“Eric, is placing it right here okay?”

Eric gazed up at Lana, her expression an odd mixture of fear and hope blending into a sort of hyper-attentiveness, like an intern working under his mother on their first day. It was a look shared by two of the girls helping them out by placing small piles of black powder on several of the battlement merlons, right next to the especially deep crenelations that had formerly nested several of the cannon the orcs had taken with them up north.

Eric nodded his approval. “Perfect. Thank you! Now please step away from the battlement. I’m going to try something. Then I’m going to ask you girls to come back and use the candles to light it, if you can.”

This earned a particular look from a brown-haired girl named Lizzie, who’s initial shy flinches when she so much has saw him had turned to an ever growing curiosity. And she wasn’t above throwing out a few snarky quips here and there, Eric had found, happy to see the spark of spirit in at least a few of the girls returning, after being forced to endure depravity that absolved Eric of any guilt he might have felt for both the Gunner and orc blood now on his hands, as far as he was concerned.

“Seriously? You want us to risk flash burns while you practice magic that is what, the opposite of flame?”

Eric grinned. “Pretty much, Lizzie, yeah.”

With that, he closed his eyes and concentrated once more on shimmering runes now emblazoned upon his mind.

He had only a tiny handful, yet 3 of them flared brightly with spirit energy, 3 with the indomitable essence of his soul, with one so potent it served as the lynchpin for all the others spiraling about it.

He careful reviewed the 5 greater runes he currently had access to.

Wood, Air, Fire, Wrath, Dominion.

He then gazed upon the lesser runes, doing his best to devise what sentences he could from them.

One, Many, Now, Sun Duration, Weaken, Strengthen.

For long moments he lost himself in trance, gazing up at the battlements as the tiny cluster of runes sparkled before his mind’s eye, doing his best to verbalize and capture his intention, daring to embrace the runes revealed in a world’s creation to affect the path of this world as well.

He then raised his hand, before slowly lowering it, holding it up to his eyes as if to mime pressing gently down upon the entire keep, awed to actually feel an unexpected shift in the mana flow, conjoined with a rapid surge of Spirit Qi.

“Debilito dicio ignis plures dies!” He roared before collapsing to one knee, suddenly dizzy as 75 points was drained from both his Mana and Qi Pool in the blink of an eye.

Lizzy laughed down at him, eyes twinkling. “You okay down there, hero?” she said, her grin growing all the wider when an alarmed Lana tried to shush her.

“Sorry, Eric. Are you alright?” Lana asked, carefully not leaning too far over the battlement with one hand on her belly, the other bracing herself on the nearest merlon.

Eric gave a thumbs up, stumbling back to his feet. “I’m right as rain, thanks for asking. Now give it a go. It’s time!”

Lizzy laughed. “Yes! Time for some fireworks.” She turned to Lana. “Best you go downstairs and keep your extra passenger safe, in case this blows up in my face,” she said, earning a wince and a reluctant nod from Lana.

“You ready?” Lizzy asked once Lana made herself scarce. Eric nodded, and she quickly proceeded to the first pile of gunpowder, before furrowing her brow.

“What’s wrong?” Eric asked.

Lizzy frowned. “I’m not sure. The candle went out. Let me get Lana’s.”

Eric nodded. “No problem.”

She carefully made her way back, this time sheltering the flame carefully. “Shit!”’

“What?”

“It went out again!”

Eric grinned. “No kidding.”

She glared down at him. “You’re not winning that easy.”

And much to Eric’s bemusement, she returned shortly thereafter with an actual oil lamp, flashing him an impish smile before cursing louder than ever.

“Lizzy?”

“This is absurd.”

“What is?”

“Your fucking spell breaks all the rules of physics!”

Eric laughed at that. “I’m afraid those rules will need some editing.”

After giving his thanks to a scowling Lizzy, Eric proceeded back up to the keep battlements, testing for himself just how effective his spell might be.

Congratulations! You have successfully forged a Runic chant!

Novice Runic Lore is now at 40%!

Much to his surprised satisfaction, it had worked as well as he could have possibly hoped. He had combined the words in a way that he hoped would result in suppressing fire, or sparks, over an area for a day, combining both Dominion and Fire, two greater words of power that tied to his Essence Affinities, for maximum effect. From what he could tell, it had worked pretty well. Of course at a cost of 75 Qi and Mana, it was pretty damned expensive compared to 5 mana expenditure for a quick plasma blast from his fire wand.

