[Honor]

Avatar of Phoenix-Ifrit

You have slain the Fallen Nemesis, Phoenix-Ifrit, and absorbed its essence. Phoenix-Ifrit was a spirit fused together by their false worshippers and had its power abused. In an act of vengeance against the world, the newly-formed spirit turned its homeland into ash and waste, and it remained that for thousands of years. Now, with its power resting within you, hold no longer to the power of destruction and deliver the rejuvenating flames of life.

Your mana nervous system has been permenately imbued with the Fires of Phoenix-Ifrit. Your Krait has been permanently imbued with the Fires of Phoenix-Ifrit.

All Fire-based phenomena will experience a monstrous increase in strength.

All Fire-based phenomena will experience a monstrous increase in efficiency.

Any non-Fire phenomena is rendered obsolete and thus impossible to cast.

Rebirth of the Phoenix

In the event of death, you may permanently scar your killer. This scar carries your ashes, and thus your consciousness, allowing you to recover your power over a period of time, maximum twenty-four hours. Once sufficient, you may revive into a new body and retain all attributes. You may only use this ability once in your lifetime.

This is an honor reserved for you and you only, Aiden Kang.

~

It was hell for Aiden Kang. It wasn’t like he was snoozing soundly in a coma; he was awake. For the entire ride inside Tewfik, from the moment he had died until now, alive once again. He was trapped inside that coffin for far too fucking long. Less than twenty-four hours, wasn’t it? Since he died? Yeah, felt more like a year.

Aiden already wanted to go crazy from the first few minutes. He had unwittingly volunteered himself to partake in mental torture, not from the trauma of his own death but from the death of others. Especially when Tewfik revealed its true form. He felt it. Every single death. Their agonizing cries had reverberated against his incorporeal skull, bounced off against the walls, echoing over and over, again and again. It’d be mercy if, somehow, these voices could reach inside Tewfik and strangle Aiden right there, in whatever form he had taken once his [Honor] activated.

But that was too good for him, apparently.

Wasn’t one slaughter enough to satisfy this fuck? When Pillar Vesper fell, Aiden was the last survivor standing. He’d heard these same screams before. Had seen most of them drop dead himself. People he had been acquainted with, friendly even despite his abrasive personality. What did they do to deserve being hunted down like deer to the hunter?

And Tewfik gave him a front-row seat to an encore with people he knew as the guest stars. At a certain point, it didn’t matter who you were. What you’d accomplished. How you have slain a dragon or flirted with a god maybe. Everyone had the same scream when they die. Aiden learned this.

So he had enough.

He recovered an adequate amount of his strength. Far from his best. Had he taken the full twenty-four hours of rest then he’d be in a better place. But Archknell nearly kicked the bucket, almost got Tewfik to sign his death certificate or however the phrase went. So Aiden needed to play this card now, or there wouldn’t be a Glory Guild after this.

Aiden thought about saying a good one-liner once he came out but nothing popped to mind. Besides, this wasn’t the best time to quip.

He looked between the two Comets. Pereyra, the Lesser Watcher, looked like a killer disco ball leaking motor oil. Most of its plates had been damaged from the battle, having gone through hundreds of Slayers and hundreds more of attacks. All it’d take was a few more good shots and its shell would be cracked open like a coconut.

And the other one? The worst motherfucker known to man? Yeah, that guy? It was in the same sinking boat. Tewfik had been put through the grinder, especially by Levin who was basically the female version of Aiden but with lightning. But something told him that, despite Tewfik’s injuries, it wouldn’t go down easy. Not even now.

It needed to be completely obliterated.

Hell, that went for both of them. Aiden was still uncertain if he could kill both Comets even in the (satisfying) state they were in. They had taken out several S-Ranks and got Archknell on the ropes, not to mention himself in a previous life.

God, Archknell. Seeing a friendly, living face was the best thing since, well, living. However, once he saw the embers were settling and took a good look at the glorious Guild Master, relief morphed into shame instead. He didn’t look like a badass anymore. He was, of course he was, but the Comets had stolen his pride. Slayers were supposed to look cool while they fight. They were supposed to launch big and mountain-shattering attacks with a cool outfit to match so geeks could cosplay as them. Or that was the childish dream Aiden told himself, chased after.

