“Two Quillhusks to start the day right,” Elian sang as he crawled out of the mess made by his twentieth Tribulation. “Are there any beasts around here that don’t have soft insides?”

  When he found two male Quillhusks headbutting each other for territory or mating rights, he didn’t get to ask them about their conflict, he immediately shed his clothes. Thank the Storm God no one was around or it would’ve been awkward to explain. He dove in between the fighting Quillhusks and called for his daily Tribulation.

  The double strike smashed the exoskeleton of the Quillhusks above him and squeezed out their goopy insides. The Quillhusks pressed on him as they were hammered by the Tribulation.

  If Elian hadn’t undressed, his clothes would’ve been ruined. Again.

  Not this time, deity who stealth Cursed me to lose my possessions.

  His monstrous Armor made it impossible to gauge the strength of the Tribulation through feel alone. The depth of the giant hand imprint wasn’t a reliable measure either because the hardness of the ground affected it. However, Elian was certain that the size of the imprint had grown. Also, these Quillhusks were more crumpled than the first one he hunted some weeks ago when Jadewell was tailing him.

  The shells of the Quillhusks were broken into hundreds of pieces. Easy to pull out and put in a bag. And what a heavy bag he’d later lug back to town. If some portions of the exoskeleton had to be broken apart or cut from connective tissues, Viney was there to help. Elian might not be able to completely take everything sellable but the important thing was no longer relying on Borlen and the other pilgrims.

  Before dressing up and harvesting his kill, he headed to a nearby stream to wash himself.

  Elian raised his right arm covered with hardened tendrils. No cracks because he hid it close to his chest while holding his cleaver when the Tribulation descended. The Quillhusks were additional cover.

  The wooden gauntlet was yellowish, like aged parchment, and had holes for his fingers. He hadn’t figured out how to make armor that allowed movement if it was even possible. This was one whole piece. Could he make interlocking plates? Maybe he could leave some parts thin and pliable with enough practice.

  “Looking great there, Viney,” Elian said. “I wonder at what level of yours will I be able to cover my entire body.”

  Guardian Exactor Vine | Plant Symbiote | Level: 12

  Health: 772/880

  Energy: 364/415

  ATTRIBUTES:

  Attack Power: 88

  Magic Power: 88

  Armor: 448

  Magic Resilience: 88

  TRAITS:

  Host Attribute Absorption – Absorb (1080) Attribute points from the host and gain a third of it.

  Rejuvenating Roots – Restore (2.2) Health Points of the host every second.

  Barkskin – Coats host with hardened tendrils. Costs a quarter of the symbiote’s Health and Energy to create, shared equally with the host. The protective layer possesses half the attributes of the symbiote.

  Viney gained its Barkskin Trait when it reached level twelve, and Elian immediately tested it. The wooden gauntlet had been on his arm since then. He didn’t use it to block the Tribulation—it’d break apart like a layer of toothpicks—but just thought it looked cool.

  The cost to cast Barkskin was based on Viney’s Health and Energy, which was then divided between Viney and Elian. Doing some hated math calculations, he figured that Viney could create a Barkskin coating eight times before it was spent.

  He wouldn’t push Viney that far. It might die, and he wasn’t going to test it. They were comrades-in-arms in the fight against Giants; his first official ally, technically.

  A tendril of Viney emerged from a hole in the wooden gauntlet and waved at him.

  “Grow faster and absorb more of my Armor,” Elian told it. “I have plenty to spare.” He called up his Covenant with the Gods to check if his Armor reached a new milestone. “Aw, not yet.”

  Elian Ward | Human | Level:14

  Health: 7,527/7,700

  Energy: 2,889/2,940

  ATTRIBUTES:

  Attack Power: 0

  Magic Power: 0

  Armor: 196,248

  Magic Resilience: 0

  DIVINE BESTOWAL:

  Greater Curse of the Berserking Abyssal Eye III

  Greater Curse of the Powerless Physical Immortal III

  Lesser Curse of the Overzealous Judge I

  “Another Tribulation and I’ll shoot past two hundred thousand Armor,” Elian happily bragged to the flying discus fishes as he sat on the side of the lake. “Two more after that and I’ll have two hundred thousand Armor even without my cleaver or Attack Power potion.”

  A grandmaster monk would gain around the same amount of Armor from a perfected Divine Steelskin. Well, that wasn’t a fair comparison—Steelskin gave base Armor while Elian’s Armor was after a ton of multipliers. Still, he was confident to claim that no one else in the history of Fellenyr was this physically tanky at his level.

