The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop

Orodan hopped down to the classroom, the hole leading skyward still awkwardly present. The atmosphere was silent for a moment but was soon broken by whispers and muttering which slowly grew louder.

“The walls should be able to take Master-level-”

“So, him beating Claridin wasn’t a fluke?”

“-will want to hear of this.”

The chatter continued for a bit as Orodan simply gave Astiphus an uncomfortable and apologetic smile at having destroyed what was undoubtedly an expensive setup.

The head-instructor didn’t appear too bothered however and still had a smile on his face. Soon, Orodan found out why.

It was a weird sixth sense he was starting to develop, but he could somehow instinctively tell when someone was dangerous. And it was a feeling he uniquely got from Grandmasters nowadays.

A rather grumpy looking ancient woman made her presence known with a loud grunt, walking out to stand near Orodan.

“Sigh… prodigies and their damned destructive habits. Always interrupting my meditations…” she muttered. “You, boy. From now on restrict your destructive experiments to the private training chambers at the top of the Bluefire Tower. They’re capable of taking the full power strikes of a level beyond Masters.”

The training chambers at the top of the Bluefire Tower?

“The rest of the private chambers aren’t similarly reinforced?” Orodan asked. “I thought they were all the same?”

“No, they aren’t. The overwhelming majority of students aren’t ever going to reach the Master-level, so most private training chambers across the academy are reinforced only to that level,” she explained. “Of course, in the rare case that we get a prodigy among prodigies like yourself, we have specific training chambers at the very top of the Bluefire tower.”

“Wouldn’t they be in use by important people?”

“When someone at your level of power shows up, they are the important people. Just walk in and tell someone that Yallista sent you, and if they hassle you just beat them up,” the old woman casually explained. “After all, given what I’ve heard, you certainly like fighting don’t you, Orodan Wainwright?”

“Does everyone know about me now? I haven’t even been here a day…”

“Blame yourself for brawling a worm in the wild depths for two weeks straight. Did you think the earthquakes you caused wouldn’t be felt?” she asked pointedly. “Young men, no thought for the consequences of their actions,” she muttered and sighed.

“Alright, I understand. I’ll use the training chambers at the top of the tower from now on… but how am I supposed to experiment in class then? I don’t want to just sit around and wait till nighttime to train in the chambers.”

“You aren’t even supposed to be frolicking about in a first-year course with these regular people. I bet that old codger Arvayne put you in here so he could have some entertainment. He’s probably watching through the scrying eyes as we speak,” she said, and then promptly shot a glare towards the nearest glowing scrying eye orb in the room. “What rarity is the skill you just acquired?”

Orodan didn’t think the old general was apt to get his kicks in such a manner, but when you were two-thousand years old, who knew how one entertained themselves?

“Doesn’t the old man have Grandmaster things to do?” Orodan asked.

“Sigh… you have no sense of tact or manners. You can’t just go around openly blabbering about the fact that Grandmasters exist. These common students will feel inferior and have their sense of self-importance shattered knowing that they’ll never reach it, and then they’ll go crying to their sponsors about how they can reach such a level, and then their benefactors come to us whining about how we're hurting their feelings,” Yallista remarked in a tone that implied she didn’t care a whit about it. “The headmasters and headmistresses will then give you a stern lecture about it. Anyways, rarity.”

Of course, the fact that she was lecturing him about it in conversational volume in front of a room full of a thousand students was a bit ironic.

“Exquisite.”

“And you acquired this in… six hours of experimentation and training?” the old woman asked with a serious tone.

“…yes? It just clicked and came naturally to me. I instinctively attempted to combine what I saw of two separate skills, and this was the result,” Orodan explained.

“So, you didn’t even acquire the two skills… you just ‘saw’ them and somehow experimented and came to a combination which granted you an Exquisite-rarity skill?” she asked, a bit of incredulity in her tone.

“Yes, precisely so.”

“Boy, give me your schedule, let me see what other stupid junior classes that old fogey tried to have you attend,” she demanded, and Orodan handed it over. “Trying to squander the potential of a little monster like you. Has he truly gone so senile?”

