When Jeolas returned to the sewers, he had a few people gather everyone to listen, and as the last of his people gathered, he spread his arms and smiled.

  "Today will be a great day, for we will celebrate before tomorrow. I need the strongest of our guards to show these people our greatness, though they would pay any of us who remain behind to stay in the sewers. Of course I will keep in contact with you through one of the rock guards to make sure everyone works for the best of the community and the extermination of all heretics. Thus I ask, whom among us wants to remain here as our ambassador and recruiter for this sacret inquisition of ours?"

  His question thrilled many, though most wanted to leave the desert with him. Most of the discussions were spreading between the skeptics, something he had anticipated and hoped for. A hundred of them would remain in the end, while the rest trusted him enough to follow his guidance.

  "Then it is said. Now we need our Knight, someone among us that we trust to represent us. It cannot be me or the rock guard, and thus I leave it to those who have trained in the arts of war to choose one amongst them to achieve the rank of Knight, our future hero of the frontlines and the representative of our kin to those who dare oppose us."

  As he prepared for a discussion, the warriors decided on an impromptu tournament that left most of their people wheezing in the dirt within barely half an hour.

  Once the weakest among them where weeded out, two Larv remained standing. One carrying a rapier coated in his own mucus, the other moving without a weapon.

  The following fight was something to behold.

  While it lacked the magical shenanigans that he was used to experience during champion fights, it showed something he had not been able to witness since his first death. Actual Martial arts.

  The fight consisted of barely dodged hits, nimbly deflected stabs and other rapid movements, to the point noone could see anything bejond the haze of attacks they left behind.

  Only after several seconds of this did they finally change their approach, the Rapier wielder changing the hand he wields his weapon in while the brawler went into some type of defensive stance. As they locked eyes, it was as if time went still in anticipation, followed by a sonic boom and both combatants landing on the opposite side of the hastily formed ring.

  As they turned around, a red line could be seen on the Brawlers arm, the result a sewer whide cheer of approval from his fans as they bowed to one another and the rapier wielder turned to Jeolas.

  "I have won, and thus been chosen by the people."

  Quickly inventing something to keep the ceremony going, the overwhelmed Hero added.

  "And thus you shall protect them from harm. Go forth, noble Paladin and show those doubting our righteousness the inevitability of our path."

  The next second, he felt the devotion of each of his subjects deepen, and the connection to the paladin grow strong enough for emotions to be felt by the other, their pride amplifying eachother as the Larv stood up, casting away who he was before and embracing this new, sacret role. One that was seemingly rewarded with a class, if the look on his face was any indicator at all.

  Jeolas smiled.

  "Eternal be the system, and all hail the void that birthed us. Now let's purge those sinners from Nas'ri, and embrace the purity that rests within each of us."

  He shouted, somewhat sure that the system was listening and helped his organisation gain traction.

  "This night, Our newly crowned Paladin will face off against the best warrior of this city. The strongest among our kin against their regional hero. Go forth and claim the glory you deserve, but don't forget that each of us has your back, as you concentrate on crushing what is before us."

  After that, the Paladinraised his rapier and an armor of living stone, the same material that peoplebgot turned into when golems were created, coated his body, seemingly transforming his mucus into a protective casing as the slime coating his sword became a phantasmal outline, one that seemed to burn at the very fringes of reality.

  After the admittedly edgy transformation sequence, the Paladin bend the knee once again as he placed the new blade in front of him.

  "I am Paladin, first of the Paladin and servant to his highness Jeolas, prophet of the Primordials. May he reign forever."

  Annoyed at the repeat of the scene, Jeolas put his hand on Paladins head, infusing it with sheer mana as their connection vibrated in pride, a pride so strong it reveberated within all the Larv, and even a certain mummy lord was proud about his work for a split second, before he returned to working on it and choosing the best fighter among his people.

  After a ehile, he made a choice, a warrior without equal, chosen to fight one of his opponents shadow coated monstrosities.

  Then, both combatants marched upwards, heading straight for the plaza that had been determined for the battle.

  The sun fell, casting the world in a scarlet hue as two warriors in full plate stood against one another. A rapier against a flail, steel against living stone.

  The buildings around and the sewers beneath the spectacle were filled with people determined to cheer for their respective Hero, a fight that would influence history more than any of them could have possibly thought.

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