Battleforged
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Chapter 411 - Rescuing Freetown II
🕑 Added 2024-04-08 04:00:31 +0000 UTC(A/N - I've decided to go by Initials to signify when people are communicating via 'interface messenger.' The Quote line's far too clunky, I find, and I don't have the type font selection available on my PC.)
The entire mercenary company froze at those words as Eric’s eyes flickered over his sister’s panicked message again.
EL - EMERGENCY! Caliban’s trying to get through to you. He’s been trying all day! He says he can’t, I don’t know why! Anyway, the goblin assholes pulled another fast one. You thought you had 3 days to get what you needed? Wrong. The goblins just declared whatever happened in that Red Zone an act of war! They demanded that the counsel enact ‘emergency precedents!’ What that basically means is that during times of war, all goblin factions have the right to call in ALL outstanding contracts and debts within the day of declaration! - Do you get what I’m saying bro? Caliban’s so panicked that he actually told me just how much you need. 2 Bil in Gold? How? How are we supposed to get anything like that? So I told him don’t do it! Caliban says he has no choice! That a disputed contract full of goblin clauses lacking iron-clad conditions...a contract he has no recollection of signing yet somehow did… somehow you both did… left the deciding vote to the hands of a Planetary Council that we know is in the goblin pockets? How the fuck could you be so stupid!?
EL – Fuck. Sorry, bro. This is not your fault. None of this is. Asshole elite scummy barrister professionals aligning all their political pawns against 18-year-old kids is not fair, but it is what it is, bro. Caliban made it clear that Blue Federation will demand he YIELD to the goblins for the sake of their non-aggression accords which are somehow strained because they helped our ancient ancestor take over a good chunk of the sector. But it was 2000 years ago, yet they’re still on thin ice? Does this make any sense? Why does this feel so otherworldly to me? Why do I not already know this? Why do I feel like we were in the thick of something… just a week ago? - Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that if you can’t pull off a miracle, you and me and whatever ‘friends’ you can bring will be taking on the goblin faction and all their assassins without any Blue Corp allies in the sector.
EL – I think maybe it’s time for that emergency parachute we somehow have? 5 Bil to our name (not in gold, sadly, just Blue Corp credits. Good EVERYWHERE but for this contract, ha ha.) so why don't we leave this fucking rigged game.
Eric paled, clenching his fists with rage.
“Those fuckers set us up. There was no fucking way we could win,” Eric said, fighting not to laugh at the twisted irony of it all.
“Explain,” Elly asked, her professional mien cracking with obvious concern for the boy she had just made love to.
He flashed a bitter smile. “The asshole goblins that tried to set us up to be monster food. When that didn’t work, they sent out a major mercenary corp to eliminate us! And now those asshole goblins have just informed the Northeast Counsel that they are at war with me after I somehow took out their precious killers, which somehow means that they now magically have the right to demand immediate payment of all contractual debt between them and any other party!”
Elly gazed at Eric in open-mouthed disbelief. “You’re kidding.”
Bennett gave a cold chuckle, shaking his head with a hard grin. “Just like a fucking goblin to arrest you for the crime of escaping their own twisted charges.”
“Well it’s complete fucking BULLSHIT!” Eric snapped. “I sure as SHIT never signed anything with any weak-ass clause like that on it, but of course that’s what I woke up being forced to deal with, and now the corrupt asshole Northeast Counsel has legitimized the goblin’s emergency precedent! So if I don’t get my ass to Freetown with a pot full of fucking gold by the stroke of midnight, the Goblins, at least as far as my own fucking human faction is concerned, get Freetown and both banks and we’re completely screwed. Unless I then formally declare war with the entire goblin faction! And Caliban’s not allowed to declare war because doing so will jeopardize Blue Faction’s stance as a peaceful neutral party so he’ll have to take one up the ass for the fucking team and this is UTTER AND COMPLETE BULLSHIT!”
The entire crew gazed at Eric with an odd mixture of dismay and pity.
