The Primal Hunter 8: A LitRPG Adventure, page 31
He shared his idea, and Miranda seemed somewhat receptive, even if there were things to refine. They talked for a while longer until Miranda made him aware the Alabaster Crimsoneye Snake had left, finally prompting her to ask, "Jake, just to make sure, you have not named this snake yet? Not even in your own head?"
"No?" Jake said with confusion. But he soon got it and smiled. "If you want me to think of a name, just ask, and I wi—"
"Definitely not. Actually, wait… No, do think of a name, but I have sole discretion when it comes to accepting it or not, alright? And promise me not to share your name ideas with anyone else but me until the choice is final, alright?"
"I guess?" Jake answered, thinking she was overdoing it. He had gotten better at naming things; one just had to look at Sandy. Sandy was a real name! That was definitely an improvement, right?
Unluckily, Jake did not have more time to talk before his ride arrived to eat him up once more. Jake said his temporary goodbyes to Miranda, forgetting to mention his "faster way back than expected" was within the stomach of a massive C-grade worm and going on his merry way.
For his plan to succeed—or for any plan to become more probable—he needed two things: levels and power.
It was power-hunting time.
Chapter 35
Schemers
Across the planet, the chaos brought on by the United Cities Alliance and Ell’Hakan continued. Beasts attacked like never before, and millions died within only a week as many settlements fell, unprepared and too weak to resist. Those who held on still took losses, and the survivors all had a newfound hatred. The work that had been made to establish positive relations between monsters and humanity was thoroughly broken.
The problem was that people did not see the actions of beasts as those of individuals, but those of a monolith. A tribe. They put all monsters in a box and vilified them in their minds as aggressors. This was not much different from what humans had done to other humans before the system. People loved to hate others, and it was just easier to hate an entire religion, country, or appearance than recognize that each person was an individual making their own choices.
And this feeling was reciprocated by the monsters.
They, too, viewed humanity as something they wanted to wipe out. Their reasons varied, but their goal was the same. Some saw humans as destroyers, a scourge on the planet, having ruined their natural habitats before the systems. Others had been mistreated and abused by humans all their lives. A small part just looked down on humans as weak and pathetic creatures not worth keeping alive. Others still did not truly care much; they just wanted to hunt without restrictions. As with any good hate group, they didn’t need a unified ideology, just shared hatred.
With every beast that killed a human, humanity’s hatred of beasts grew. With every human that killed a beast, the beasts’ resentment of humanity grew. One would maybe think that monsters getting angry at humans killing beasts while defending themselves wasn’t fair, but how was it different from what humans usually did?
Human hunting parties entered the territory of monsters often. They killed hundreds of beasts or elementals or whatever they came across that gave them experience before retreating to their cities. It was so normalized no one questioned it. The monsters certainly didn’t, as fighting and the law of the jungle were just the rules of the multiverse.
What they did question was the Fallen King then coming and trying to tell them they had to leave all human settlements alone. Leaving some alone was fine, but all of them? Would the humans have accepted the same terms? A unilateral ban from entering monster territory and hunting them within their homes?
The answer was no.
This was not a question of right or wrong but simply reality. Humans and monsters both needed to kill to progress, and humans had a tendency to want to avoid killing other humans, making them target monsters instead. This was how the universe had worked for eras, and there would never truly be peace between all the different races. Especially when the enlightened races kept their sense of superiority, thinking the life of a human or elf was more valuable than that of a beast. War and conflict were simply inevitable.
Unless, of course, a powerful enough influence could make humanity and all monsters back down and search for prey beyond their own planet.
Miyamoto felt the token in his spatial storage vibrate once more and decided to take it out this time. He had chosen to wait out and assess the situation before making any further moves, but it appeared it was time to discuss their circumstances.
"Ms. Wells, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he answered, allowing her to take the initiative.
"It pleases me to know you are doing well, Sword Saint,” she said. “To the world, you are still considered missing in action and potentially dead.”
"I am aware," he answered as he smiled to himself. "And it is intentional. So please, do me a favor and keep it as such."
"Alright?" Ms. Wells said with some confusion. "May I know what happened after you were presumably attacked?"
"A fight, followed by information," the Sword Saint answered, remembering what had happened.
Two powerful individuals charged at him. The Sword Saint had his blade ready as they circled him. Both of them were melee combatants like him, and from their small initial clash, he became fully aware they would not be easily taken down.
One of them wielded two blades of ice, while the other was a pure fighter without any obvious magical characteristics. Seeing the opponent using ice magic, he quickly realized these people were aware of his abilities. One of the greatest counters to water was not extreme heat, but extreme cold. It would make his attacks rigid and impede the flow. This opponent was here to counter him directly; that much was evident.
Flanked on each side, he blocked one as he stepped back to avoid the blow of the other. His original assessment that they were about as strong as the Judge from the Court of Shadows was correct. The difference was that they were both already using their boosting skills, wanting to finish this battle quickly, and even if that made their strength explosive, it was far from the level of the Judge when he went all out. They were more at the level of his usual fighting strength.
