C2

-Ding-

Experience gained for killing Azur the Draconian Shapeshifter of Storms Level 302.

[First class Blood-borne level 276 > 280]

20 Attributes points gained.

One tier-three skill point gained.

Tier two Skills which can be levelled:

Blood rush T2 lvl20

Health drain T2 lvl20

Blood chains T2 lvl20

Contamination T2 lvl20

John had also received a similar screen for his executioner class, although the skill options were less than blood-borne. Mentally discarding all the notifications, John siphoned the drakes blood and essence to accelerate his healing, and starting with the critical wounds flesh became whole again, but before he could fully recover a cacophony of talking and cackling disturbed him.

"Who!?"

The inexplicable appearance of the witches startled John. He shakily stood up, to guard against them, but was shaky and exhausted, barely being able to raise his axe. Darcia collapsed off to the side was not a viable combat asset as she was unconscious, and likely exhausted of any mana.

"A threat you can see, but malicious we not, we have come to tell you about fate dare you listen to us."

"Do you see me as a fool, all thou your kind aren't prosecuted, you are as creepy as hell for me to trust. Your race is known to say superfluous lies to play with the heart of man and make them subvert nature betraying loyalties as easily as sliding sand. So I daren't listen to your insane profanities, be gone witches, be gone."

"Do you dare bargain with your unborn child's life? Will war truly end with you and your strife? You should fear peace more than war, least the next one exceeds its predecessors in death."

"You dare threaten me with the life of my child!"

"Fate holds your child's life; we but read the strings of fate and time. But we can divert your fate by making what yours is mine."

"Sister! We are vagrants bound never to settle, is your hood heavy with silver metal (mercury), that you have gone mad. You know what happens when a convent stops moving, a witches Karma is delayed but moves swiftly when it sees the chance to strike, does future greed blind you. Get ahold of your self."

"Calm down sister, have we not shared are gazes, have you not seen the sky as blood, and the muns (moons) cracked like eggs, no man, or elf, no dwarf or beast. If not for the child, would the future not exist, can I not greed for life? Can I not desire for pleasantries sister? My life for this worlds life, little o'l me, I feel like it would be worth it. Although I fear I will ascend before seeing the fruit of my labour."

"Sister! You don't owe this world anything, why strengthen your tribulation, when you could advance with ease?"

"Haha, they say age dulls ambition, but for witches, we are but young youths, but not strive to change fate instead of leaving it up to mortal man, instead of guiding hearts why not control destiny and herd it away from doom. Which ancestor would not be proud of us?"

"Hsss. Fine! Mortal! You better accept our guidance, before it is too late and the inevitably comes."

"Do you think that was enough to cease my belief in your scheming nature, answer me and I will consider your offer."

"Hmm? Then let us express your future, so you may verify if we are coning you or telling the truth."

"When the war is lost and won, we shall tell you about your only son. When you meet the commander, he will stumble back in fear and tremble at the presence of us sears. The king's belief in meritocracy, will not grant you the title of thane, but count, your wife, will be a court magician and in addition..."

"Clover your future town will prosper..."

"Till it is burnt by dragons burning thrum..."

"And your heart will cease to thump."

"I'll trust you so that I can escape your god awful rhymes. We will depart before sunset."

"Agreed"

...

Walking down a snaking path, our current cast of characters had left the blood and gore of an empty battlefield, heading towards an encampment visible even under the thick canopy of deciduous trees.

"So you agreed to bring these three 'reputable' witches along with us so that you could verify if they are telling the truth? Not that I disagree with your choice, but the commander is gonna freak when he sees them."

"If he freaks, he freaks. We will just be given yet another infamous and weird title. Maybe witch sympathiser or dubious general, at least if they are telling the truth, we can change the future, and save our son."

"Hmm."

"Kekekeke, did we not foresee and tell you that he will freak? There are no ifs."

"Phew, I am glad they stopped their rhyming I would not have taken three hours of singsong. Wait? Why do you guys rhyme anyways?"

"Fear the witches hymn and synced rhythmic rhymes. Taken to heart as a curse, remembered to the end of time, mortal do fear the unknown especially with mystic tones. Trusted are our words but infamous for being cursed, let their pitiful hearts burst, and let us be known as the worst."

"Ok?"

"Halt! Who goes there! Reveal yourself, no use hiding, we can feel you out there."

"Josh you retard, I know you detected us at least half an hour ago, stop being a dick and let us in."

"Haha, you've some nerve coming here John, especially with three high levelled cursed ones. I suggest you piss right off before I drive you off, this time the commander won't intervene to save you."

"Bring it b*tch. I was restricted from landing killing blows last time; otherwise, you would've been dead."