“Erm… headmistress, perhaps we should dismiss class before you have such a conversation with Mister Wainwright?” Astiphus interjected and asked deferentially all while Headmistress Yallista looked over Orodan’s schedule.

“Hmm? Yes, go ahead and disperse the rabble,” she said with an utterly dismissive and disrespectful gesture which the student body looked quite offended by, but wouldn’t dare to do anything about. “Now let’s see here, soul and mental defense classes? All these crafting courses that you elected to take yourself? Were you perhaps dropped as a child? Hmm… Arvayne did say you were stupid. Perhaps such is the price of talent?”

Orodan did his best to remain quiet in the face of her casual remarks about his mental capacity. Concurrently, Astiphus ordered the students out of the classroom saying class was dismissed for the day.

“Hmph. Well we might as well get this farce out of the way before classes officially start for you tomorrow,” Yallista said. “Go ahead and attend all these classes you have today. If you exceed all expectations in a class, it’ll be changed moving forward. Who knows? Perhaps we’ll find a weakness somewhere. I expect the mental defense and soul defense classes will likely challenge you at least a bit.”

Orodan didn’t think they’d challenge him at all. Not the first-year courses on the topic at least.

“Alright… now how is this damage going to get fixed? Do I need to compensate the academy?”

***

Turns out he didn’t need to compensate the academy. Damages were expected during the course of the students’ education. And the exorbitant tuition fees covered everything. Especially in the case of people who displayed ridiculous talent like Orodan did.

Orodan had never encountered chronomancers before, but this was one of the rare moments he found himself somewhat wary and thankful for his Mana Resistance.

Because Yallista was a scarily powerful dual-Grandmaster in chronomancy and telekinesis.

As she worked, she explained the rules and limitations of the chronomancy she used. Using chronomancy to affect local areas was possible, and it could be selectively applied to certain objects, with the mana cost increasing depending on what was being restored.

Things such as restoring lives and priceless artifacts was impossible even for her as the mana cost would be near-godlike. Something which gave Orodan ideas for far later down the line.

But when it came to repairing a building and the enchantments placed upon it? It was well within her purview. Additionally, she used telekinesis to ensure all the destroyed pieces of the building were within the local area before she began using chronomancy to revert time for the building itself.

Within moments, the damaged Agathor’s Sanctum building was completely restored. Time dilation wards included.

“So is the mana cost higher because you’re also restoring the wards to before they were destroyed?” Orodan asked.

“Yes, without a doubt. If I was just restoring material, it wouldn’t be so tiresome. The more mana something had, the costlier it is for me to revert time and restore it.” she explained. “It’ll also be a severe cost and likely push me to my limits if I try to bring all the students back to the building as well, as the cost increases if I extend my chronomancy to them since they’re farther away.”

“That’s… incredibly powerful. But if you’re saying you have to pay the mana cost to restore something in time to when it was whole, depending on how much mana it had… can you then gain mana by reverting something to when it was destroyed or lesser? Let’s say someone you’re fighting decides to empower themselves or restore their own mana or vitality with a potion… could you revert that and just… pocket the difference?” Orodan asked.

Yallista looked at him strangely for a moment and then just smirked. “Well, turns out there is a brain in there after all. Yes, I suppose that might be an apt way of looking at it, and why a chronomancer would be feared.”

“How does anyone beat a chronomancer without the Mana Resistance skill then?”

“How do you even know about that skill? Wait… don’t tell me…” she muttered and then sighed. “And here I was looking forward to bullying you a bit. Go ahead and ruin a woman’s fun why don’t you?”

Orodan preferred not to be subject to whatever bullying or pranks this old hag had in mind, so he was grateful for his Mana Resistance.

“Your unprofessional fondness for pranking a student aside, how would someone beat you? Surprise attacks?” Orodan asked once more.

“Well, roguery and ambushes aside, chronomancers are often countered by skills that can drain mana or counter and reflect spells and magic. Additionally, having a massive pool of energy or being a tier above the chronomancer tends to help,” she explained. “An Elite-level chronomancer isn’t taking control of and winding a dragon back in time.”

“Even still, the ability to counter you seems… limited,” Orodan remarked.