But that inconvenient fact didn’t dampen the heady joy he felt one bit.

Because he had effectively cast his first spell, at least his first spell that didn’t require blood magic, and wasn’t at risk of draining his Potency and life force directly.

He wasn’t just channeling mana through an artifact made by another party. He was influencing the world through his own power, his own efforts, through a spell he had made himself. And the sheer satisfaction he felt at forming a humble cantrip that took way too long to cast in combat, was a rush unlike any other he had ever experienced before.

Even if it was just a tiny drop in the bucket, compared to his sister’s power, he had still managed to create his own spell.

Besides, expensive as it was, the cost wasn’t unmanageable, at least not for him. Through hardship, folly, and unexpected System enhancements, his Arcane Potential was already at 39 and with a hidden multiplier based entirely upon his meridian gates, the true difference between a struggling novice and a Master Classer with a royal configuration who also happened to have some elf blood flowing through his veins and thus could quickly regenerate his mana pool, was both painfully evident and more than a bit absurd.

Eric shook his head, well aware of how unfair it all was. If poor Alice had just a handful of malformed quasi gates, her low multiplier would require her to invest all she could into her Mana Pool, and she would still be a damn sight better off than most Conscripts who had only one or two meridian gates at best, so really were far better off going the rogue or warrior route than trying to mess about with magic. Even so, Eric was sure there was at least some benefit to them opening what few nodes they had via cultivation. Or perhaps not. For all Eric knew, those without a complete meridian configuration that could properly cycle Qi might be better off letting their nodes crystalize like a computer chip, to maximize whatever perks or boons the System itself could give them. At least Alice’s ability to quickly regain what she had lost with her kills the one unorthodox edge she had.

Eric sighed and shook his head. So much of his speculation was based entirely on his gut feelings, hunches, and personal experiences. This, more than anything else, was why Earth was in desperate need of as many mentors, instructors, and teachers as they could get. Yet the goblins, who had somehow bid, or bribed their way, into de facto control of the rules and regulations affecting the recent System reclamation of Earth, had made that all but impossible.

Which made him wonder, if he actually managed to depopulate the world of goblins entirely, would he be able to lift those System strictures? Give his people the hope they needed, even if it was on a mountain-high pile of his foes? Or perhaps an undead legion forced to serve his every whim for eternity.

Eric flashed a dark smile at the thought.

Because there really was only one way to find out, and win or lose, at least the world would have a fuckton less goblins and orcs populating it before he was through.

Still, he promised himself not to whisper a word about his near 500 point mana pool to Alice as he gazed down at the now perfectly inert gunpowder. Gunpowder that didn’t respond to anything less than his essence of flame.

Unfortunately, his excited grin soon faded after a solid hour’s worth of further testing, Lizzy’s laughter rubbing home the limits of his spell, even as he took some solace in his skills steadily improving.

You have successfully used Fire Suppression Chant!

Runic Lore is now at Rank 3!

Skillcheck Failed! You are suffering backlash! 150 Damage taken! You are stunned for 4 seconds!

You are unable to speed up your chant!

Skillcheck Failed! You are suffering backlash! 150 Damage taken! You are stunned for 4 seconds!

You are unable to speed up your chant!

Unified Restoration has successfully repaired all damage.

Novice Unified Restoration is now at Rank 2!

Eric stumbled and fell to his ass after his last attempt, desperate to race through the chant at a speed that might actually make it usable. He chuckled ruefully at Lizzy’s laughter before taking a deep breath and infusing his throbbing body with a defuse stream of spiritual energy, feeling his cells greedily suck it up before his throbbing muscles and head were free of pain once more.

“Alright, Eric. You’ve suffered three nose-bleeds so far, and, don’t tell me those weren’t backlashes, since we started, and I could have hit you twice with musket fire in the time you’re just standing there, at close range, glaring at the wall, and I’m just a zero level nobody!” declared a smirking Lizzy.

Eric winced. She was right, of course. Novice tier experience with runes didn’t make using them any easier, or any faster. It just made them easier to link their meanings together. But he still had to fight just to get the string of meanings to properly conform to his will. And when he tried to speed himself up at all, to chant at anything more than a calm, measured, extremely focused pace, he ended up suffering damage equal to the mana and spiritual energy he would have spent. Damage it humbled him to realize would probably have killed a mortal or a low-level Classer just starting to find their way as adventurers who might have stumbled upon a power far too perilous for them.

