Paragon of Skills

Jacob feels a stab of fear seeing that the Skill Crystal exited his Interspatial Ring of its own volition. He turns toward Lancelot, expecting to find the Squire looking absolutely terrified.

The fact that this is already glowing means that the court has been infiltrated. The Headmaster didn’t specify at what stage of incarnation the person had to be. But Jacob knows that beyond those double doors there is the literal incarnation — or soon-to-be incarnation — of an Evil God.

“Listen, don’t be scared.” Jacob’s words trail off when he sees a large smile on Lancelot’s face. “What are you smiling for?”

“I was right.” Lancelot claps his hands once and then bends to gather the Skill Crystal. “So now, uh, how do you wanna play this? We enter, kill the thing now, and resume our vacation? I would really like it if we could handle this in the least amount of time possible. Your people here, they make great food, like spectacular, incredible food. This new Skill you gave me is consuming a lot of energy, and I really need to stock up for whatever—”

“Lancelot,” Jacob says, stunned. “Have you just lost your mind? This thing says that there’s the incarnation of an Evil God or someone about to be fucking possessed on the other side. Do you know what that means? Do you know what kind of terror such a creature would be able to unleash and—”

“Jacob.” Lancelot puts a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “You killed an Apostle of a Primordial God.”

“So what?” Jacob frowns.

“So what?” Lancelot puffs his chest out. “Don’t take yourself and me for two weaklings. If this incarnation appears, we will kill it easily too. So, the real question is, why are you afraid, Jacob?”

“That is a good question, isn’t it?” Jacob looks down. “Well, an incarnation from an Evil God is still something we have to be careful about. Even though we killed Apocalypse’s Apostle. And don’t forget, Lancelot, we killed her under very, very specific constraints. Incarnations might break rules that usually apply to us.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Lancelot says, stretching his shoulders with his robe hiking up from the movement. Ugh. He starts rotating his torso and flexing his muscles, saying, “I wouldn’t mind one last fight before we take the full vacation, you know? Builds my appetite.”

Jacob massages the sides of his head and says, “All right. You’ve lost your mind, so listen and listen well. We’re going to enter, and we’re not going to act up. Don’t tell anybody for the moment. I will reach my grandma and tell her. We don’t know what one has to do under these circumstances. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” Lancelot replies. “What wouldn’t I understand?”

“I don’t know.” Jacob frowns. “Your newfound bravado is not something I like.”

“It’s not bravado. I’m gonna kill that incarnation, and I’m actually gonna kill it painfully. I’m here to relax, Jacob, not here to work overtime.”

Jacob takes the Skill Crystal back from Lancelot and puts it away in his Interspatial Ring.

Then he ignores his Squire and walks forward, opening the double doors.

The scene shifts from a grim conversation about a possessed soul which will channel the power of an Evil God to a festive, carnivalesque atmosphere inside a gigantic ballroom. Hundreds of candles burn in golden chandeliers overhead, and a group of musicians plays something light from a corner stage. There are tables all around, but with a large circle left in the middle for people to dance.

When Jacob opens the door, everybody — literally everybody — turns toward him.

He straightens up and starts walking forward as Princess Priscilla walks toward him. At a rectangular table raised above all the others, where the royals sit, his grandmother rises, and now everybody turns to look at her.

“Please give a warm welcome to my grandchild, Jacob Cloud.”

Most people at court, of course, know about Jacob and roughly some of the details about his story. But some of them have never heard of him, neither from the Academy nor from the family circles, and so they frown.

“Cloud? Is that a bastard?” a few whisper.

“Don’t say that,” the ones in the know reply, since they don’t want to attract the rage of Queen Anthea. “He was offered a spot in the family, in the royal family, and he turned it down, apparently. He’s Princess Priscilla’s son after her husband died. He’s apparently quite the commotion at the Academy. He’s the leader of the Generation of Legends.”

“Really?” someone else comments.

Jacob reaches his mother, who escorts him toward those he has to greet. He sees Kai, his brother, at the table, and he waves at him. Kai waves very energetically, but when Queen Anthea glares at him, he immediately sits back.

“You have to be introduced in order of importance. So I’ll introduce you to your other uncle first.”

Jacob arrives in front of a man who looks to be in his sixties. He’s broad-shouldered, with a full head of gray hair, and his coat is plain and dark — with no embroidery or jewelry: nothing that asks for attention. Jacob puts a hand out to the man to greet him.

The man looks at Jacob’s hand and does not manage to hide a grin.

“I hear that you troubled my little brother, Jacob Cloud.”

Jacob stiffens at that.

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“Are you talking about Duke Dorian?” he asks.

“Yes. And my name, by the way, is Duke Arthur Valemont,” the man says.

“Nice to meet you.” Jacob puts his hand back. “I’m not an expert on the protocols of royalty, so sorry if I make a fool of myself.”

“You don’t have to be.” The man smiles.

“Oh, why not?” Jacob raises an eyebrow.

“Your modesty is to be praised, Jacob, but do not let it be a sign of weakness. People here pounce on weakness.”

“Now you’re talking about yourself, Arthur,” Princess Priscilla says. “Jacob, your Uncle Arthur is a man mostly removed from politics. He has no children, and he had no desire to sire any. But do not underestimate him. He is a mover in the court.”

“I supported neither you nor my brother,” Arthur says with a smile.

“And yet,” Princess Priscilla says, “you’re the one in direct line of succession at the moment.”

“The reward for not acting a fool is sweeter than one might imagine,” Duke Arthur says, looking meaningfully at Jacob. “At some point in life, nephew, people forget that the first imperative is: do not make mistakes that might ruin you. No matter how enticing the prize in front of you, some bets are just not worth it.”