“We chronomancers aren’t all-powerful, boy. If we could act with impunity, you would see a society ruled by nothing but chronomancers,” she said. “Plenty of places are warded heavily against time manipulation, and anyone worth their salt has at least one item that protects against chronomancers directly manipulating them. Plus, mana costs are always a limitation we face. Even half an hour of rewinding time is quite mana expensive, and the cost only goes up if souls are involved.”

Orodan nodded in understanding, having learned more about these fearsome mages. Well, fearsome for anyone but people like him who had a high-level Mana Resistance skill and could just act like mages were casting imaginary play-spells on him.

“But don’t let my self-denigration fool you, chronomancy is probably one of the most powerful magical schools in existence. But it’s also one of the hardest to learn given the extreme mana costs for even the simpler acts. This school has one other student, an Adept in chronomancy, and she’s the second strongest student at Bluefire,” Yallista spoke. “Across the world… I maybe know of a hundred other chronomancers, and this includes the fledglings who are in the early levels. Besides, there are plenty of dangerous things out there. Have you ever tried fighting a soul mage? Or worse, a psionic? And Gods forbid you run into an Eldritch creature… the very nature of those things is a vile corruption.”

“I’ve faced psionic attacks before, and I’ve fought the Eldritch. But I haven’t faced a soul mage yet, are they rare as well?”

“You… how have you even faced the Eldritch without standing before me as a ravening and corrupted abomination?” she asked honestly. “I can see why Arvayne himself stepped in as your benefactor. Caused a rather big stir among us. A Chosen hasn’t directly acted as benefactor for someone in hundreds of years. I won’t pry into your story much then. But to answer your question, soul mages are second only to chronomancers in rarity, mainly because training the soul is incredibly dangerous and requires tremendous amounts of willpower and focus to avoid irreparable harm.”

Orodan continued questioning the woman for a while longer, and despite her brusque attitude, she answered every question earnestly.

He asked about where he might find soul mages to study under at Bluefire, where he might find a good psionic to train his defenses against and where he might look into researching the depths of Weapon Aura and soul energy-based enchantments. He basically gave a whole list of his priorities and learning targets to the woman, and while she had jabs and retorts here and there, she took it seriously the entire time and actually seemed to prioritize his education and growth.

“You are seeking to learn too much all at once. You realize that graduates of this academy continue to return and hone themselves in their free time, yes? We have former students who have been going back and forth for hundreds of years,” Yallista spoke. “The heights you have in mind… Masters and above take decades, and even centuries to reach. That you’ve come even this far at your age is utterly unfathomable and makes me suspect you’re the most monstrous reincarnator I’ve ever seen, but perhaps your expectations of yourself need to be a bit more realistic?”

Orodan didn’t entirely agree with the sentiment. Whether it was the Blessing of Agathor or just the talent of hard work and indomitable willpower, he was certain he could achieve all of these targets. Definitely in less than a century too.

It just wouldn’t be in one loop at the academy. He knew that, but the reason for asking for so much was so that he could hit the ground running in future loops.

“Fair enough. I don’t completely disagree with you, but I wish to learn this all the same. Even if you think my attempts at learning alchemy, enchanting and the blacksmithing crafts are a waste of my time and talent… I still think they’ll be useful.”

“And why exactly do you think it will be useful? What’s your end goal in all this?”

Aside from getting out of the time loops some day? Aside from seeking the strongest foes he could? Orodan had another goal he was slowly coming to develop.

“I have a goal, it’s a very long-term one, but something I’ve come to want over time, and especially now that I’ve been broadening my horizons at this academy,” Orodan spoke. “There are Grandmasters, and even those who’ve reached level 100 in three skills, triple-Grandmasters. But what if… what if I could achieve that level in every skill and craft?”

He spoke epically, a grandiose desire that had been slowly growing within his heart for quite some time!

And Yallista laughed in outrage and mockery.

Entirely understandable given nobody had ever achieved it and might not even be close to achieving it. He still had a long way to go.

But he had time.

He had all the time he could ever need to reach his goal.

***

The other first year courses he took went similarly.

Yallista was wrong to think that the soul defense class would challenge him.

