An Unwavering Craftsman

Damien was doing some serious introspection of his life choices. What if he'd lived a 'good' and 'virtuous' life, faithful to the Five, and had been granted the tier seven combat class he was expecting? An archery class, maybe. He was starting to like the idea of being a ranged fighter; it would be further away from the blood.

He'd probably be in Gretheric right now, at the adventuring school. Meanwhile, Lana would be a prostitute under the control of her uncle, Greenhair would have starved to death in the slums of Hrellisti, and Shigeo and Fleta would be dead at the claws of Brenhin-Tân. But Thale would still exist and the doomed crusade would never have set off, which should at least count for something.

Not to mention that Arach-achanol had referred to itself as a god. Damien was starting to suspect it was not, in fact, a mere demon, but rather their master. He'd been calling the Other into the bowl.

Was there an option that would lead to him living safely with everyone? No Arach-achanol invading his dreams, or, since the destruction of the second source-light, his waking thoughts. No ancient dragons. No politics.

This world sucked, and the only reason he wasn't happy about the fact it was unlikely to last much longer was that he suspected what replaced it would be worse. Why couldn't the Five just explain? What limits were they operating under? Was either side of the fight objectively good or evil?

What if he'd accepted his tier one class and power levelled it without taking the [Runic Embroidery] route? Lana would still be waitressing and Greenhair would still be dead, but he would never have known them. There were plenty of people on the island in shit situations, and he didn't spend his time consumed with guilt over them. His parents would still be dragon chow, though. He couldn't imagine any set of choices he could have made in which he didn't call Arach-achanol into Thale and yet his parents survived. The distraction of the summoning was the only thing that saved them.

His parents or Thale. What an insane choice... He knew his parents would choose Thale every time, and if the choice was between Damien or Thale, Damien wouldn't have a problem sacrificing himself either. But sacrificing someone else?

In a way, he was glad he'd made the choice from a position of ignorance. He'd called on Arach-achanol not knowing the destruction of Thale would result, or that it would save his parents. He'd made a simpler choice, between the guards trying to kill him and his friends, or his friends. A simple matter of self defence and protection.

Of course, the guards had been misled, and legitimately believed they were taking a dangerous murderer and demon summoner off the streets, so it wasn't their fault at all...

"What's wrong?" asked Fleta. "You're doing a lot of sighing over there."

"I've just discovered I killed everyone in Thale. I think I can be excused a few sighs."

That caused Shigeo to sigh, followed up with a smack to the back of Damien's head. "Right, answer me this one question. If you were plunged back into the same situation, with only the knowledge you had then, would you ever behave differently?"

"No."

"Then stop worrying about it. You made the best choice with the information available at the time. When a choice turns out to be a mistake, learn from it and make a better choice next time. This world isn't kind enough to let you wallow in self pity."

"What do you do when there are no good choices?"

"Forge a new choice with your own hands. Or sew one, in your case. Ask Lana if a choice needs forging."

Damien cracked a small smile at the poor joke, but his suggestion was one of those things that were easy to say but impossible to put into practice. With guards at his door, what new choice was he supposed to forge in the heat of the moment? Convince them of his innocence? It was his word against that of a god. He'd tried it anyway, and he'd unsurprisingly failed. Run away?

... Maybe that would have been an option. His parents would have died, and a trio of tier ones and a tier three [Beast Tamer] wouldn't exactly be geared for survival. They'd have been caught in no time, but they could have extended their lives a little longer. Their end would have been worse, though. Guards didn't like people resisting arrest. They'd probably spit in their last meal and find a sticky trap-door for the public hanging.

Another option would have been to not be in Thale. If he'd known the guards were coming for him, he could have waited out in the fields, and summoned Arach-achanol there, sparing the rest of Thale. Not that it would have worked; without the wards protecting him, he would have been killed before the guards got squeezed.

What he needed was power. If he'd had the strength of Shigeo, he could have pushed back the guards with force without calling for summoned help. If he'd reached his level eighty target, he could even have rushed over to rescue his parents by beating up the dragon.

Yes, power made many choices easy. He was starting to see why Shigeo was so fond of solving problems by punching them. And that power was only a week away. It was a race to obtain it, and then fashion enchanted goods for his family and maybe the rest of Sanctuary, before the dragon hit the third source-light.

"I think we should increase the length of our workdays. We're all tough enough now to operate on less sleep, and with our protective amulets, Lana isn't getting burned and Greenhair isn't sloshing with antitoxin. We've only got a matter of days before the world changes forever, and we need to be ready."

"Yes!" exclaimed Greenhair, punching the air.

"I swear, you work me harder here than I ever had to when I was running your entire house," complained Grace, but she didn't object.

They put in another three hours before bed, with Fleta acting as an ingredient fetcher and general gofer for Greenhair, accelerating his progress significantly.

"Wow. This really rubs in just how much that dragon was toying with us," commented Shigeo, staring at the pool of molten adamantite, which was still just as hot as ever despite its creator having spent a week at the other side of the world. "I see why you think it'll succeed in destroying the source-lights."

In the east of the bowl, Valerie Spiratine floated in the sea, too spent to fly. Too tired to even move. For days she had duelled the dragon and denied it the chance to reach the source-light, but her endurance wasn't infinite. With the source-light situated over open ocean, backup had been restricted, and the dragon had long since taken out the armed ships stationed there. The failed crusade had spread their forces far too thin, and the complement guarding the source-light was only a third of what it should have been. She'd fought on alone, and while the dragon had failed to put a permanent end to her, victory had been far out of her reach.

