Hyperion Evergrowing

Chapter 160: Upwards

The history of the Mekrys empire was an interesting, if highly embellished read. The empire, a collection of provinces bordered large swaths of three, interconnected, seas. The Rien, the largest and most western of the three seas, was what Leif had flown over, then sailed through to reach the academy. The Loriet, the central and smallest of the three technically started at the archipelago, and continued eastwards until the sea narrowed, squeezed past two peninsulas, then changed to the Mirith Sea.

The empire, or rather, the people who had migrated down from the eastern plateaus and would later found the empire, had sailed all three seas, charting their edges and settling in the places most fertile and prosperous locations. Ruins of past civilisations had littered the coasts, and the Mekrys empire would use these ancient foundations to springboard into a regional power.

People had lived around the sea before the empire had been founded, and according to the worn tome Leif was reading, Varan, his homeland, had been some of those peoples. The book listed several pre existing city states, Ahle-ho, and an alliance that would become the republic included, though the author had pushed the fact that Mekrys had been the catalyst for these places to become ‘civilised’.

The Academy had been settled by the same peoples who had founded the Empire, though what would become the most powerful educational institution in Mekrys had remained stubbornly independent from the wider empire until it had joined to protect itself from an external threat.

The Blade’s had been a core part of the Academy’s identity right from its inception. With the position being based off, or more likely, inspired, by the statues of ten swordsmen and women present in each portal hub. According to another book, what was now the Academy had been an ancient order of humanities protectors, and the Blades had been a pivotal part of that organisation, just as they were now.

The archipelago had been discovered and settled some four hundred years ago, with the Empire being founded at around the same time. According to scholars, the islands and their countless secrets had been abandoned for over half a millenia prior. Leif leaned back on the stone bench in the dimly lit alcove, his amber eyes rising to the arched ceiling. The temple complex, or whatever it would end up being, that Marcus had discovered would more than likely date back to a thousand years ago.

A part of Leif itched to check out the sight immediately, but he could be patient. A few days of wait wouldn’t kill him, not when he had so much more to do. He snapped the final book shut, mentally recalling the hundreds of pages of information he had just absorbed. [Meditations on Eternity], along with focusing on [Intelligence] made it easy. It was interesting how attributes increased his day to day abilities, not just in combat. Sure, [Benevolent Actions] made the effect easier to spot, but he doubted the increases would become noticeable for the average person.

He stacked the books into a neat pile, then departed.

===

“It's done.” Marcus said, hands on his hips, his grin a mix of deliriousness and jubilation. Leif clapped twice, then let the [Intelligence] boost he was giving the man drop. Marcus keeled over. “No! Bring it back! My mind feels so much slower now!”

“The skill was at its limit.” Leif said, watching the man writhe around on the ground.

“Push through your limits! Reach the sky! Do the impossible!”

“I can do far more impressive things than make your brain run faster.”

Marcus sighed, getting to his feet. “I’m never letting you leave. How do you feel about becoming me and Sieg’s house plant?”

“I have infinitely more important things to do.” Leif laughed. The [Arcanist] looked hurt. “Did you give Goodwil’s proposal any thought?”

“Yeah, it sounds interesting. I was always planning on joining in, even if as a Lutum student it would have been a bit tricky. You being around just seals the deal for me. No reason not to, right?”

“Right.” Leif said, sliding his and Marcus’s chairs back under the table of his apartment with a gesture and a brief effort of will. “Do you want to get lunch, then head for the quadriad?”

Marcus yawned, adjusted his glasses, then let out a half manic cheer of relief, then marched out of the room. “Hells yes. I need a break! Let’s get out of here!”

===

They caught the tail end of the duel between the fifth and sixth Blades. Marcus filled Leif in on what the two powerhouses abilities were, but judging by the massive cloud of dust completely shrouding the arena they hadn’t missed much. Sabline Wilds, the fifth Blade, was a highly promoted [Tamer] focusing on elementals. Her second class was a wind focused promotion of [Shaman], and the woman’s fighting style was an endless parade of summoned air elementals, all the while her bound spirit flew her around the battlefield.

It was her fault that nobody could see anything. Though the occasional blast of wind made the arena’s shielding ripple. Helos had a similar build to Daniela, both having metal conjuration and manipulation as core aspects of their fighting style. Unlike the seventh Blade, the sixth was a spearman, and his abilities all orientated around a publicly revealed core skill, a small pocket world Helos used to store, and unleash a forest of silver spears.

It made Leif somewhat self conscious about his own core skill, but he consoled himself that he had fifty levels of growth to put into it, so things would likely change. Eventually the bout was called as a draw, with Helos being unable to reach his flying opponent, and Sabline not being able to harm him when he hid inside his pocket world.

===

“So you won’t be able to change your body until you reach level fifty in your monster class?” Hera asked as they walked through the beast filled wilderness that covered more than half of Lutum. In the distance, something howled.

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“Right.” Leif said, stepping over a fallen log. “It’s going to be a challenge getting there though. I know levels come a lot slower, especially since I’ll be partially dividing experience between three classes. I had planned on getting a fourth, probably [Druid] to compliment my existing skills and get access to more plant magic.”

“There’s a way to stop gaining experience in a class without that class being level capped.” Hera said as she peaked around a bolder. “You wanted something with a ton of vitality? Well, there you go.”

Leif leaned over her shoulder, peering into the forest. Evening was approaching, and with it came a lack of visibility. It took him several seconds to spot the dark shape lumbering through the undergrowth some three hundred metres away.