He embarrassed the instructors in the class when they tried gently prodding his soul and gradually escalated things from there. The head-instructor for the first-year course - a Master-level soul mage - called upon the headmaster for the school of soul magic to tutor Orodan.

The man, Arlin Colton, was a Grandmaster soul mage who sent furious assaults towards Orodan’s soul. But it was no contest at all.

Orodan had honed his Mythical skill - Eternal Soul Reactor - through training against the Avatar of a Goddess. It was now at level 59 given all the combat he had engaged in.

His Soul Strengthening - a legendary rarity skill - was at level 14. Which lead to the very quality of his soul energy being denser and more powerful than the Grandmaster’s. Finally, his Soul Manipulation was at level 58, which was from manipulating the utterly massive amounts of soul energy produced by Eternal Soul Reactor. It was a self-feeding loop of progress, and Orodan’s endless willpower which fueled it and kept his soul intact, was the driving force behind it all.

It was a shame to say, but he legitimately had not been able to acquire a soul defense skill, because no assault the headmaster of soul magic sent his way had ever taxed him. Initially he thought it was because of his Mana Resistance, perhaps the man’s attacks were mana-based?

Some of the attacks were mana based, but Arlin wasn’t a Grandmaster in the art without reason. He then swiftly switched to empowering his soul attacks using soul energy, which finally did get through… only to still have no effect at all.

The man’s offensive soul magic ability was at the Grandmaster-level and he was world renowned, but even he was utterly flummoxed at how Orodan simply wasn’t effected by any of his assaults.

Frankly, even Orodan himself was surprised. The man’s strongest attacks weren’t mana-based, and Orodan consequently had no resistance skill for them. Ordinarily, a Grandmaster would be an even foe which would require his full effort to best in combat. That was the mental benchmark he had from fighting Adeltaj Simarji. He certainly couldn’t just no-sell a martial specializing Grandmaster’s attacks for example.

He felt something try to affect his soul, but it just didn’t seem to be capable of doing any harm.

It appeared the strength of his soul might be one of the strongest things about him. Even stronger than his martial prowess by a large margin.

Arlin declared that Orodan’s soul was like a mountain. It was technically vulnerable to assault, but it was open to assault the same way a mountain range was. Trying to assault it wouldn’t do much, and he explained that Orodan had far too much soul energy constantly being expelled from his soul to even allow attacks to get through.

Arlin looked rather concerned as he told Orodan about what he saw of his soul. The man had a Blessing from a God he didn’t name that allowed him to look directly at someone’s soul, which of course allowed him to bypass the Blessing of Ozgaric as the two essentially cancelled each other out. The man then simply sensed Orodan’s soul the regular way and questioned Orodan about why his soul looked as though it was in a constant state of ignition as though a soul mage was launching a suicide attack.

Orodan didn’t deign to reveal too much about his skill or its rarity but did say that intense willpower and disciplined focus were key factors in ensuring his soul didn’t decide to explode and kill him, causing mass devastation.

The lesson ended there and Arlin told Orodan to come seek him out directly for tutelage from then on. Wasting time with even the fourth-year soul magic courses would be pointless for him. The headmaster of soul magic promised to bring some rather interesting equipment and assistance for him in tomorrow’s lesson.

Thus, Orodan went on to the mental defense class, where he encountered psionics for the first time.

Most other academies didn’t even have psionic teachers and consequently couldn’t offer courses for mental defense or psionics. And those that did have a psionic tended to offer a fourth-year course only.

Of course, Bluefire was world renowned and had plenty of psionic instructors. Thus, even first year mental defense courses were offered, particularly because the benefactors of noble children all agreed that some form of defense against mental attacks was important to have.

Much like the first-year soul defense class, the regular instructors had a difficult time getting past his defenses. His Psionic Resistance was at level 58. Even a tier above, the Elite-level psionics couldn’t get past a Resistance of such high level, and the head-instructor, a Master psionic while taxing Orodan’s resistance, couldn’t quite break past it either.

Finally, the headmistress of the school of psionics decided to pay a visit, and unlike with his soul… he was put to work for the first time.

But even she was looking disconcerted as Orodan was kneeling in pain while clutching his head, but still appeared functional.

