The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop

Two full crates of ore were poured out into a steam-powered kiln.

“By the Gods you’re a strong fellow. How long did it take you to get so big ser?”

“In all honesty I was decently large already by the time I was twelve years of age. My mother was even bigger,” Orodan replied.

“Sorry for your loss Mister Orodan… didn’t mean to bring up bad thoughts,” Fenton said.

Orodan liked the lad. He was humble, focused on his work and knew the feeling of loss well enough to notice the ‘was’ in his statement.

He ruffled Fenton’s hair.

“It’s alright. I’ve made my peace with it recently.”

Even if Orodan didn’t go around bemoaning his orphanhood like some weak-willed weed, the sting of learning the truth regarding his parents’ death had been harsh. For the longest time before the loops, the fact that he was an orphan was just a regular facet of life. He bled and fought for scraps as a street rat, and unlike the giggling and smiling children in the better parts of town, he had no mother or father.

Learning just who was responsible though, had been the equivalent of re-opening an old wound and setting fire to the scar.

“Mister Orodan?”

“Aye Fenton?”

“Why’re you helpin’ me?”

[Smelting 9 → Smelting 10]

The answer was rather evident.

“Why not? It’s good training,” Orodan answered. “The quicker we finish here; the sooner we can begin your own training?”

“My own training? I’m ‘fraid I can’t do none of that ser. I’m contracted to-”

“To indentured servitude, I know. My eight-legged mentor and his talents in taking things not belonging to him will resolve that matter.”

“That big spider that was with you earlier? It wasn’t your pet, Mister Orodan?”

“Tell him that and see how he reacts,” Orodan said with a laugh. “Or don’t. Wouldn’t want to see you getting flung through multiple dimensions before being brought back having lost your dinner on the way.”

Fenton paled at the threat of what a dimensional phase spider could do and hurriedly focused on his work. The steam-powered kiln thus continued bubbling, melting the ore down.

On Alastaia, enchanted kilns simply weren’t worth the cost of running them on basic ores. Even gold ore wasn’t considered of enough value to run those kilns. He knew that the High Forges of Karilsgard - where the Republic’s best smiths and enchanters worked - had a few, but they were used only when smelting incredibly valuable ores such as dothril where the amount extracted mattered a lot.

On Lonvoron though, such devices were commonplace; steam powered. The temperature in these kilns was distributed with near-perfect evenness; seeing them used to smelt regular iron ore in some shanty workshop was quite the difference from the norms of his home world.

Needless to say, it was a fantastic device, a testament to the technology and power of Lonvoron… but an inefficient form of training. Orodan felt that these steam-powered kilns took away from the smelter, forcing them to rely on the machine and its efficiency rather than require the deeper understanding of temperature differences, fuel and its rate of ignition and the consistency of the ore.

While Orodan had never quite worked the trade, he knew that a good smelter on Alastaia was worth their weight in gold. Not only could Adept-level smelters somehow extract useable metal from even dirt and seemingly normal rock, but they could also preserve far more of the metal content within mined ore and even ensure the resultant ingot quality was higher.

On Alastaia, even the foreman of a mining operation would be lucky to make a tenth of the pay that a high-level smelter did. As the skilled specialists who determined the profit margin for a mine, they were the highest paid workers on the job. Here though, smelting seemed relegated to the kiln, with skill levels coming slowly due to over-reliance on the machine.

As a result, smelting was an art neglected upon Lonvoron. Which made a certain amount of sense when considering that the Blackworth Collective spanned many worlds and had higher priorities than making ore extraction more efficient. How many tonnes of metal were produced was the more important metric than how much useable metal was squeezed out of the ore. Particularly when it was at war against an existential threat.

In any case, the ore had been smelted, the gunsmithy cleaned and the pipes repaired. And Fenton grumbled only a slight bit upon realizing that Orodan could’ve used pyromancy to smelt the ore faster, but relented upon Orodan’s lecture that hard work was its own reward.

“Now then, how about you show me these Enchanting skills of yours,” Orodan asked.

“What Enchanting? I don’t know how to do any of that, Mister Orodan.”

“So the gun at your hip and that hidden armor plate in the alcove aren’t your doing?” Orodan asked.

“Er… those are just things that were layin’ there, that’s right!”

Orodan gave the lad a flat look.

“Alright! Alright! But you can’t tell nobody about it!” Fenton insistently demanded. “My mum insists I don’t reveal my Enchanting skill. They’ll send me to the fort and take everything I work on for themselves.”

“You’ll be going to the fort alright, but not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Eh? What do you mean Mister Orodan?”

“For now, don’t worry about it. Come, show me your work and let’s evaluate where your skill level is.”

Fenton was a bit hesitant but did as asked, producing his gun and heading out back to return with the armor plate he’d enchanted.

“This here’s my revolver, little eight-shooter, but it’s good for scaring off any vagrants and rough characters looking to cause trouble. Indentured servants like meself aren’t supposed to have these… but the foreman looks the other way for the gunsmith and I,” Fenton said. “Lot of the other servants aren’t fond of the menials like me who get to toil in the workshops and ships instead of the mines.”

Even among the indentured servants there were tensions. Working the gunsmithy was naturally less laborious of an assignment than having to deal with the mines and the dangers therein.

“Being able and ready to defend yourself is good, but over-reliance on a weapon will only harm you in the long run. You could do with some physical training as well lest that gun be taken from you. Bit lanky you are, but tall enough that your frame will fill out with some work. Nothing a bit of food and rigorous training won’t solve,” Orodan said. “That’ll be for later though. For now, explain to me what the enchantments on each of these things do.”

“Right, my gun I’ve enchanted to take some punishment; it can shoot eight regular rounds but can also fire off a single slug with quite some kick to it. Saw one o’ them mercenaries carrying an oversized hand cannon once, got the enchantment for that from sneakin’ looks at his weapon,” Fenton explained. “And the armor plate, I got that from lookin’ at the explosive enchantments on the merchant ships’ cannons. The round shot they load, specifically. Anything hits this plate, it’ll explode outwards.”

This was Orodan’s second time meeting Fenton Penny, but he still had to take a second to respect the raw talent of a true genius. Learning enchantments by merely sneaking looks at weapons and ammunition was monstrous enough, but to then re-purpose the explosive enchantment on a cannonball and apply it to an armor plate? Downright ludicrous.

Just as Orodan was a monster of Cleaning, Fenton was a genius of Enchanting. The lad was at the Elite-level after only a few months of self-practice, no formal education and no proper materials. It wouldn’t surprise him if Fenton was capable of acquiring a Celestial skill eventually.

“Incredibly well done, these enchantments are a lot better than I could manage at the Elite-level myself,” Orodan remarked. He had certain advantages like endless energy and a powerful mind capable of analysing even the smallest detail, but in terms of raw talent Fenton had him beat. “Seems your mother’s been teaching you a bit of her Weaving. Borrowed concepts from it as well, have you?”

“How do you know about my mother?!”

“I told you already, I keep travelling back in time whenever I die. We’ve met before and you just don’t know it.”

“Bloody hell Mister Orodan, you were bein’ serious about that?” Fenton demanded. “What sort of nutty explanation is that?!”

“An honest one. Now then, shall you stand there acting outraged about my claims or will we put some work in?” Orodan asked. “Let’s teach you the basics of Enchanting theory. We’ll start with the basics of two-dimensional enchanting, though I won’t teach you a new language as that would be wasteful when you’ve already begun learning the one of your world. This here’s a blank piece of metal, enchant it for me. Anything you like.”

Orodan was about to pull out an enchanting pen for his student to use.

Turns out he needn’t have bothered. The lad’s hand began glowing with the subtle sheen of mana as Fenton began the process of freeform enchanting; just his hands, the mana within himself and pure control.

Before Orodan’s eyes, a functional enchantment of durability came to life, reinforcing the metal. Though, he noticed that Fenton was close to bottoming out his mana pool as a result.

Nothing some rigorous training and good old sweat and blood couldn’t fix.

“There you are, quality’s a little dodgy, but I don’t do too good under pressure,” Fenton said with a frown.

“Dodgy? This is…”

Better than Orodan himself could manage, and he had a higher skill level than Fenton too. It wasn’t just Enchanting in use, but the principles of Weaving as well.

This was true talent.

“…some incredible work,” Orodan honestly praised, making the boy sheepishly scratch his head. “What level is your Enchanting skill?”

“Only level 73 ser. Me mum says not to listen to anyone tellin’ me about how long it’s supposed to take for the Master-level, but some of the sailors in port mentioned that hitting that by the time I’m sixty is considered advanced,” Fenton answered. “I know the levels start comin’ slower past 75, but I’m only fifteen years of age.”

“Only level 73 he says…” Zaessythra muttered, amused.

At the rate Fenton was going, the boy would reach the Master-level in a few years, and then promptly face abduction or conscription into some secret program. In fact, Orodan recalled the long loop in which he’d fought the plague worlds; he’d encountered Fenton Penny serving as an engineer in the military then.

Perhaps the young lad’s talents had been noticed?

“Right, well if things keep going the way they are, you’ll be hitting perhaps even the Grandmaster-level by the time you’re twenty. And probably getting kidnapped and developed into a military asset too,” Orodan said, smiling at Fenton’s look of shock. “Let’s see if we can’t accelerate that even further. For starters, I see you’re using a three-dimensional enchantment, and although you’re talented, knowing the theoretical foundations of a two-dimensional enchantment will only benefit you…”

And so Orodan stepped into the role of a teacher once more, as he’d done many times before. At the start of the loops, if someone had told him that he would come to enjoy mentoring folks with a good work ethic and the desire to learn, Orodan might have scoffed. His own development was all that mattered back then. The skill he’d acquired via teaching Mahari, Aliya and Zukelmux though, had opened up this interesting path for him.

And most importantly, it wasn’t as though Teaching had no benefits for him at all. He’d learned Cooking from Zukelmux, picked up some tricks from Surena Argon in Anthus and learned Weaving from Belina Botterson in Ogdenborough. And now, by simply watching a monstrous prodigy like Fenton Penny he was expanding his own skillset.

As expected, Fenton had the basic education of reading and writing but had received no higher formal education. Furthermore, Orodan had to be mindful of the fact that delving into the specifics might influence the young man’s growth a certain way, as the education on Lonvoron was different to the knowledge of Enchanting that Alastaia had. Last thing he wanted was for Fenton to begin getting a formal higher education only to realize a number of his theories, techniques and methods were otherworldly and different to the norm of Lonvoron.

Not that it was a bad thing of course.

Still, Orodan kept his explanations and lessons on the mechanics of two-dimensional enchanting very general. He also repeatedly stated that these were the techniques of his world, and the theoretical understanding that Alastaian enchanters had. Theories, frameworks of reference and techniques weren’t absolute after all. To the young and impressionable Fenton Penny who’d never received an education however, such teaching was akin to a thirsty mutt in the desert receiving water.

The lad practically lapped up whatever Orodan said and began taking detailed notes with the speed of a hawk. Several times he could see Fenton speaking to himself as Orodan instructed him on a theorem or technique, likely analysing in his own mind how to apply it or how it could be improved.

He began with the most basic overview of two-dimensional Enchanting and the trade itself that he could muster, yet Fenton found some way to ask questions and make things complicated even then.

“Does Enchanting have to be powered by mana ser?” the lad asked.

“No, soul energy, vitality and even System energy can be used. Personally, I have yet to encounter any limitations to the art that a change of technique or perspective can’t solve,” Orodan answered.

“Then isn’t this entire thing we’re usin’ one big enchantment too?”

“And what’s ‘this entire thing’ that you’re referring to?”

“You know… the numbers, the levels. The System.”

“Hmm… in a sense you’re not incorrect. I rebuilt my System with the principles of Enchanting, though I mainly borrowed from what the standard System in someone’s soul should look like,” Orodan answered. “Still, the System itself is incredibly advanced. Not just two or three-dimensional enchanting, but four-dimensional. The glyphs and symbols within my soul are a testament to the intricacy and power of the System.”

“Can… can I have a look, Mister Orodan?” Fenton asked, wide eyed.