And that maybe, maybe this was the ugly truth to it all. Slayer work was dangerous, less glamorous than the public envisioned. Dying wasn’t pretty.

If he recovered a little faster, more people would’ve been saved. Now, his appearance was rather pitiful, wasn’t it? Not as the hero who arrived in the nick of time but as the lost warrior stepping into the battlefield too late. There was no way people would make children stories out of that.

“You,” said Tewfik in a low, vicious voice, “you have lived in this shell of mine, childish man?”

“Yeah, rent-free. Don’cha worry, I evicted myself,” Aiden spat in return, his tone fiery and audacious.

On his shoulder heaved a blazing greatsword conjured from Flame, powered by his [Avatar of Phoenix-Ifrit], allowing him to control fire that was a step below divinity. Both Phoenix and Ifrit were high-level magical beings after all, with one being a beast and the other a spirit.

“Firebrand,” called Archknell, his voice weak and pitiful, “don’t concern yourself with the Cutter’s powers. It’s weak.”

“I know.” Aiden lifted his constructed weapon and pointed it at Tewfik, then at Pereyra, who was silently watching since his revival. “Both fuckers are one good blow away from a closed-casket funeral. I can handle ‘em.” Probably. “Just sit tight for me, ‘kay?”

“Blood may drop, yet so shall you, this I say,” spoke Pereyra. “Have you the arrogance—?!”

[Skill Activation: Seven Hells Blazing Soul - First Stage]

A golden glow surrounded Aiden, taking the same shade as an autumn leaf. The [Seven Hells Blazing Soul] was the [First Stage] of his internal fire channeling, in which he coursed fire through every part of his body from his feet to his head, giving him increased durability, strength, and speed (a +1 to all attributes except for Magick. For high-rankers, attribute buffs were rarer and low in volume but tons more effective).

Through his training, he was able to hold both the [First] and [Second Stage] without a sweat, [Third Stage] with some difficulty, and [Fourth] and [Fifth] were where things got desperate. Seraph had always advised him to fight in moderation. Minimize damage, ensure the safety of his allies first. But when things got rough, use the [Fifth Stage].

Unfortunately due to the nonpermissible circumstances back then, the [Fifth Stage] was absolutely forbidden. He’d kill Tewfik absolutely. Alongside a good chunk of Ordo too, if not the entire city.

But that was no matter now, wasn’t it?

[Skill Activation: Cerulean Inferno Merge - Second Stage]

The [Cerulean Inferno Merge] took the internal fire channeling into another level, by merging the flames into the mana nervous system directly, tapping into every mana conduit and telling them to kick it up a notch. Evidently it infused with his organs as well. Stomach, liver, kidneys, all that boring stuff. But the lungs, heart, and brain had the greatest effect, allowing him to magic harder, think faster.

If [Seven Hells Blazing Soul] boosted his physical ability, then [Cerulean Inferno Merge] made sure his magic packed the hottest punch too.

A golden, wispy trail leaked from his eyes, and his flaming armor turned completely blue and so had his greatsword. His hair went from crimson to lava, burning bright like the sun in summer solstice.

This… This would be enough.

“Yup,” replied Aiden, responding to Pereyra’s question, and left a blazing trail in his wake. Embers flickered away like butterflies.

He reappeared in front of Tewfik having moved so fast that neither Comet could react. Gripping his bluefire blade, he thrusted forward and smashed the tip against the Cutter’s chest. A long pillar of fire rushed forward and sent the bastard flying back—deep, deep into the street.

Pereyra startled and reflexively fired small, needle-like bolts. Aiden ducked. The first few got incinerated before they could even touch him. A step forward and more burned to ash. The [Second Stage] turned the immediate area around Aiden hotter than an oven. Hot enough to render any of the Watcher's weaker attacks useless.

It didn’t have the agility it was noted for back in Black Paladin Station. It was too bloody and jittery to do that, acting like a drug addict hopped up on caffeine and sugar.

Aiden pushed through the next feeble barrage, blocking the stragglers with the flat of his greatsword, and swung down. Missed, as the blade sank deeply into the road and melted the asphalt. Well, maybe Pereyra had some agility left. It dodged the second swing too, and some of its thick ichor evaporated from the heat, but not the third. Couldn’t get away from the third, which satisfyingly cracked against a splintering plate and opened a gash within.