“I’ve broken past your untrained attempts at defending your mind… you’re entirely vulnerable to my attacks now… and yet I still can’t put your mind to sleep,” she remarked. “Child… is it a Bloodline or a Blessing which grants you such unfathomable willpower? I’m pouring tidal amounts of psionic power into my assaults, but they still have a hard time finding purchase… how did you get your Psionic Resistance this high?”

Ilevida Balmento was the headmistress of the school of psionics and a dual-Grandmaster at the art. But even she, who had battered Orodan hard enough that he felt it even through Psionic Resistance, still wasn’t able to make any headway in actually putting him to sleep.

Her psionic attacks weren’t mana-based, they were instead psionic, which Orodan thankfully had a resistance skill for. But having a resistance wasn’t all-encompassing, and enough power could still go through.

“I’ve been told… I’m rather stubborn…” Orodan muttered in-between heavy breaths as the pain of her psionic assault was tremendous once his defenses were broken past. Unlike the Eldritch Avatar who attempted to slither into Orodan’s mind insidiously, her psionic assaults were like a battering ram, meant to pummel someone straight into unconsciousness.

It was like his mind was being struck by a repeating barrage of artillery. Each hit was like an overwhelming sledgehammer, and they came as frequently as raindrops in a storm.

But… he would not allow himself to fall into the sweet embrace of sleep that the psionic assaults were commanding him to allow.

His willpower was not so weak.

“Perhaps we should stop here? This can’t be good for your mind,” Ilevida suggested, and Orodan raised a hand to stop her and almost demand she keep going. “…if you insist. I’ll be going all-out till you’re knocked out then. This staff I have here is a converter for psionic power to soul energy. I had it made specifically to deal with annoying creatures and people with a high level of Psionic Resistance. My next assaults… will be empowered by soul energy.”

Her eyes began glowing pink, and she looked quite serious as colossal amounts of her psionic power began entering the staff, which creaked dangerously. And then the assaults renewed.

And Orodan knew nothing but pure pain.

Pure, horrifying pain that invaded each and every part of his mind.

The Eldritch Avatar’s attempts at mental assault were more subtle, insidious… but this? This was what a straightforward psionic assault looked like. And he didn’t have any Psionic Resistance skill to help him here as it was empowered by her soul energy thanks to that damned staff.

The woman must have been saying something, but Orodan couldn’t hear it. He simply knew pain, and the ever-demanding tsunami of raw mental might that demanded he obey. That he sleep.

His head felt as though it would explode. Blood leaked from all throughout his body at the sheer strain of him exerting his endless willpower to its maximal extent.

He vaguely noticed various messages for Pain Resistance leveling up.

He was like a toddler weathering an attack he had no clue how to deal with. Prior to this he had focused on resisting psionic energy itself, but not on the techniques to stop mental assaults. Now, with no resistance skill, he would be forced to learn.

But learn he would.

He gestured at her through the haze of the all-encompassing pain to continue, and it kept coming.

Orodan wasn’t sure how long it had been, but as Pain Resistance kept rising he was able to think more clearly. And he began experimenting, even as most of his focus and willpower went towards holding on against the mountainous mental attacks that were slamming into his mind at the rate of hundreds a second.

Who was Orodan Wainwright?

He forgot who he was under the assaults, which rendered him nearly comatose.

But the name didn’t matter.

The spirit did. And whoever he was… he liked to fight. He would never quit.

He was a warrior.

And a warrior… weathered every blow they were struck by and returned it.

The mountains continued to fall upon his mind… but he persisted. Like a zombie, groaning and screaming in pain… but not falling. And slowly but surely, he began to come to an understanding.

In a sense, being hit by something so utterly different to what he was used to… was useful. It was a mental attack yes… but at the end of the day it was an attack.

And the warrior found himself meditating on what exactly an attack was. Metaphysically what was an attack.

An attack was any sort of offense, or harm directed at the warrior. Then an attack delivered by the warrior himself was also of the same nature, just sent by him to the target and not the other way around.

Vaguely, a small part of the warrior’s mind noticed that other people had entered the room at some point, but that was not his concern. Meditations and reflecting on exactly what an attack was… this was what mattered. His senses leading to the outside world had largely been shunted off elsewhere and ignored in favor of internal meditation. The pain? It was no longer a concern.