Eric knew he was giving away far more than he should, but at that moment he was too furious to care.
Lone whistled. “Wow. I knew that the goblins played hardball but I never thought… shit.” He shook his head. “I guess every single last account I heard about goblin treachery was true. No matter how good a deal with those motherfuckers is, assume the goods are hot, always pay up front, in cash, 100% and never, ever, ever, no matter how enticing the terms might look… never sign any paper any goblin or their representative sends your way.”
Bennett’s gaze was that of a commander awaiting orders. “Alright. According to our System clocks, we have exactly 1 hour and 37 minutes to get through any barriers our foes put in our way and get you to your meeting spot in Freetown. Do you know where exactly it is?”
Eric blinked, feeling a cold chill at that. And a sudden jolt of insight as well. “Hold on a minute. I have an idea!”
ES – Calibro! It’s your friendly neighborhood Necromancer King! You Blues offer Sanctuary status, unlimited legal representation and VIP pads to any cool cat sliding territories your way, right? All that along with a 10% cut of the action. Am I right, my man?
Eric clenched his jaw, already preparing for his next step as he sent his Underlord a quick series of mental instructions. A single bob of the massive head that had Lone cursing under his breath and Myl laughing with delight despite the seriousness of the situation made it clear that his orders were understood and would be obeyed.
C – This is Lord Caliban Caerulus. That is correct. This is Ernest Slaughter?
Eric swallowed the lump of relief in his throat, grateful his friend wasn’t wasting time.
ES – That’s right, my man Caliban! I don’t got no hot territories to flip for some quick cash yet, but I will soon, believe you me! In the meantime, I need some place safe to store my sweet, sweet, CASH! Gold doubloons and all the good stuff! I don’t suppose we can meet at my peep Grim’s house? He’s a man who understands the finer things in life and all the dark crimson goodness that is out there!
Eric clenched his jaw, realizing he was making a crucial mistake. But just to be sure
ES – Lord Grim. This is Ernest Slaughter. Necromancer King. I went by another name once in a timeline that was everything, just three days ago. In that timeline, there was a grandson with the initials S.O. once thought lost who was found and rescued. And even though he never returned to his Freetown home, in a twin world he blossomed into a beloved cultivator in a lifetime that bloomed in a single season. A world now connected to a territory I will be reclaiming VERY soon.
ES - Of course, for all I know, in this timeline S.O. Is alive and well in Freetown still… but I sense the golden cords connecting and stabilizing 2 sacred worlds that not even the talisman in play can break, so if you ever had dreams that S.0. Is alive and well… or his great great grandchildren are alive and well, cultivating in a beautiful valley full of clear blue lakes, grand sparkling waterfalls, and endless groves of peach trees perfuming the air with countless peach blossoms… let’s just say that you are not alone in that dream, my friend of a lifetime ago.
Eric swallowed, hating the fact that neither figure was messaging him for painfully long moments even as he turned to address his mercenary crew, already knowing what his next move had to be.
“Alright, Bennett, here’s my next step. I’m going to head directly to Freetown, going as fast as I can.” He flashed a hard smile. “And believe me. That is fast. In the meantime, I’d like to have Wormy bring you guys back to your compound. He’ll take an indirect path, skirting an orange territory before hitting the Southeast edge of Freetown territory and sliding right into your neck of the woods. Once he hits White territory, he’ll be all but submerged. You’ll basically be on a floating rug just a few feet above him, and our velociraptors will hunker down like thick ridges on his skin. Hopefully that should allow you all to head home without anyone being the wiser.
“Wormy will then circle around your compound with plenty of space, because he’s a fucking World Eater, and he’ll only pop up if reds come your way. Any reds come your way, he’ll order the velociraptors to eliminate the pests coming for you while wormy himself raises himself up and loops around the compound like a big Titan Wyrm force dome. Sound good?”
Bennett frowned. “Did I not have to worry about goblin assassins who hopefully won’t even be looking your way, I’d say it’s an insane spur-of-the-moment plan.”
