Paragon of Skills

Behind the crystalline surface of the Dungeon Core, Lyra looks on with no words for what’s happening.

She thought she had Jacob in her grasp, that she was about to absorb a bunch of souls and their Rainbow Skills. That would have made her invincible in this city. Not even that scary Knight at Mithril Rank could do anything to her once she absorbed the people here. She would instantly become so powerful to level Ashenmere with one swat of her hand.

Yet, massive tendrils of Primordial Magic, a Spell that she has never seen before strips her Boss of Mithril. It starts chipping away like common iron shedding dust.

But the most worrying part for Lyra is that the tendrils create ramifications that reach back to Jacob under the massive layer of Mandalas that he’s created.

The mandalas shine with Primordial Magic that she doesn’t know, but she can tell that part of it comes from Rafnov and the other from…

It must be from his other master, that Baalrek, the Infernal King who went Mad.

She can immediately tell what these tendrils do: they are shunting energy away from the monster, consuming his own essence, and sending it back to Jacob. But the worst part is that they are turning into blood and fire essence that enter Jacob’s body while he looks in spite at her.

Jacob stands straighter and straighter.

Lyra claps her hands and ten times as many Mandalas appear all around Jacob, trying to block his spell, but…

As she reaches, she feels Jacob’s own Primordial Magic being resisted, being twisted away from her control. She is a being of untold power, but for some reason she feels like a child trying to wrestle candy away from her parent.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” She shouts, feeling her magic repelled by his own, feeling herself losing a match that should have been hers by birthright.

“Primordial Magic might have been created by the Primordial Gods, but it’s something that many mortals have mastered beyond its creators.”

Jacob’s bones start creaking, and his skin rippling. His joints snap, making his whole frame tremble.

What is he doing with all that energy?! He can’t absorb it! This is ridiculous! If he absorbed so much magic, his mortal coil would simply explode!

The Apostle of Apocalypse can tell that there’s something going on, but she cannot, for the life of her, understand what.

Lyra sees Jacob’s deep blue eyes brightening until they emit light.

“Plus, your own magic is full of flaws.”

Jacob pulls out the Primordial Grimoire from thin air, covered in runes that Lyra doesn’t recognize. She has been suppressing many aspects of his Rainbow Skill, something that Apocalypse herself created. Her intimate knowledge of his Skill allowed her to turn it off at will.

Yet, as the Boss is slowly drained, she feels her control over it slipping away.

“The Grimoire is only as strong as its user. While Rainbow Skills don’t grow in levels like other Skills since they’re already the purest expression of their Skill, it does not mean they don’t become stronger and more effective. And even though my two masters created incredible Primordial Spells, they didn’t have a way to perfect them.”

Jacob raises a hand and all of Lyra’s mandalas explode in a million sparks.

“I was too weak,” Jacob says, looking at the Apostle of Apocalypse as he slowly walks toward the ensnared Boss. He plunges King Baalrek’s Sword in his leg, accelerating its death, “my Class was too situational. I could be the strongest in the right situation, but I never had power at my immediate disposal. At that point, I realized that King Baalrek had already taught me everything he knew in many ways. That meant I had to turn to my other master, Rafnov.”

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Hearing those words, Lyra finally pieces everything together, her eyes going wide. She understands what Jacob is trying to do, why she couldn’t read him, and how it became possible for him to absorb so much energy without exploding: it’s because that energy doesn’t go to him… it goes instead…

“As you might have just figured out, all the Skills I learned were forging, mining, blood, and fire related. And I told myself, if I had a source of power great enough…” Jacob’s entire body starts glowing with a terrifying aura. “My Baptism of Blood and Fire can only pour so much energy as my Skill can receive. But what if I did what the Primordial Gods do, and I created a new Skill altogether, no? What if I took so many aspects of Skills, used a near-bottomless catalyst like your Boss, and powered my ensnaring Skill, Embrace of Darkness, with King Baalrek’s sword? A perfect loop.”

Lyra had to admit that this is the perfect loop.

She can feel in real time as Jacob’s power keeps growing and growing.