"Knight Josh, Executioner John, desist your conflict. John, Dacia, follow me to the commander he has news from the higher-ups. Although I suggest you leave, 'them', here. And Josh, if I come back and you have been *ucked up by those three because you have done something, your pay will be docked, and you won't be offered healing services until you have learnt your lesson. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

The three witches seemed unperturbed about staying behind. Dacia and John, escorted by the Lieutenant, made their way to the centre of the encampment, towards the largest tent. On the way towards the centre, several troops who weren't part of logistics, catching up on rest or maintaining their armour, eyed the two escorted members with various emotions. Respect for succeeding their impossible assignment, fear at the implications presented by their success, and disdain at their supposed friendship with witches. Two guards stood outside the command tent.

The tent was a large umbrella pavilion, but based on an eastern design, unlike the few officer tents outside only supported by a single pillar. Unlike the fort that was half a days march away, this camp was so the troops could be ready at any time to flank the enemies sidelines. Back onto the design of the tent, it consisted of a single pillar, that unlike the smaller ones, was four times taller and had a wood frame pushing the force from the centre out and down, it was then divided in the middle allowing two occupants, in most cases the commander and secretary. Since the commander was in most cases, nobility or someone with military service, it was likely that they had a space ring for rapid transportation and storage, and if not, a porter would be provided.

The guard on the left was a level two-hundred and seventeen warrior, and the guard on the right was a level two-hundred and forty-three rogue. Unlike the other soldiers, these two had armour of obviously higher quality, made from blood metal. The armour was a dull bloody red expelling a ghastly black mist.

Holding out a commandment medal, the Lieutenant threw a scroll at the rogue, and after he had read the slip, the Lieutenant started speaking.

"Lieutenant Nash has brought executioner John and Rune mage Darcia on the orders of Commander Lucien, and seek his audience, may we proceed."

"Proceed to the waiting room and ask the secretary if the commander is free. If what we heard is true, after sweeping and cleaning the battlefield, the central unit will push forward and lay claim to the enemies defenceless capital. In contrast, our branch unit is free to retire back to our respective homes and claim our military reward from the command building. So he should be relaxing in the office segment of the tent as he has been relieved of active duty for a day or two."

Two inexplicable blurs and no one under level two-hundred and twenty would be the wiser to what had occurred. The Lieutenant in one swift and fluid motion had passed a box of chewing tobacco to the guard who just as swiftly put it away. With that done, the Lieutenant formally entered with John and Darcia.

The inside of the tent was a mixture of an ordinary office full of paper, a luxury waiting room and a junkyard full of mass-produced goods falling apart due to age and wear. Take the bench to the side, for example, the front left leg was missing, and several stacked books were the only thing holding it up. The metal right leg was rusted and cracked, while the backrest bars were rent apart miserably, in terms of antiquity, it could be considered a rare gem, but in terms of quality, it was just about better than discarded metal scraps.

In the corner of the room was a high-quality sandalwood desk, in which a man in his forties sat hunched over studying a pile of musty yellow paper. Possible alerted by the crisp draft, the man presumably the secretary looked up briefly, before consulting aa thick book.

"John and Darcia, I presume, Lieutenant, you are dismissed, pick up that slip and present it to the quartermaster tomorrow to claim your reward. As for the honourably mercenaries, the commander will be able to meet you shortly. For now, you can sit on that... bench, although I might recommend the big fellow to wait to the side."

Following the advice from the secretary, Darcia sat on the distorted bench, feeling only slightly uncomfortable due to its weird backrest. In contrast, John, who was standing up, felt somewhat awkward, but with a shrug discarded the feeling. The room descended once more into a mixture of scratching and rustling of paper.

*Bing*

"You may now enter, just remember to attain at least basic courtesy, and if that fails you military respect."

"The advice is appreciated, sir."

Walking passed the secretary, and through an inconspicuous gap in the tent, there was a visible shift in disposition, from quiet and scholarly to an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and organisation. This was amplified by the dim yellow lighting casting ominous shadows on helmets and skulls, further compounded by the commander's shadow. The commander was lean and seemed small from a standing position, but the umbra he cast on the wall behind him, made him appear more fleshed out and threatening, like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"If it were up to me, the cursed compatriots you accompanied here would have been enough of an excuse for me to revoke your rewards, you even smell of their foul air. Lucky for you, the king is impressed with your devoted service to the country, especially with the Azur, although news passed down the grapevine suggests that The August Assassin caused you more trouble than that shi**y reptile. Haaa... John you have been promoted to count, gods grace that it is in the sticks, at least I believe Clover is, and Darcia, you have been promoted as countess of Clover and since you have expertise in magic and as a mage, court magician. Now begone before the witches curse lingers any longer."