Yet it was damage he could now heal in seconds, thanks to both his Vitality-modified Physical Regeneration and his Unified Restoration perk, which thankfully didn’t seem to have any skill-checks needed not to blow up in his face, even if it was also at a very low rank. At least his class skills, as he thought of them, were growing with all his practice, even if he no longer benefited from maximum potency to skill rank conversion. It didn’t change the fact that his Perception, Finesse and Spiritual Energy were all within 20 or so points of a hundred or beyond, and compared to most novice mages, his Arcane Potential was pretty decent as well.

Eric grinned up at Lizzy, seeing the fragility behind her smile, and all he felt was impressed as hell that she had been so willing to help him, showing nothing but high spirits and enthusiasm, despite the living nightmare her life had no doubt been for weeks or months before Eric’s timely arrival.

“You’re the farthest thing from a zero level nobody, Liz. You’re my awesome assistant helper whose welcome to take herself and her pithy comments to My Tier II Ascension Center and grab the Loyal Assistant class anytime she likes. Just beware of the red flags I put around that poison-hilted and cursed sword I told you all about, because goblins play some nasty fucking games.”

“Ha!” Lizzy snorted. “I’ll probably get the Snarky Bitch class and then I’ll be even more of a treat to be around. Doesn’t change the fact that it takes way too long for you to cast your spell, and Nick could have pegged you with a dozen stones or more, by the time you’re close enough to cast and actually get it off. Maybe not if you’re a wizard with half a dozen fighters backing you up, but if it’s just you and some pigs taking on an orc fortress? I think your goose is cooked.”

Eric grinned. “Yeah, my magic repertoire needs serious work. But don’t stress the class thing, even though I think you’d make a great snarky bitch! Seriously, if you don’t like any of the offerings? Just walk away.” His gaze turned gentle, seeing her flinch in fear at the thought, like all the girls had, when he had first mentioned his Tier 2 Ascension Facility to them. And with his Spirit Boar Revenants having been perfectly happy to chomp down on the remains of his foes with hardly any prompting at all, a feat he still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about, at least the chamber was now pretty much spotless.

“Seriously, it’s okay, Lizzy. If you don’t have a Classer’s potential? It won’t hurt you. It won’t even let you into the pods for safety reasons!”

Lizzy swallowed, shaking her head, the snarky grin she used to face the world after her own trials fading to reveal the frightened girl underneath. “I’m sorry, Eric. I can’t. I...” She gave a brittle laugh, shaking her head. “Honestly, I can hardly believe I’m not screaming in pain with a chain around my neck right now, while some disgusting orc...” she shuddered and looked away, Eric graceful enough to say absolutely nothing as she regained her composure, brittle smile once more in place.

“Anyway, it just, well, it seems too good to be true. Another trap where the foolish among us actually enter a pod and end up shrieking and dying horribly while those pod...things… grow bigger, glowing with a sickly green light, and you just know they’re feeding on our souls.”

Eric’s gaze hardened. “I know. And that’s not how pods are supposed to be.”

“But that’s what we got!”

“Because those were goblin pods,” Eric explained. “They managed to secure rights to both the banking system, which they use solely to entrap us in usurious debt so they can sell us as slaves on the galactic market, and pods, so they can force us to take what they consider a slave class… weak, nearly powerless tools crippled before we even start, most people too afraid to even to dare them, and for good reason.”

Eric gave a disbelieving shake of his head. “And how humbling it is to admit that even my first nine levels as a Basic Conscript brought me surges of strength and empowerment beyond what I could have hoped to achieve, through exercise or training alone.”

Lizzy, having descended from the battlements, gazed at Eric for long moments. “It sounds like those fucking goblins are the real enemies of humanity. They and the goddamned orcs both.” She lowered her gaze, now visibly trembling. Eric could see tears she could no longer hold back spilling out as she choked out a sob. “Why did this happen to us, Eric? Why?”

Eric gave a sad shake of his head. “I don’t know, Lizzy. Not for sure.” He gently tilted her chin, gazing warmly into eyes red with bitter tears. “I promise you this, though. Humanity will reclaim itself before this is done. One way or another, we’re rising up, and we’re cleaning this world of all the assholes that thought they could bring us down.”

She flashed a bemused smile at that, laughing through her tears. “And the level nine hero is going to pull that off with his band of merry pigs.”

