Demons are the worst form of barbarian tribe. Intelligent, vicious, and capable of forming rough societies with shared interests, from self-governing cities to kingdoms, and even empires. Their inherent nature makes them shaky allies at the best of times who are equally as likely to act against their own interests as they are for them. The prodigious spawn rate of larval demons means the population is essentially inexhaustible, with new powerful leaders rising from the sea of larvae to replace the old within days.
During a wave, this process is exacerbated a hundredfold. Almost all major upheavals within the third stratum occur during these events.
Morrelia vented her frustrations and mixed emotions on the blameless monsters until the bodies were piled high and she could no longer raise her blades. Exhausted and numb, she stumbled back to camp, stepping aside so that fresher warriors could take her place.
The demons were strong opponents; without the advantages of her Legion issued Abyssal Armour, or her new enchanted blades, she’d be outmatched easily. With them, she was able to cut through most opponents so long as her rage burned hot.
As a berserker, it was the fundamental key to her strength and her most highly ranked Skill, having upgraded it to the seventh rank only recently. Such power came at a cost, though: she could only maintain that height of power for a short period. Without triggering her rage, she was weaker than most Legionaries of her level, since none of the synergies and abilities that came with her Class were active. Once activated, she became a killing machine, incapable of feeling pain or fatigue, driven to violence, and empowered to do it. But that only lasted five minutes.
There were things that could be done to push the rage to last longer, raising the Skill Level, various enchantments, a few tonics, but most important was the mental state of the berserker. Anger didn’t come naturally to most people, which made them unsuitable for the Class. As a child, her impatience and drive fuelled her anger, alongside her natural short temper. Later in life, it was the dissolution of her family, the loss of her brother, and the absence of her mother that she channelled into the rage as she ran her own delve team and roamed the wilds.
For the moment, she wasn’t sure how she should fuel her berserker Class, having run out of things to be angry about. That is, until her father dropped that surprise on her.
Before she’d left, her mother had given her some advice on managing her rage, cultivating it like a flame.
“It will burn bright some days,” she’d said, standing over Morrelia as she gasped for breath after a sparring session, “but that doesn’t mean it’s strong. Think of your anger like coals, deep in the heart of the fire. People get distracted by the flame, dazzled by it, but that isn’t where the heat is. Even when I’m calm, or bored, or happy, deep in here…” she tapped herself on her leather breastplate, “in here, the coals glow red hot.”
Which didn’t apply to ordinary people, did it now? Her mother was a freak of nature and one of the strongest women on the planet. A natural-born berserker who once managed to fuel the rage for an entire hour, a record in the Legion.
Too weary to worry about it, she found her way into a tent and fell into the nearest cot, once again failing to undress, causing the wooded supports to creak under the weight of her metal garments. She was so tired, she wouldn’t have noticed if it collapsed.
When she woke, she emerged from the tent to find the camp cook had left stew on the boil, and she was more than happy to ladle herself a generous helping, only bothering to pull her helmet off when she realised she couldn’t shove her spoon through the opening.
“You probably should clean yourself up a little before we get started.”
Titus’ voice rang with disapproval, but she merely grunted, not pausing in the slightest as she continued to stuff her face. As always, her father was clean shaven and neatly attired, his armour freshly polished and his leathers positively gleaming with a fresh coat of oil.
“Shouldn’t you do some fighting?” she asked.
“I was,” he said and sat down.
“I’m going to assume your weapon isn’t as clean as the rest of you?”
He served himself a pot of stew and started eating.
“It wasn’t,” he said between mouthfuls. “But like a dutiful Legionary, I cleaned it.”
She snorted and Titus crooked a smile before his regular, stern expression settled back over his features.
“Classing up,” he said.
She groaned.
“Does it have to be now? I feel like garbage.”
He shrugged. “I offered to let you clean up, so here we are. Besides, time wasted is experience lost. As far as I’m aware, you don’t have any other major Skills close to increasing in rank, so delaying any longer would be a waste. I think you’ve driven about as far as you can with your current Class, and you should make sure you take advantage of having someone with my level of experience around while it lasts.”
She flicked her eyes to him as he said that last part.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
Titus’s eyes were firmly locked on his stew.
“Who knows what my next deployment is going to be, or whether you’ll be part of it. If all goes well, you’ll be put on the fast track, which usually means deeper deployments. They’ll start you on the fourth, then maybe the fifth once you acclimate to the Mana. You’ll be pushed hard to see if you’ll crack and sent against tougher opponents than you’ve ever seen before.”
The slightly smug tone in Titus’ voice alerted her to how he felt she would fare against the challenge, but she shared none of his confidence. The fourth stratum? The fifth? The monsters at that level were crazy! Not even Anthony would be able to match up to many of them, and he was a giant ass insect covered in literal diamonds!
“I really need to Class Up,” she gulped.
Her father nodded.
“That’s what I’ve been saying.”
89. The New Way
“You could have told me what was coming,” she groused to her father as they settled into a more private setting. “I might have worked a little harder if I’d realised what the Legion was looking to put me through.”
The commander actually laughed. Laughed! She was so befuddled by the rarely heard full-throated chortling of the man who raised her that she couldn’t even glare at him properly.
“You’ve literally been working yourself to the bone since we got here,” he stifled his mirth long enough to say. “You haven’t taken a break to wash yourself in over a week. You fight like a fury until you conk out and sleep, then get up and do it again. In my eyes, doing any more would be detrimental rather than helpful, so I decided you didn’t need to know until now. If you upgrade your Class now, you’ll have just enough time to grow used to any new features and Skills you develop by the time the wave ends.”
“…And use my increased power to drive my Levelling speed even higher during the height of the wave,” she added.
“Just so,” Titus agreed.