The explosion hit with the power of a semi-trailer.

  Leonidas’ teeth grit as he pumped every last remaining iota of mana and psi into his barrier of [Psionic Force], and weathered the blast with the indomitable will of someone that was not interested in dying a third time. It swept over him in a wall of sound and heat, and he bowed his head against the onslaught as the power of his barrier cracked and shivered.

  He had used far too much psi with his antics after unlocking the second effect of his [Cataclysm Core], and he knew that he had miscalculated. It had been inordinately idiotic not to conceive of a possibility where the Hydra overloaded and blew up—especially with prior experience as a teacher. Hindsight though, as many often said, was 20-20.

  The explosion’s destructive force consumed everything, and Leonidas weathered it with a snarl of effort until his psi and mana bottomed out, and he was crushed back against the wall by the still-unleashing wave of power. A roar left his lips as his [Archon’s Warplate] was scorched and covered by the viscera and energy, and his body—was battered and seared by the pure force of the explosion.

  By time it was done, Leonidas slumped to the ground heaving for air, and tried to steady the violent trembling of his limbs. His flesh had been scorched from head to toe, and he felt like his armor had melted onto his skin. His eyes, one of which was half-blind, could barely see the blinking notification that his health had dropped once again to single digits.

  His body quivered as he leaned back against the wall, and brokenly attempted to utter a word—only for a broken, rasping croak to leave his throat. His consciousness started fading, again, with no special Core evolution to rescue him this time, and Leonidas almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

  Until, in the last seconds of his consciousness, something boomed within his mind, within his heart, within the depths of his Core and very soul. A single screen, red as all the others, appeared in front of him.

  Congratulations!

  You are now [Level 10]!

  Leonidas barely had time to stare in disbelief, gawking at the message, before a tsunami of System energy blazed into his body and he arched up from the ground. His body rose, held aloft by currents of esoteric force, and it was all he could do to retain hold of his consciousness as he felt the power of the System forcibly healing and correcting his broken body.

  Flesh was soothed, burns erased, scars faded, and even his equipment was repaired. His resource pools refilled, and he felt himself growing in a way he could not quantify. Power, incredible and potent, filled him with indescribable furore—and Leonidas slammed back into the earth with eyes that saw clearly once more.

  When he did, a new screen appeared before him.

  SYSTEM MESSAGE

  Congratulations, you have reached a new [Tier]!

  INITIATE TIER

  [Level Range]: 10 - 19

  [Description]: You have managed to breach the first barrier of power on your path of Cultivation. For the achievement of reaching [Initiate Tier], you have been granted several rewards, as seen below!

  [Reward 1]: You have been granted 100 [Aetherium]

  [Reward 2]: You may ERROR ERROR undergo your first

  Tempering no later than 24 Hours after achieeeeERROR

  ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR

  Leonidas stared at the screen for a long moment, and then let out a very slow, very deep and long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, that seems about right,” he said while swiping to dismiss the screen and receiving a follow-up message immediately. When he read it he lifted his eyes to the sun blazing in through the ceiling, raised his right hand, and flipped off the sky.

  Moments later, heat radiated out from his Core, and Leonidas growled at the feeling. Power and energy boiled like a pot of heat and he reached up to grip his cuirass, to try to remove it, only for his hand to lose strength. Something ephemeral lifted him from the ground, and Leonidas felt himself rising from the earth toward the air.

  “Hey! What the fuck?” he shouted while trying to wriggle free to no avail. His body was firmly held by some sort of pull, and fighting against it—even while it was paradoxically phantasmal—felt like trying to swim against the tide of the entire ocean at once. The System apparently had him in its inexorable grip, with no intention of letting go. It didn’t stop him fighting, but he had a feeling that the Error screen was a good indication that something was about to happen.

  And if his past experiences were any guide, it was going to suck.

  “This is fucking bullshit,” he said while looking around himself.

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  Scarlet motes of power bled from his body as he rose, and Leonidas looked around with wary trepidation as they grew rapidly in number. They populated and shone, surrounding him in a field of rotating light not unlike the gravitational obedience of first a dozen, then two dozen, and eventually hundreds of small moons—all moving at speeds enough to turn them into streaks of red light.

  Pressure built in his Core, and Leonidas groaned in pain at the feeling of molten heat, arctic frost, and bone-shattering force coalescing together with what felt like the air pressure of a hurricane. His body spasmed, and Leonidas gasped for air at the feeling of what was happening within his own body. It was both as bad and somehow less troubling than when he had died against the Hydra, but the real question he wanted to ask was why in the hell it even needed to happen.

  “Whoever said being a Returnee Hero is easy was full of shit!” he shouted at the sky.

  No answer came from the uncaring heavens, but Leonidas cared little.

  The building energy consumed him, and he felt his awareness fading.

  The Hydra’s destroyed corpse was the last thing he managed to truly focus on before his vision whitened, and his head snapped backward. Raw primordial fury coursed through his body, and Leonidas opened his mouth in a silent roar as the scarlet motes of energy around his body consolidated together—weaving into a single, immense pillar of radiant crimson power that exploded toward the heavens.

  The light pierced the sky, obsidian clouds boiled into existence, and the arena trembled under the fury of the System.

  * * * * *

  Aylar had watched in disbelief when the feed had restarted and Achilles had managed to somehow protect himself in a bubble of mana. She watched with the rest of the Royal Box as he made the customary gestures for swiping away System alerts, and then popped the bubble that protected him with an almost annoyed sense of impatience.