Eric grinned, “Level 17 hero. And with any luck, yes. At least for a few territories,” he said, gazing north towards the open plains stretching for miles ahead, praying his sister could hold on for just a few more days. He then looked back at his massive company of elephant-sized tuskers smiling back at him, his bemused smile turning to a curious frown.

Had they grown with his increased Master Necromancer level? And was that a good or bad thing for the battles to come?

He shrugged, deciding it was a wash. Easier to hit with cannon, perhaps, but they’d be even more resilient to spears, javelins, arrows, and small-arms fire, which pretty much could do nothing to them without a powerful Classer’s perks transforming the assault, and even a lower level Berserker’s swings should have more than a bit of trouble cutting through the incredibly tough undead hide and muscle underneath, which was as much armor and shock absorption as necessary for undead locomotion. Assuming they could hit a charging tusker’s limbs at all, before getting gored and sent cartwheeling a good fifty feet above his Tuskers’ heads, no doubt spilling loops of entrails the whole way back down.

And though he was pretty sure a 17-pound cannon ball would still obliterate their brains regardless of all other factors, assuming an actual gunner Classer got off that bullseye shot, which is exactly what had happened the night before, loose grapeshot fired at their racing flanks at anything further than point blank range would probably be absorbed with little damage. Now that he thought of it, he did recall Nick saying something to that effect earlier, the reason why the Gunners had switched from shot to shell in the first place.

In other words, he sensed his tuskers had a fuck ton of hit points, even if he didn’t actually see a number for them, despite his Identify Skill. Which was weird, but he suspected might have something to do with the unorthodox nature of necromancy within the System. Best of all, the Tuskers would be even more devastating when they charged into tightly packed clusters of orcs before sending them flying like bowling pins, well before any orc could get off a single swing with their axe.

Eric grinned at the thought.

Lizzy chuckled softly. “Good luck with taking on the orcs again, hero.” Her smile faded to something serious, heartfelt. “And Eric?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said, stretching up to kiss his cheek before darting back inside the keep.

Eric gazed in her direction for long moments, praying in his heart that the girls he rescued would be okay, would stay in Ashland and prosper with the economic boon soon to come. He then turned to face a rapidly approaching Nick, holding up a sling radiating arcane energy even Eric could sense, with a triumphant grin.

“May I present to you a masterwork sling, fit even for cannonballs fired by freakishly over-powered heroes who have managed to totally hack the System! And may I present to you as well with an almond shaped 5 and a half inch long lead sling bullet, which will actually take advantage of the massive spin you generate from rotational acceleration.” Nick quickly held up a trembling finger before Eric could cut in, miming the flattened almond shaped bullet spinning through the air. “The flat plane and the shape gives it major lift and maximum trajectory. Think frisbee, or ancient hunter-gatherer throwing sticks. I mean, there is a reason why this shape was literally used for thousands of years.”

He then smirked at the cannon ball Eric had summoned. “But, yeah, you can use your fucking absurd cast iron cannon balls as well. Because the added weight of a ball gives it a bit more density, which means a bit more killing power at closer range, even if a ball doesn’t get any lift. A heavy round ball is best for taking out close targets from battlements, I’ll admit.” The boy gave an exhausted chuckle. “Or, hell, use any rocks you grab before a battle, just like actual slingers used to do when perfect lozenge-shaped bullets of lead weren’t available.”

Eric grinned. “Thank you, Billy! Above and beyond anything I could have hoped for.” His eyes widened when his young friend presented not one, but a full dozen of those lozenge shaped sling bullets. His gaze became one of genuine concern when he took the bag, their weight not insignificant, each lozenge about 40% of the weight of a cannon ball, each of them fitting the cup of his masterwork sling perfectly. “Billy, you look, well...”

A too gaunt Nick laughed. “I know. Lead is poison. But my profession means that the bullets will retain their awesome aerodynamic shape soon after you pull it from whatever massive monster you fight that will cause the lead to warp and expand, just like a lead bullet fired from a gun does at impact. And with a bullet that size, yes, I think it will blast right through most fleshy things. That also means that none of the lead will rub off to slowly poison you over years, if you’re stupid enough to eat with dirty hands. Part of the magic, so you’re fine.” He winked. “But yeah, I know I look like shit. I feel knackered as hell, bags under my eyes, and I got lines on my face no sixteen year old should have. Like a kid who came close to killing himself with crystal meth, right? All the damage, sans the addiction?”