Looking through the open hole was, well, nothing really. Just an unnatural darkness, like that fancy paint that could absorb most light. There was no discernible shape of any matter within Pereyra.

That freaked Aiden out. It was a moment of hesitation that Pereyra capitalized, and Aiden suddenly found himself flying through the air, pain in his arms. Must've blocked a bolt.

A black-silver flash appeared on his right.

It felt like a semi-truck crashed into him. The collision snapped his sword in half, and the force of it threw him into a building and out. He clipped a mountain range of debris—what had been a street—bouncing off and landing on the other side, landing on his feet and skidding.

"Fuck..." he groaned, banging his broken blade against the ground, charring dirt and asphalt. Because his sword was a fire conjuration and not a physical object, he could remake it as much as he wanted. He recollected himself, trying to adjust to the new environment until an eerie whine echoed.

And the mountain range of debris exploded violently with wind. All of it. Every chunk of foundation, every piece of steel, even the littlest pebbles. They were lifted from the mountains and were thrown towards Aiden like an avalanche or a freak tidal wave. The world was going dark.

“Come on, then!” roared Aiden. Mana surged into his greatsword and it bloomed superbly into a magnificent torch. He twirled around and slashed across the air, carrying a wave of furious fire with it. And flame met detritus. The latter was no match. In an instant all went to cinders and ash rained on his shoulders.

The clash created a cloud of hot steaming fog, obscuring everything beyond. And like a knife through butter, it split apart. A moment passed, and the heated air was forcefully pushed aside by wind. Tewfik leapt through, shining in the starlight.

This time Aiden was ready. He stood his ground.

The collision that came afterwards made such a harsh, dissonant sound that Aiden was convinced it could be heard from kilometers away. Fire against arc-blade, that was the score.

Aiden knew that a close engagement would risk further injury. Not for him, but for Tewfik. [Cerulean Inferno Merge] made it unbearable for most people to stand close to him. For a Comet? who had more wounds than brain cells? They would be pressed against a hot grill basically. And Tewfik felt this. It hissed. The ichor staining its body was evaporating, revealing its silver-platinum color again. Not like it'd enjoy it for long.

A battlecry shrieked from Tewfik and Aiden replied with his own, just like they had last time. But the shoe was on the other foot this time. Their blades met again, created a skull-rattling shockwave. And again, to make the earth shake. And again—as soldiers. And soon their exchange escalated into a rageful flurry where no man could see their attacks, just the collateral damage that resulted afterwards.

The last remaining buildings collapsed, turned black and smoky, cut down—smaller rubble scorched.

Aiden had his greatsword break multiple times on him. Didn’t matter a single bit, he had the mana to conjure a thousand swords if he wanted! Before, he had been so anxious fighting Tewfik man-to-man. And this was him, the Firebrand, the prodigy trained by two of the best Slayers in history. Him, scared. Scared of the tricks Tewfik had. Scared of how many people it could hurt. Scared of how unknown it was. No one knew anything about it or its kind.

You had to tread new ground, then, blaze the trail for the rest to follow. Aiden had and died for it. This time, he knew the enemy. He never felt more sure of himself in his life.

Tewfik was an open, decaying book.

Every exchange highlighted its appalling condition: its deteriorating speed and power, its lackluster skills, its failing pride as a self-proclaimed warrior. This was something to take pleasure in: knowing your enemy was floundering. But this was no time to be cocky. It'd killed him before. And if he died again, Chie would find a way to bring him back to life to kill him herself.

At the end of this long, long day, Tewfik could hack as much as it liked but this piece of shit was going down, and it was going down hard.

“Firebrand!” roared Tewfik as it slammed both blades onto Aiden’s flaming greatsword. “The ant knows naught of the boot! Folly is your lot, death for children!”

“What the fuck are you even talking about—?!” Aiden snarled and threw the Cutter off, leapt up and kicked, the impact generating shockwaves of bluefire.

Tewfik slid about a dozen meters on its pointed feet, crossing his arc-blades into an X right as an angry fireball crashed into it. “A feeble mind! How pitiful! Continue a voyage here, so find you eternal torment!”

“I don’t care!” Aiden barely understood what this fucker was saying anyway. Why did it matter? Just words from a dead man, nothing more. Nothing fucking more, nothing fucking less!

A hot fist cracked against Tewfik’s head, against the X-shaped “mask” or “face” it had, and snapped one of the branches off.