  If he had high-quality equipment—he was working on that by hunting to earn coin—reaching a million Armor was very possible. Even two million wasn’t such a difficult goal because of how his multipliers synergized. He was far from reaching that tankiness in his previous life. If he did, he could’ve taken hits from the elite guards of the Giant King head-on. He could’ve saved many of his friends.

  Because Elian was already this tanky naked, Tribulations weren’t a problem in the near future. Would take some time for the strength of the Tribulation to ramp up and pose a threat. Even then, he’d buy weapons and armor.

  “I might be fine up to the next tier of the Magistrate’s Curse,” Elian said, washing his arms. “After that would be the real challenge. I should work on raising my Health too.”

  Health points were more a gauge of a person’s life force rather than a reflection of how well they were. Injuries would translate to lower life points, but the reverse wasn’t necessarily true. Case in point was the blood mages. With how much Health sacrifice they loved to do, they’d always be writhing in pain if it translated to injuries. Very believable that Faridar had only one Health point while walking around and enduring Tribulations.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Most important above all is the last point of Health,” Master Kailash would tell Elian in his past life. One of the last surviving monks from the War Monastery, Elian would converse with Master Kailash often while planning for his next life.

  All Health points were a resource to protect the last one. They could just be a literal meat shield or they could be used for other things, like Faridar and the blood mages did. Whatever the strategy may be, Health was very important in Fellenyr because this wasn’t a game where a person could resurrect. With the Timekeeper’s Boon permanently lost, Elian only had one life.

  Elian had neglected physical training, mostly spending every free time meditating to progress Aether Magic. The result was excessive Energy he had no use for. If he hadn’t holed up in the library so much, he would’ve had even more Energy. Still wasn’t sure what to use it for because spell shard rings were too expensive. Something to convert Energy into Health would be ideal.

  Another unused resource was his seven Favor Points. What Boon should he aim to get first? He wanted two before reaching Sarnival Port. Later, he’d visit a person who might help him.

  But that was after selling his loot. Elian met with Borlen’s contact on the outskirts of Temple Hill.

  “Quillhusk shells,” Elian said, plopping the two heavy sacks by the feet of a stout man with a constipated expression. “Already broken into small pieces so less work grinding them to powder. I, on the other hand, had a lot of work bringing those here.”

  “I’m not going to pay for your labor,” he curtly replied. “It’s included in the cost of the goods.”

  “As it should be,” Elian said.

  A couple of days ago, Borlen introduced Elian to the merchant who often bought the loot from his hunts. Borlen advised to not mind the merchant’s shortness, both in height and demeanor. This man was supposedly honest and fair in his dealings.

  After some checking and weighing, the merchant ordered his men to load the sacks on his cart. “Here is the price at the going market rate,” the merchant told Elian, handing him a pouch almost bursting with coins. “Not one coin more or less. Count it in front of me.”

  “No need,” Elian said. “I trust you, good sir. Thanks for the business.”

  It wasn’t like Elian intended to cut out Borlen as a middleman of sorts. Borlen himself arranged this. He didn’t have time to peddle Elian’s loot, which Elian would’ve gladly given him a cut, because he and all the other followers of Tharguras were busy preparing for the Tribulation tomorrow. Their camp was mostly empty save for children and the oldest of the group who were too frail to help.

  Elian hoped Tharguras would succeed in his Tribulation so he’d be equal in score with Faridar. That’d keep parity between the rival groups. The two Champion Penitents might have publicly announced their cooperation, but Elian wasn’t sure how long that’d keep peace if Tharguras fell behind.

  “I hope the priests let him borrow from the golden hall,” Elian said, turning down the road to Energy Hill.

  It’d be spectacular to witness another legendary suit of armor in action. Elian would be at the Tribulation site before sunrise so he’d get a better view of what was happening. A nice end to the pilgrimage of Borlen’s group if everything went well. The day after tomorrow would be the second mass of the month. And by next week, the blue-robed pilgrims would start leaving.

  “Our resources will be depleted after the next Tribulation of our Champion Penitent,” Borlen had told Elian yesterday. “We’ll need another year to gather more. Penitent Faridar would also prepare himself.”

  “I guess that’ll be when we part ways,” Elian replied, a tinge of sorrow plucking his heartstrings. Meals with the pilgrims were moments of happy relaxation. The songs and stories, the running children, the stew and roasted meats—they were his escape from thoughts of the wars to come.