Eric winced. “Shit. Pretty much, yeah.”

This earned a raspy laugh. “As long as I’m on your good side, as long as I know there’s at least one power out there that gives a shit about my Lana, our child-to-be, and the other girls, as long as we have shelter in the storm this whole world’s become, I’ll consider it worth the price.”

He flashed a smile that thankfully showed shiny white teeth in perfect health. “It wasn’t as bad as I had feared. I have the temporary exhaustion and weakness debuffs, but they’ll go away with 24 hours of total rest. Best of all, I only lost 2 years of my life! And hey, I pushed my crafting profession up two full fucking levels, and my underlying skill to Adept Tier!”

“But you still have your peach, right?” A concerned Eric asked.

Nick grinned. “I do indeed. Safely squared away. Haven’t decided if I’ll eat it or not. I think I’ll wait to see how things shape up around here, and, well, after I make sure Lana and the baby are okay. If things take a bad turn? Well, the credits and safety it might get us, and hopefully the best birthing center this world offers, are more than worth a measly two years of my life. Especially if I take good care of myself from hereon out.”

Nick forced a laugh. “Besides, I’m a Classer! I can level up, and I’m already faster and stronger than any Olympian, when I’m not suffering these debuffs. You saw me carry out this bag of ammo for you. A bag that weighs well over 70 pounds, no fucking problem at all. So what the fuck am I worried about?”

Eric swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’re a good guy, Nick, and you’re focused on what matters. I think you’ll make a great dad.”

Nick smirked, handing Eric the sling. “Feeling glad you didn’t kill me?”

Eric laughed at that. “Definitely.”

“Then I have no complaints. Now show me what you can do with that absolutely absurd sling!”

Eric quickly summoned forth his undead bulwark, more than a bit surprised and very pleased to sense that it too was now being enhanced by his Level 4 Necromancer status.

After solemnly asking Nick to back up, all the way to the keep, in fact, he gave his brand new sling a test whirl with one of the cannon balls, before sending it streaking through the air, slamming into the bullwark he had set up 10 yards in front of him.

His eyes widened when it tore right through.

“Shit!” hissed an awed Nick, a wide-eyed Lizzy and Lana cautiously approaching seconds later. “You’re bulwark’s three feet thick! That went right through!”

Eric frowned. “And I’m almost five fucking feet off the spot I was aiming for, and it was more like I lobbed that cannonball than anything else. I couldn’t spin it nearly as fast as the sling bullets.”

Nick looked at Eric with bemused disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? That isn’t a musket ball sized sling stone. That’s a fucking 17-pound cannon ball!”

Eric couldn’t quite hold back his grin. “I know. Fucking absurd, isn’t it? Best of all, I could actually feel a burn in my wrist, forearm, and shoulder when I spun and released. Which means that there’s actually a point to higher Strength with the sling, until I get it whipping around at the same speeds I can my other sling stones.”

Nick gazed at him for long moments. “At those speeds… you’re almost… almost generating as much power as if you had actually shot it form a cannon. Eric?”

“Yes?”

“Just how strong are you?”

“Let’s call it... 140.”

All three were gazing intently at Eric as he cleared his throat, feeling, for the first time in awhile, awkward as all hell. “What?”

“How the hell did you… I mean… my strength is in the 20s, Eric!”

Eric shrugged. “20s aren’t bad at all.”

Billy’s eyes bulged. “I know that! It’s just that there’s no way, I mean...” He shook his head. “Never mind. Just try it with the ammo I made you! 40% of the weight, but with that shape and your fucking absurd strength… just try it, will you?”

Eric grinned and did just that, now getting serious with his bulwark as well, his next series of shots at 20, 30, then 40 yards.

At first he was happy just to hit the massive slab of 10 foot thick hide, meat, and bone, but accuracy quickly became his focus, feeling the way both the cannon balls and the lozenge-shaped sling bullets whipped around in their sling pocket, perfecting his sense of when to twist his hips and release, stepping forward with the follow through, until he could all but feel the cannonballs and sling bullets streaking through the air like they were extensions of himself.

He also thought it great practice having two types of ammo to use, and the System seemed to agree.

You have gained proficiency with multiple types of slings and ammunition!

Sling skill is now Rank 4!