“While I have no problems allowing it, I don’t think you have a vision skill or the requisite proficiency in the soul arts to see past the sheer amount of soul energy I have running through me,” Orodan said, but held out a hand to stop Fenton from looking so glum. “But I can simply make some of the glyphs and symbols for you via soul weave so you can study them.”

Orodan had learned from many odd folks, wise mentors and seemingly ordinary people throughout the time loops. Many of his teachers, if not conventionally qualified via skill levels, were often knowledgeable or specialized in particular things which had great value to him. Similarly, while Orodan himself might not have been a Grandmaster of Enchanting… Fenton would be hard-pressed to find anyone else who could show him the intricacies of the System and its composing language.

“Really? Can we do that now!”

Orodan laughed.

“I respect the willingness to dive right in, but you should rise above the clouds before looking to the stars beyond. First, two-dimensional enchanting. We’ll finish going over that, then three-dimensional and four-dimensional enchantments before approaching the System and the intricate glyphs and symbols making it up,” Orodan said. “I have no doubt you’re up to the task, but imagine how well you could approach the situation if you had all the tools necessary for success?”

Fenton accepted this. Unlike working in the shop, the lad was truly passionate about Enchanting, and it showed in how eager and willing he was to learn all about it. He paid rapt attention as Orodan finished going over the concepts of two-dimensional enchanting and referenced examples from some of the enchanting languages he’d seen.

He was also stringent in reinforcing to Fenton that the intent and will of the enchanter mattered far more than the language itself. Something that most conventional education wouldn’t teach; and while that was well and good for most enchanters, for those truly seeking the heights of the craft, it would hamstring them if they took that as a valid belief. Knowing the concepts and principles behind enchanting was of greater import than fixating on a particular language.

And as Orodan taught, so too did he learn.

[Teaching 64 → Teaching 66]

Like a fish learning to swim, Fenton grasped every little bit about Enchanting at an astonishingly quick pace. Even with Orodan explaining the basic principles and concepts of Enchanting and starting off with merely two-dimensional works, Fenton absorbed the lessons and asked questions which hinted at an instinctive understanding of Enchanting beyond anyone else he’d seen.

Most importantly for Orodan, watching the lad inscribe basic two-dimensional enchantments was a great boon for his own understanding of the craft.

[Enchanting 87 → Enchanting 88]

“Hells… I didn’t even consider that a two-dimensional enchantment could be woven like that…” Orodan muttered, awestruck.

The level gain came just from watching Fenton inscribe it and the method subsequently clicking in Orodan’s own mind. Who was the teacher here again? Was this how all his mentors had felt when he went around shattering one expectation after another?

Not only had Fenton Penny utilized the principles of Weaving for a two-dimensional enchantment, but he’d done so in a way that had Orodan’s eyes taking on an enlightened look. Normally, Orodan inscribed enchantments as a single flow, good for ensuring that mana flowed freely and purely.

But Fenton Penny instead inscribed tiny lines, like threads, and combined them all together to form an enchantment of its own. Yet the unfathomable part was that each wispy thread Fenton inscribed was a mana conducting pathway of its own, even as a merely two-dimensional enchantment. The mana flowing through these thin lines was smooth too. Any Alastaian Grandmaster would have a tear in their eye beholding the consistency of the flow.

And all these individual lines came together to form a cohesive whole.

Fenton was sweating, his face pale as his mana pool had run dry doing just a twentieth of what the complete enchantment would eventually be, but even then… to think that such a profound work could be done by an untrained artisan over roughly twenty sessions of work was ridiculous.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mister Orodan… but I seem to have run meself ragged. Never gotten tired while enchanting before. Got a little carried away testing out some of these new tricks you taught me,” Fenton said, breath shaky.

Orodan simply laughed and clapped the young man on the shoulder…

…a sinister grin on his face.

“Ah Fenton… my young student… I have so much training planned for you.”

“Er… and what’s this training entail ser?”

“Everything.”

Fenton didn’t look as though he relished the thought of that. The lad would be fine; the training would only benefit him. He had a natural proclivity for hard work and a drive to succeed. Sure, he might curse Orodan’s name in every waking moment, but the results would be worth it.

Orodan planned on forcing him to physically develop through extreme and rigorous training, alongside an exotic and hearty diet. And then expanding his mana pool through similar means.

“Now then, much as I’d love to continue our lesson, your employer seems to be nearing the shop.”

Fenton’s eyes widened as he began putting the assorted enchanting materials away in a frenzy.

“Mister Orodan! You’ve got to hide! The constabulary will find you.”

“No, they won’t.”

“…ser, with no offense meant… that nutty rag on your head won’t stop them spotting you. They’ll lock you in a madhouse they will!”

Fenton had many more choice words to say about Orodan’s spectacular disguise, but he tuned them out and ignored the lad. He was understandably nervous, and the splendor of his disguise was a quality Fenton couldn’t appreciate yet.

Such a shame, to have all the talent in the world but remain blind to true majesty!

“It’s a rag with eye holes cut out at the back of your head…”

Even Zaessythra was faithless.

Fenton’s bickering came to an end as an overweight and greasy man entered the workshop, accompanied by two rough-looking men in long dark coats donning small hats. Officers of the constabulary, as Orodan had learned last time.

“Oy! Fen! Shop’s running good?” the foreman, Elwin Clemmings asked, and then frowned. “By the sea, what’s gotten into you? Look as though you’ve seen a banshee, boy. Snap out of it!”

“E-er… Mister Elwin ser…!” Fenton stuttered and stammered, the boy’s gaze rapidly moving between him and Orodan.

“What’re you looking at? There a fly on the wall or something?” the foreman asked, bewildered.

“You… can’t see?” Fenton asked, though it seemed as though the lad was questioning himself as much as he was the foreman.

“You need a bop over the head boy? What quackery are you on about?” the foreman asked and then his eyes widened as he spotted the refurbished forge and shop. “Wait a minute Fen! You sly dog! Did you fix this place up?”

In response, the poor boy could say nothing, simply standing there.

And so too did Orodan, simply standing there…

…looking right into the eyes of the workshop’s three new entrants.

Upon the Skill Absorption, Orodan was far less worried about accidentally driving innocent folk mad. His understanding of his own soul and the practice he’d gotten over the loops in using Incipience of Infinity to Intimidate people into not paying him any mind had paid off.

“Clemmings… I thought you said the workshop only had a singular working forge?” the older watchman asked and then looked to Fenton. “Good work boy, I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you at the fort. I know Sir Clyburn has been asking after skilled mechanics and engineers for a while now. Man needs an assistant for all the work he has piled up.”

“Clyburn? Clyburn Anderthorn?” Fenton asked, mouth agape.

“That’s sir Clyburn Anderthorn to you, boy. Best not forget your manners once you’re up there,” the watchman gently chided. He then looked to the foreman. “Clemmings, how much is the lad’s contract worth? The fort will pay it off and take custody of him.”

Elwin Clemmings however, looked as though he’d swallowed a sour lemon. The greasy foreman’s face had shifted from happiness to barely restrained outrage upon realizing that the constabulary was poaching Fenton Penny on behalf of the fort.

“H-hold on! Hold on! Good little Penny here is a special case! He can’t be sold so easily for his mother suffers from a special ailment whose medicine dosages are included as part of his contract,” the foreman explained. “Constable Elridge, you must understand ser… our operation would suffer without the lad.”

“And with the repair of this second forge, your operation now owes a certain amount of tax due from it, Elwin,” the older constable said. “I could simply order a royal requisition and take him, but I’ll sweeten the pot by ignoring the forge and paying you for the lad too.”

“But what good’s a forge without a gunsmith to work it…” the foreman muttered in resentment. “Bah! Alright! You have a deal! Boy, pack your things and get out of the shop. You’ll be working for the fort now.”

The older watchman gave Elwin a cold glare which sobered the greasy foreman up.

“Mind your tone and remember your place, dog. Due to orders from beyond our station the constabulary’s been ignoring the numerous violations of law taking place at the mines. Continue acting the good little mutt lest you cease being useful to the supply master and we decide to come knocking,” the watchman said, shutting Elwin Clemmings up. He then looked to Fenton. “Fenton Penny, you’re to report to the fort first thing tomorrow morning. Your mother will be re-located to Port Bellgrave proper as well.”

“R-really?” Fenton asked, startled. “I mean, of course! Thank you ser! Thank you so much!”

“Don’t thank me just yet, it remains to be seen just how apt you are at what Sir Clyburn demands of you. But, given that the forge is repaired, your Engineering’s at least at the Apprentice-level, yes?”

Fenton nodded.

The bitter foreman shot Fenton one last irritated look before leaving, watchmen in tow.

The boy then clenched his fist and had a smile on his face.

“Well? Do you have an Engineering skill at the Apprentice-level?”

“Uahh!” Fenton practically leapt backwards, startled as he scrambled for his gun, loudly landing in a pile of rifles. “Bugger! I forgot you were there Mister Orodan!”

“One often tends to forget about a mountain when standing right next to it,” he replied, pulling the lad to his feet and helping set the rifles back into place.

“And right, I am an Apprentice-level Engineer, but I don’t know a lot of the things involved in how you fixed the forge. I reckon I have an idea from watchin’ you ply your work, but I was never taught proper.”

“You’re a quick learner with a sharp mind. We’ll go over some basic theory before you head for the fort,” Orodan assuaged. If anything, the lad would quickly outpace and overtake Orodan. “Anyhow, that wasn’t so bad. You worry too much Fenton.”

“Can’t blame me for worryin’ when you were standing there with a rag on your head ser,” Fenton said, and then frowned. “I’ve heard about other sorts of mages in those fancy universities of the mainland. Was that magic?”

“Just an understanding of the mind and how it reacts to something it’s not meant to comprehend. I wouldn’t call it magic exactly,” Orodan said. “I can explain more about the mechanics behind it later. For now, you’d best be packing, no? This Sir Clyburn seems a famous figure.”

“He most certainly is. Bloody ‘ell, I didn’t even know he was in Port Bellgrave. He’s the chief engineer for the Ironhaven Isles, can’t begin to imagine what someone like him’s doing in this shanty dunghole,” Fenton explained. “He’s a Grandmaster-level engineer. A Grandmaster! Can you believe that Mister Orodan? Never met a Grandmaster before…”

Orodan smiled.

“They’re not as impressive as you would think, and the journey certainly doesn’t stop there. Enough of that though, you need to go home and get packed… and I need to make a quick trip to the mines.”

“The mines? What would you want to visit those parts for? Nothin’ but misery and tears ‘round that way ser.”

“A bit of stealth, that’s all. I’ll meet you at your house once I’m done.”

The lad was more than a little anxious and unwilling to let Orodan go.

“Will you come back, Mister Orodan?”

He clapped the lad on the shoulder.

“Of course I will, I always do. Now off you go, your poor mother deserves better lodgings and a higher quality of life, doesn’t she?”

That did the trick, the lad set off to pack, and Orodan made way past the workshops of scrap town and towards the mines.

A quick jog had him nearing his destination, though in the midst of a torrential downpour. The approach to the mines looked perilous and well-guarded. Towers bearing devices which cast high-beam lights lined the walls. And bladed wire fencing designed to keep the workers in than keep intruders out was uniformly emplaced on the inner side of the fortifications. Jagged spires of rock surrounded the entrance too, making any approach from the sides difficult for a conventional infiltrator.

And any successful attempt at climbing the rocky terrain would then have to deal with the sentries atop their towers. Rough-looking men and women with custom gear and weaponry; mercenaries. Some of them had large, oversized rifles too, undoubtedly capable of doing serious damage to even Grandmasters.

Orodan’s solution was a simple one…

…walk past them all.

Seemingly invisible to the guards, Orodan casually strolled through the gate and into the outer area of the mines.

The workers certainly noticed, something Orodan allowed as they were the only group he didn’t target with Incipience of Infinity.

“Who the hell’s that madman with a rag over his head?” one worker asked, taking a break from throwing ore into the carts.