I cannot allow this to happen. I will never be able to atone for such a sin, to be forgiven by my Mistress for what I’m about to do, but there’s no other way. His aura is climbing too rapidly, he’s forging a new Imperium Rank Complete Skill and if he manages to, his power will be…

“You’re an actual threat,” she states matter-of-factly. “I curse you, Jacob Cloud.”

She inhales deeply and puts her fists on top of each other, focusing her energy. Then, she twists.

The Boss’s neck, the immense amount of muscle, sinew, and bone, simply snaps. And in the blink of an eye, its entire body is stripped of power. Only Jacob’s sword, still absorbing the remaining massive reserves of Mithril in the corpse, is shining on the lifeless body.

Jacob feels the massive transfer of power that had been feeding his Skill fusion interrupted and the Boss falls dead to the ground with a thunderous thud, creating a small shockwave.

Jacob spits a mouthful of blood in response to the backlash of his spell being forcefully cut off this way. He falls to his knees, vomiting more and more blood. Yet, the aura doesn’t fully disperse—the power stays inside of him.

That’s when a sound worse than nails on a chalkboard blasts in the giant Boss’s Room. It feels like one is using sharp glass to stab your eardrums, and even the trapped Champions and Dark Champions start bleeding from their eyes, ears, and mouth.

Jacob raises his eyes and sees that Lyra’s Dungeon Core has cracked.

A hairline-wide fracture appears from the bottom to the very top of the Dungeon Core.

Lyra smiles with a sudden, unnaturally wide mouth at Jacob.

Her body goes from being ethereal to walking through the crystal-like material, now made of flesh and blood. There’s a draining sound, like something thick going down a pipe when she comes out.

She’s not even close to the giant size of the Boss, but she’s still about eight feet tall, and naked.

A white robe made of luxurious silk materializes out of nowhere and barely covers her.

“You thought you could take me?” She hisses. “You thought that this was going to be it? I let my children fight because I can only grow stronger through them. You just had me waste millennia-worth of work of my Mistress, Jacob Cloud. Once an Apostle walks out of their Dungeon Core, they can’t create any more children.”

The womb-like membranes over the wall suddenly go dim, and the creatures inside all start shriveling, their energy traveling toward Lyra.

The woman, whiter than snow, with equally white hair, looks at Jacob as a scythe of Mithril coalesces into her hand. Her aura climbs to Advanced Imperium Rank, one full stage above the Boss. And, at Imperium Rank, that’s the difference between Heaven and Earth.

“What an honor this must be, to force me out of the Dungeon Core, to force my hand… the barrier will fall down in twenty-four hours and I won’t be able to gain any more power than this, Jacob Cloud.”

Jacob doesn’t reply, he takes his sword out of the Boss’s corpse and squares against the Apostle of Apocalypse.

“You were trying to fuse together all your Skills, not just the ones you just absorbed. Meaning, you can’t use any Skill. Not even your pathetic Domain, Jacob Cloud. How do you think, exactly, you’ll be able to face me now?”

Lyra sees licks of flame come out of Jacob’s body, enveloping him.

“I didn’t finish the job,” Jacob says, with his aura now climbing together with the flames. “I’ve always liked fire, you know? I was kind of sad that I couldn’t get a Class that was fire-based.”

“It won’t matter,” Lyra responds. “Your life will soon be forfeit. And together with yours, all the Champions. Then, I’ll go out and slaughter everybody who comes close—“

“You know what I hate about arrogant pieces of shit like you?” Jacob says, with the flames starting to become a bright red, so bright it hurts the eyes of all the Champions and Dark Champions witnessing the spectacle. “I hate that you always think ahead like this. Your pathetic tantrum against mortals, against the good and just people of this world.”

“How do you dare—“

But before she can finish, Jacob has lunged forward at impossible speed, ending up at her side, slashing.

Lyra can barely react as she uses her scythe to block the attack.

A piece of her robe is torn and flaps in front of her face as Jacob Cloud points the sword at her head, looking heroic and about to give a very important speech about good and evil and how he’ll end her.

“Fuck you.”

He lunges again.

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