The cannon balls were beyond devastating, of course, exploding into the target. Yet it felt as much like a powerful throw as a missile.

The almond shaped lead bullets, on the other hand, were 7 pounds of leaden death whistling through the air before blasting right through the bulwark, Eric able to whip around the much lighter and far more aerodynamic missiles with greater speed, accuracy, and distance, with hardly any drop in trajectory, as he found when he kept increasing the range, to the point that he was now hitting his slightly modified target reliably at a hundred yards out, before the skies turned crimson with the setting sun.

Nick was now looking at Eric with something close to awe, shaking his head. “I can’t… fuck, Eric, you were blasting those stones through fucking steel plates! And they went right through! At a hundred fucking yards!”

Eric grinned and nodded, looking at the battered remnants of what must have been the chieftain's own armor, or perhaps an older backup piece. Only the Classers wore breastplates over their chainmal hauberks, and Eric happily made use of the armaments he had recovered from the battlefield.

“True, but they certainly weren’t the highest quality steel.”

Nick snorted. “Eric. You literally punched holes through them with both the cannon balls and the ammo I made you.” The young Slinger then frowned curiously at Eric, before his eyes widened with alarm when Eric hissed and cut open the palm of his hand, covering several of Billy’s custom made sling stones, one cannon ball, and what looked like almost a full cannister’s worth of grapeshot in his own blood. “Eric, what the fuck are you doing?”

Eric winked at his friend, whose face was paling in the odd shimmering light Eric’s blood now gave off as it became one with the items he had claimed as his own.

Congratulations! You have achieved Apprentice Tier in the use of all slings!

Sling is now Rank 5!

You have soul bound two 7 pound Lead Bullets!

You have soul bound one 17 pound cannon ball!

You have soul bound one 16 pound hemp bag filled with grapeshot!

You have successfully soul bound 1 Masterwork Titan Sling!

You have familiarity bonuses with all soul bound items!

Rituals of Summoning and Binding is now Rank 24!

You have saturated your Masterwork Sling with the essence of Dominion and Heat!

Masterwork Sling is now impervious to heat below 4000 degrees!

You have infused your grapeshot with the essence of heat!

Grapeshot balls are now 4000 degrees!

Grapeshot is now invulnerable to heat.

Protective burlap covering grapeshot contains heat at 70f!

Primal Adventurer experience pool has fallen to 10% above minimum for level 17!

1 Additional Soul Point has been permanently reserved. (Soul Reserve potency pool available for Necromantic arts and Weapon Feats is now effectively 63.)

Your associate fails to save versus terror!

“Eric!” What the hell did you just do?” Asked a panicked Nick, stumbling away when the grapeshot suddenly glowed with retina-searing heat, near instantly baking Nick’s skin, even from five feet away, before the mass was wrapped in crimson burlap, also linked to Eric’s soul.

Eric flashed the wincing boy a shit-eating grin. “Packing up death, nice and hot for friends I’ll be seeing in, oh...” He gazed up at the setting sun. “Less than two hour’s time. And I will most definitely be taking a power nap before I leave, because I’d be an idiot to risk any fatigue debuff now. But first, let me show you something.”

A speechless Nick could only stare when Eric placed the tight canvas back inside his sling pouch and began whipping it around at a furious pace, glaring at the bulwark a hundred yards out, before snapping the sling forward and releasing, canvas wrap immediately sucked back into his ES Space and the air was suddenly alive with a brilliant shower of white-hot grapeshot spraying through the air, half hitting the bulwark and half scattering to either side at a hundred yards.

And of the cast iron balls that actually managed to penetrate the fleshy bulwark, portions of the barrier immediately burst into roaring flame, as did the knee-high grass nearby.

Before going out an instant later.

“Debilito dicio ignis plures hodie!” Eric hissed.

Nick blinked. “Jeezus T.H… Eric, did you do what I think you just did?”

Eric flashed an evil smile. “What, make steel-melting shrapnel shot, where a single piece lodging in an orc’s face, or even getting caught in their chain mail could spell superheated death, or at least an agonizing distraction that takes them out of any fight, assuming it doesn’t tear through them like a bullet and kill them outright?”

“Well, yeah.”

Eric winked. “And wouldn’t it be something if I could re-summon that very ammo a second later, summon it right back, tightly packed in it’s cannon-ball sized burlap sack, in fact, and whip it around to fire off again, just seconds later?”

