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Bk 3 Ch. 55
🕑 Added 2025-02-16 23:30:10 +0000 UTC55.
A/N: that's the end of book 3!
Circlet of Lords
(Upgradeable)
15% Increase to all stats
Achievement: Kill a Regressor
Reward: Loot Box (Grand)
Achievement: Survive a Grand Curse
Reward:Title
Iron-Willed: Your mind is an impregnable fortress; none may tread upon without your notice or permission.
Achievement: Kill a Sentient 10 levels above you
Reward: Loot Box (Common)
x3
Achievement: Survive a sentient 10 levels above you
Reward:Title Cockroach Accumulation 10%
X3
Congratulations, you are an Air Mage lvl. 59
Santi stared at the list of achievements and felt his eyebrows rising up his forehead at the ranking of some of his achievements. He was now at sixty-percent towards leveling up the cockroach title again. The circlet of lords had gained five percent for each of the pillars he had taken control of from the cursed horde.
The circlet offered a better chance of power accumulation than anything else he had available to him. A continuous five percent jump for every single pillar he took was something he couldn’t look away from. There was always the question if he would be able to push past one hundred percent accumulation, but that would be for a different day.
The first of the grand level achievements appeared at his desk with a simple thought as he opened the achievement. The small room contained the noise of the displaced air as a chest of silvery metal appeared above the desk, thumping down heavily enough that the pencils he had on the desk jumped. A mythril chest in the opening months of the incursion was unheard of.
The chest was small and ornate, beautiful scrollwork etched across its surfaces. Images of different clocks or timekeepers were inlay on the metal, glowing ethereally in the soft sunlight streaming in above his head. Santi had to fight to open the box, the beauty and power of it was so captivating. Inside was nothing more than a little carved out space, a single item resting nestled in it.
It was a small time turner, sand constantly drifting down the narrow point as Santi picked it up. It fit in the palm of his hand, made of the same mythril as the box, crystal glass and onyx sand flowing constantly. No matter how much sand flowed down the middle, the amount in the top chamber never lowered.
Moment of Time
His [Identify] skill couldn’t get him more information than that. The item was powerful beyond belief, that was easy enough to figure out. The mythril box disappeared, only to be replaced a moment later with three silver boxes as his next achievement opened up. Santi opened up the small safe he had bolted to the floor to hold his personal things. It wasn’t much in the way of physical protection, but the spells he had built over his office over the last few months were more than enough to prevent anyone from touching his goods.
The first opened and Santi smiled as he saw the coins filling the box. Not the bleached white wood that had been so common lately, but the next denomination in scale. Milky crystal that had a half thousand facets to them, each impossible small. Dumping out the coins on to his desk he delighted in the sound of tumbling, the wealth at his fingers staggering.
Each of the crystal coins were worth ten of the wooden coins. The System was kind in that regard, each of the next denominations going up by a factor of ten. The forty or so coins was a significant increase to his personal wealth which had taken a rather staggering hit over the last few days.
The next chest was a pair of pants, reinforced denim with extra thick padding around the knees and the inside of his thighs. They were soft and light in his hands and the quick look at them was enough to make him happy.
Self-Repairing Jeans
Ultra-tough denim with minor reinforcements and a self-repair ability.
+3 Durability
The final box was a pair of work boots with brand new laces on it. They looked similar to what his dad had used to wear going to work and the remembrance brought a quick pang of familiar pain.
Self-Repairing Workman’s Boots
A pair of nice rugged boots.
+3 to Stamina
His poor wardrobe had been absolutely decimated over the weeks. Aside from his jacket and shirt, none of his clothes could survive anything more than a somewhat vigorous fight. The stat boost was negligible but every point helped.
Santiago V. Silva
Level 59 Air Mage
Strength: 40 (75)
Durability: 40 (75)
Stamina: 40 (75)
Dexterity: 41 (76)
Vitality: 50 (85)
Perception: 50 (85)
Intelligence: 147 (182)
Mana: 205 (240)
Willpower: 159 (194)
Potential: 99%
The general euphoria of stat point increases rolled over him and Santi enjoyed it. For the first time in a long time he felt fully in control of his emotions and thoughts as his willpower finally was sitting uncontested. The strain of holding against the curse had been a weight he hadn’t realized, dragging him down and impairing his every action. With it free he could finally feel his mind being able to stretch out.
Now that he was getting close to the upper reaches of Acolyte grade, he needed to get more serious about specialization. Santi had had the early distribution of his stats to increase the likelihood of his own survival and allow for him to fill in any roll needed.
The rest of the team would have experienced their own rapid growth from the battle, narrowing the gap in stats in their own specialties without problem. It wouldn’t surprise him if all his friends' primary stats were now superior to his own secondary or tertiary stats.
So it meant being a true mage. Which meant he needed to assign his spells. His soul was still in turmoil from removing [Crosscurrent-Orb]. He now had four open spell slots available with a fifth on the way the moment he pushed into level sixty. The list of spells was growing wider and deeper and soon he’d have to spend time carefully sorting out how he wanted to combine his spells or increase their potency.
[Identify] needed an upgrade as soon as possible. Having [Analyze] or something in that vein would be helpful. It would probably give him something more from powerful objects like Moment of Time. The wealth he had just acquired would be able to purchase what he needed from the markets through the pillar.
Santi leaned back in his chair, thoughts swirling a mile a minute as he planned out his actions. As he leaned back, eyes closed, his recently freed mind slowly decluttered. Thousands of actions over the years came into crystal clarity, razor sharp now rather than the faint outline he used to see.
It wasn’t just the great epic battles and the momentous victories and defeats he remembered anymore. His mind had sharpened to the point he remembered the drudgery of the daily life, the half remembered lectures and talks.
He remembered being with her. The name that had kept changing. A face that was always blurred and distant, locked behind a wall of fog. Santi’s brow clenched down further and sweat beaded his face and chest as he hit the wall around his memoires and with his new title and increased stats blew down the walls like there was nothing there.
Memories of frozen forests filled with monsters. Peak Disciple wolf packs ravaging armies of invaders, tentacled creatures exploding out of ice filled lakes, vicious skirmishers fighting over every inch of the changed Minnesota lands.
A soft-cupid face with short black hair and freckles that covered her face from scalp to chin. A wide smile filled with pearly teeth that reflected the light of a fire as she tended to his wounds after he had strayed too close to one of the long tentacles. A sucker and a hook had ripped a chunk out of his thigh and the bleeding had grown bad enough he had to worry about bleeding out.
The questions she had asked. The fog that had slowly built over their evenings together hiding in abandoned buildings or small caves. An entire winter together, fighting and bleeding and living on a hair’s edge.
All the secrets that Santi had spilled. Innocuous at first but then with more and more depth. The missions he had taken and completed. Where he had reported to his superiors. How they had reacted. Where they were stationed.
Santi remembered the next spring when all of the Minnesota wilds had collapsed as strategic strikes had destroyed all of their outposts and forward bases. They campaign had been such a disaster they had pulled out of the lower great lakes area for the entirety of a year while they refocused on the American South and Western Canada.
He remembered when Delilah had died. He had come back to their hideout to see cultists come streaming free, skirmishers covered in blood with Delilah’s limp, vacant eyed stare looking at nothing. The two day battle as Santi had chased after them, superior only in his speed and maneuverability, before he eventually lost them.
He sat bolt upright as the last of the mental effects broke and he had a clear mind for the first time in ages. He flew out of his office in a blur, running downstairs to where the others were sitting around a table as they drank coffee.
“Where’s Delilah?” Santi asked Daniel who looked up with a surprised look on his face.