“By the King’s arse…! The eye holes are cut out on the back of his head! I ain’t approachin’ that lunatic…”

“Hey, get back to work you two! What’re you lot bickering about?” a nearby guard asked.

“Look ser, some nutter with a rag on his head is traipsin’ about!” the worker pointed.

“…have you gone mental? There’s nothing there! Now load these carts before I remind you how the butt of my rifle feels!”

The workers were clearly bewildered at the fact that the guards simply couldn’t see him. A commotion began as more and more tried pointing him out but were ignored or occasionally even given a shove and told to get back to work. The workers took the hint and returned to what they were doing soon after.

Normally, if that many workers drew attention to something unseen moving about that only they could see, the guards would have rightfully been cautious and heeded the warning. Mages were a part of life on Lonvoron, and mercenaries weren’t ignorant to the possibility of invisibility or illusions.

Of course, when under Incipience of Infinity’s effect, the matter was a different one. If confronted with logic as to Orodan’s existence, the afflicted would simply double down and get angry as their minds refused to confront the reality of his existence. It wasn’t invisibility nor an illusion, but outright intimidation and instinctual terror. Attempting to reason with them would simply make them irrationally angry, a defense mechanism as their minds wanted to protect them.

Orodan climbed up the watchtowers and began knocking the sharpshooters and sentries out one by one. He also disabled the alarm system which would alert the constabulary and had given the fort enough reason to send steam knights and a military force after him last time. In tandem with Incipience of Infinity, Orodan took the perimeter guards out entirely.

[Stealth 20 → Stealth 21]

As he began moving inwards, the workers began to notice something was up.

“H-hey! Hey! That nutter with the rag is takin’ out the guards!” one shouted.

“To hell with this! I ain’t gettin’ involved in that mess!”

“Look! The tower watch is down! Time to make a run!”

“You’re not goin’ anywhere you sick freak! Always hated your sort!”

As Orodan worked to deal with the guards outside the mines, the workers were engaged in a commotion as several of them ganged up on a particular one. The violent scuffle caused enough noise that a few guards from inside the mines came out, and soon enough a warning shot was fired into the air to disperse the violent attack.

As the crowd cleared away a dead body remained on the ground, covered in stab wounds, scratches and bruises. The guard initially looked ready to round up a bunch of the workers for interrogation, and then, the woman noticed the identity of the deceased. She didn’t look too displeased by the outcome either.

“What happened to him?” the mercenary asked. “Hmm… a shame, the wounds are consistent with mauling from a cave centipede. I see his friends were tryin’ to tend to his wounds? Quite unfortunate that he didn’t make it.”

Nobody said anything to challenge such a ridiculous cover-up either.

At least until a certain greasy foreman exited the mines after hearing the commotion.

“Who did this?!” Elwin Clemmings roared, spittle flying from his maw as his furious eyes swept across the gathered lot. “First, I lose a skilled laborer, and now workers are turning up dead?! I’ll have everyone interrogated and flogged for this!”

“Not sure how this happened Mister Elwin,” the mercenary guard said.

“You’re lying! I heard a bloody gunshot you stupid harpy! You think I don’t know that everyone’s wanted that filthy prick dead since he got here?!” Elwin roared. “I’ll cancel the contract for your whole company and report you to the crown!”

“Now take it easy boss man, you’re overreactin’ a bit I think. We can hardly be everywhere, aye?” she asked, trying to pacify the angry foreman. “Not like anyone’s going to miss that sack of dung. Morale might even improve!”

“That was my sack of dung! I’ve been strong-armed one time too many today, and I’ll be damned if anyone else thinks they can get one up on Elwin Clemmings!” the foreman barked. “Ask the sentries on the tower what they saw!”

“Sentries? What sentries are you talkin’ about boss? Just us here.”

“Are you daft? The tower guard you brutish thug! Ask the guards on the tower what they saw and make it quick! A punitive mood’s struck me tonight!” the foreman said, and then looked up.

Elwin Clemmings’ face turned from angry to suddenly wary.

“We don’t have any tower guards around ‘ere boss man, quit pestering me!” the guard retorted, getting angry.

The foreman began to get nervous, understanding that something was up.

Smart man. Orodan hadn’t bothered touching him with Incipience of Infinity this time, which meant that Elwin Clemmings and the workers were the only ones unaffected by Orodan’s disguise.

Not only did Incipience of Infinity terrorize people into rejecting Orodan’s existence, but it also caused a strong negative response to being pestered about any discrepancies caused by him. It was a monstrously powerful skill for maintaining his anonymity over a long loop.

Much like the previous time looper had an ability to control what information was uttered, so too did Orodan now have a way of moving about quietly. Like an aura which shot out, Incipience of Infinity could affect a large area, making it so that nobody would recognize Orodan’s presence or the effects he had.

Now though, the jig was up. And Elwin Clemmings the greasy foreman of Port Bellgrave turned around…

…to see a man who stood two heads taller smiling down at him.

“Greetings.”

#

“I’ll get you one day. Let’s go again.”

Orodan dusted himself off as he rose from the ground. He wasn’t hurt, the ‘spar’ they were engaging in wasn’t at all destructive. Of course, under the limitation of using Dimensionalism only, he was at quite the disadvantage. He refrained from utilizing copious amounts of power too, as that would’ve not only been destructive, but drawn attention and defeated the purpose of the training altogether

Just how he liked it. Even if Orodan’s opponent insisted on knocking him to the ground each time to hammer his defeat in.

“So eager to be thoroughly trounced once more? Your resolve is admirable at least,” Talricto said, adjusting his stolen hat. “If you can disturb even a single fibre on this elegant hat, I’ll consider it your win.”

“Alright, I admit it… your silly hat and singular spectacle are beginning to grow on me.”

“Hah! How many loops did that take you to realize?”

“Not nearly as many as I would’ve thought…” Orodan muttered. A mere two loops of Lonvoron to be exact.

He didn’t mind the sight of Talricto’s stupid top hat and the spectacle which Orodan learned was known as a monocle. If anything, the pilfered getup looked ridiculous enough that it lessened the irritation he sometimes felt at the haughty spider’s scathing rebukes after his victories.

How could he be irked by a spider wearing a hat and monocle?

“Hmm, well I suppose you have some taste, to recognize the superiority of my sense of fashion,” Talricto said and then sent another dimensional wave at him. “Now focus, you’ll get nowhere against me by engaging in idle banter.”

Orodan had always ambushed and brought Talricto along via spatiomancy, chronomancy or the overwhelming majority of the time… just a straight up bull rush to close distance in melee and grapple the spider. Talricto’s attempts at shucking Orodan off, while valiant, were futile against someone as physically mighty and possessed of such energy that dimensional assaults were ineffective. Not to mention, Orodan had the Dimensional Resistance skill which further neutered the dimensional phase spider’s arsenal.

But his victory in abducting Talricto in no way meant he was the spider’s superior in every way. Particularly in a dimensional battle of finesse and skill. And with Orodan’s own Blessing applied, the spider was more than a match for him in a battle of pure dimensional manipulation.

Empowering two dimensional spheres to the limit, Orodan shot them forward and attempted to brute force his way past Talricto’s dimensional wave, only for the wave to suddenly scatter into multiple small dimensions the size of needles which homed in on him. These small dimensions then collided with Orodan’s cells which were partly dimensions in and of themselves, and ruptured the boundaries, breaking them and causing many of the cells to die.

[Dimensional Resistance 20 → Dimensional Resistance 22]

Talricto sent dimensions the size of mere particles towards him, and Orodan focused on creating a net-like structure, akin to a filter, which could scoop up the attacking dimensions and prevent them from seeping through to attack him.

[Dimensionalism 72 → Dimensionalism 73]

It partially worked. The technique itself was an effective one, though Orodan’s finesse and control with such freeform dimensionalism was well below Talricto’s own. Some particle-sized dimensions got through, and Orodan’s cells faced further destruction.

Contrary to what one might’ve thought, Orodan hadn’t dragged Talricto along to Lonvoron just to hear snarky quips. This was why he’d insisted on having the spider with him. A good teacher and sparring partner were worth more than their weight in gold.

Though calling it a spar would’ve been more than a bit embarrassing when he was getting trounced so thoroughly. Yet, there was no shame in this, it was exactly the sort of proper training he needed.

“Hmm, you’re eager and aggressive like a youngling, that much I can respect. I hope you do not lose that attribute,” Talricto praised in a rare moment. “Brutish simpleton you may be, but encouraging an older dimensionalist to retain and draw upon youthful vigor and the dogged desire to seize the initiative is quite the dull chore.”

“I’ve seen fighters develop similar bad habits in melee, it can take some time to train them out of those,” Orodan remarked.

It was an interesting phenomenon, where the younger and more inexperienced one was, the more they would try and compensate through ferocity and aggression. On the other hand, with experience came the know-how, finesse and skill to not require such brash tactics any longer. Those with experience had more than likely learned a few painful lessons on what aggression could cause to befall them, as a result they were in some respects less willing to commit with zeal to something.

This led to situations where novices could use more forethought, but veterans sometimes forgot how to channel the violence of aggression. One needed both in order to truly succeed.

“Well, the only bad habit I see in you is an overly aggressive mindset, but with how well you weaponize it… I suppose even I can respect the efficiency of brutish simplicity at times,” Talricto said and then ceased attacking, causing Orodan to frown. “Don’t give me that look, your pet project is approaching, and it wouldn’t do for you to accidentally take off one of his limbs with a stray dimensional blast.”

“What’re you two doin’ out here? You’ll get wet in the rain, Mister Orodan! Come in! Come in!” Fenton said, and only then noticed the dimensional layer keeping even the slightest particle of water from touching Talricto. “Er… more magic? Avoiding gettin’ soaked does look useful.”

“The ways of dimensionalism can shield one from the elements and more,” Talricto explained.

“…why’s Mister Orodan gettin’ wet then?”

“While some scathing remark about how I can only blame my own incompetence would no doubt be amusing, the answer is that I’m not a delicate wallflower who’s afraid of some rain,” Orodan said, glancing at his sparring partner. “Unlike some of us.”

“My hairs will become positively foul if drenched in this dreadful bath. Not like I would expect a simpleton to understand.”

Orodan rolled his eyes at his dimensional teacher and strode into Fenton’s home.

“Oy, Mister Orodan, my mum’s that way and-”

A broom was produced from his spatial ring, held in his hands with as tight a grip as he’d ever had on any weapon. And before the woman could remark on why a strange man had entered her room…

…his broom descended upon her.

“Stop! What’re you doing!?”

Fenton’s mother didn’t scream this time.

Orodan had cleared the curse from her once before, and this time he knew exactly what spots to target in order to make the transition as painless as possible. More importantly though, there were some mechanisms upon the curse which he hadn’t paid attention to last time. Two main things.

First, it had the clear tinges of System energy upon it. And second, it had a small mechanism through which someone could detect any attempts to tamper with or remove it.

A daunting prospect for even the mightiest soul mages of the cosmos to tackle. Especially when the curse had power backing it equivalent to an Administrator.

Orodan though, wasn’t concerned. In a battle of cleaning, he would lose to no one.

The blazing white light of his soul was poured into his broom, and in a feat that felt rather trivial, he smashed the curse aside and made sure to also target the mechanism which would allow for detecting any attempts at tampering too. At the last moment, he selectively blocked the insights he knew were coming on.

A struggle, to go against his nature and innate talent in the art of cleaning. It would’ve been nice, but not yet.

“What did you do?!” Fenton angrily demanded, protective of his mother.

“See for yourself,” Orodan said, walking out of the room as Fenton fussed over his mother.

Even now, Domain of Perfect Cleaning was growing at a frightening pace, eradicating the curse from the woman’s soul had been almost easy. A rather sobering thought when considering how powerful the curse was. Orodan in fact had to forcibly suppress the insight and subsequent level gain lest he attract all manner of unwanted attention this early on. While he loved the thought of dying in battle over and over, this loop was meant to be a long one, and he had many things to learn.