Blades of ice began to revolve around him as the ice swordsman took a step back, and the other engaged with a curved sword in each hand. The man’s speed was impressive, and the Sword Saint was forced to block until one of the ice blades attacked from behind. Angling himself a bit, he was hit in the lower part of his back. A non-vital area.
He only activated his boosting skill at a low level. His opponents still attacked with an upper hand as they pushed themselves to their extremes. The Sword Saint took injury after injury as trump cards were revealed from the other side, and soon enough, he was blasted back, his left arm severed.
"We expected more," one of them said as he approached with the tip of his ice blade pointed at the Sword Saint. Injured and a bit tired, but otherwise fine. The man had continually frozen and interrupted Miyamoto’s magic, stopping his attacks for the other side to get the advantage.
"Why are you even doing this?” the Sword Saint asked with heaving breaths. “The Noboru Clan is not part of any religious faction. We are an independent force. Would the United Cities Alliance not want us on their side?"
"No one cares about your pathetic little clan," the other attacker spoke. "You are the only one worth killing here. With you gone, they will fall into shambles, and we are already aware of the internal struggles your family faces. It won’t be hard to convince them to back the alliance with their Patriarch dead and gone."
The Sword Saint nodded before answering with gusto, "I will never let that happen!"’
He released a massive wave of water that pushed back the two of them, temporarily allowing him to escape their sights and retreat. The old man ran through the plains, but he was simply too slow. A blade of ice flew from behind and hit him in the shin, making him fall over. He rolled to the side to avoid the non-magical warrior’s scimitar but still took a nasty cut. In a final gamble, he tried to take one of them down with him, but he was too slow. He managed to cut the shoulder of the ice warrior but was stabbed in the heart by a scimitar. The old man tried to do something, but before he could, the second scimitar swept up and severed his head.
"Got the notification?" the ice warrior asked.
"Yes," the second warrior said, nodding.
Acknowledging, the ice warrior took out a token and seemed to communicate through it. A few seconds passed before he smiled. "It has been conveyed. Let’s get out of here before—"
The corpse of the old man suddenly moved, a spear appearing in his hand. The second warrior was stabbed in the back as his eyes opened wide. The corpse quickly stood up and healed, a head regrowing and his body changing. Rather than an old man, a figure with red eyes and black hair stood there. He smiled, showing off his fangs.
Swiftly, the ice warrior took out the token again, but before he could relay anything, his arm flew into the air, still holding the token. He screamed as he turned and saw the Sword Saint standing there, an arm still missing but otherwise unharmed.
The ice warrior tried to retaliate, but the old man bent his knees and spoke,
"Thousand Waves Slash."
A wall of ice appeared, but the Sword Saint cut through it like paper and blasted the the warrior back. He then followed up and landed several blows before cutting off the head of the man he identified as a nahoom. Turning to the other warrior, who was struggling with the former Monarch of Blood, he quickly went over and teamed up, cutting off the man’s legs and arms.
After knocking him out but keeping him alive, the Sword Saint looked at the former Monarch, who sat down on the grass, breathing heavily.
"Who would have thought me acting as your doppelganger for so long would come into play like this?" Iskar, the former Monarch of Blood, said.
Miyamoto and Iskar had, for a long time, acted together. Both were old souls and had a lot in common, with Iskar having a wealth of knowledge stashed away in his head. He did not remember everything, but with time, the former A-grade recalled details. His existence was an interesting one due to its link with the Divine item left by Sanguine, but he was a full-fledged lifeform when outside of it—and not a weak one, either.
His skillset was incredibly vast and varied, including high-level illusion magic coupled with hypnosis. Enough to fool the two attackers into thinking they had actually killed Miyamoto.
"Let us leave," the Sword Saint said as he saw movement from the direction of the Noboru Clan. He planned on staying dead in the eyes of the public, and leaving behind only one unrecognizable corpse should keep up the illusion, at least for a time.
Moreover, leaving just one corpse meant he had a prisoner—a prisoner likely holding a lot of valuable information.
Miyamoto explained this to Ms. Wells, not believing there was a need to keep it a secret from her. Jake trusted her, and so far, she had shown herself worthy of that trust.
"I don’t understand why you need to fake your own death even to your clan… Do you fear it would leak if they knew?" the City Lord of Haven asked.
"Yes and no,” the Sword Saint answered. “The main reason is quite a bit more straightforward. The Noboru Clan is not truly a faction, but just people rallying behind me; at least, it has begun to feel like that. They require me to be their Patriarch to continue their existence and rely on me far too much. Moreover, there have been more internal struggles as we have grown. There were even those pushing to join the United Cities Alliance. So I wish to see how the clan will act when I am believed dead. I want to see if the clan is worthy of keeping alive as it currently is, or if I will have to reconsider my approach.”
Miyamoto had considered it for a long time. After his duel with Jake in the Treasure Hunt, he’d realized he needed to be more selfish and truly pursue what he cared about. His power would be the power of the clan, but it had become too much. They had begun to treat him as more than an elder. However, he still did not want to rule the clan with an iron fist. He could have, but he wanted autonomy and for himself to have some freedom. He wanted to know his clan would not crumble if he was to die.
