Devourer Class

Galahad and Brett talked back and forth secretly about possible jobs to take. Brett would pick up the market promotions every other day to see what the options were, the problem was not a lot would of business would go to Bluewalk. It wasn't until two weeks later that they found the perfect job.

A Mr. Gerian Disark that ran a bakery in the North district of Teramore posted a job at the market. He was in need of cheap security for transport to Bluewalk, it was pure luck that it was posted to be one-way. It didn't seem like a lot of people were interested in the job because it hardly paid the credits for a week long trip, additionally it didn't even pay for return journey for some reason.

Galahad didn't care about the pay, he needed the ride. It seemed his life in Teramore was about to be put on hold; his adventures to Diagon were about to begin.

*****

The night before he left, Galahad wrote a letter to his parents and left it for when he'd leave. It was sitting on the table in the kitchen to be found after he already on the road.

'Best to ask for forgiveness in the long awaiting future than permission now. Either way it will end in long speeches and occasional tears.'

Before heading out in the early morning; Galahad packed a bag of clothes, what remained of his gear, his mana orbs, and he wore his tattered short sword on his belt. He looked like a real sorry excuse for an adventurer with all his fake bandages and still scarred face, but that wasn't his main concern.

He was about to climb out the window to avoid detection again, but before exiting down the pipe, he remembered he wanted to do something for Brett.

He grabbed the arrow out of the floor and left a note with it beneath a pile of clothes meant to go into Brett's room.

'Can't promise I won't do more stupid shit, but sell this to either make a new lantern or buy a smarter brother.

The choice is yours, see ya around.'

*****

Galahad walked over to the carriage pavilion with the approved papers in hand. He had gone to the market square and picked up the jobs posting from a little kiosk nearby. After a short while, he found the right convoy wagon and sat against it to pass the time.

Anyone who used the wagons from the pavilion would simply rent them out from the city and return them after use. They were enchanted well enough to hold out in pretty bad conditions, and if improperly used; they would declare themselves abandoned or stolen. The wheels would lock into place and stop moving if the condition it was in was considered not appropriate, one of the many nifty abilities of an enchanter.

Galahad simply sat against a wheel of the carriage and pulled out his crystal to play with some the features it carried. He looked over his Adventurer Identification section to see what it always kept telling him.

-----------------------------

[ Galahad Mystroff ] lvl. 8

Battle Class: Spartan

Title: Lone Survivor (1/1)

Attack: 28

Defense: 28

Agility: 28

-----------------------------

The high pointed attributes baffled Galahad the first time he read it. He had double checked repeatedly, until remembering the additional points he received every time he leveled up, including the bigger boost he earned at five and eight.

'Let's see, it was +3 for level two, three, four, and then six and seven. Then there's the big boosts of +5 at five and +8 when I chose my class. Everything seems to increase rapidly along with my level, I can only hope this isn't temporary. Almost everything is exceeding my original level, only my health took a hit.'

As Galahad recalled his old stats, he knew his health stats and everyone else's because of the mana tethers gave him such knowledge. He originally had 1245/1245 HP, now

'If I subtracted all the +10 for health points, I would have started with 1000 HP. Although it's still not the one hundred percent you always want when your supposively healthy.'

His health was the only attribute to have dropped since he was last level twenty-three, but that really didn't matter to Galahad. The health points on a Karmic Plate were more or less status indicators that detected poison, illness, or minor wounds. Anything less than a 100% meant something was wrong with you.

Galahad rubbed their section of his body still actually burnt from the incident. 'I'm guessing that last 85 points are due to these.'

He flipped it over and read over the one skill he had on the back

[ Fyre and Fury ] Sat alone with nothing else beside it, leaving it as Galahad's only form of defense, attack, and trump card.

'Let's hope I can start filling this up soon enough.'

Soon after the sun fully rose, a rather short and scrawny man who looked to only be a year or two older than Galahad was approaching the carriage with a wheelbarrow filled with cloth-wrapped packages.

The man seemed very distressed as he came barreling towards Galahad. Nearly spilling the contents twice. It wasn't until he came to a screeching halt that Galahad recognized the man at the same time his name popped up.

[ James Disark ] lvl. 18

Creation Class: Scholar

It was the son of Gerian Disark, who Galahad had actually known for a few years before. Galahad had crossed paths with him and they occasionally talked in the library during the school years. If anyone were to visit the library, James would always be there writing or reading in the corner.

"Hey James. Are you dropping stuff off for your father's trip to Bluewalk?"