Indeed, he’d come here right after leaving foreman Elwin Clemmings to be dealt with by the workers at the mines. Orodan had simply barged right into Fenton’s house, produced his broom and eradicated the curse upon his mother’s soul with nary a thought. He was now outside, letting the lad and his healed mother have a moment of privacy.

He casually sent a dimensional bubble towards Talricto, earning a snort of derision and the acceptance of challenge from the spider. And soon enough they were engaged in a light spar of freeform dimensionalism once more.

For fifteen minutes Orodan was bullied and reminded of Talricto’s superior skills once again. Like an elephant attempting to compete against a bird at flying while restricted from using any real power, Orodan tried to hopelessly match Talricto in terms of pure skill and finesse.

His opponent was a being born and made for manipulating dimensional forces. In contrast, he was just a human with a hard head. The outcome was never in question.

It was good training, and Orodan landed face first into a particularly grimy spot of mud when Fenton Penny finally came out.

The lad’s eyes were red, and his mother following him out of the house also looked as though she’d just finished crying. The tears weren’t the unhappy sort though. The sight of Orodan sprawled out on the ground, face in the muck drew the two out of their emotional daze.

“Barely passable, perhaps at the level of our younglings. I’ll spare you the humiliation of any further defeats in front of your impressionable student. Let that and the dirt you taste be a reminder of how far you have to go before you can even think of challenging the great Talricto,” his opponent said imperiously.

Orodan got up once again, clearing the mud off his face from the faceplant into the ground Talricto had orchestrated. He had a happy grin on his face.

“We need to do this more often. That was good!” Orodan declared.

“You’ve found the right place to embrace your gluttony for punishment,” Talricto said. “Now do get up and dust yourself off. We have visitors.”

Talricto insulted Orodan a few more times while Fenton incredulously looked back and forth between them and the lad’s mother softly laughed.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted ser. You barge into our home, cure me without saying a word and then proceed to engage in a show of magical splendor against a most regal spider right outside our door,” the woman said. “Little Fen tells me you’re the one responsible for his upcoming change of occupation?”

“Aye, that’s me, Orodan Wainwright. A time looper and traveller of worlds,” he answered.

“And a most simplistic brute who lacks in any subtlety whatsoever,” Talricto praised.

“I’ll have you know, I snuck around and avoided detection this time.”

“Intimidating and beating all witnesses silly doesn’t qualify as stealthy… effective as it may be,” Zaessythra tacked on.

“A… time looper? I don’t understand what that means. But an otherworlder? That much I suspected… you can’t be any ordinary man to have succeeded where every other healer we’ve met has failed.”

And before the woman could fall to her knees and put Orodan in an awkward spot, he caught her by the shoulder and kept her standing.

“I’m not a noble or royalty, I would prefer no one kneeled before me,” Orodan said. “The sentiment is appreciated, but such displays are unnecessary.”

The woman’s face was red, emotion threatening to burst forth as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“But how else… how else can I think of thanking the one who’s given me a new life?” she asked, voice breaking halfway through.

“By being there for your son as he moves up in life,” Orodan suggested. “Fenton here will be starting work under a new employer tomorrow.”

“But… but… what about you ser? Are you just going to leave?” Fenton asked.

“Leave? Certainly not yet. There’s still plenty of training for you to do. Who’s going to teach you Enchanting?”

And who was going to teach Orodan all the new things to be learned upon Lonvoron?

Not only did he intend to train Fenton to be the best enchanter upon Lonvoron… but he also had many things to learn himself.

#

Lonvoron was a planet mostly covered by water, even more so than his home world of Alastaia. There was a singular main continent which most referred to as the mainland, and the wealth, resources and power were all concentrated there. As he’d learned from talking to Fenton and some of the folk around scrap town, this geography naturally created two classes of people. Mainlanders, and islanders; with both groups harboring some level of distrust and seeing the other as an out-group.

Islanders came from the Ironhaven Isles, the Sunstone Archipelagos or the bog islands which were more than a little technologically backwards. These locations aside, there were plenty more islands dotting the world of Lonvoron. But betwixt these small sanctuaries of land… were naught but deep and turbulent oceans.

And it was in the waters surrounding Port Bellgrave that Orodan decided to go for a quick swim.

The waves were choppy, the water wild and cold. Most dangerously though, the unforgiving drink was full of hungry aquatic life. Nothing too harsh nearer to the islands, the Collective’s navy and armed fishery boats cleared those out often enough. But farther out and away from the designated sea lanes, the deeper waters held all manner of hostile sea monsters which necessitated heavily militarized and specially prepared ships making forays for resources or diving expeditions.

A group of giant sharks gazed at him hungrily. Their leader, a thirty-eyed shark, the size of a castle, eyed him cautiously and with more than some bewilderment evident in its eyes. It was at the Grandmaster-level and seemed to be wandering the deep waters in search of fat prey.

Yet, the higher a monster’s level, the less prone it was to rashly attacking. It hadn’t reached the Grandmaster-level by being stupid; humans were not its normal prey; barely enough meat to feed a newborn, far too much bone, and simply not worth the hassle as killing one would lead to more showing up in force.

Furthermore, a lone human swimming the deeper parts of the ocean was a ridiculous sight. No regular mortal could go for a swim in such turbulent and monster-infested waters. From the perspective of a monster, such a lone swimmer had either grown tired of living… or was more than comfortable handling themselves in such an environment.

The Grandmaster shark got closer enough to use Observe, but it was unfortunately too late as two of the hungry members of its pack had already shot forwards…

…only to die as Orodan’s hands gripped their throats and snapped their necks.

It immediately let out a warning roar.

“Back! An unusual predator has entered these waters! Let this be a lesson to the foolish younglings who would charge ahead without assessing their prey!”

The Grandmaster shark gave one final growl of warning, glaring at Orodan and causing the water to sputter, before it turned tail and fled. Orodan himself was happy enough with his catch of two Elite-level sharks. It added on nicely to the three eels and jellyfish who’d tried attacking him earlier.

Some incredibly pale and gaunt-looking humanoid creature with sunken eyes had tried grabbing his ankle while he was near the sea floor too, but after smashing its skull he’d realized that it was simply too thin to be worth cooking.

He grabbed a decent amount of choice vegetation which he sensed would have exquisite flavor and finally proceeded to surface.

“Eyes to the starboard! Got a strange fish in the water!”

“What sort of fish is that cap’n?

“Is… is that a rag on its head?”

Orodan ignored the crew of the fishing vessel he’d drawn the attention of and simply swam away with his haul. On the way back a rather audacious whale swam by and tried starting a brawl with him, but Orodan simply gave it a light beating and sent it on its way.

The waters of Lonvoron were teeming with life, and the remainder of his swim was punctuated by random encounters with aggressive, sometimes curious and rarely… even friendly wildlife. Still, he made it to shore and back to Fenton’s house in scrap town easily enough.

As he neared the door, a tall but lanky young man ran across his path, heaving great gulps of air and looking as though he wanted to collapse.

“M-mister Orodan…! I’m still going strong ser!”

“Good!” Orodan declared with a happy grin. “Don’t let the lad slack off. He’ll be getting breakfast soon.”

“Hardly necessary when the mere threat of my retribution keeps the youngling working hard,” Talricto cheerfully said, overseeing Fenton’s physical regimen in Orodan’s absence.

Fenton looked as though he’d lost the appetite for breakfast, but that might’ve simply been the sight of the carcasses in Orodan’s hands and across his shoulders.

He walked inside the house to see Fenton’s mother, packing most of their belongings away.

“Mister Wainwright? You’ve returned!”

As he’d learned, Fanny Penny was her name. She was a deft hand at Weaving too, at least, before the affliction took her.

Zaessythra thought the naming conventions of Lonvoron to be most strange, but Orodan reminded her that to them, her name would be just as odd.

“Aye, found some good fare for breakfast today. The waters around here are quite bountiful,” he said, throwing the carcasses onto a nearby empty table.

Which, given how large and heavy they were… caused the creaky platform to break.

Orodan sighed and cast a quick Time Reversal, subsequently using Wood Communion to reinforce the shoddy furniture.

“…you plan on cooking all that?” Fenton’s mother asked.

“Why not? These fish are loaded with vitality. I thought the people of Port Bellgrave ate seafood aplenty?”

Being surrounded by water and being situated far from the mainland necessitated that islanders adopt a diet loaded with seafood. Fruit, grain and land-based vegetables, while possible to acquire, were more for the middle and upper classes than they were for indentured servants on Port Bellgrave who couldn’t afford the increased price of imported goods.

Still, aquatic greenery was a common sight on an islander’s plate, and some homes in Port Bellgrave proper maintained gardens and greenhouses for the sake of adding some variety to their diet.

“Of course, I won’t dispute that I’ve cooked an odd thing or two hooked from the sea, but certain things you’ve got here we simply don’t eat,” the woman explained. “The Shadewater Jellyfish you have there, it’s quite venomous and can kill a man in under five minutes if he were to ingest it. Though… I suppose I’ve seen some daring chefs on the mainland serve it with the tentacles removed.”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Right, glad you’ve seen reason, Mister Wainwright. Those things are rather difficult to prepare any-”

“No, I mean why would I remove the tentacles? The venom is where the flavor is.”

Fanny was shocked silent by his declaration and could only watch as Orodan began chopping the ingredients up, gathering them into a pile and then forgoing the steam-powered oven and stove entirely in favor of a pot he held his hand under and heated via Candleflame.

And above all else, he ensured the ingredients, tools and very air in the room were clean throughout the entire process. This made the resultant product of an especially profound purity.

[Cooking 32 → Cooking 33]

Orodan wasn’t delusional. What the woman said wasn’t incorrect. Vision of Purity had marked these sea dwelling creatures as having excessive vitality relative to everything else, and it had also informed him when he’d slain the attacking jellyfish, that the substance it bore upon its tentacles and venom sac was exceptionally deadly.

Still, this was nothing some alchemical work couldn’t solve.

As Orodan threw the meats, aquatic vegetables and seasoning into the cooking pot, so too did he also work on creating an anti-venom potion meant to bolster the body against such a thing. Not only did the stew cook over Orodan’s Candleflame, but so too did a potion come together in a separate cauldron.

Halfway through the cooking process, Fenton’s mother was more than a little surprised at the smell wafting through the room.

“What in the King’s name? That smell is quite delectable Mister Wainwright,” she said.

Orodan simply smiled. Of course it was!

He wasn’t blind to the fact that many people would often doubt his cooking initially. He sourced the most weird and exotic ingredients possible, why wouldn’t people be disgusted? Yet, contrary to their beliefs, there was in fact a method to Orodan’s madness.

He didn’t just select ingredients based upon how strange or nasty they were but based upon how much vitality they contained. Harmony of Vitality was a powerful skill. In tandem with Vitality Destruction and his expertise in the soul arts, it wasn’t inaccurate to say that he had an excellent gauge for life and the abundance or lack of it.

It was this affinity for life he relied on when selecting ingredients. Each of the fish Orodan had brought back were loaded with life force, positively exploding with flavor if cooked properly. Even Orodan himself was looking forward to trying a spoon.

Orodan stirred, changed the temperature and often focused on moving singular particles in the stew about so that perfect consistency would be achieved. Standard cooking was nice, but he could take it a step further by ensuring the meat juices soaked into the broth just the right amount, or that the seaweeds and vegetation he’d sourced was cooked to the exact specification.

Twenty minutes of the process later, the stew was finally ready to eat.

[Cooking 33 → Cooking 35]

Orodan stepped out, and Fenton was still running.

“How many times have you had to intervene to motivate the lad?” Orodan asked Talricto who was idly twirling a fancy gold watch between his forelegs that he’d certainly pilfered from someplace.

“The mere threat of my punishment kept him in line,” Talricto declared. “Though, I suppose he has a respectable drive to succeed.”

It had been an hour, and the young man was still running at a furious pace. Fenton was an islander and used to hard labor, which he could respect. But Orodan also liked the fact that the lad wasn’t averse to hard work and pushing himself.

“Good work Fenton. Come inside, breakfast is served,” Orodan announced, and Fenton fell to a knee, dry heaving and nearly passing out. Orodan’s hand steadied the lad’s shoulder. “Focus and get a hold of yourself. An enemy won’t take it any easier when you’re tired. Getting ambushed when exhausted can be fatal too, can’t let your guard down.”