“But it does assure seventy half-step Bronze revenants and an actual half-step Silver titan are watching our backs,” Svena noted with a wry smile.
Bennett sighed. “That it does. And it would increase our durability and firepower by an order of magnitude. So yes. We’ll accept. On the condition that this situation is temporary and you reach out to us the instant the situation at your end changes, for better or worse.”
Elly nodded. “It’s a big world out there, Eric, and there are other settled and sane cities we could set up shop in. New York, Philadelphia, Evergreen, Boston, even Richmond. All stable cites in white tier territories, at least a few ruled by democratic city counsels.”
Eric nodded. “And a few ruled by slavers and tyrants, and New York is yet another bastion of the goblin faction, even if they don’t own it outright. Yet.” He forced his bitter smile to soften. “Don’t worry, Elly. I got this. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be checking out all that Freetown has to offer. Together.”
Elly’s hopeful gaze hardened with concern.
“Eric, what are you going to do? You can’t charge right through three layers of scouts, snipers, and heavy artillery specialists waiting to take you down!”
Eric chuckled softly, stealing a kiss on Elly’s perfectly soft and smooth cheek. “Watch me,” he whispered in her ear, before taking off like the wind.
You have embraced Speed Racer II! You may now proceed in any direction on any surface as if it were flattop! Inertia and wind resistance may be mitigated by 2 orders of magnitude!
Eric couldn’t help chuckling at the friendly reminder of the absolute sweetest perk evolution he could have hoped for, now putting every last point of his utterly absurd 882 Quickness to the test as he sprinted for all he was worth, racing in a straight line for where his map interface still pinged Grim’s manor as being, no matter what was under his feet.
“Shit, Bennett… he’s running on air! That kid is running on air as fast as a bullet train!”
“I know, Naje. I see it too.”
“Is that what it’s like to be a Contender, Elly?”
Laughter filled the air. “Sure as hell, that wasn’t what it was like for me. We were already three centuries in. I could just barely taste living legend. Ernest? That boy IS a living legend. Forging a tale that will humble us all.”
Eric couldn’t quite hold back a smile, now moving so fast that the sound behind him was no longer hitting his ears, despite his monstrous Perception. It was via the party interface alone that he made out the words at his back.
In that moment, racing across flattop made of nothing but air, with wild winds blowing all around him but not touching a hair on his head, Eric laughed with joy and wonder at the sheer madness of racing fifty yards above the ground as the stars glittered overhead, and the air filled with sudden flashes of plasma as the first blockade of scouts and snipers made themselves known.
Eric didn’t both striking back. Partly it was prudence. A hard to identify target whipping through the night time sky was the farthest thing from confirming his nature with runic spells tearing apart the land or the flash of his crimson blade. Partly it was mercy. The thought of looking into what could have been Ella’s eyes, a beautiful woman that had filled him with such joy to embrace, just knowing that she had a wealth of insights, humorous anecdotes and special moments to share with him, should they both be brave enough to unveil their hearts and seriously get to know one another. And all that could have been forever lost, with a single bad choice and mission away from her death, or his, being a tragic reality. How many of these mercenaries would go home to loved ones after their mission? For all he knew, they were told that Ernest Slaughter, the Necromancer King, was a genuine threat to the entire city, and they’d be heroes for bringing him down.
But mostly it was practicality. All his focus was in weaving and juking and diving low as he transitioned from howling desert winds that barely brushed his skin to the rich scents of forest loam, wildflowers, and pine as cracked basalt sand-swept lands were replaced by scrublands quickly turning to a lush forest underneath a star-filled sky.
A forest he raced on the treetops of, now angled so that he was all but impossible for any of the light blinking reds on his map to even sense let alone get a lock on, the handful of perk-boosted shots that still had no hope of hitting him quickly dying away to nothing. And how easy it might have been to think that Eric had been nothing more than a wild mutated bird flashing across their interface, then gone.