Ruminating on the subject was all the mattered.

To attack… to be attacked.

What was an attack?

The word began to sound strange as it was repeated in the warrior’s mind.

But he meditated.

Vaguely, the warrior understood that three days had passed. The small part of his mind that insisted on calling itself by some stupid name was keeping track of such things. This annoying part told him that new people had arrived, and that the source of the mountains falling upon the warrior’s mind had begun drinking strangely colored potions and that someone else had come in and was periodically inspecting and making adjustments to the weapon the source of the attacks was using.

But the warrior cared not. The warrior simply meditated on what an attack was.

Two days passed, and then five more. A week went by, and people periodically went back and forth as the named part of his mind informed him. But the attacks never stopped.

And neither would the warrior.

Who was finally beginning to understand what an attack was.

To attack, to direct harm against a target. This was fundamentally what an attack was, no matter what form it took. It involved targeted harm no matter what the target was.

To the warrior however, receiving an attack was acceptable… but not returning this attack… was unacceptable.

A warrior took every blow and returned it. Even if the warrior didn’t understand the nature of the attack. An attack was an attack. Thus, the warrior willed, and this was the demand he made of the world.

The warrior recalled a battle it had against an inferior foe and took inspiration to complete the final part.

All attacks would be returned, with double the power.

This was the warrior’s way… this was…

… the Warrior’s Reciprocity.

[New Skill (Mythical) → Warrior’s Reciprocity 1]

The warrior weathered the barrage of attacks upon his mind, which had grown even stronger since it first began.

And the warrior returned every attack.

The attacker’s eyes widened. She struggled to hold on against her own attacks, returned twofold. Her eyes glowed with raw power and the staff shattered. But she could not hold on against the Warrior’s Reciprocity.

An amulet around her neck glowed and shattered, and the woman collapsed to the ground and began screaming.

The small part of the warrior’s mind that insisted on a name protested at this, and the warrior smiled, and finally returned to deep within. Forever a part of the soul.

For this was who he was, a warrior.

And Orodan Wainwright remembered who he was.

The people in the room around him looked on in shocked silence. And the old man Arvayne Firesword who definitely wasn’t here to begin with, had a smile on his face.

Orodan’s first reaction however was to immediately rush over to the woman who had helped him for so long, giving up so much of her own time for it.

Only to see her with a content smile on her face as her screams subsided.

“Sorry… I may have gone too far…” Orodan muttered in embarrassment and shame. “Are you alright?”

“Why… I’ve never been better…” she muttered with a pleased look on her face. “Come here child.”

She then wrapped Orodan into a hug.

“Eh?”

“Thank you… I was at the bottleneck for so long in my Psionic Mastery, it had been at level 99 for decades… but then you come along and give me the perfect target to practice endlessly on in one uninterrupted session,” Ilevida explained. “So, thank you… truly. If this old woman can ever help you in any way, all you need to do is ask.”

She had achieved the Grandmaster-level in another skill thanks to him?

“Shall I break out the Novarrian vintage I have? It’s at least three-thousand years aged,” spoke the ancient Arvayne Firesword. “Rather apt for celebrating a new triple-Grandmaster in our little Republic.”

Triple-Grandmaster?

“You’re a triple-Grandmaster now? With only a few days of practice on a hapless student?” Orodan asked.

“Ah yes… the hapless student who can best a Grandmaster. Not quite as hapless as you want us to believe. And it’s been over a week,” Arvayne quipped back. “Ilevida here is a friend of mine, so I’m quite happy to see her join our little club. At only twelve-hundred years old too. Quite the talent you are, Ilevida.”

“It’s all thanks to Mister Wainwright here,” she praised with genuine gratitude in her voice, which was something unexpected coming from a Grandmaster. People who were notoriously reticent. “I might have struggled for another few hundred years if not for the insights I acquired from weathering that incredibly powerful mental attack you sent at me. What even was that? There’s no way you’ve suddenly become a psionic capable of launching an attack of that caliber.”