“Aye, aye Mister Orodan… just need a moment to stop meself hurlin’ up last night’s dinner,” Fenton said, slowly catching his breath. “You mentioned breakfast?”

“I did. You’ve worked hard all night, learning Engineering concepts and Blacksmithing techniques, and then you’ve worked hard all morning engaging in physical training. It’s time to eat up and recover.”

Fenton looked excited for a moment and then his face soured.

“Did you cook that Shadewater Jellyfish ser?”

“I did! Come, time to eat,” Orodan said, practically dragging the boy to the table where his mother was seated.

Fenton’s doubts were forgotten the moment the lad smelt the aroma wafting through the home.

“Bloody ‘ell… what’s that smell? Me mouth’s waterin’ like a leaky faucet!”

“Language, Fen!”

“Er… sorry mum.”

“That’s the smell of good food, Fenton. Sit down, but before you dig in drink this potion. That goes for you too,” Orodan said, sweeping his gaze over both Fanny and Fenton. “An anti-venom potion.”

“A-anti-venom?” Fanny asked, more than a little worried.

“It’s an Elite-level potion, it’ll do its job just fine. I’ve done the additional legwork of tailoring the potion to your constitutions specifically,” Orodan explained. “Now drink up and dig in.”

Orodan himself took a scoop of the sizzling stew and sipped it.

[Gourmand 16 → Gourmand 18]

The venom combined with the natural juices and abundant vitality of the various species to create a truly rich taste. The aquatic vegetation he’d sourced from the sea floor also paired well with the meat and the flavor in the broth. The two levels in Gourmand had Orodan feeling just a slight bit smarter, stronger and faster too, as though he became just a tad better overall.

“This tastes quite good, you’ve really outdone yourself with this one, Orodan.”

A while ago he’d performed some subtle manipulations which allowed Zaessythra to experience the outside world through his senses, and taste was one of them. It made him glad to know she could enjoy things even while sequestered away.

Good food was an experience which added to one’s ledger of life. The taste and memory of it made Orodan feel better both spiritually and physically.

Unlike Orodan who could simply ignore such paltry Elite-level venom, Fenton and Fanny possessed constitutions which were more delicate. They drank the potions and only then supped the meal.

Fenton’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head, so overwhelming was the good taste that the lad had to put out an arm to catch himself on the table lest he fall over. Fanny Penny fared no better either, with the woman’s face turning pale and then red as her mind was nearly overwhelmed.

Vision of Purity could see how the vitality practically roiled off of the food; the nutrients incredibly dense and the energy going from food to body. Ordinarily, without supporting skills for recovery, the regimen Orodan had put the boy through could be considered dangerous overtraining, with this meal though… the replenishing nature of it filled the cracks and helped Fenton’s body recover even stronger than it was before.

A few more months of this course and the lad’s lanky frame would put on some muscle. All part of the plan of course.

Of course, there was one more chair at the table.

“Well? I didn’t cook enough for four just so you could sit on the sidelines and rub your little forelegs together,” Orodan said, glancing at the door to the house. “Come, dine with us.”

“Hmm… I suppose this fare doesn’t smell entirely unpalatable. It had best be good, or else you’ll be receiving many thrashings over the next few days,” Talricto said, clambering onto a chair in a most dignified manner. “Seafood? Not bad… though it could do without the greenery.”

How was it Orodan’s fault that Talricto’s species were carnivorous? Making a diverse inter-species meal while making it taste good was trickier than expected.

“Just don’t eat the greens then…” Orodan muttered in a resigned tone. “Perhaps I should have them on the side next time.”

The dimensional phase spider’s forelegs elegantly took hold of a spoon, and Talricto dipped it into the stew. Orodan chose not to dwell on the ridiculous notion of a spider knowing how to use utensils meant for humanoid creatures.

Orodan’s slight bit of concern was unnecessary as the spider simply chowed the stew down without any issues. The venom was merely at the Elite-level and Talricto was well beyond that. Talricto’s body, while woefully weak and fragile by Orodan’s standards, was more than strong enough to handle such a thing. Plus, many of the things the dimensional phase spider ate were naturally toxic or venomous, and his species’ biology was better suited to eating them than a human might be.

The first spoonful hit the spider’s mouth…

…and Talricto froze.

Orodan grinned. Cooking a good meal and watching others enjoy it was always satisfying.

“T-this…!” Talricto stuttered in a rare and uncharacteristic move.

“…it’s delicious!” Fenton declared, practically drinking from the bowl.

“Manners Fen!” Fanny chided, but she too was hastily shovelling the spoon into her mouth.

Orodan joined them, enjoying a nice meal around the table. Before his eyes he could see Fenton’s almost dangerously depleted state reversing and Fanny’s body recovering her old strength. Hells, even Talricto appeared to be positively humming with energy.

It wasn’t that his Cooking was anything special, Orodan was but an Apprentice-level cook after all. The real difference maker was his ability to remove all the impurities in the ingredients, much like he did during alchemy. This had the effect of making everything dramatically more potent, the energy within the food more effective and the nutrients more easily absorbed by the body.

“Good Gods Mister Wainwright… I half suspect you’ve drugged us!” Fenton’s mother not-so-jokingly accused. “How can a bowl of stew taste so… sublime? It’s as though the years I’ve put on have vanished and I’m a touch younger than I remember being.”

“Nothing so nefarious,” Orodan assuaged. “Just some hearty foodstuffs and taking care to ensure the ingredients are clean. You’d be surprised what perfect purity can achieve.”

And perfect consistency. Orodan had the unfair advantage of an eyesight and abilities which allowed him to move singular particles about through careful manipulation. This allowed for a sort of perfect consistency which a regular cook simply couldn’t achieve.

Fenton’s face came out of his bowl, every bit of it licked clean.

“Can I have some more ser?”

Orodan gestured to the large pot he’d cooked.

“I made a lot for a reason.”

Partially to ensure the lad got some decent nutrition and to also provide encouragement for the physical training. Though it seemed Orodan needn’t have bothered as Fenton worked hard enough of his own volition.

Following this breakfast Fenton would set off for the fort of Port Bellgrave.

And Orodan?

He had some stealth to engage in.

#

“Alright lad, have you gathered your mother and your belongings?”

“Yes Constable Elridge, I’ve got everythin’ I own right here,” Fenton answered.

“Rather rough way of speaking you have about you, boy. Sir Clyburn will want to see that amended at some point,” the senior watchman who’d poached Fenton in the first place said, having returned to pick him up. “Do you know your letters and numbers at least?”

“Of course he does ser,” Fanny Penny corrected. “I taught him myself.”

“Hm, you must be Fenton’s mother. He mentioned her being sick, but you seem rather… well.”

“She’s been gettin’ healthier, the medicines are doin’ their work,” Fenton chimed in.

They’d decided that it was best to act as though Orodan’s involvement hadn’t occurred at all. The less loose ends he had dangling from his tail, the lower the likelihood of a premature end to the loop as the Prophet or previous looper came for him.

“Jolly good. With me then, Rosco help the boy and his mother load their belongings into the carriage will you.”

The constable directed Fenton and Fanny towards a cart of black metal. Spacious, and far larger than the typical horse-drawn carriage he had on his own world. There were no animals pulling it either. Much like the other vehicles of the Blackworth Collective, steam ran the machine, and the power of it was impressive.

“Step back a moment would you miss? Got to give it a belch before we start the return trip,” the coachman said, leaning inside the machine to pull a lever which sent a gout of fiercely hot steam into the air.

From what Orodan had learned from Fenton, civilian steam-powered vehicles, particularly the cheaper sort whose make wasn’t as sturdy, had to often vent steam lest the machine’s internal components suffer damage. Venting or as the people of Lonvoron colloquially called it, ‘belching’, was a regulated practice, and the expectation was that drivers vent away from any foot traffic lest horrific injuries inflicted by magically superheated steam occur.

By design, most of these machines vented the steam upwards via sky-facing pipe; even if a person were standing right next to the machine it wouldn’t harm them. Of course, the magically amplified steam was fiercely hot and could still make the atmosphere near the cart quite intolerable.

With a hiss, the cart vented and was ready for the return trip.

“Never been in a steam carriage before… only ever took the train a long time ago,” Fenton said.

“Well, you’re in for a treat lad, you’ll be dealing with more steam than I can fit in the tank of this thing. Sir Clyburn’s always working on something or the other, and he needs hands aplenty to aid in his tinkering,” the watchman said. “Never quite understood you spectacled sorts who have the gumption to work with metal and steam, but your work’s appreciated all the same.”

“Thank you, Mister Eldridge,” Fenton said and then looked at Orodan.

In response, he gave the boy a nod, signalling that he would be fine.

“What’s caught your eye, boy? Nothing out there but mud which you’ll be leaving behind! Get some cheer in you, no more of this shanty heap and that greasy fat man for you.”

And a man with a rag over his head, but the constable under the effect of Incipience of Infinity couldn’t recognize that.

“A-ah… nothing ser, just gatherin’ my thoughts ‘fore we depart is all.”

The migrating young man and his mother were soon driven away in that black cart. Talricto had gone off somewhere to amuse himself, which likely meant stealing more things the spider found shiny or interesting. This left just Orodan.

The perfect opportunity for stealth.

He began following them, hopping from shrub to shrub, and hiding behind trees as he neared the island’s port town proper. Even without Incipience of Infinity, avoiding regular guard patrols wasn’t too difficult and it was good training for his Stealth. Nearer to the gates, guards were engaged in conversation and failed to notice him as he carefully kept to the shadows.

“So bloody tired… sergeant forced me onto a double shift again today! When’s the mobilization against the plague going to end? Tired of remaining understaffed.”

“Quit your bellyachin’, you only got mandated twice; this is my fifth one in a row. Might get worse too, was picking up a new bandolier today and heard some quill-pushers at the fort say Lady Luetta’s having the fits. Big things happening voidside and it’s got the higher-ups nervous.”

“Voidside? Who’s got time to care about what’s happening on the other worlds? I just want these damned double shifts to end!”

“Good luck with that. Heard a private saying fat Clemmings didn’t come by town to pick up his shipments, which is quite unlike him. Only time that greasy git misses his shipments is if he’s puttin’ down a revolt at the mines. Means we might get sent out if the constabulary asks us to lend a hand.”

It seemed the battle and subsequent entry of both himself and the fractured Living Crystal unto this galaxy had caused a stir. As had the disappearance of Elwin Clemmings, who the mine workers had really not liked. Maintaining Incipience of Infinity across such a distance upon the constabulary was delicate work, and Orodan suspected the bounds of this island were the current limits of his reach. But as the skill had already proven, those affected by it were keen on ignoring and even sweeping under the rug any discrepancies caused by Orodan.

Though, this selective blindness didn’t extend to those not actively under the skill’s effects. In other words, while Orodan didn’t know when the fort’s military forces would go badgering the constabulary about Elwin Clemmings’ disappearance, it would happen at some point no doubt.

With a burst of speed, he moved to another segment of cover, using the trees, shrubs and rocks dotting the approach to the walls as concealment. His clandestine forays against Eversong Plaza had taught him much about stealth. Just like there, the regular guards weren’t the issue, not initially. It was the eagle-eyed sentries atop the tall towers behind the walls. These men and women of Port Bellgrave’s military had skills for surveillance and sharp sight.

With large and almost oversized rifles, they were designated sharpshooters, specialized in seeking and destroying high-value targets with their keen eyes and powerful rifles.

Yes, he could have just used Incipience of Infinity, but that would have been cheap and a missed opportunity for good training.

Distractions could be of either the suspicious or non-suspicious sort.

A rock would have been too suspicious. Guards weren’t stupid automatons who would fall for such tricks, and he’d tried that a few times at Eversong Plaza until realizing it was a no-go. If a rock was hurled at someone, any reasonable mind would ask where it had come from, which in turn would raise suspicions.