That was when he heard it, radio-frequency signals cutting through the air.
Perception + Universal Translator check made! You can actually parse and decipher power armor transmissions within close proximity, even when the senders are not in your sight!
Eric blinked at that. It had been one thing to parse high frequency communication between the occasional power armored opponent he was just a few feet away from. But for his brain to actually be at the point where he could catch and decipher at least a few of those messages while racing through the air?
He shook his head in awed disbelief before groaning, suddenly aware of a background static hum he suspected he would have far rather remained blissfully unaware of, not really wanting what was effectively low-grade tinnitus.
Fortunately, his ability allowed him to tune it out, even as high pitched crackling signals instantly translated as voices became clear.
“Target lost, Sergeant!”
“Damn. Did you at least confirm its identity?”
“No, Sarge. Stone thinks it was a Low-flier with a roost nearby. He thinks we should do a perimeter sweep tomorrow. Their colonies are a pain to root out if we delay, and the eggs are worth good credits.”
“Stone’s an idiot. There are no Low-fliers on Terra.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Damn… you think maybe they’re force evolving? That would be a problem. If you or Stony confirm any more Low-fliers, you let me know. In the meantime, keep an eye out for our target. Now show me you’re actually awake. What are you keeping an eye out for?”
“Young Caucasian-looking Sylvan or Terran male. Brown or green eyes, brown or red hair, wearing either fancy silvered armor or trench coat and dark pants, and who achieved a Bronze-tier Necromancer Title we have no way of verifying without him revealing it to us or joining our party, though no one’s sure how he even got it or what it means. So he could be at the head of an army of any undead horror you can think of. Or wandering alone with nothing at all.”
“Good. And you’re orders when you encounter any suspect that partially or completely matches that description?”
“Demand their surrender. Shoot to wound if they try to flee without attacking us, shoot to kill if they draw a weapon and aim it at us. Even if that vague-ass description matches half the white-tier kids heading to the nearby joke of a rift, and they were sent home crying to their Professional parents, two suffering the after-effects of stun-shots, because they ran away from us in naked terror, the same as I would have at sixteen, once we ID’d them. Because being confronted by power-armored Bronzes was more than their stomachs can handle. And it’s a kid like them that we’re hunting down like a terrorist threat because the goblins hate him for reasons that they absolutely refuse to share.”
“Tem!”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Did you pay off your parents’ loans or not?”
“I did, sir.”
“Using whose money?”
“Raven Company’s, sir.”
“Damn right. Now shut your damn mouth and do your job. Be worthy of that fucking loan.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eric couldn’t quite hold back a smirk, glad that he had held off an unleashing bloody chaos, promising himself that he’d be offering this Tem and his friends a drink some day soon. And maybe a lucrative employment opportunity as well.
Assuming he could actually get to Freetown safely.
And if the countdown on his Interface was anything to go by… he was running out of time.
He did his utmost to pick up his speed. To truly feel the burn in his quadriceps, his lungs heaving like bellows, grateful that his Speed Racer II perk didn’t adversely effect his ability to gather fresh lungfuls of sweet, sweet air.
“Fuck, I’m actually getting a burn!” He said to himself, half in bemusement, half in awe. Not so much at the wonder of actually getting a good workout with his stats, but at how quickly Freetown, had manifested on the star-filled horizon, the glittering cityscape of topaz alloys, glass, and chrome shown forth in all its majestic glory. A futuristic marvel of brightly lit buildings and countless tree-lined boulevards, neighborhoods, workplaces and shopping districts that the goblins would do anything to destroy.
Now coming into clear focus so damn fast it was like a SelfTube video on fast forward, Eric racing around the periphery between forest’s edge and the nearby lush farms that could feed only a tiny percentage of Freetowns’ 120,000 citizens but at least it provided fresh fruit and produce and milk as well. Though the gardens and fields were presently being camped by a good four dozen reds in sight of the nearby wide and perfectly paved road, complete with train tracks that Eric himself had visualized into being… Eric had no plans of entering anywhere near the entrance.
