237: Rewards and Some Foreshadowing (Patreon)

Author's Note: This is the last chapter of Book 4 of Dungeon Apocalypse. Tomorrow I'll be posting Roland's stats at levels 15 and 20, in the book they will be placed in between chapters so that people who don't like crunch can skip them. Then it's on to Book Five of (who knows how many?).

Congratulations! You have completed the Dullahan World Event!

All Zones and Territories under your leadership will have a Dungeon and Wandering Monster spawn freeze for 96 hours. During that time, no new Challenges, Events will appear within their boundaries.

Rewards: 3,000 gold, 2,500 Unbound Essence, 270 Epic Healing Potions (90 of each type), 30 Legendary Healing Potions (10 of each type), 1 World Boss Monster Core (Death, Nightmares, Terror, 5,000 Bound Essence, D-Grade), 1 Mythic Universal Upgrade Token, 1 Mythic Building Blueprint (Choice of 4 Buildings), 1 Legendary Building Blueprint (Choice of 6 Buildings), 1 Cultivation Pill (Mythic): Temper of the Dragon Soul.

No gear rewards this time, but it was nice to get a Cultivation resource; they didn’t drop often unless he was fighting fellow followers of that path. And the buildings were something he would have to sit down with Barton and Gorman. They had been handling most of the improvements to Roland’s growing Territory, and he admitted to himself that managing a kingdom wasn’t something he had the inclination or aptitude to do. He wouldn’t just delegate and ignore what they did, but he would let them take the lead, within reason.

His favorite reward was peace. Four days without more monster waves and new Dungeons. Four days to recoup, unify the rest of the state and to deal with the Fae Consulate, the Sponsors, including the Morrigan, goddess of Death and War. Hecate, Morrigan, Tyr – his life getting positively lousy with gods.

Meetings he could handle. Even PowerPoint meetings. Better to talk things out than stand over the body of some poor bastard who was just doing his job, same as everyone else in the battlefield.

Now, monsters he could kill all day long every day of the week, but he could use a break.

The Dullahan had tortured over a thousand people, of which seven hundred were being treated by the Raid’s healers. There had been another thousand survivors, lucky ones who managed to escape or hide long enough for the cavalry to arrive before the World Boss caught them.

Dahlia sauntered over to where he stood, near the shattered remains of Willimantic’s wall. All the frenzied work in the post-battle was over. Roland had located every survivor within a mile of the town and they were being treated. That was why he could afford to take some time off for some personal admin work.

“A Nephilim, uh?” she said after their customary light hug – neither of them was big on public displays of affection.

“That’s what the System tells me.”

“Anything else? Are you a secret prince? A billionaire dinosaur werewolf? The Chosen One?”

“Sure as hell hope not. Never was into the furry stuff. But the Nephilim thing was always there, just not as up in my face like the Death Bringer.”

“Yeah. Reaper Justiciar. Tyr took a shine to you. Looks like you get to be judge, jury and executioner.”

He frowned. “Yeah. It’s the kind of thing that can go to my head, real quick. I don’t want it.”

“That’s a good start, at least,” she said. “Not wanting the power. Take me, for example. I really want the power. But I know I’d probably misuse it, so I’m kinda happy with my rituals, my MiniFiends and my Mythic Class. If I got too much more I might turn into something I don’t like.” She paused. “Into something you wouldn’t like.”

“We’ll watch out for each other,” Roland told her.

*

Tryxannatollassna watched her ward and his significant other as they walked hand in hand towards their friends and companions.

She should be cajoling Roland by now; the crisis was over and he had to meet with the Danse Macabre agent, not to mention deal with a very special gift from the Morrigan. But things had changed a great deal during the battle with the World Boss.

Anunnaki. He bears the lineage of the Adjudicator!

The Fae had existed for eons before one of their many worlds had been reached by the System – or the many others that preceded even the First Iteration of this particular System. They were among the oldest species in their corner of the universe – a large corner in an infinite universe.

The Ancestral Fae and the Living Lights – what the Elohim/Anunnaki called themselves – had crossed paths before, and the Fae had always regretted those encounters. And they remembered them.

Tryxanna could access the collective memories of the Fae. Or rather, those memories could make themselves known when something she experienced triggered one of them. In this case, the word Nephilim had sent a thrill of shocked fear through her.

Primals were powerful, terrible entities, but they had overwhelming imperatives that made them somewhat predictable. The Anunnaki had imperatives, but they were complex and poorly understood by outsiders. And wherever they had encountered the Fae, they had forced them to withdraw or be destroyed. Even the Ancestors – the ones that not even the System had attempted to tame – feared the Anunnaki.

The Nephilim were not true Living Lights; their potential was diluted by their humanity. But they could grow to match their power, especially when following the Paths the System helpfully provided to the entire species.

More importantly, none of the Fae’s memories recorded a human born with both Primal and a Living Light Bloodlines. They were incompatible. In the vanishingly rare event where they shared a human host, one Bloodline would annihilate the other or the conflict would result in a stillborn, dead before leaving the womb.

For Roland Webb to have them both required the active intervention of one or more likely both originators. Which meant that somehow the Grim Reaper and the Anunnaki – and specifically the Anunnaki Adjudicator – had reached an agreement.

That was unprecedented. An ultra-dimensional species and the Primal embodiment of Death had agreed – conspired? – to let Roland Webb exist.

The Fae would understand what that meant. So would the System, and perhaps the wiser among the Ascended Masters and the Pantheons. The rest would likely be blissfully unaware of the potential contained within a mere E-Grade Ascendant. Soon to be D-Grade, of course.

How will the Courts react?

The number of answers would be roughly equal to three times the number of Fae Courts in the Agglomeration and beyond. Each Court had its own factions, and each would follow a path of action, except for the few where their leaders forced everyone to follow one path. But the most common response would be to remove a potential threat, followed closely by trying to co-opt it and use it for their purposes.

Poor Lord Bramble is going to wish he hadn’t spent so much to establish a foothold in Roland’s Territory. His Court is about to be beset by far greater ones.

And if Lord Bramble would soon face bribes, threats, even some friendly entreaties, what awaited Tryxanna, the guide of an Ascendant with the potential to upset the entire Agglomeration?

Fortunately, the protections accorded to newly inducted worlds and XXI-993 Crucible World status would keep the Courts and others from intervening in full force. Whatever they did, whoever they sent, would be restricted in power. But the world’s power level was rising far faster than normal.

Within a month from Integration, XXI-993 should be at late to peak E-Grade. Instead, it had skyrocketed to D-Grade in less than two weeks. In a month or two, it’d hit Peak D-Grade, and the first C-Grade threats would show up.

C-Grade was a quantum leap in power; by that point, beings with the power to affect continental masses, let alone cities, would become commonplace. The agents the Factions would send would be skilled powerhouses.

Tryxanna could only see three choices open to her. The first two were sensible, safer – if not wholly safe – options: cut a deal with one of the Courts, gaining protection in return for help in whatever goal they had in mind for her ward; or resign from her position, hand the whole mess over to someone dumber than her, and move on.

Roland and Dahlia greeted their friends, tired but triumphant. They had defeated a Primal entity condensed into a D-Grade World Boss package. An impossible fight.

She grinned at the brave fools. And chose the third option. The impossible one.

Help Roland become strong enough to take on all comers. Stand by his side as he shook the Agglomeration to its very core.

Whatever happens, she thought. It’s going to be one hell of a ride.