“I don’t know… I just returned the attack. I’m not even sure of the exact specifics of it. All I know is that you sent attacks my way, and I returned them,” Orodan explained. “It’s a Mythical-rarity skill.”

Ilevida and Arvayne both went silent for a moment at that revelation.

“Gods damn it Orodan, you can’t just say such things so casually…” Arvayne muttered while giving Ilevida a probing look out of the side of his eyes. “While Ilevida here can be trusted to keep such things secret, you really shouldn’t go around broadcasting the fact that you have a Mythical skill.”

“Don’t Grandmasters have Mythical skills? I recall old man Adeltaj telling me he knew of people with them.”

“Orodan… Adeltaj likely didn’t tell you out of respect for my wishes… but I also have a Mythical skill. But I only have one,” Arvayne explained. “There are only two other wielders of a Mythical skill in the Republic, and they also have one each. But you… this would make it-”

Arvayne suddenly cut off mid-sentence as he went silent and had a pondering look on his face.

Then his eyes began glowing orange.

“That would make it three Mythical skills you possess now, Orodan Wainwright. For someone who is such a phenomenal warrior… this meeting between us is long overdue.”

The voice utterly boomed in a way Ilyatana’s never had. It sang to his heart, to his blood. It made him stand taller and desire battle, it made him want to conquer the heavens themselves and participate in eternal battle and glory forever.

This… was Agathor, God of War. Descended unto his Chosen One.

Around Orodan, everything had completely frozen, unnaturally. Ilevida Balmento included. This was… time magic?

“I thought you’re the God of War? How can you freeze time?” Orodan asked.

“A trifling matter once you wrestle time into submission,” the God of War casually explained. “It’s a far more advanced application of a realm of power that you are just beginning to explore with that new skill of yours. How did it feel? The oneness with the warrior within? Feeling reality itself bend to allow things which should be impossible?”

“It felt… dissociative. As though I was there and wasn’t. It was still me doing the meditations, but a part of me I didn’t even realize was there all along,” Orodan spoke.

“The warrior itself. Even I do not fully understand what it is or where it comes from. Some say you must be born with it; others say you develop it over time. But what holds true is that only those with a truly warrior-like disposition are the ones to have it,” Agathor explained. “Arvayne is my strongest Chosen upon this world, but even he isn’t in touch with the warrior within. Nobody on this world was… until I saw you.”

“Surely I’m not that unique?”

“From what you spoke of regarding the time loops, who else would valorously commit to dying like a dog to perform the feats of legend you have? Ask yourself if rushing to death against impossible odds on your first life was a normal course of action.”

Orodan found himself seeing the point Agathor was making. “What’s the next step then? How can I push this ability even further?” Orodan asked.

“Continue to focus on training it… focus on demanding reality bends to your will with naught but your warrior spirit. In time you may find that there is a level beyond even the Mythical rarity.”

Beyond Mythical rarity? It sounded utterly ludicrous given how much of a target he became with just a Mythical skill. If he achieved something even greater, would the entire world begin hunting after him in every single loop? Perhaps consolidating his own power and getting stronger before doing that was a good idea.

“Is it similar to how the second Blessing you gave me works?”

“Very much so. That Blessing of mine which prevents cravenly foes from escaping their honorable fate, it bends reality itself. Continue honing your skill, and in time you may be capable of similar things. Now then… descending unto him is still somewhat uncomfortable for Arvayne, no matter how gentle I make it, so I will leave you in his care with one final decree. Strengthen your soul before the eve of the year, I wish to grant you another Blessing and make you a Chosen of mine.”

Arvayne’s eyes stopped glowing and the presence of the God of War left the old Firesword Grandmaster.

“Ahh… always leaves me a little sore whenever he does that,” the old man said while stretching. “To think he would descend just to talk to a rockhead like you.”

Rockhead? That was an insult, a verbal attack.

The warrior returned all attacks.

Without thinking about it, Orodan instinctively activated the skill… and Arvayne grunted, and his eyes narrowed.

“What was that? It felt as though you deeply offended me. Was that some sort of social skill?” the old man pointedly asked.

“No… it’s my Mythical skill… apparently it can return all attacks… even if they’re verbal.”

“We’re testing this immediately.”

