungs from his imperfect jury-rigged respirator.

Yet his skill evolution was already paying massive dividends, Eric now more in control of the hideous heat far beyond any historic blacksmiths forge, his adaptation even allowing him to minimize the damage caused by the searing fumes that still managed to leak into his lungs despite his absolutely life-saving sponge. Still, the only reason why he wasn’t a screaming torch and his equipment wasn’t melting to slag was thanks to the life-saving boon of soul-linked armaments infused with the essence of heat at a perfectly comfortable 77 degrees that he had had the foresight to protect every inch of his body that he could with.

Yet despite all that, he took a long moment just to stare with utter awe at the sight before him.

Countless tons of sparkling bullion stacked in complex piles and configurations of a significance he neither knew nor cared.

Caring only that a fortune beyond belief glittered with all the glory that was gold.

Only then did he realize he was being a complete idiot, even more than usual. So much so that he would have burst with hysterical laughter, courting death so foolishly, if the risk of jostling his sponge breathing mask wouldn’t imperil him. Wasting no more time, he immediately raced for the cannons, hand smacking the tail of his impromptu missile, which he had deliberately left at a sane temperature as he plopped them back into storage space in a blink of an eye.

And doing what he should have practiced far more diligently, when he had the chance.

But honestly, when had he not been racing through life, training his ass off, and just trying to survive at a breakneck pace?

He shook his head, regret turning to focus as he worked to gently reclaim the essence of fire he had infused his cannon with.

Bracing himself for the hideous backlash of messing with abilities he still had no real idea what he was doing with, knowing it wouldn’t be the first massive migraine he had inflicted on himself… surprised to find it took no effort at all.

You have successfully reclaimed Essence of Flame! You have recovered a tiny fraction of your Potency!

Eric blinked at that, smiling at the welcome surprise.

Not only could he reclaim the essence he infused in various artifacts without any effort at all, so long as it was in his ES Space at least, but he could also reclaim at least a portion of the potency, or experience points, he had expended. Best of all, the feat was now effortless, no matter that the essence reclaimed was so much more than he had ever dared before.

A fiercely grinning Eric quickly spat back out his now much cooler cannons on an area of the steel floor that was not covered in gold, melted or otherwise.

He then closed his eyes, doing his best to remember precisely what that asshole of a Mayor had promised.

As much gold as they could carry, even as he had given a mock-wag of his finger, insisting that they only make a single withdrawal.

Eric chuckled bitterly at the memory. Because of course that clause was just tacked on to make his implied offer more believable. Because underneath the words, no matter what his interface said, Mayor Stibbs had never intended for them to get their hands on a single red cent.

The bloody bastard.

Then Eric breathed deep through his respirator of the still too hot but rapidly cooling air, gazing upon the massive stacked piles of gold bricks, and laughed long and loud for all he was worth.

“You thought you could outplay us, asshole? The only one you outplayed was yourself!”

And the System agreed. Because no matter how duplicitous Stibb’s intentions, the messages blinking across his interface left no room for doubt as to the unique opportunity before him.

System granted quest completed!

You have saved Junk Town from multiple external threats and are permitted to take as much gold as you can carry from: Black Book Secret Reserve Bank of Gilton! - As you have been granted said privileges by a designated Trustee of Golden Eagle Bank, you will encounter no Bane or Curse fueled by the remembered glory of an entire nation! - Caveat, you may only take as much gold as you can carry on this day alone!

For endless seconds Eric gazed upon the towering bricks of impossibly vast wealth before him, coaxing a certain gift with every fiber of his being to reshape itself according to all the potential this moment promised, possibly one of the most profound moments of his life.

He almost thought he sensed something stretching in odd directions in his mind, before being struck with the thought of pushing things too far and perishing under his own mad gamble, or just as bad, somehow activating a curse fueled by all that his former home had ever been.

Two centuries of glory, for all that it had been tarnished by so much corruption at the end. Still, he’d like to think that if the world hadn’t gone to shit, this beautiful country would have pulled through.

But the world had ended, and Eric had no doubt America’s echo meant that whatever fool defied her most sacred institutions without at least a veneer of pretext would die in ways he shuddered to think about.

The question was, did the consent of a corrupt little fork-tongued bureaucrat who had been intending to screw them over all along really give sufficient pretext for what he was about to do? Because sure as fuck, the Sylvan Alliance, whom he thought were a hell of a lot better than the orcs, were the farthest thing from Native Americans.

He quirked a smile, remembering one particularly beautiful Native American who was now up a good 8 million credits worth of gold. So at least there was a tiny bit of justice, when all was said and done.

Eric took a deep breath, taking in the stupendous, absurd, nation-building degree of wealth before him, stacked in multi-ton stacks of 24 karat magnificence, seconds stretching with a tension so tight he would scream as he sensed an odd tingle snap into place in the back of his mind.

As far as he was concerned, justice was what he made of it.

And he could think of few things more just than claiming his country’s fortunes before some sneering spoiled scion of an invading clan could get their slimy little hands on it in his stead.

All he could carry? Good.

He’d push that just as hard as he could.

“I, Eric Silver, formally claim every last ounce of gold that I can carry!”

Struck by a shiver of inspiration, he placed his trembling hand on the nearest stack of gold. “I claim it all! Every last ounce! Just as much as my Extra Storage Space can han—”

Eric’s words were cut off as bright pink blood gushed out of his nose.

He crumpling to his knees with a groan, so dizzy that it was all he could do not to tumble over as his interface blared like a trumpet, golden messages flashing before his eyes.

You have saved versus Catastrophic Rupture!

Congratulations! Extradimensional Storage Space has just hit Journeyman Rank!

Critical Success!

You have successfully shaped your ES Space beyond even your wildest dreams!

Your Arcane Potential has increased by 3 points!

Specialization Chosen: Arcane Resonance Mastery: You can store UNLIMITED amounts of any element resonating with Arcane Potential!

Note! Earlier restrictions still apply! Your ES Space is closed to all other resources until you have unloaded your current prize!