Tewfik leapt backwards onto a burnt hummer, leapt again as Aiden came and split it in half. “Mere servant is I, the Cutter! Simply a quaint meteorite, a servant—!”

A lash of fire was sent in its direction. Tewfik cut it down. “Of worlds, of bearers of the Unnatural—that one!—Kosmos! The Zeroth Constellation! Boulders erode and stars wither, so shall all creation! On this cycle or millions more! The Great Kreutz lives—the Lord of Many continues!”

“Just shut the fuck up already!” howled Aiden and propelled forward, bluefire following. His greatsword was held back, cocked like a revolver’s hammer.

And Tewfik instinctively raised its arc-blades, anticipating another heated clash. Yet another ringing shockwave and more collateral damage, pounding dust into dust, sand into finer sand.

But that didn't happen. Aiden aimed lower. For the fucker who killed so many of us—!

In a single smooth motion, Tewfik’s unprotected left leg was severed from its body.

—You have weak swordsmanship skills. I’ve fought Kensei, I've fought dozens of swordsmen better than you. The difference? They aren’t relying on their powers. You are. In our little world, that’s called being lazy.

Tewfik gasped, spinning around on its only leg and seeing Aiden there, behind it.

Desperately, the left arm was raised and predictably came down.

I died ‘cause of you. I knew I’d die someday but not this young, not when everybody needs me the most. And bein’ stuck in your body, hearing how you got a hard-on from killing us? Yeah, this is a ‘Fuck you!’ from me!

The arm came off.

And here’s another ‘Fuck you’! I left my family behind and made ‘em cry. Chie, that crybaby. Seraph, Kosmos. And Ari. You made me break my promise to her.

Tewfik crashed onto the ground as Aiden came on, swinging his greatsword down and sliced through the thigh of its right leg.

There was nowhere else to go.

Aiden exhaled, taking several deep, realizing breaths as he looked down at the dismembered Comet. The right arm was the last. The same limb that Tewfik had taken from him during Vesper's collapse. “Shit…” muttered Aiden, gasping, shaking his head as reality began to dawn on him: his enemy was helpless, trying to slither away like some snail.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” Aiden said as he embedded his greatsword into the ground, and he walked over, stepping on Tewfik’s arm, grinding his heated foot against the arc-blade. It made a sizzling hiss.

Tewfik groaned and craned its head to stare at its maker. “Haha… ‘Tis merely the beginning, Firebrand. “The Lord of Many, Sirius Aethfell, master of the Great Kreutz, master of we, will come.”

“Yeah.” Aiden gripped onto its arm. “Let’s see him try.” And he ripped it off. He watched the black ichor pour out of the wound like a broken faucet.

After tossing the limb aside, he walked back to his sword and picked it up again. All the while Tewfik uselessly laid on its back staring up at the false night with fake stars, crafted by whatever Cosmic Beasts were up there. It looked to be in peace despite everything. All the chaos it beckoned, all the deaths it caused.

Aiden will never understand the Comets.

As its last rites, Tewfik muttered, “Oh, shame for it must be, a lowly astral as I, to be forced—“

And the sword went deep into its torso, piercing through until Aiden felt concrete and dirt. “Shut up.”

There was no honor here. No respect for the art of war, if there was any respect in such a thing anyway. This was, as Aiden considered it, not a battle between two opposing figures but between man and the world. With the “world” standing in for Fate, God, the Universe, the Forces of Evil. Whatever flavor of faith you had, the primary causation to all and everything.

The Ordo Disaster was caused by an evil king with evil minions, possessing no love for human life like malevolent tyrants, or heartless automatons operating on cold, logical programming. They attacked a city, destroyed families, peace, all for revenge against Kosmos and whoever else. In a game between superhumans, they attacked humans. In a war that involved warriors, they attacked their homes.

That was not something you could respect.

Once Ordo is free of this, the entire world will call for blood. And Aiden will be on the front-lines.

“You know,” he said as the greatsword’s heat intensified, “this would be the perfect time for a one-liner. Too bad I got nothing but shitty lines. Besides, you’re too good for one anyway.”

In an instant, Tewfik erupted into a pyre that extended high into the sky. Across the battlefield, in the formation that Operation Scorcher called for, everyone could see flames higher than any building. No one but Aiden heard Tewfik’s last words, which weren’t words at all but a mess of sounds caused by the deliberate slow, painful death, barely audible under the pyre’s wail.