And while the guards of Port Bellgrave didn’t seem anywhere near as tense as those at Eversong, it was still poor practice to rely on a shoddy trick. Instead, better to use something they wouldn’t suspect.

A nearby bird landed upon a tree branch near him.

Orodan looked at the bird.

The bird looked at Orodan.

“Come on, I know you need to do it, the calling is within you already.”

He knew what this bird wanted to do. Yet, it was a matter of directing it towards Orodan’s aims.

“Come, handle your business here.”

[Commandment of War 35 → Commandment of War 36]

His latest Legendary skill had the ability to summon things. Whether that be summoning an attack to hit him more thoroughly or calling upon the aggression someone already had towards him and making them attack.

Similarly, this bird already had something on its mind. Orodan merely ordered this desire out and guided it towards his aims as the avian flew over…

…and relieved itself above his outstretched hand.

“Good bird.”

It squawked in bewilderment and flew away.

Excellent. With this, the target guard’s suspicion wouldn’t be as aroused. He swiftly mixed the excrement with some mud from the ground to form a projectile that wouldn’t fall apart mid-flight, and hurled it a hundred metres out, making sure to time it with the proximity of a bird near the tower.

There were three sharpshooters manning three separate towers, and Orodan’s thrown dungball sailed through the air in an arc, impacting the hat of the one whose line of sight was most inconvenient to his entry.

The woman flinched, and then her face scrunched up in disgust as she smelled what she was hit with.

“Bugger! Foul birds!” she exclaimed and threw her hat off immediately, glaring at the nearby pigeons which happened to be passing overhead. “Ought to roast you feathery fiends in my pot tonight!”

She was momentarily distracted and Orodan used the opportunity to swiftly dash up to the walls and clamber up. Not difficult when they were low and sloped, meant more for stopping enemy artillery and gunfire than surprise storming and scaling by infantry.

[Stealth 27 → Stealth 28]

There were still soldiers on the wall though, and Orodan had to hide behind a tall stack of crates to avoid being spotted by one who was nearing his position.

In a flash of quick thinking, just as the soldier neared him and the stack of heavy crates, he tipped the pile over and onto the man.

“Oof!”

The man would live, albeit face some bruises. His compatriots were rushing over to help already, but the incident would merely be seen as the wind tipping the boxes over, an unfortunate accident. Orodan though quickly jumped off the walls and onto the port town side, crouching down in the bushes.

Success. He had made it into the port town without setting off any alarms or causing any ruckus traceable to him.

He had beaten Fenton’s mechanical carriage too. He thus slipped into a nearby alleyway and bided his time until they arrived. Traversing the rooftops of the port town was a no-go as the sharpshooters manning the towers would easily spot him. In any case, Vision of Purity let him see through things, so it wasn’t a concern.

The streets of the port town were lively, with merchants, middle-class denizens and other well-off individuals and their families walking the streets. In the distance, at the actual port itself, merchant ships and the occasional military one came and went, typically picking up the fruits of Port Bellgrave’s labors or bringing supplies into the island.

Yet Orodan ignored all these. Once the carriage arrived, Orodan made note of where the residence was and after making sure Fenton and his mother were settled into their new lodgings, passed through the alleyways of port town and exited on the fort side, making for his actual destination.

Approximately half a mile out, patrolling the skies above the fortification were steam-powered birds. Orodan could sense the tether of mana linking these aerial scouts to a man deeper inside the fort. Their presence would certainly make any clandestine approach a more perilous task.

Still, they weren’t infallible. And Orodan had more than one way of skirting their perception.

He threw a rock along the ground, out in the open, and as he did so he used Vision of Purity to pay close attention to the mana tethers linking mechanical scout and controller.

[Vision of Purity 73 → Vision of Purity 74]

Oddly enough, there was no fluctuation in the tether at all. Orodan focused, homing his vision in on a particular bird. His reflexes and sight were more than enough that it flew through the air in slow motion to his senses.

They were enchanted automatons, much like the steam knights he’d fought last time; that much was evident. Yet unlike the steam knights which had some level of rudimentary decision-making capacity, these birds were far more limited and the enchantments upon them far less detailed.

Understandable given their small size, enchanting something so complicated onto a tiny thing was a difficult task even under the best of circumstances. Though it did have Orodan wondering if he too could make automatons… perhaps an enchanted cart?

In any case, the mechanical birds seemed more like the scrying orbs of his home world than independent sentries. Alastaia had beast tamers, and if he was facing a fort which had living aerial scouts the prospect of stealthy entry would’ve been seriously difficult. With these though, it wouldn’t be a problem.

Orodan neared the treeline at the roadside and pushed a tree over, blocking the road. He quickly slipped back into the brush right after.

This time, the mana tether did slightly fluctuate, suddenly empowering, but only for a singular bird whose view was best suited to capturing the incident. It seemed these birds were being monitored by one individual who could spectate through the view of one at a time.

He crawled through the underbrush, a travel method where the metal birds were unable to see him, getting as close to the walls as possible.

Nearer to the walls, Orodan saw a decently large rock formation and began rolling loose boulders off of it. Predictably, the birds activated as whoever was monitoring them watched the incident unfold. Amidst the current stormy weather, it wasn’t suspicious for boulders and rocks to become dislodged. Furthermore, it told Orodan that the machines had some way of alerting the overseer of large acts of motion within their view.

Finally, at a critical point where if he took a further step the sharpshooters on the fort’s high towers would see him, Orodan realized that he needed a distraction yet again.

It was a dark and stormy morning, rain, thunder and lightning seemed to be a constant presence upon Lonvoron. On Alastaia, important structures had enchantments which protected against nature’s wrath, or corps of trained mages who could alter the weather as needed. Lonvoron didn’t have as many mages as his home world did, yet this didn’t mean the people of Lonvoron were ignorant and unprepared for the weather. The fort and even many buildings in port town had giant metallic structures high in the air to facilitate the safe absorption of lightning.

And as Orodan glared at the clouds above, he directed the next incoming lightning strike to hit not the fort’s lightning rod… but the canvas sheltering nearby soldiers atop the wall as they stood guard.

[Commandment of War 36 → Commandment of War 37]

A deafening boom occurred as Orodan commanded the roiling fury of the sky to strike the cloth sheltering the soldiers’ heads from the rain. The troops cried out in shock, some even flung to the ground. With iron tight will, he forced it to strike in such a way that the soldiers were unharmed, if dazed.

“Thunder!”

“Those arrogant top hats need to fix the bloody lightning rod!”

“Tarp’s on fire! Fetch a pail! Call a water mage!”

Most importantly, a nearby mechanical bird activated, and the distraction was enough that the sharpshooters upon the tower were looking in that direction…

…which allowed Orodan to scale the wall unobserved from another side.

[Stealth 28 → Stealth 29]

He got up top and swiftly leapt from the walls to the roof of the fort’s keep, and ducked behind the stone crenelations at the top, hidden from the sight of the sharpshooters. The keep was where all the ranking military officers of Port Bellgrave held command, and atop the roof was a spindly tower, meant to send out the alarm to the other military installations of the Ironhaven Isles.

Scaling it to manually disable the tower would have led to him being easily spotted by the hawk-eyed riflemen atop the sentry towers, but that wasn’t necessary as a preliminary examination told Orodan that the tower was an enchanted device.

The perfect target for sabotage when one’s Enchanting skill was at the Elite-level.

The inscriptions weren’t anything special; just basic functions for sending out the alarm to the other islands and one which would automatically sound the alarm if any tampering with the tower was detected. Of course, this safeguard against sabotage was entirely inadequate against his Elite-level Enchanting and a vision skill which let him study the work closely.

Fifteen seconds of work later and the fort’s alarm tower outwardly appeared fine, but Orodan had used freeform Enchanting to add some critical flaws to the enchantment. Now, it wouldn’t sound at all even if activated.

One more target.

He descended the staircase from the fort’s roof down to the command keep. On the way, he hid behind objects, skulked about corners and carefully observed guard patrol patterns to avoid detection. Until at last he made it to the chamber of a man who he’d slain the last time.

The fort commander and supply master of Port Bellgrave. A man who was buying indentured servants for cheap prices and exploiting their blood and labor in treacherous working conditions while pocketing the difference for himself.

He shimmied along the exterior wall, climbing onto the man’s balcony which overlooked the fort grounds and island. It was understandably locked from the inside, but that was fine. After all, who wouldn’t wake up and barge out at the sound of something annoying?

Plenty of birds were flying overhead, and Orodan pulled from his dimensional ring some choice scraps of meat from the morning’s breakfast and began throwing them at the foot of the door leading out to the balcony. The feathery hunters were doubtlessly interested at the prospect of a tasty meal, but still cautious about approaching Orodan. Which was when he used Commandment of War to enflame the hunger and summon it forth.

A chorus of warbles and coos began erupting from the birds as they dove right for the food… and consequently, the door.

The birds wrestled and pecked at one another in their attempts to get at the meat, and in the process banged and rapped against the commander’s door frequently.

Two minutes of the commotion were all it took. And furious sleepy footsteps could be heard approaching as the man slammed the door to his balcony open, revolver in hand, still in his sleepwear.

“Away with you, feathery miscreants! Can a man not enjoy a moment’s respite in his own bed?”

Unfortunately for the fort commander, the birds had been scared away by his arrival.

All that waited for him…

…was Orodan Wainwright with a smile upon his face.

#

“Can’t believe the commander drank himself senseless and put a slug in his own head. What an utter mess, I’ll never get the sight of it out of my mind…”

“You responded to it afterwards, the poor recruits doing bayonet drills in the yard had the fright of their lives when the body hit the ground in front of them. I still don’t understand how that even happened… man never used to wake up till late noon on most days.”

“It’s been a cursed day… first the lightning rod doesn’t work, and I nearly have my scalp cooked by the wrath of the Gods, and then the commander gets drunk and takes a tumble off the balcony after shooting himself? Captain Westerlin’s next in the chain of command, but by the sea is she an uptight one. Plays by the book she does… already ordering an investigation and putting the fort on lockdown.”

“Surprised that boy from scrap town’s been allowed in despite that. Sir Clyburn’s work must be some mighty important business to contravene the Captain’s lockdown.”

“Of course it does. One of the tavern girls down by the port said a sailor she’s sweet with told her Sir Clyburn’s secretly working for the King himself!”

“Not so secret if a bloody tavern wench is saying it. You could do with less of the cheap ale and spinster’s tales they serve down there. Don’t you have a girl you fancy yourself?”

The two guards continued bickering about the state of the island, the plague and how one of them was looking forward to surprising his paramour with fresh fruit for their outing tomorrow.

Orodan tuned them out and kept a close eye on the fort from his position deep inside a stack of hay. He neither needed to breathe nor eat, and Vision of Purity and his acute senses allowed him to see through things and hear what was going on around him and in the entirety of the fort. It was a good spot to hide, and he’d meticulously smoothed the bale out so that his entry into it wasn’t apparent.

The fort was in uproar after the body of the former commander was discovered. Needless to say, the aforementioned Captain Westerlin who took command last time, had been recalled to the fort and everything on Port Bellgrave was on emergency lockdown, with no ships allowed to dock or leave. Once the initial investigation had concluded it was determined that the death was the result of the negligent discharge of a weapon and excessive alcohol consumption.

The lockdown was still ongoing, though some whispered that it was likely to be lifted by tomorrow due to them ruling out foul play.

From Orodan’s perspective, forcing the revolver into the man’s mouth and pulling the trigger hadn’t been difficult, though tossing alcohol down the throat of a corpse had been. Merely planting a bottle wouldn’t have been enough, even on Alastaia corpses of the deceased were examined by healers and any substances in use then identified.

In any case, the fort commander was dead, Port Bellgrave would be returning to regular function, and the new commander would more than likely be cleaning house and ensuring the mining operation conducted itself lawfully. The disappearance of Elwin Clemmings would doubtlessly be noticed and that might prompt another wave of investigations tying foul play to the commander’s death, but all these things would take time and Orodan would gradually confront them as they arose.