Not when he could fly.
And just as he prepared to loop around a good quarter mile before making a dart past the treeline, Eric’s interface blinked with a fresh message.
LG – You have intrigued me, young Necromancer King. Your name and Bronze-tier accomplishments do echo upon the ether in ways that very few who don’t walk our path will be able to fully understand and appreciate. What is it that you would ask of me?
ES - I hope you will permit me the honor of hosting a meeting on sacred ground to all those who walk our path. A meeting that will be beneficial to both our houses and Freetown as a whole. Lord Caliban might also appear at this meeting, should you be willing to permit such a thing. The third party of our meeting, the party whose schemes we wish to prevent coming to fruition, would be the goblins so eager to steel our city and destroy all practitioners of heritage arts.
ES - With your help, with permission to use your sanctum as neutral ground to conduct our exchange… I believe we can avert disaster. - I know my request is both presumptuous and forward, and for that, I sincerely apologize. But time draws short. Freetown’s fate will be sealed at the stroke of midnight if safe harbor where I can perform the necessary exchange is not secured.
And much to Eric’s profound surprise, his desperate gambit didn’t blow up in his face.
LG – A meeting of the minds between Freetown’s most powerful factions. Heritage Arts Practitioners, enlightened capitalists, and predatory merchants. What a delightful engagement this will be! By all means. I shall be happy to offer my sanctuary as neutral grounds for your negotiation.
ES – Thank you, Lord Grim. This one is exceedingly grateful for your courtesy. And on the off chance that overlapping time streams fork off quicker than expected, may I have the address of your present abode?
LG – And did you know it before? Truly?
ES – If you ever found yourself struck by the odd fancy that your glorious 18th century manor (that grew quite a bit when you constructed a school for the Heritage Arts) abutted the actual city walls… know that in at least one time and place, that was exactly so.
LG – How Fascinating! 667 Silvercrest Blvd. is our current address. I shall await your arrival with baited breath.
ES – Ha Ha ;)
LG – Excuse me?
Eric’s cheeks blazed with sudden shame.
ES – Please forgive this foolish student for the familiarity risen in dreams. Its for me to prove my worth as a disciple and friend in the here and now before I allow my awful humor to trouble your refined senses. Again, my apologies.
LG – So you know, then.
Eric winced, even as he raced for all he was worth, breathing harder than he had in a very, very long time.
ES – I do. And I was never so foolish as to make light of it, even before. I blame exhaustion and fighting nonstop against multiple groups trying desperately to kill me. Again, my apologies for a very poor attempt at wit. And now I must get back to outwitting some very irate bucket-heads. I look forward to meeting you in person and hopefully redeeming my fumble shortly.
For too long, there was a pause and Eric wanted to pull out his own hair. He knew damn well how charismatic he really was when forced to socially interact outside of face-to-face negotiations. Hi perks and his Charisma stat worked best when he was physically close! Just like weapon perks did. The more steps removed, most especially shooting messages across an interface, the more likely he’d end up with his foot in his mouth, even if What The Other Party Wants and Nose For A Bad Deal and Know The Score would blare bright and loud in a headache inducing trifecta when cursed Admin messages tainted with malice, hate, and countless legal pitfalls and traps tried to flood his Dominion Interface Mailbox. Fuck that.
Fortunately, the next message he was sent made it clear that even if his earlier overly familiar jests hadn’t been entirely forgiven...because why should Grim forgive some unknown asshole poking fun at his closest secret (you’re such an idiot! Now dodge that fucker’s blaster!) but the next message he got put the heart-in-throat tension of fearing that he had fucked everything up at ease, even as his brooding thoughts were cleared as he made contact with a T-2 Deathblaze wielding power-armored mercenary bursting out of the woodwork, literally, to draw a bead on him.
“Captain! I found him! He’s right—”
You have critically struck your opponent! You have caused Severe Damage to Power Armor! Power armor is now off-line! You have stunned your foe!