In thirty seconds, a charred, lowly star remained.

[Congratulations! You have killed the Lesser Cutter, Tewfik!]

Aiden sighed. “Alright, guess I have to kill Pereyra—”

He stopped.

Where the fuck was Pereyra?

As Aiden turned around, an arrow was launched.

~~~

“You…” Louis clenched his hand, fingers tense. “You are not going anywhere, Pereyra.”

After Tewfik had taken Firebrand to another area, it’d be a poor decision to let Pereyra provide back-up. Not when Firebrand recently came back to life, most likely due to his [Honor]. Besides, it’d be poetic if he killed his own killer. You could write children stories about that. It didn’t matter what happened today, what had truly transpired. Everyone would remember the obstreperous prodigy and so will future generations, until the end of this world.

Louis had his own bone to pick with Pereyra too. It killed Adelyn, killed Hidden. Witnessed it himself.

Hidden was unluckily caught out in the open when Pereyra unleashed a beam that cut through most things, and she evaporated just like that. And Adelyn, after an extended battle, was reduced to her final clone, in other words herself. Knowing that the forces were devastated, she sacrificed herself to buy time for everyone else to escape.

That was the life of a Slayer, he supposed. Regardless if you were a domestic or an Otherguard, traveling to other worlds was a dangerous venture even at the lowest levels. You truly never knew what their ecosystem have or what disasters took place that consequently resulted in long-term effects: radiation, plagues, twisted monsters. Anything could kill you, no matter who you were.

Especially himself, one of the few SS-Rank Slayers in the entire world.

I apologize, Firebrand, but I don’t have much time left anyway. Louis chuckled, amazed at how weak he was feeling. How long had it been since he last felt like this? I might as well cement myself in history, just like you had.

“Archknell?!” squealed Pereyra, tangled up in thick netherstring ropes, unable to move. Not with the remaining strength it had. But likewise, Louis didn't have that much either. “You—?! Sleeping with oblivion, so shall you wake still, clutching at the doorframe! Intelligence, an illusion! Ignorance, your reality! The future—!”

Pereyra pushed against the bindings, trying to tear itself free. Louis gritted his teeth, attempting to wring out every last droplet of strength he had to keep the Comet here. But his legs. They gave up on him a while ago, so he only had his arms left.

He inhaled, using [Weaver’s Mind] once more, which allowed him to have some telekinetic control over his strings. And it also had another effect: making it possible to split his consciousness. While one focused on restraining Pereyra, the other quickly used one of the ropes to repeatedly lash the Watcher, whipping it over and over.

“We are both dead men standing. I have already accepted it!” Louis cried as one more lash caused Pereyra to drop onto the ground, eyes squeezing shut.

“I predict it, Archknell! This world’s demise! Of ceased streams and of pruned branches, your humanity be doomed to suffer and fade into oblivion!” Pereyra attempted to levitate, but it’d be the last time it could do that again.

Because Louis, using the last of his might, wrapped the Comet and connected the ropes to the street and any nearby structures. What remained standing anyhow. They disconnected from his gauntlets, and the Lesser Watcher was held securely in the air, like a target.

Knowing he could no longer move his legs, he instead constructed a platform beneath him and lifted it to the proper height, where he could get the best shot as circumstances would allow. This reminded him of his younger days when he was a teenager, when he first picked up his hobby for archery. At the beginning he lacked the strength to properly draw his bow. When he had successfully shot an arrow for the first time, it soared about five feet then crashed like a bad paper airplane.

Those were the days.

Now, he was almost forty, had a guild to his name, and had someone to carry on his legacy.

He wouldn't trade a single thing.

“Archknell,” called Pereyra again. It was no longer struggling. Perhaps it finally accepted its fate.

“What is it?” Louis raised his arms, pulling them back exactly in the same form as drawing a bow. His gauntlets shone.

“Starblight to we, Alexander Shen to you, he is a curse. This is but a prophecy, not a warning.”

“Is that so?” Louis had slain the Deathless One, learned the art of Death and killed many effortlessly when it would take a dozen teams to do it. Although this art had little use against the cosmos, there was one other trick he had. Something he had been saving exactly for this moment.

He chuckled. “If he’s the prophesized EX-Rank Slayer as you claim, then he wouldn’t be a curse at all. Not for us, anyhow.” It’ll be a shame I won’t be there to see it.