For now, Fenton’s first meeting with his new employer was approaching, and Orodan silently stalked out of the hay bale he was in, making his way about the fort towards the west tower where all the engineers resided and conducted their daily work and experimentation. Only problem was, the path from the grain house where he was, to the west tower, was full of soldiers.

But that was also within expectations, and he’d watched the patrol routes and patterns of the people within the fort for long enough now that he knew what to do.

He walked up to a nearby open-air workshop where workers were sorting and putting cogs and gears into separate carts for further assembly and use in standardized manufacturing. His hands wrapped around the arms of a nearby large cart laden with all manner of precision parts and advanced components.

“Take that one to the engineers and make it quick!” an overworked and stressed foreman barked, not even bothering to look up.

“Aye, on it,” Orodan replied, quickly pushing the cart away.

He had a black overcoat draped over his usual outfit so that he wouldn’t stand out too much from a distance, but anyone who looked closely would notice his standard tunic on underneath alongside his weapons.

Still, having observed the patrol patterns and people for long enough, he knew now was an opportune time to move forth. He brought the cart to the base of the tower and quickly slipped inside carrying two large cogs nearly the size of his body which obscured his clothes, face and weapons from the soldiers standing guard at the entrance.

“Those blasted cogs are heavy as a horse, lifting two are you? What level’s your Physical Fitness?” the guard idly asked as Orodan approached.

“Level 95,” Orodan answered.

“Hahah! Sure, sure. No need to pull my leg,” the soldier said with a laugh, clapping Orodan on the shoulder as he entered the building.

Inside, the first floor of the tower was full of various assistants and laborers running around in a mad scramble, and in the center, a haggard looking man wearing a top hat and monocle. Soot and grease covered his clothes, and he looked about done with it all.

“Damn it, damn it! We need more power in this mana battery Eliezer! How can the enchanters be expected to complete their work in a timely manner if they’re stuck recovering power in-between sessions?! Get some crystals and fill this thing up immediately!”

“Yes Sir Clyburn!” the older engineer, an assistant, replied.

“And you, tell Lord Morvale to stop hogging his enchanters for useless projects!” the man barked at an enchanter who was sweating over the tall pillar-like object in the center of the room. “We have three months before the next wave of conscription occurs and the pillar must show progress before that.”

“But sir… Lord Morvale won’t speak to anyone and has secluded himself in his tower…”

“That treacherous rascal! He would sequester himself away to intentionally sabotage this project all to spite my authority from the crown itself!” the lead engineer growled and then turned towards poor Fenton who was just standing there. “And you, boy, make yourself useful and get to making sure the contents of that cart are disseminated to whichever machines they belong.”

“I uh… I don’t know how to do any of that ser,” Fenton meekly replied, taken aback by the man’s intensity.

“Then learn. We have books and instructional manuals in the floor above. Watch these other fops tinker, and pick up a skill level or two, progress waits for no one boy, least of all the deadlines imposed by the King himself,” the lead engineer said.

“Yes ser, I’ll get to learnin’ quick I will. I can pick up whatever you need me to Mister Clyburn.”

“That’s sir Clyburn to you, boy,” the man corrected, but with no heat. “Hmm, a base-born, are you? I suppose that makes you all the more teachable at least, unlike half these blue-blooded nitwits whose university credentials aren’t worth wiping my arse with. Eliezer! Make yourself useful and get the whelp up to speed. We have deadlines to meet ladies and gentlemen, deadlines! We can change the war with our work!”

The man, who Orodan now surmised was Clyburn Anderthorn, stormed off upstairs to the upper floors of the tower after saying that.

And Fenton only then noticed Orodan looking at him; the boy’s face lit up.

“M-mister Orodan? You actually came!”

“Why would I not? I see your introduction went well.”

“It did? Felt like I got run over by a bloody train…” Fenton said, looking dejected. “He barely even looked at me and those were the only words he said. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.”

“He seemed to treat you better than he did this lot,” Orodan said. “Long as you work hard and push yourself, I can’t see you failing.”

“Y-you think so Mister Orodan?” Fenton asked, gaining some hope. “I won’t let you down then ser.”

“I’d heard you peasants might suffer delusions in the absence of a balanced diet, but to speak to thin air…? Are you Fenton Penny?” the older assistant engineer asked, and Fenton’s attention snapped to him. “Eliezer Brackenshaw, though you may call me sir as I am of nobility from the lowland counties of the mainland. Who are you speaking to?”

“N-nobody ser, I get nervous and talk to myself sometimes,” Fenton said.

Orodan had of course applied Incipience of Infinity to everyone within the tower. His presence was ignored, as though he didn’t exist.

“Right… well this room’s a mess, so go make yourself useful and sweep it up, will you?” Eliezer asked, though it sounded more like a demand.

“But ser… am I not to learn from you?”

“Sir Clyburn often gives orders in error, the pace of his work furious and frenetic. An indentured servant cannot work on the engineering of the grand project we strive towards. Now get to work or I shall have to inform the guard about your incompetence.”

Orodan decided then and there that he didn’t like this Eliezer Brackenshaw. The arrogant slime reminded him far too much of why he typically hated nobility in the first place.

“Worry not Fenton, we’ll learn together, and I’ll teach you,” Orodan declared.

If nobody taught Fenton over the coming months, then Orodan himself would.

More importantly though… was the pillar-like device in the center of the tower’s first floor. It was tall enough that it went through the roof and Vision of Purity told him that it extended all the way to the very top.

Fenton noticed Orodan’s staring.

“Do you know what it is Mister Orodan?” he quietly whispered, trying to avoid drawing attention. “They say it’s supposed to end the plague or something… but I can already see a few things off about it.”

Fenton was a genius, of course the lad could already instinctually notice a thing or two wrong with it. So could Orodan.

In fact, just at a glance, he’d seen this sort of thing before. Not the device itself maybe, but the principles behind it certainly.

This…

…was a similar device to what Novar’s Peak had set up for absorbing the power of the Eldritch.

No wonder Clyburn Anderthorn was under the confident belief that this thing could turn the tide of the war against the Eldritch. Yet, the enchantments were a little haphazard, and these peoples’ understanding of the Eldritch was utterly crude at best. The first emperor of Novarria on his home world had the Eldritch-infected crown which doubtlessly aided in his understanding, and he’d also had nineteen-thousand years to prepare his city and the arrays meant to drain Eldritch power.

For the people of Lonvoron to make an inferior attempt at the matter when they didn’t understand the Eldritch as well and had enchanters not as focused upon the matter… was only natural.

“Aye, I know what it is Fenton. In fact, if this thing is created the right way… the people of Lonvoron and the Blackworth Collective might just be able to best the Eldritch on their own,” Orodan muttered. Without his help too. “I wonder why this wasn’t made and used on time during my first visit to this place…”

Immediately, Orodan’s mind went to the arrogant Eliezer, and the problems Clyburn Anderthorn had mentioned regarding enchanters. Furthermore, without his interference upon Lonvoron, who knew when and even if Fenton Penny ended up being brought to the fort. The lad had keen eyes, and Orodan had little doubt that this project could be completed, but the presence of arrogant engineers and a lack of good enchanters would doubtlessly stifle that.

Clyburn Anderthorn mentioned a deadline; it was exceedingly unlikely then that Fenton had joined in time enough and learned quickly enough to contribute to this project meaningfully.

Orodan had the time loops, but outside of them people still lived their lives and carried on with their plans. The Collective wasn’t sitting on their rears waiting for a hero to show up; they were actively fighting and dying on the front lines, and they had attempts at research such as this. An anti-Eldritch project ordered by the crown of the Blackworth Collective? There was a good chance that moving down this trail might give him a clue about the previous looper’s identity.

Just who had ordered this project? Perhaps quietly aiding in its completion might lead him further down the trail.

“Boy! The mess remains uncleaned!”

Well, that could come later. Helping young Fenton Penny came first.

#

“You look glum, Fenton. Did you not gain a lot of skill levels today?”

“I did, and I’m mighty thankful for that Mister Orodan, but it’s just… do I really need to keep workin’ here? At least back in the workshop they treated me normal because I was an indentured servant like everyone else around me. But now? Can’t turn around without tripping on some blue blood’s coat tail. They don’t like me, Sir Clyburn stays up on the top floor of the tower tinkerin’ on the pillar, and I wouldn’t have learned nothin’ if you hadn’t been instructing me throughout my work. And no matter how much I do it only makes those prissy well-born fops even angrier.”

“I merely gave you the theoretical knowledge and some bare bone lessons which can’t be considered a proper education. You’re the one who took my whispers and turned them into something.”

Enough so that Eliezer Brackenshaw had gotten quite angry at Fenton’s sudden competence. The lad had gone around the tower fixing things, repairing broken parts and being the best all-round handyman that the west tower had seen in a long while. Orodan simply gave the boy a nudge, the rest was all Fenton.

With perhaps a hand lent when it came to the tedious tasks of cleaning. Fenton was better off devoting his time to actual Engineering and Artificing. Orodan naturally enjoyed Cleaning far too much to allow the boy to do any of it.

In any case, Fenton’s quick study and contributions were unsurprising given how the lad had been working a poorly equipped gunsmithy for a year before Orodan’s arrival. He was used to hard labor and had a knack for fixing, repairing and making things. All he’d needed was proper knowledge and guidance, which Orodan felt he’d have come upon by himself eventually anyhow.

And as Fenton worked, Orodan too had learned; reading through the various manuals on steam machinery, the fundamentals of the substance, enchantments related to it and many facets of engineering that were utterly foreign to him on Alastaia. The biggest takeaway from all that was a greatly expanded understanding of how he might repair the ancient machine beneath Mount Castarian.

Steam, the heating of it and its transfer via pipes was an excellent concept quite adjacent and transferable to one of his primary goals. It would take time, but Orodan was confident that he would leave Port Bellgrave with a greater understanding of Engineering and Artificing than he’d come in with.

“I’m no stranger to the rough life and havin’ a target on my back ser… I feel like I’ll catch a bullet if I carry on with this business,” Fenton said, expressing worry. “Though, I suppose with you here I feel better about it.”

“That’s part of why we’re coming here too. I can’t be the only ally you have in here, and I also need someone I can talk to who isn’t likely to run off tattling at the sight of a strange otherworlder.”

“But… the fate reader? They say Luetta Treadway’s a dangerous woman, what will we get workin’ with her?”

“For you, increased protection and hopefully less bullying. For me, information, resources and guidance on which direction I should go,” Orodan said.

Mainly though, an individual he could appear alongside who would shield his existence and not cause the immediate descent of the previous looper via a series of escalating alarms. Stealth had its place, but when it came time to learn, he needed to not raise constant alarms and having someone in a position of power who could vouch for his presence was all but necessary. Fenton was nice, but Orodan appearing as his mysterious benefactor would raise questions and have others suspecting his identity as an otherworlder.

A veteran fate reader who even the previous fort commander had no authority over? A far sturdier cover.

The two guards in front of the north tower didn’t look willing to allow Fenton in though.

“No visitors to the north tower. Lady Luetta’s in closed door meditation,” the guard said.

“Please ser, I’m just tryin’ to have an audience with the lady fate reader.”

“You heard what I said, now get lost. Who’s the big lug with you? I don’t recognize-”

Orodan hadn’t used Incipience of Infinity on the soldier, because he’d already decided to commit to his course with a fist.

The soldier slumped over, knocked out cold, and Orodan quickly entered the north tower, Fenton in tow, as he brought the unconscious body in and laid it down gently.

“Bloody hell… we’re so dead!” Fenton hissed. “How are we going to cover that up?”

“We can smooth things over later with an apology,” Orodan reassured. “Enchanted trinkets and gold have a way of smoothing grievances over.”

They walked up the stairs of the north tower. It was an almost entirely empty structure save for two maids who dwelled within, likely serving the fate reader. Both were in the kitchen however, and Orodan and Fenton managed to make it all the way to Luetta’s chamber door.

Orodan was about to open the door when a crisp silver bullet tore through the wooden barrier, caught between his fingers, causing Fenton to yelp in surprise as he ducked down behind the stone wall to the side.

The direct approach it was.