You have suffered 1 Light Wound and no significant injury! You have successfully avoided destroying Mark-II Deathblaze!
You have claimed you foe’s Mark-II Deathblaze. (Rifle strap broken.)
Congratulations! Charge is now Rank 6! - Slam into your foes with maximum damage to your targets and minimal damage to yourself!
Eric allowed himself a single tight smile as he saw his unexpected opponent doing lazy somersaults through the air, both enjoying the growth of an absolutely absurd skill that would have made him a varsity legend if he were in Highschool or college, even enjoying the mild sting on his shoulder that he damn well better toughen up and get used to if he actually thought he’d be able to handle a cannonball fired at his ass one day.
Still, he slowed his pace and took his focus off his Interface messages. Both to make sure no other blinking reds that he should have had absolute focus on had zeroed in on him and, yes, to make sure that the guy who was knocked out cold by the equivalent of getting hit by a high-speed rail line was still among the living, all to aware that had the man not been enhanced by node perks buffing that power armor and a Bronze-tier vitality, he would have exploded like a watermelon thrown off a ten story ledge. Because Eric had hit with what was damned close to cannonball force with his charge.
“Ixis! You copy? Ixis!”
Fortunately, 500 Perception and slowing down enough to fully register sound made out the man’s skittering heartbeat so Eric left without wasting another second, counting it a miracle that the Mark-II blaster he had claimed had even survived the snatch and grab, even if the strap had snapped like confetti.
And for all that his focus was now firmly on slipping inside Freetown while avoiding the major roads into the city proper that he could now see were well guarded by multiple mercenaries casually scanning the few professional farmers, craftsmen, and romantically inclined couples slipping inside and out of the city proper… when Caliban’s message pinged against his interface, he pulled it up in a relieved heartbeat.
C – Lord Grim has extended us both an invitation to use his property as neutral grounds for our negotiation. Our opposites have, of course, refused.
Eric clenched his jaw at those words before reading the follow-up message.
C – Fortunately, their own insistence on Goblin law and the power of senior contracts is something we can now use against them. I have called in the handful of favors that I can (for our city profits a number of third party interests, as is the case with any bastion of economic prosperity) and even the Northeast Counsel’s more… zealous members have conceded that as the senior property holder (Our bank holds their own charter ‘captive’ as it were, in goblin terms) and the city is (until Midnight, Eric!) a fully owned Blue Corp holding… I am well within my rights to choose a neutral territory.
ES – Understood.
C – Good. Because you have less than 30 minutes to get here, Eric. My Blue Sentinels have secured the block. But a number of mercenary companies guard the gate. I hesitate to threaten, lest they’re aware that in 30 minutes my points will be mute. They might decide it’s in their absolute best interest to eliminate you (or attempt a coup) if they fear exile, should things go our way.
ES – Understood. I think I know how to slip inside without embracing the Path of Slaughter.
C – That would certainly be preferred. Now please hurry!
Eric clenched his jaw. Painfully aware of the fact that every way into the city was now absolutely littered with spotters and snipers. And not just Bronze elites. At least a hundred White-tier natives, no doubt looking for what seemed to them the best way to move forward as adventurers and obtain elite training, learning buffs and an extremely powerful path forward was to enlist with actual Bronze elites.
Because really, what could be a better choice, if the only other option was floundering around with a spear or sword and hoping they’d be able to scrape enough copper killing rats to learn any sort of useful skill or advance at all? The smarter adventurers were probably also aware that they were so deeply in the dark that they didn’t even know the questions to ask, let alone the right answers.
So when elite players could offer customized advancement paths actually worthy of Bronze Tier mercenaries… helping them to avoid dozens of pitfalls most Terran survivors probably didn’t even know was there, and offer them training with plasma weapons and armor that would save their lives right now, and offer a sweet pay check?