Nick smirked. “Well, yeah. But what slows a slinger down more than anything else is loading the pocket with fresh ammo. That’s why I invested most of my points in Finesse and Quickness, but—“

“Look at my sling, Billy.”

Billy’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “The burlap sack sprung right back into the pocket. And I can tell it’s bulging with a full payload of grapeshot again. How the fuck!?”

“Because it’s soul-linked to me. That’s why,” Eric said, before whipping his rapidly spinning sling around yet again and releasing another white-hot payload streaking through the air, burlap covering disappearing once more at the instant of release, allowing for maximum spread of white hot death.

Before the released handle snapped back into Eric’s hand with a single surge of his will, now loaded with one of Nick’s custom-made lead bullets that he had soul-linked, Eric gleefully spinning it around to release streaking death less just a few seconds later, the release-end immediately snapping back into his hand as a fresh soul-linked piece of ammo appeared in the pocket.

“Eric!”

“Yeah?” said Eric, loosing himself in the zen of mastering his weapon, or more specifically his unique application, able to summon his bullets right where he wanted them in his sling, all the artifacts soul-bound, thus allowing Eric to summon one in relation to another.

Only once did the bullet lob out of it’s pocket, nearly blasting through Nick’s skull, and it was only Eric’s absurd perception and inhuman Quickness that saved him.

But Nick didn’t even seem to register the near disaster, no matter that a panicked Eric’s heart was absolutely pounding, silently castigating himself for a fool while a clueless Nick just gazed at Eric’s sling in slack jawed amazement. His eyes practically bulged when the release cord seemed to snap right back into Eric’s hand of its own accord so that, within less than twenty minutes, Eric was almost expertly slinging and releasing bullets, cannon balls, and white-hot grapeshot, every four seconds.

And that was being careful. Methodical. Placing his shots, and learning from every hit or close miss.

He just wasn’t wasting time with unnecessary in-between steps.

Like retrieving ammo or not having it instantly appear back in its cup with a quick surge of his own will. Or ever having to cease his rapid rotations even after release, the release cord instantaneously snapping back into his grip once he unleashed his payload of death, streaking through the air. Thanks to the sling being forged of organic materials, with a piece of Billy’s life essence entwined within it, it had been extremely easy to soul-bind and claim as his own. To move it like an extension of himself.

“How the fuck!?”

Eric couldn’t help chuckling at that. “How indeed.”

“Magic! Fucking magic!”

“That’s right. Blood magic and necromancy both,” Eric said, fondly patting the largest tusker mount as his spirit boar revenants presented themselves with hooves stomping the ground in unison.

Eric grinned at his friend. “Looks like it’s time to head out.”

Nick blinked. “You have no idea how much I want to go with you, right now. If I hadn’t already given those fuckwads an oath it would physically hurt me to break...”

Eric flashed an understanding smile. “I know. It’s okay. You’re exhausted, you have a girl who needs you, and a baby on the way. Besides, I get the oath. My girlfriend was in the exact same spot, not too long ago,” he said, before clamping his lips shut, realizing he had just revealed way too much.

Nick gaze at Eric for long moments. “That explains why I’m alive.”

“Pretty much,” Eric said with a nod. “And I’m glad you are.”

“What’s her name?”

Eric swallowed, shaking his head.

Nick winced. “Did something… jeez, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. And don’t look so fucking glum. Early moves in this game still, my friend,” Eric quipped, before mounting his lead tusker.

Nick blinked. “Seriously?”

Eric laughed, summoning one of the Mark I bullpup blasters he had recently claimed, now posing on his mastodon-sized mount. “Tell me I don’t look badass?”

Nick chuckled, giving a rueful shake of his head. “I don’t know why you spent half the day learning how to sling lead with the most primitive of all weapons when you now have screamingly illegal high tech in your hands, but sure. You look absolutely badass.”

“He really does,” Lana said with an approving smile, having slipped free of the keep to hold her man’s hand and wave Eric off.

“Good luck, badass, try not to get yourself killed,” said an impishly grinning Lizzy, also waving him off.

“Toodles!” Eric said, waving them farewell before standing high on his mount, blaster rifle raised high. “Tusker company, move out!”

And they did, though an absurdly close Finesse check was all that kept Eric from rolling off a spirit boar now racing with thirteen others across the plains as fast as Eric’s family chauffeur had ever driven, and being subjected yet again to Lizzy’s laughter.