A kick sent the door flying inwards, revealing a middle-aged woman in an excessively frilly dress, folding fan covering her face. She was sat behind a table with a cup of tea in front of her. Immediately, Orodan felt a quick and skillful scan of his fate. Now that he had chosen to be a part of the tapestry, such things were an aspect he would have to deal with, and his Fate Mastery also allowed him to detect anyone reading his.

“Not assassins then? Intriguing. And your fate is implying that you shall repair my door too? How pleasant! Rare to meet ruffians with manners nowadays,” the woman said, smoke wafting off the barrel of the gun in-built within the fan covering her face. “Lady Luetta Treadway, not at your service. Might I inquire why you’ve brutishly kicked my door down? Even my more daring paramours would not dare treat a lady in the night so. Given that my threads of fate do not abruptly sever upon meeting you two, I can only assume you’ve come to kidnap me?”

The woman sounded casual on the surface, but her tone and demeanor were anything but. A pendant on her neck glowed; similar in function but differing in aesthetic from the communications amulets of Alastaia. Before it could send out a pulse of energy calling for aid, Orodan’s Domain of Perfect Cleaning purged it of all energy and enchantments.

Her eyes took on a fierce look.

The fan in her hands whipped out in a slicing motion and a bright wave of orange flame spewed forth.

[Waterstream 22 → Waterstream 23]

Orodan’s water spell met it in-between, causing the room to fill with steam as Fenton yelped and dove for safety away from the magical duel.

Her fan was thrown up into the air, freeing both her hands for two spherical objects to come forth from her dress.

“Grenade!” Fenton called out.

The warning was unnecessary. The two projectiles flew for him and Orodan simply clasped them between both of his large hands and allowed the shock of the explosion to dissipate in his palms as the fate reader’s eyes widened at the absurd sight.

“What are you?” she asked, drawing a revolver from a thigh holster and letting twelve shots crack off.

Orodan ignored all of them as they harmlessly impacted his sturdy form.

“I’m all too happy to repair your door as an apology for the entrance, but I need to speak to you.”

The woman took a step back in fear and wariness, her hand reaching out to catch the fan she’d thrown up… only to look confused as it had yet to come down.

She looked up and gasped.

“Damn it Talricto… you choose now of all times to show up? You can’t just steal people’s belongings,” Orodan chided.

“Do not seek to lecture me my struggling student. I see you’ve made a right mess of things here,” the dimensional phase spider said, hanging from the ceiling from a loose web, a fan in-between his forelegs that he was aerating himself with. “Besides… it’s quite the elegant fan.”

“I’m in the middle of convincing this woman to help us. Having her possessions stolen by you is doing me no good,” Orodan said in a resigned tone.

Truly, this shameless kleptomaniac of a spider couldn’t help but steal things.

“Now hold on a moment, why would I help you at all?” she asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I’m-”

“Don’t you say it!”

-a time looper.”

“…”

“Quite the unbelievable story, I know. Perhaps I should start from the beginning where-”

“Get out of my tower.”

#

Lady Luetta Treadway, the resident fate reader of Port Bellgrave. From what Orodan had heard, she was a former inquisitor of the crown; but currently retired. And she was a veteran pyromancer and fate reader of great renown and skill, to the point where the commanding officer of the fort had no real authority over her.

The woman had many enemies, accrued over her long career fighting Eldritch and purging rebellious elements within the Blackworth Collective. Which meant that her reaction to Orodan’s sudden entry had been quite violent as any reasonable person’s would be. Needless to say, she wasn’t impressed by his entrance and attempt at negotiations.

In the end, it had been Zaessythra whose political acumen and ability to negotiate with difficult people had helped secure the woman’s aid.

Luetta Treadway had already been studying the recent disturbances in the tapestry of fate. More importantly, unlike the fate readers of Alastaia who only had access to the tapestry of their home world, Luetta’s fate reading was at the Grandmaster-level and the Blackworth Collective had numerous devices and the technology to monitor the tapestry for large portions of their galaxy.

In other words, the woman had noticed something was off from the moment Orodan and the fractured remnants of Ur-Vah’sahn had entered the Vystaxium Galaxy. With Zaessythra’s help and some encouragement from Talricto who promised to return her fan, the woman agreed to calm down.

Securing her help from that point on seemed a far more difficult matter…

…if not for the presence of Fenton Penny.

As a general practice, Orodan didn’t go around reading peoples’ fates casually. The tapestry of fate was but a canvas of calculations, odds, ends and possibilities. Nothing was truly set in stone and his straightforward manner of living meant he just didn’t bother reading it much.

Luetta, as someone who made a living off of reading fates, had no such compunctions. Upon reading Fenton’s fate, the woman had been utterly shocked at the lad’s raw potential. Orodan himself peered inwards, and with his raw processing power saw many, many years ahead and realized that the possibility for a Celestial-rarity skill was definitely in the young man’s cards.

Orodan had innately felt that was the case, even before parsing Fenton’s fate, but seeing it reflected in the tapestry was further reinforcement of the fact.

Luetta felt that cultivating Fenton’s potential was a goal she could get behind, and after repairing the woman’s door as an apology and Talricto agreeing to help her ‘source’ certain exotic items, the fate reader had agreed to help Orodan. Further elaboration on the time loops had only cemented the agreement after that.

In short, the cover story she’d provided was that Orodan was an eccentric contact of hers from her military days.

It was a skimpy cover story, but even in retirement the woman had enough military rank and pull that people wouldn’t dare question it if she declared it so.

All in all, the initial entry upon Lonvoron had gone well. Fenton now had a better life, the boy’s mother was cured, Orodan had a cover story and had maintained his clandestine status without drawing the attention of the Prophet or the previous looper. The way in front of him for training upon Lonvoron and making inroads towards his goals over this long loop was clear.

With the day wrapped up, the only thing Orodan had before him was training, and a most irritating dimensional phase spider.

Dimensions the size of needles sallied towards him. His own freeform dimensional manipulations failed to stop them, and at the last moment a roar of command tore free from his lips as Orodan demanded they hit him as uniformly and thoroughly as possible.

[Commandment of War 37 → 38]

[Dimensional Resistance 22 → Dimensional Resistance 23]

He hit the ground as Talricto made sure to sweep him off his feet via dimensional force. Something the spider was growing fond of doing to mark Orodan’s losses.

“That was good,” Orodan said, returning to his feet instantly. “Another!”

“As many as you wish until I get hungry and demand you cook for me,” Talricto said. “Still… you would have better success against me if you gave up this notion of stubbornly sticking to Dimensionalism alone and used the elements. The aftershocks of that battle you had against the Living Crystal were felt far and wide.”

As he’d learned from Luetta, the Blackworth Collective’s sensory mechanisms had pinged the destructive collision between him and Ur-Vah’sahn as being enough to partially destroy an entire star system. It was a crowning moment, to come far enough that he could force an Embodiment-level being to flee in a battle which could ravage a star system.

Yet, Orodan had no overinflated opinion of his own abilities. The Living Crystal was particularly vulnerable to Incipience of Infinity’s soul gaze due to having countless other minds assimilated into it. The shattering of Ur-Vah’sahn into three parts had made it weaker, and this in tandem with Orodan’s usage of light magic had allowed him to overpower it.

Elemental magic in tandem with his soul energy and melee combat… it was a truly frightening combination. Just how strong could Orodan become if he combined his monstrous strength in melee with the boundless energy he could funnel into magic? The answer had shown itself in how he’d beaten an Embodier.

“I might have more success against you if I used magic, but mere victory isn’t the goal, bettering myself is. No point to training if I simply batter you with magically empowered might,” Orodan explained. “Besides… I know not how I’m to reliably repeat that feat. It was a flash of inspiration, but not one I can consistently replicate.”

“Of course you don’t know how. You’re casting magic like a human when you’re slowly becoming more like me than you are one of your kind.”

Orodan quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I still have two arms and two legs, so it’ll be a while if you’re hoping I gain eight like you.”

Or forever, as Orodan had no intentions of changing his human form. Form-changing shortcuts which abandoned the essence of who he was weren’t his way, and he felt, were the cheap way of a weakling.

“Bah! I mean the substance, not the form,” Talricto amended.

“Explain.”

Your whole body is partially dimensional in nature, each cell has a dimensional boundary and this is also what allows you to easily grant your Blessing unto others like myself. Yet, this is also what hinders your attempts to weave elemental magic into your melee stye with perfect synchronicity,” Talricto explained. “If what you tell me about your early loops is true, then once upon a time you might have been capable of learning how to weave elements into your brutish style of combat in a simple manner. But now? You shall need to perfect your understanding of the dimensional art to get anywhere.”

As one benefit came, another became more difficult to acquire. This was something not exactly quantified by the System but was a reality. On Alastaia, during his fledgling days, he’d learned of elemental tuning, where mages who cast a singular school of magic too often made their bodies elementally attuned towards that element. The spells became better and cheaper, but at the cost of making opposing elements harder to learn.

In acquiring Dimensional Resistance and making his body stronger, Orodan had experienced benefits, but now had to learn how to deal with channelling mana in perfect sync under these conditions. Otherwise, a fireball would merely blow his fist backwards or a lightning bolt might sail ahead of his sword, and it would be no more than two attacks striking instead of one monstrously powerful blow.

It wasn’t that these paths were closed off to him. Rather, he had to truly master Dimensionalism and his very body in order to reach this state of perfect sync reliably. Good thing he had the ideal teacher for it right here.

“Punch me,” Talricto ordered.

Orodan clenched his fist and threw a light jab, not enough to actually hurt his teacher.

“No, do not swing your unsightly fist at me like some common thug. You are using Unarmed Combat Mastery, are you not?” Talricto asked, eliciting a confused nod from Orodan. “Use Dimensionalism.”

“Dimensionalism? That makes no sense…”

“It makes perfect sense. Tell me, that strange cleaning skill of yours. How have you trained it?”

“By cleaning.”

“Of course, but how have you utilized your cleaning? Did you just sweep dirty floors? Or did you do more than just that?”

Orodan thought for a few moments, and then it clicked in his head. He’d certainly used Domain of Perfect Cleaning for more than just cleaning. He now understood what Talricto meant. He had certainly performed other functions via Cleaning, beyond what the skill was meant for.

Then…

…was the essence of real training located in using Dimensionalism to somehow punch.

It made no sense whatsoever, yet Orodan tried his best to follow the spirit of the assignment. He relaxed his arm, refusing to move it at all. Instead, the dimensional forces were used to elevate his right arm, and subtle manipulations closed his fingers into something resembling a fist.

Like a puppeteer controlling a marionette on strings, Orodan manipulated his own body into throwing a punch towards Talricto.

[Dimensionalism 73 → Dimensionalism 74]

The punch was utterly pitiful. And yet… the understandings he was forced to gain in Dimensionalism as a result were astounding.

“Talricto, this…!”

Orodan was flabbergasted. His mind began spinning.

Titanic enemies were before him, but how could he bridge the gap? Now, no matter the time it took, he had stumbled upon an excellent method of training.

“You can bow before me later. For now, I think you understand how performing a skill entirely through the functions of another can be illuminating,” the dimensional phase spider said. “Dimensionalism for eating, Dimensionalism for walking and even breathing. Our younglings are trained in such a manner straight from birth and it contributes to their development in the dimensional arts.”

“Not only that… but puppeteering myself via Dimensionalism might even benefit my martial abilities…” Orodan muttered.

What further insights could he acquire if he finally managed to train Dimensionalism to the point where he could throw a punch of regular power with it? What if both his martial might and freeform dimensionalism were synchronized?

What if the elements were woven in?

He wasn’t sure how far he could go, but the possibilities were endless, and he had time on Lonvoron to hone them alongside his other goals.

He recalled Clyburn Anderthorn mentioning that the deadline for the project the man was working on was three months. He would spend at least that long on Port Bellgrave. And engineering aside, he had a student to teach and at least a few more specialists in the fort who he could now somewhat freely approach.

Engineers, steam mages, alchemists and enchanters.

Orodan had much to learn and many paths to tread upon this small island of the Ironhaven Isles alone.