"No." He gasped out before nearly bending over and passing out. "My father *gasp* chased me out of the house screaming for me to do it. *gasp* I had no idea he was making me deliver it till half an hour ago."

"Oh jeez, I never realized your father was so intense like that."

"He's normally not, but he's been trying lately to get me to go out and experience the world outside of a book."

"Huh, I guess I can understand his reasoning, just maybe not his approach. Well are you ready to head out."

"Yeah, I think so. It's probably better to try and get there before nightfall."

"Oh Bluewalk isn't that close." Galahad corrected. "The journey nonstop from here would be at least three days, this trip is gonna take a week."

James looked up from his hunched position and stared at Galahad in absolute horror. His whole face paled at the word 'week.'

Before he could get anything out in response; James was cut off by someone entering the pavilion very loudly.

"HOLD IT!" Boomed a loud voice from across the entire pavilion. Everyone stopped and some people flinched at the sudden thundering of such a burly voice. The large shout was followed by a large red-headed man bee-lining his way to Disark's carriage.

"I should be the one to take this one-way ticket out of this shithole, not you." The man exclaimed as he stood right in Galahad face.

'Now who is this hardass?' Galahad thought as he put his crystal plate in his jacket pocket. He wasn't offended by the man's abrasive actions, but the stranger's delay on his trip was irritating him.

"It's unfortunate that we both wanted this job, but I was the one who already claimed it officially." He said with a customer service tone, artificial and in the cusp of monotone.

The loud and obnoxious man was actually the same redheaded man who tried pressuring Frederick for information the night of the incident. Galahad didn't recognize him, but he recalled seeing Galahad's unconscious and broken body splayed across the crystal platform that night.

"Oh yeah? How exactly do you plan on protect the convoy with that dinged up sword? Or with that f.u.c.k.e.d up face of yours? Are you going to get every threat you face to pity you?" The large man mocked loudly, his clearly rude tone was drawing a crowd almost as big as the one Casmus drew in the pavilion.

'I'm starting to wonder if Victor was the black sheep of Berserkers, he's the only one I know that doesn't try and get a crowd's attention.' Galahad was barely paying attention to the man's insult and more about the younger Disark's reaction.

James was witnesses everything going down and noticed that the angry red head was more concerned about the packages in the cart, not the mission's main purpose to protect him.

The man's face was getting almost as red as his beard and hair, even his eyes seemed to get more red with smugness and rage. This man's emotions were a prime example of what happens when you piss off a berserker, and a very powerful one at that.

"I have been looking for a way out of this musty shitshow of town since your dumbass stunt at the competition last month. You can be sure as hell that I won't let you take this chance away from me just because you and your stupid friends couldn't handle the dungeon."

A few people kept staring at the loud adventure and others kept carry on without stopping to see a possible fight breakout.

Most of them expected Galahad to start swinging at the man for his words. Other thought he'd submit or weep at his feet because of survivor's guilt. He ended up doing what no one else was expecting.

He simply smiled and said, "I tell you what, let's spar for the job."

Silence washed over the pavilion at that statement.

Everyone stared at Galahad like he was crazy, and who could blame them. The practically broken support mage with a near useless arm was challenging a battle class member of the team that placed first in the competition not too long ago. Additionally, a rumor had gone around recently that Galahad barely survived as his level had completely reset.

"Huh?... Are you f.u.c.k.i.n.g with me?" The man took a step forward and was about to grab a fistful of Galahad's shirt, but the mischievous grin on his scarred face was somehow eerie to Tekko.

"Of course not." Galahad's voice never changed tone. "I would assume Mr. Disark's convoy would want the best of the two that are accepting his request. I figure this can solve our issue and put his mind at ease the matter without offending anyone. Unless you would prefer to choose yourself."

Galahad turned to the shorter man at that last sentence. James was already squirming at the confrontation in front of him. Now the poor lad wanted to run from the carriage when everyone turned their heads at him.

'Why does it have to be me? If I let Mystroff do it, I could die from bandits or forest beasts. If I let the angry psycho do it, he'll probably kill me the moment we are alone. Gods be damned, why must my father make me deliver the stupid loan. I just wanna go home.'

"Fine, lets fight for the job then." Spat the redhead.

Galahad took out his good hand and raised it to shake in agreement. As he focused on the man, his name popped up.

[ Tekko Mcgraughten ] lvl. 32

Battle Class: Berserker

Tekko stared blankly for a moment with gears turning, uncertain if his next action was to punch Galahad or laugh at him.