“You are a fool to the end, Archknell.”

“Aren’t we all?” Louis Strander smiled as he would sacrifice his life for this. “Let us die as fools, Pereyra.”

[Skill Activation: Death to the Deathless One]

A skill that imbued one’s lifeforce into the strings that contained Death.

He knew his life was forfeit once Conqueror departed. Even the best healers wouldn’t be able to save him; it’d take hours to properly treat his injuries and by then, he would’ve passed already. So why not give up his body and transfer it into this single attack? One that turned his hair gray-white, dimmed his vision, and sent shivers across his body as if a cold front suddenly came.

In the gap between his hands, the grandest of arrows was created, taking on this white-gold brightness like the sun in a frozen day. Even with his colorless vision, this was the only color in a lifeless world. Its tranquil beauty affected Louis so deeply that he wished he retained the capacity to truly admire it. But he could enjoy the irony nonetheless: witnessing a weapon that’d been constructed from Death, having been given the very energy that supported life.

Pereyra simply held itself there, waiting. It too had suffered the blight of combat, gone through so many people and probably experienced the worst exhaustion in its lifespan. Who had won, if both were to die? Ordo would survive, yet the casualties sustained was so astronomically great that it was to be a pyrrhic victory.

But it was a victory, nonetheless.

From his hands, that which inherited the reins of Glory Guild from the Ironskies Ranger, Laurel, that which could inflict Death upon nearly any living being—even if that being was God—he was weaving his last and greatest creation, one that Magus may admire.

The world turned white, and his fingers were ready to let go.

Not a single ounce of additional stress had burdened him. No longer had the deaths of his allies weighed on his mind. There was no need to think. There was no need to obsess about the Final Mystery, the final destination after the river-trek, or the Earth that was to be left behind.

At this moment many would claim that Louis Strander achieved inner peace, then, when he fused the last embers of his life into this one attack. He was a man who loved Ordo more than himself, after all, infamously so. Selflessly so. Had he reached Zero, Void, the promised form of enlightenment that many chased after? Perhaps. Others would claim that precisely because he had used [Death to the Deathless One], he reduced his mental facilities into nothingness, and what was left was simply a shell of a man possessing only primal sensations.

No matter what theory you believed, all agreed on this.

In his final moments, he was gifted with painless joy and released what would be known as [Archknell’s Last Arrow].

It struck Pereyra, tore through its bindings, and took the Comet to the skies where nothing more would be destroyed.

Below in the city, the people of Ordo watched from the ruins, clutching their dirty, scratchy clothes that had been so clean days prior, with faces slathered in dirt and muck, but their eyes shimmered—they saw it. They witnessed [Archknell’s Last Arrow] carrying the opposition in a golden ray, at which bolstered white and bloomed.

Although it had only been little more than a day since the beginning of the Ordo Disaster, it felt like months, slogging through one hell and awaiting the next. When the people were perilously close to numbness, where not even senseless death troubled them, and the belief of the forever night was at its highest…

The sun finally rose.

It crashed into the apex of the Ordo Outbreak Barrier and birthed falling stars.

[EXPEDITION STATUS]

DECEASED: Archknell

Alexander Shen watched the starfall, knowing his life would be forever changed by this very moment.

~

[QUEST NOTIFICATION - COMPLETION]

Farewell, Archknell.

The Night to Fell Comets is completed.

You have been rewarded:

2,500,000 standards

Title - Blight of Comets

Your efforts have been recognized, Alexander Shen.

Additionally, you have been awarded:

2,500,000 standards

Item - Sword of Conquerors

[Title]

Blight of Comets

You have personally participated in the operation to subjugate the Comets, and they were slain. Through your combined efforts, your home remains intact for just another day.

When this title is active, increase all stats by 1 level. Additionally, you gain one more level in a stat of your choosing.

[Weapon]

Sword of Conquerors [A]

Forged with great steel, blessed with wise magick, wielded by conquerors. Now, it is in your hands. Of a blade with high presence, to a warrior with a greater shadow.

Conqueror’s Power

When wielding this weapon, increase your Power by 2.

Conqueror’s Rally

Once per day, you may increase the Power of yourself and your party members by 5 for three minutes.