“Honestly, I feel somewhat bad about killing something raised in captivity. It’s not like it’s a danger to anyone trapped in this part of the island.”

Hera shrugged. “It wouldn’t exist at all if [Tamer]s hadn’t brought them to the island for just this purpose. Is it cruel? Sure. But in the wilds these things get culled almost immediately by adventurers.”

“Fine. I’m not going to start an ethical discussion about this.” Leif said, rolling his neck. “You mentioned a method of restricting experience gain? I’m assuming it's less painful than fracturing a skill.”

“Less painful, sure. But the method uses similar principles. It’s usually something third and fourth year students learn, usually those with [Scribe] classes they don’t want to level up any further. Are you aware of skill meditation? Visualising your skills in your mind's eye, partially stimulating or altering them in various ways?”

“I am aware. Though I didn’t know you could change skills, only put them back together when they break.”

“Hmm. I’m not the best person to explain it, but I can point you to some texts that could do a better job. But basically you can sort of… group the skills, gather them up. Once you have all the skills from a single class you can… block them. I think block is the right word. Put a small amount of constant pressure on them, and in doing so prevent the class from gaining experience. It’s easier to do the fewer skills a class has.”

“I see.” Leif said, focusing his mind, not on following her instructions, but on the battle to come. “I think it spotted us.”

“Best of luck.” Hera said, slapping him on the back.

“Protect me.” Leif commanded, a golden barrier flaring to life around him, only to fade away into a swirling cloud of amber motes. The ground was shaking now, the leaves of the nearby trees quivering as the beast approached.

“Two words. Very impressive.” Hera whistled.

“Thanks. Give me a few minutes.”

===

The hulking form of the quilled bear crashed to the forest floor, the impact making nesting birds escape from their treetop homes and flee into the darkening sky. Leif rode on the beast's back, four sharpened limbs of gold stabbed into its armoured body as he drained it dry of every last drop of vitality. The cultivated pool of energy within him flexed, bubbling with life-force as its limits expanded ever so slightly.

“Poor thing.” Hera said from her perch atop the boulder. “It probably had a family.”

“Hilarious.” Leif replied, raising an ivory hand to his face, examining the vitality that pulsed within. “I don’t think it had a single thought in its head other than hunger and anger. Are you sure these things appear in the wild?”

“Uh huh. I used to hunt them back when I was an adventurer. A single one of them could flatten a village if they grew big and hungry enough. Did you figure out what was wrong with your weird fusion skill?”

“I’m not sure. The skill description mentions mastery over all of its aspects for further upgrades, but it feels like there’s more than that. Like the difficulty is compounded somehow.”

“Yup.”

“What do you mean, ‘yup’?”

“Yup, as in, that’s why nobody combines the rank up skills if they can afford it. Comprehension, aura, cultivation, spell. It seems like a good idea to put them all together, to free up space for more skills. I don’t know if the system puts a penalty on those kinds of fusions, or if there’s a natural reason why they’re a pain to upgrade. I don’t think anyone will ever figure it out. I mean, sure, loads of scholars argue about it. But I once read an essay where someone was arguing that a duck was a fish because it could swim.”

“The system practically forced the fusion onto me.” Leif grumbled. “I suppose I could have declined the prompt, but it seemed suicidal to do so at the time. I wasn’t really thinking of the consequences.” “It happens.” Hera said, plucking a quill from the dead bear. “So are you going to restrict your experience gain to your non monster classes.”

“Probably. They’re one level away from getting another skill, so I’ll probably level up once more in both classes, then block them. Assuming nothing else goes wrong for whatever reason.” He walked up to a nearby tree, barely a sapling, and placed a palm onto its narrow trunk.

“Grow Tall.” Leif said, his voice echoing slightly as he triggered [Surge of Life and Growth], flooding the young plant with vitality. It began to grow almost immediately, the tree greedily sucking up every last drop of life-force Leif fed it. Branches stretched for the sky and leaves budded to life.

“I think Melissa is trying to grow some desert fruit in the greenhouse, she might appreciate the help.” Hera said.

“Sure. Do we need to do anything about the corpse?”

“Nah, it’ll be gone by morning.”

===

Leif sat in the back of the lecture hall, regretting his life choices. There was nothing wrong with learning, the previous lecture he had attended that morning had been fascinating, even if the professor had shown up ten minutes late and couldn’t figure out how to turn on the enchanted illusion projector.

The patterns and intricacies of turbulence was something he hadn’t ever considered before, nor how different parts of the world seemed to suffer from different types of phenomenon during the months of magical upheaval. It made sense now that someone with more knowledge about the topic had explained it. Leif supposed he would have noticed the patterns himself if he had travelled more.

A group of first years giggled to themselves in the row in front of him. Leif tried not to sigh. From a purely academic standpoint, learning about how high levels and attributes affected the way the human body functioned was interesting enough. But the lecture was a little more… in depth than that. The professor, a very serious looking older man with a moustache so sharp that if anyone walked too close they risked losing an eye, was very seriously tapping the chalk diagram he had drawn.

An immature snicker rolled through the large room. Leif put his forehead in his palm, desperately wanting to leave, but not wanting to bring attention to himself. So he sat there, for over an hour, learning why high level humans found it harder to conceive. He would have to double check what the lectures were actually about before he attended them. ‘Growth, life and the system’ hadn’t ended up being at all what he had expected.

Truly fascinating. Never again.