'Is he for real? Does he not realize the state of his body right now? He's either got a death wish or a few strands of hay short from a bale. Whatever, I'll beat his a.s.s and get out of here before anyone will pin this shit as me being some kind bad guy.'

"Fine, don't you dare think about chickening out when the match begins." Tekko sneered and started walking towards Teramore's school building. The bas.e.m.e.nt floor housed many sparring rooms that were open for the public to use.

*****

At the same time, far off in the heart of the Etherite Kingdom's capital. Neita Lilgrey was sitting at her desk with a mound of paper stack across it. Only half of her work was processed and the progression speed was constantly slowed due to her partner going out to smoke for the third time that day.

It seemed appropriate for her to be sitting there with a sour face because of her partner's current actions, but that actually wasn't the case. The two of them had been sent to the distance city of Teramore nearly a month before and she could not stop thinking about the Mystroff child every time she saw anything relating to the report. Her sour face was due to him.

The way he had looked at her with such a strange focus in his eyes, she had no idea what he was thinking in that hospital bed, but it certainly wasn't sadness. Despite Malex telling her to drop it and focus on the other reports they needed to do, Neita scanned through the files once again. After double-checking all the stories and witness based information, she realized something was amiss.

She put down her pen before rubbing her eyes and massaging the bridge of her nose. 'Why can't that jackass function like a normal human being, maybe he could even help me figure this out.'

As soon as she thought about her partner, the stench of Malex's cigars hit her from the side. The man entered the office space and slumped into his desk chair, sitting right across from her. He slicked back his pitch black hair and put an unlit cigar across his lips as he looked back at all the papers on his desk.

Malex looked so surreal to the rest of the environment. He had black hair and black eyes that contrasted heavily against his pasty white skin. He reminded Neita of a cutout to a black and white photo, especially when he wore his black tie and white shirt to match the lack of color.

"Where the hell did my report on the fake market stands go?" He asked viciously through the cigar still in his mouth.

"Knaughtler wanted the file by yesterday. So I gave it to him. Finished." she bluntly replied.

"Hmmph." Malex grunted back. He leaned back in his chair and picked up another assignment from the desk to start writing out another field report while Neita continued to stare holes at him.

"Can I help you with something flowerpot?" He asked without looking up.

"Why are you so inconsiderate of other people?" She asked after scrunching her face at the nickname she clearly hated.

"Resources evaluated my lack of empathy to be a defense mechanism for suppressing discomfort or something like that. I only partially listened before telling them to kindly shove it up their a.s.s with all their other pretentious bullshit."

"You're a complete a.s.s, you know that? You choose to go out of your way to ruin lives and ignore your work just because it suits your needs to feel powerful."

Malex's head didn't move, but his eyes looked up and locked onto Neita through his always unhappy scowl. He set down the paper for a moment and faced her head on to speak.

"Does this have to do with that kid in Teramore?" He asked with barely any hint of interest in his tone.

"Oh now you notice." She angrily exclaimed. "You severed him from any kind of happier future and push him farther into the idea of despair and hopeless after losing everything to the dungeon. Don't you feel you handled this a bit too harsh in the slightest?"

"I told you before. This. Is. A. Business." He jabbed his finger into the desk with each word. "The kid has no hope of surviving as an adventurer after all that, I did him a favor."

"What do you even know about him? You didn't even give him a moment to talk about it after destroying his contract right in front of him."

"He told us enough to fill in blank slots of a report sheet and carry on our way."

"Did he really though?" She asked with a more questionable than angry tone now.

Malex paused and took the cigar out of his mouth. He seemed to back off a moment before asking Lilgrey what she was referring to.

"What are you talking about? You think the kid lied?"

"No, maybe, I don't know. It just doesn't make any sense. Every team that was down in the dungeon talked about blemmyaes swarming or the monster presence just dwindling.

He was well aware of Venora's situation and stayed alert, but the moment his team was attacked; he said was knocked out and covered in what the nurse assumed was magically conflicted burns. I just don't think whatever attacked them was the horde, maybe something that was drawing them in had attacked them."

Malex squinted in thought, he brows managed to somehow become even more creased in his scowl. "Well I'm not your babysitter, if you truly feel there is more to the story than go back and see."

"I-what?" She didn't know how exactly he would respond, but the last thing she expected was him to tell her to go find out.

"It's your job to investigate if you have suspicions about the event that took place, go see if Knaughtler will sign off on it."

Malex looked at the papers on Neita's desk and sighed.

"Looks like I'll be doing all the work this week." He said while lighting up a cigar in the little office he now had all to himself.