  Her expression went from shock to sheer disbelief when he actually rejoined the fight.

  “ACHILLES LIVES! ACHILLES LIVES! ACHILLES IS ALIIIIIIIVE!”

  The arena shook with the screaming approval of the crowd as Aylar watched.

  The Terran Squire moved like a man fully refreshed, not one just returned from a brutal fight. He charged at the Hydra dauntlessly, and when it tried to subsume him with its breath, he used invisible force to send its energy streaming up through the destroyed ceiling—or floor, based on your perspective.

  What sort of monster is he?

  +“{Once again you ask the wrong question,}”+ Ceruviel’s voice said coldly into her mind. +“{Between your dithering about my ‘rampage’ and your mix of fear and excitement for what the boy represents, you seem less like a Princess-Royal and more like an irascible academy girl, Aylar.}”+

  The recrimination made the Princess wince, and she idly flexed her hands while watching the screen. Achilles was launching himself airborne as she observed, and seemed to be dancing on platforms of invisible power as he battled the Hydra’s heads in mid-air.

  “AND ACHILLES CONTINUES HIS ONSLAUGHT! I’LL TELL YOU WHAT FOLKS, I’VE SEEN A LOT OF THINGS IN MY CENTURY OF LIFE, BUT THIS IS A NEW ONE FOR SURE! CAN HE DO IT?”

  +“{I told you, girl: that boy, much like you, will be the key to the prosperity of this region in future. Did you think I arranged this battle simply for show?}”+

  Aylar glanced toward Ceruviel properly at that, and her painted lips downturned in a frown.

  +“{I… I admit that I was puzzled when I heard he would be facing a Hydra, even an adolescent one. I am not certain I could stand against one in single combat, and I am—}”+

  +“{Not an Archon,}”+ Ceruviel finished with a ruthlessness that hurt. +“{For all your skill and talent, Aylar, you are not an Archon and as such, you remain incomparable as a theoretical to that Terran. You are a Swordmaiden, like your mother before you, and while that itself is a terrific accomplishment—you are just as limited as the Heroine-Queen was.}”+

  It seemed that something had indeed set off Ceruviel, for while the Dusk-Lord was often candid, she retained a level of measured restraint in how she addressed Aylar at least. Now, however, there was no indication of such. The woman was a force of nature in truth, and Aylar felt as if all she could was hold on and wait for the storm to pass.

  +“{Archons existed to preserve and protect Altera, even in the face of threats no one else could conceive of. Power alone does not make an Archon what they are—it is the type of power, and it is the breadth of its impact across the scope of reality that makes an Archon truly terrifying. Your [Radiance Core] is laudable, Aylar, but compared to that boy…}”+

  Ceruviel turned toward her finally, and Aylar saw a mix of pity and cold certainty in the woman’s blazing lavender eyes.

  +“{...you are a palisade wall weathering the fury of a building typhoon. I intend to forge Achilles into an adamantine bastion—one that will ensure the safety, security, and permanency of Dawnhaven and all of its citizens—Haelfenn and otherwise—for centuries to come. Your only task, Princess, is to ensure that you bring him to your side. There is no cost that is too great to achieve that goal, remember that.}”+

  Aylar turned to look at the screen once more, and watched as Achilles sliced through one of the Hydra’s remaining heads without concern and promptly threw himself into a descent; blade pointed down and fearless surety showing through his armored figure. He looked utterly secure in himself, and there was a certainty of self evidenced in his movements that Aylar outright envied. She knew that. She could admit that much to herself.

  +“{And what happens if I cannot?}”+ she asked at last and honestly, without taking her eyes off of the viciously attacking squire.

  Ceruviel’s answer was softer than before, but equally brutal in its candor.

  +“{You will fail.}”+

  Aylar narrowed her eyes at the screen and pursed her lips.

  Then I will make him my ally, she affirmed to herself while tightening her fingers together, no matter what it takes.

  A sudden shift from the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Aylar turned once more toward Ceruviel—who now stood rigidly on edge. On the screen, Achilles had just impaled the Hydra, and was rapidly gaining distance as the creature started to bloat and inflate grotesquely. Gasps and noises of disgust echoed around the Royal Box, but it was Ceruviel who kept Aylar’s attention.

  For the first time, the Dusk-Lord seemed troubled.

  When the Hydra exploded and Achilles weathered the storm amid cacophonous cheers, Aylar thought Ceruviel would relax.

  She did not. If anything, the Dusk-Lord only grew more agitated, and her arms shifted to fold over her chest while she leaned forward to stare down at the pit with her eyes blazing, and psifire crackling in purple-black flickers along her arms. It did not go unnoticed by the nobility, who looked first to the Duchess, and then back to the arena in alarm.

  “{Dusk-Lord?}” Aylar called out loud to steal Ceruviel’s attention. “{Is there something amiss?}”

  The woman turned at Aylar’s prompting, opened her mouth, and then snapped her gaze back toward the arena. When she did, she stepped forward and gripped the railing—soon to be joined by several others as a beam of pure, incandescent scarlet light exploded out of the chasm containing the Hydra and pierced the heavens.

  Even before the black clouds started forming, Ceruviel spoke in a tone Aylar had never heard from the woman before.

  “{Heavenly Tribulation,}” the Dusk-Lord hissed under her breath. “{That fool boy!}”

  It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t jealousy, it wasn’t condemnation, it wasn’t disgust.

  No, what Aylar heard chilled her blood.

  Fear.

  Discord.

  Monday for the next Chapter!