The water was calm and still, and though the air temperature was dropping quickly with the loss of the nearby heat source, the water was still pleasantly warm, in spite of her complete nakedness. Floating on her back in water wasn't the most sensible of places to sleep, especially so close to the bowl's rim, but she couldn't resist, and it wouldn't matter if she drowned once or twice, anyway. Her eyes closed and unconsciousness took her.

"Rest well, my faithful servant. Though you did not prevail, the time you bought was not in vain. The servant of our ancient enemy shall find stronger forces than they bargained for waiting in the south, gathered in time thanks to you. As for you, your path now lies to the north. You must hunt the summoner, lest he once more bring our ancient enemy into the world."

Valerie opened her eyes, feeling refreshed but ravenous. Also damp. Sleeping for twenty-four hours in sea water could do that sort of thing. A quick dive for some fish, which she roasted in her hands, and she was flying north, only stopping off at an island to obtain fresh water and new clothes.

Returning to the Thief's Wastes after her prior experience wasn't something she wanted to do, but her class didn't call her an angel for nothing. Her goddess commanded, and so she obeyed. At least he wouldn't have the protection of the ancient dragon this time. She would hunt down the summoner responsible for the deaths of so many of the Five's faithful, and in the name of Murill the Dreamer, she would end him.

Fleta vanished, reappearing a hundred metres away. A loud crack accompanied her display, the shock-wave raising a cloud of dust.

Shigeo gave an impressed whistle. "I couldn't even see you move."

"I... think I might have to slow down a bit. Whenever I reach a certain speed, it feels like I'm running through brick walls."

Fleta didn't understand the concept of the speed of sound or sonic booms, but the latest physical ability boosters made by Damien and Lana had increased her speed threefold, raising it to supersonic levels.

"Interesting. It's a well-known fact that if powerful mages launch solid projectiles too quickly, they make cracking, banging noises, and the projectiles tend to explode. I wonder if it's related?" opined Damien, still on his back, shoving his limbs into the slime.

"I'm not sure you've once uttered a 'well-known fact' that I've ever heard of," complained Lana. "Well known by who, exactly?"

"By whoever writes all the books he reads, I think," replied Grace. "I don't think they're a representative cross-section of society."

"I would greatly appreciate not exploding," added Fleta. Thankfully, since the tier one enchantments boosted all physical abilities, her endurance had also been tripled, and she had indeed not exploded.

"Yeah, don't you go exploding my wife," laughed Shigeo. "I have to say, these things are ridiculous. I feel I could..."

Shigeo cut himself off mid-sentence, looking around suspiciously while slowly reaching for his weapons. "[Danger Sense] just went crazy," he whispered. "We have incoming."

Damien looked to the skies, expecting to see a descending dragon, but saw nothing. He had beautifully embroidered fabric bracelets and engraved amulets of his own, as did Lana, Greenhair and Grace, but they would still be ants in the face of a dragon. The four grouped together and moved near Shigeo.

"There," shouted Fleta, pointing into the air. Damien still couldn't see anything, Fleta's perception far above his own, but Shigeo obviously could, and he positioned himself between the incoming enemy and the four weaker group members, tower shield out in front of him.

"It's human. Female. Blond hair," listed off Fleta. "Wings of flame behind her that look like the result of a skill."

"Sounds like someone who was part of the crusade. She duelled the ancient dragon for a bit, but didn't manage to hit it."

"Valerie Spiratine, the [Angel of Flaming Judgement]," said Shigeo.

"Wait, even I've heard of her," gasped Lana. "She's tier nine!"

"Lucky we just got a new set of enchanted accessories, then," said Shigeo.

She arrived in the air above them in a burst of flame, her appearance matching her class to perfection. No-one could look at her and not think an angel of judgement had arrived.

"I'm here for the boy. Stand aside," she demanded.

"No," said Shigeo simply, tightening his grip on his shield. Fleta drew her daggers and dropped into a crouch, ready to make the so-called angel regret flying so low.

"He is a demon summoner, and a danger to the world. He's already responsible for the murder of thousands. I don't want to kill anyone else, but if you protect him, I will cut you down."

"Oh? A threat to the world, am I?" asked Damien. "Why? How? I've never attacked anyone except out of self defence, yet people keep attacking me, and no-one ever tells me why!"

"Self defence? You aided the dragons to annihilate our righteous crusade!"

"A crusade that was coming for me. I heard the cardinal mention me by name before I attacked."

"We were there for the stolen source-light and its thief."

"Yeah, that's what the general thought, too. He looked very annoyed when the cardinal admitted it was a cover."

"Enough. I've given you enough time to get out of my way. There's no need for me to listen to your lies any longer."

She raised an empty hand, a sword of flame materialising in it as they watched. Shigeo signalled to Fleta, who leapt to the side at a surprisingly low speed, hiding her capabilities from their new enemy, then he planted his shield firmly into the floor.

Valerie motioned downwards, launching an arc of fire straight at Damien, not worrying about his friends clustered around him, or Shigeo in front. She was the strongest known fighter in the bowl, an avenging angel of Murill, capable of directly hearing her voice. A random middle-aged man hiding behind a big shield wouldn't be able to block her blow.

A middle-aged man loaded with enchanted items that tripled his physical abilities, perk effects and resistances, equipped with a dragon scale and adamantite shield, on the other hand, could block it just fine.

Valerie looked completely nonplussed as she stared down at the line of molten earth with a small, pristine island in the middle.

"Think this is justifiable self-defence?" asked Damien, just as Fleta leapt.