  “We won’t be parting ways if you come with us to Tellerin. Staying here will benefit your Penitent Path the most, but Tellerin is not without great teachers. Lessons aplenty along the way for we will pass many lands and trade with many people. This is the time to increase the places you have visited.”

  “I have somewhere I need to be,” Elian said. “But I promise that someday, I’ll visit.”

  Tellerin was around four months away. Maybe closer to five since the pace of Borlen’s group wasn’t the fastest and they’d have to pass through mountains. He could cut the time a lot if he rode a Gentun Monitor Lizard and traveled with little rest. The problem was that he’d sacrifice training time—he couldn’t meditate while riding a mount compared to sitting at the back of the cart. And with the Sarnival Port tournament looming, he needed to prepare himself plenty.

  Another concern was how long it’d take to get the Boon. He had information about how to appease the Tri-Horned Magnam, but the execution had many variables. He didn’t want a close shave when it came to time. Learned his lesson there.

  Elian didn’t intend to stay long at the Temples of Tribulation after Borlen’s group would leave. The one-month estimate he told Gideon would be shortened if his next mission panned out.

  Entering Energy Hill, the clothes of the people around turned predominantly red. A large chunk of Faridar’s supporters camped outside the walls of the town.

  “I hope Naamon didn’t wait for me long,” Elian mumbled, jogging to their meeting place by the eastern gate.

  Elian was set on using the Altruistic Tether Boon. He searched the temple library high and low for any material. What he found was mostly about the Tellerins using it. Problem was Givers rarely upgraded it to a Greater Boon which allowed Tethering many while protecting the user—Givers didn’t care much for these benefits, preferring to use their Favor Points for Bestowals that increased their attributes to share. And with next to no one having its Greater Boon, there was a dearth of information about Melding it.

  Two Melded Bestowals that might have the Altruistic Tether as a component was all Elian could find. But he couldn’t be so sure. It was sourced from the journal of a Tellerin Penitent who only heard it from others.

  Borlen and Naamon weren’t much help either. What Elian sought wasn’t common knowledge. However, Naamon pledged that he’d look for an answer to make up for attacking Elian. And it seemed he found someone.

  “Follow me,” Naamon said, waving at the guards of Energy Hill’s gates as they walked past.

  Elian gasped in surprise. “It’s like another town out here.”

  Stretching before them were rows and rows of red tents bearing the symbol of Faridar on their sides. Covered wagons divided the group of tents into blocks, allowing for paths for people to travel on. As far as Elian knew, the supporters of Tharguras never congregated to this extent; they just formed clusters here and there, everywhere on the hills.

  “This way to the Tellerin section,” Naamon said. “I have informed the Elder Giver Shelomo of our visit.”

  “You told me his Bearer has already died. Er, I’m guessing I shouldn’t mention that later.”

  “Elder Shelomo has had three Bearers. They have all perished, yes. Nonetheless, he is proud of the support he has given them and wouldn’t shy away talking about them.”

  “But Elder Shelomo hasn’t Melded his Altruistic Tether with another Boon, right?”

  “He has witnessed someone who had.”

  Elder Shelomo was a shriveled man wearing several beaded necklaces that didn’t do his posture any favors, especially at his advanced age. He gave them a toothless smile as they entered his tent and sat on purple cushions before him. “Are you the one seeking knowledge of a Giver?”

  “I am Elian Wards of Gilders. I want to learn about the Tri-Horned Magnam’s Altruistic Tether, specifically Melding it. Can you share with me your knowledge? I’m willing to compensate you if it is within my power.”

  Shelomo’s raspy laughter layered Elian’s last words. “I demand no compensation, lad. In my old age, all I want is to share my knowledge before my sands of time ran out. I sense it is not long until it does.”

  “I pray you to not speak of such, Elder,” said Naamon. “You’ll live long and support Faridar as an Enlightened Penitent.”

  “I hope so… I hope so…” Shelomo looked at Elian with cloudy eyes that could probably not see much. “I was there to witness my uncle Meld the Boon of the Tri-Horned Magnm with another—it is the Impel Order of the Peace-mongering Crucible.”

  The Peace-mongering Crucible? Elian came across this Boon in his previous life. He couldn’t forget about it because he thought it was stupid. It protected those who wouldn’t hurt another by generating a field repelling those with intent to cause harm.

  A bizarre Boon that may just be what he needed this time.