***

The private training chambers at the top of the Bluefire tower were quite durable. Which was a good thing because they’d caused enough destruction in their experimentation with Orodan’s new Mythical skill that even the walls of that absurdly tough chamber were left with cracks and tears.

Old man Arvayne had brought along all manner of experts to test Orodan.

Arlin Colton’s soul magic assaults were rebounded with twice the power whether he empowered them with mana or soul energy. Yallista Arthurius’s chronomancy was peculiarly reflected back causing her to revert herself back in time and even hostile tracking magic, insults, curses and the like were all rebounded back to the caster.

The attacks still hit Orodan. He still had to experience their negative effects. The headmistress of the school of curses was particularly painful once she started using soul energy to fire curses at Orodan.

The warrior just insisted on sending them right back twofold to the sender, even at level 1 of the skill.

It was now level 2 from all the experimentation, and Orodan felt that the skill’s ability to return any and all damage was absolute even at level 1, but level 2 increased the amount of damage rebounded.

Orodan could see his enemies essentially killing themselves by hitting him at higher levels.

It sounded utterly unfair.

“Thank you all for assisting Mister Wainwright,” Arvayne spoke. “For now, that will be all.”

The assortment of headmasters and headmistresses from differing schools then left with pleasantries, and Orodan and Arvayne were left alone.

“That was informative, this skill of yours is powerful,” the old man muttered. “I’ve been thinking about this for a little bit… but near the end of the year when that Eldritch Avatar descends, I’d like you to join the battle against it. Your new skill might prove more useful than you think if you can stay alive to receive some of its damage.”

“I was planning on fighting it regardless, how else will I grow if I don’t struggle against the strongest enemy I’ve ever encountered to date?”

“Fair enough, I shouldn’t have been concerned about your willingness to fight it seems,” Arvayne replied. “Anyhow, as I’m sure you’ve heard, your classes will be different moving forward. I may have decided to entertain myself by seeing you run roughshod through the first-year classes.”

“Does that mean I can skip the politics and world history classes as well?” Orodan asked excitedly.

“No. You’ll sit down and read your books, or I’ll have personal tutors sent to hound you. You’ve missed more than another week of classes, which is fine given that the academy expects this and the value of obtaining a Mythical skill outweighs some mere book learning,” he explained. “But it’s time for you to take your education seriously.”

Orodan sighed but nodded. There was no getting out of reading it seemed.

How horrible.

“What’s this?” Orodan asked as Arvayne handed him a metallic badge with the logo of a blue fire emblazoned on it.

“What you should’ve gotten initially if I wasn’t interested in watching those first-year rabble get humbled a little,” Arvayne explained. “It’s a pass which marks you as being in a mentorship, under myself. You won’t attend regular classes anymore except for your crafting and educational ones. Your lessons in things related to fighting will now be given by personal tutors which I’ve requested.”

“Isn’t this a bit-”

“Look, I know you’re not used to this sort of treatment, but this is just how it is in our society,” the old man interrupted. “A talent like you can’t be wasting time in regular classes, it’d cause too much disruption for the rest. You’re also operating on a deadline till the end of the year, and if we fail… then it will all rely on you. You have a rather large responsibility to shoulder, so get used to special treatment because you’re in special circumstances.”

Fair enough. Orodan wouldn’t complain or bring up that line of thought again.

“Now then, your crafting classes start next. I’ll also be waiting for you in this chamber once classes have ended for the day. Then, we’ll train your Combat Mastery throughout the night until the sun rises and you need to head to class once more. You’ll also report any breakthroughs you’ve made in class to me so we can focus on how best we can accelerate your growth,” Arvayne said. “You don’t need to rest anymore so we’ll make every single second of your time count. Only on the two rest days of the week are you allowed to leave Bluefire and do as you wish, be it visiting that predatory widow or helping little Ignatius and his people with whatever they need. I might also ask you to accompany me to fight some rather dangerous creatures from time to time, it’ll be good experience for you and broaden your horizons.”

It sounded utterly insane and demanding beyond reason, but Orodan loved it! He wholeheartedly agreed with every bit of this educational plan.

This was exactly the sort of training he needed.

Continuous and endless grinding and growth.