After a bit, Ms. Wells said, "There is bound to be an internal struggle… and with the recent beast attacks, many will die. The Noboru Clan may not survive without you."
"Death and life are simple realities of the system," Miyamoto explained. “No faction is not built upon a mountain of corpses, and should the Noboru Clan fall simply due to my absence, then as much as it pains me, I must recognize it is unworthy of existing. Even if it ceases to be, our heritage will not. However, should the clan come out whole, it will be stronger than ever.”
"I see," she simply answered, recognition in her voice. She seemed to understand.
"Now, Ms. Wells, I do not believe you contacted me only for an exchange of information. I have interrogated one of my ambushers and learned of their plans to make Arthur the World Leader, as well as Ell’Hakan’s desire to defeat Jake. From what you tell me, Jake also seems to have a plan, so please, do share. What do you intend to do to handle this Ell’Hakan? He seems like a tricky one to deal with.”
"So, Jake proposes to…"
She explained, and the Sword Saint could not help but smile after she was done. It was simple, and it gave the Sword Saint something he would very much like. Hence, he was more than on board. "It shall be my honor and privilege."
Vilastromoz observed as Jake began his hunting spree, not wanting to interrupt. He was busy with his own matters anyway, as he also had to make preparations for what was to come. This was part of the reason he had not contacted Jake for a while, though the primary one was that he was unsure how Jake would react. The god had to be honest… feeling genuine worry about how someone else would react was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he had kind of missed it.
The Viper would lie if he said he didn’t feel a slight level of responsibility for what was happening, but he would equally be lying if he said he didn’t think this conflict was a good thing. Strife would push one forward, and a slight level of urgency could be healthy at times. Not that he feared Jake would become complacent—he seemed to still have the same internal drive for progressing that he’d the day they met, but it could help speed him up without any negative consequences.
Simply forcing Jake to think a bit differently was good. He would meet many who were like Ell’Hakan, in that they didn’t have any interest in fighting him fairly but still wanted to make trouble for him. The Viper had had many such foes during his rise to power, and even now, he still had many such foes. He also understood that this entire conflict with Yip of Yore’s Chosen was entirely due to Jake being the Chosen of the Viper.
Yip and his Chosen relied on stories. Legends. It gave them power and made them progress, and the Viper saw the mirror image that was being made. Because he knew that Jake was not the only one being targeted in this conflict. While the Chosen wanted to fight and likely kill Jake to prove himself and his Path…
So did Yip of Yore aim to kill a Primordial to prove his. And Villy was his chosen target for that—a logical one, too. He was the perfect target, if he evaluated it a bit himself. Yip needed a villain, and the Viper was quite villainous when he wanted to be, if he had to say so himself. The Viper also knew that Yip was not doing this haphazardly. Everything was part of a greater framework. A larger story.
A grand epic, if you will.
Honestly, it made Vilastromoz somewhat sad he was targeted. Because while Yip and his Chosen were very similar, Jake and Vilastromoz were most certainly not. They were nearly exact opposites.
Jake preferred to face his opponents head-on. As for Vilastromoz? Well, so far, all he had done since returning from seclusion was handling his issues head-on. But this was not because he preferred to do it this way; it was just simpler and faster.
However, if he faced an opponent worth the effort?
That is why he found it sad that Yip had chosen him. Sad that people had forgotten who he truly was.
Because if Yip of Yore thought he was a meticulous planner, he had not met the schemer known as the Malefic Viper.
Chapter 36
Rebuilding & Lots of Killing
Countless factions dominated the multiverse, but few were as unique as the Risen. They were the living dead, and that came with both bonuses and demerits. Some bonuses included a natural lifespan equal to your True Soul’s natural lifespan, meaning you would live as long as possible, and aging would only come to pass due to the person wanting it. Combat-wise, they truly did not have many differences from other enlightened races, aside from some changed natural affinities and stats. They were neither stronger nor weaker, and history had also shown that their natural average level of talent was roughly comparable to that of humans and elves.
As for demerits, the largest inherent one was probably their inability to procreate naturally. Two Risen could not simply make a child. Instead, it took a far more complicated process. It was possible, mind you, but not as easy, and it required a specially created item that both would-be parents poured a part of their essence into. Even then, it wasn’t like an actual child would be born and grow up normally. They would be born in their full adult form, albeit with a nascent consciousness like that of a child.
Their other way to procreate was for others to willingly become Risen. However, this too was not as simple as some common misunderstandings and prejudices that existed in the multiverse had made it out to be. One of the most widespread beliefs was that the Risen could forcefully create more Risen by raising the dead.
It did not work like that. The only way for someone to become a Risen was to willingly accept to become one, and only while still alive. You had to participate in a ritual, during which the system would allow you to change. It always required the person to willingly choose, and the ritual would even fail if the individual taking part was being mentally manipulated in any form.