Hell. Even Eric would take up that offer in a heartbeat. So he promised himself right then and there that he wasn’t going to slaughter fellow survivors whose only crime was trying to find themselves the best path forward to actually ascend as a Classer worthy of the title, without themselves being easy prey for others who learned the arts of Power Armor and how to use plasma blasters if they were too stupid or stubborn to take the opportunity to do just that themselves.
And if he wasn’t going to slaughter a bunch of young adventurers who, for all Eric knew, thought they were actually heroes protecting Freetown from terrorists or the like… then he had to do it without being a sitting duck dodging a hundred streams of blaster fire. Because it was becoming increasingly clear that the savvy mercenaries had concentrated their troops where they would do the most good, especially since now the meeting location was known.
Eric groaned, forced to accept that there was really only only option. And even if he had been encouraged to expand his horizons while learning the basics of acting, there were still certain roles that made him feel extremely self-conscious. And it looked increasingly like he’d have to take on one of those roles in just a few seconds' time.
Chapter 412 - Legal Loopholes
Comments
Joe K
Any reason Eric can't just fly really high (he used a flight spell a few chapters ago) and then set down comfortably at Grim's place. This whole "they are guarding all the entrance points" kind of breaks down now that flight as been introduced.
Antony Haynes
One of the problems with the lawfare power is that the wielder is essentially judge, jury, and executioner. A more realistic form of the lawfare power would allow the other party to demand a judge or tribunal to opine on the contract. In other words, the contract can't just mean whatever it is that the goblins want it to mean. In addition, courts strike down unfair, or vague, or ambiguous provisions in contracts all the time. At a minimum, the recipients of lawfare should be able to have their own barristers to "counter" the lawfare. Where are Blue Corp's barristers?
M.H. Johnson
It happens :) Eric and Alex do do their best, but some chapters there just aren't any slaughter formations :D
M.H. Johnson
Thank you for the positive feedback :) that means a lot. Right now juggling Battleforged and Silver Fox take up a lot of my focus, but Jack does deserve an exciting school arc, and maybe a dash of true love as well :)
Goldfish2
No slaughter this time.
Dangelo Manuel
P.S. I really enjoyed Earth 2.0 any updates on that?
Dangelo Manuel
The thing is that every time we think he’s done he makes a miraculous recovery. I for one look forward to how he saves Freetown and even if he doesn’t I believe he’ll at least conquer it in the future after some twists and turns. I think the way our author takes and gives is what keeps us reading honestly and a pristine progression is boring. If Eric would have just defeated and conquered all the territories that’s been mentioned it wouldn’t have been an edge of your seat ride where your hoping for the best for the MC. Every single chapter shapes the MC into an unstoppable force that I for one believe will overcome most obstacles and not by random chance or environmental factors but by being well prepared and and having incredible skills that no one else has.
MJR
Hoping for a very long passage that wraps up this very long segment - I would love to see a win- before Eric must save his sister, the planet, and then the multiverse. 😎
Diremccane
I hope this is the beginning of something new, it would be good if he could settle down somewhat so he can move on away from this small place. And I have to confess that i intensely dislike this confusing time double-think. If I have to draw a timeline progression to understand what is currently happening something went wrong. At this time you can just reason anything and everything "because the root cause is in the other timeline ". It is exhausting.
ouroboros
No one wants a tragedy porn. You broke it you buy it. Idk.
Russell Ventimeglia
I would REALLY like for Eric to settle Freetown, without it all going up in smoke again, so that we can see some new areas an new factions. Things circling over and over is wearing a bit thin.
A Will
Path of Slaughter
Silver Beard
I begin to think that the biggest Goblin is the Author who is just loving how he's torturing his readers with this never ending BS.
Silver Beard
Called it. Never ending bullshit with Goblins. No matter what he does and accomplishes there's always going to be more BS. It's so old now. Broken record; the nasty drip, drip, drip that drives folks crazy. PLEASE...Author- find something else... or find new readers. I've had my fill and then some of this brand of being focked over