- - -

Princess Priscilla then brings Jacob to meet other family members and important court people. He even meets a few state functionaries. But they all look a little bland after meeting Duke Arthur. The man has left quite an impression on Jacob.

His mother, as if she could read his mind, says, “You like Arthur, don’t you?”

“Well, he looks smart,” Jacob confesses. “He kinda reminds me of Grandma.”

“That’s why your grandmother likes him the best among the options to succeed to the throne. She has said multiple times she wished she didn’t have to compete with Arthur back in the day. They’re from the same generation. And rivals, specifically. Arthur has always supported your grandma, but he would not mind taking her place. He is more loyal to the kingdom than he is to the family. But he sees your grandma as a very competent person.”

Jacob stores away all that information, starting to feel antsy about this gathering. He has been quietly scanning a few people with the Grimoire, avoiding, however, the main actors like Duke Arthur. He doesn’t know whether the man would be able to read his attempt. And if there’s an incarnation around, Jacob knows that the incarnation doesn’t have to know that Jacob knows. It would be better if Jacob could spot whoever is about to be possessed thanks to his Primordial Grimoire, and then find a way to eliminate them without a fuss.

Sadly, it appears that that’s not gonna be so easy. There are so many people moving and shifting that Jacob cannot keep track of all of them. And it could very well be a servant, a butler, anyone here, a kid hiding under a table.

They spend ten more minutes like this, with Lancelot following in tow, swiping food from silver trays. And finally, Jacob is brought to the main table.

“Rise, children,” Queen Anthea commands, and Kai, Thorne, Valerius, and Ilyra, all of Jacob’s siblings, rise.

Kai and Thorne greet Jacob warmly, whereas Valerius and Ilyra limit themselves to a neutral greeting. Ilyra is pale and composed, and she doesn’t smile once. It is to be expected. Kai and Thorne are both much closer in age, unlike Valerius and Ilyra.

Thorne, specifically, without his giant white tiger in tow at the banquet, says to Jacob, “Kai told me a lot about the Primordial Dungeon. You wouldn’t mind sharing a few tales among fellow students?”

“Among fellow brothers,” Jacob replies, smiling at Thorne.

“We must congratulate him,” Valerius nods.

Valerius is tall, the tallest of the siblings, and looks quite heroic and mature compared to Kai and Thorne. He’s in the fifth year, the eldest, and Ilyra is in the fourth year.

Jacob sees that Duke Dorian and Marcel are also there, together with Marcel’s older brother, Bastian. Bastian is a taller, harder version of Marcel.

Seeing Marcel staring at him almost in fear makes Jacob sad. Marcel is thinner than Jacob remembers from the tournament, and his purple cloak hangs loose on his shoulders.

Jacob had killed Marcel’s brother, Cassian, his twin. The young man who had chosen monsterification over any normal path to power. Jacob doesn’t know how much his father is to be held responsible for Cassian’s choice, but he knows that Marcel wasn’t happy, nor was he all right, after Cassian died. For a brief period of time, he left the Academy and then came back.

Looking at him, Jacob immediately thinks he might be the one. It makes sense. Jacob had already faced the incarnation of Asmodeus while fighting Iskara’s dead brother, Azrakel. Considering Marcel’s connection to Asmodeus through his twin brother, that makes it possible.

So despite having so many people around him who could read his intention — who could, perhaps, read his use of a Rainbow Skill — he scans Marcel.

He starts reading the pages very quickly as Duke Dorian walks toward him, forced by Queen Anthea to treat Jacob with respect, especially in front of crowds. Jacob scans the pages of the Grimoire that appear only in front of his eyes, and — now that the Grimoire is able to read beyond the flaws and into a person — he sighs.

Marcel is depressed. He is weakened. And apparently his father forced him to undergo the kind of training that partially broke his talent and that will take decades to walk back from.

Fuck this, Jacob thinks.

He sidesteps Duke Dorian and hugs Marcel.

Marcel is startled by that. And behind him, Bastian looks at Jacob with narrowed eyes.

Jacob bows his head and says, “I never apologized for your brother. I’m sorry it had to end like that. I wish I had unlocked the same spell I used on the leader of the Dark Champions before then. No one deserves to die in the claws of Asmodeus — or any Evil God, for that matter.”

Everybody there freezes at Jacob’s words. Nobody can believe he just mentioned something like that at this banquet that Queen Anthea is holding for him. Even the court heard him. And those who know about it were already gossiping about Jacob meeting Marcel, maliciously wondering what the two would say to each other, given the animosity that runs deep between them.

“I—” Marcel stutters. “I— Cassian was—”

Marcel is suddenly cut off by his older brother, Bastian.

“Why do you mock the death of our brother? You killed him. You could have the decency to keep your damn mouth far away from him.”

A thick Intermediate Adamantite Rank aura comes from Bastian.

Jacob sighs and takes a step back.

“I’m sorry about your brother’s death,” he tells Bastian as well. “I meant what I said. I don’t make a sport of fighting Humans, Elves, or any other creature that is not possessed by a monster. I have nothing against you. And for that matter,” Jacob turns toward Duke Dorian, “I don’t care that anybody here plotted against me and my mother. There are greater enemies out there that I’m interested in.”

That said, Jacob goes toward his grandmother.

But he’s stopped by a sudden clap of hands.

Everybody turns, since the air in the room has suddenly become much heavier.

An old man — very old, wizened, wrinkly, with a long beard that reaches his waist and a bald head, dressed in tatters — walks through the double doors.

“Spoken like a true Valemont,” the man says.

Many at court look confused by the sudden appearance of this man. But they find themselves unable to move. It’s Queen Anthea who suddenly explains to them why the other half of the court is looking terrified.

“Ancestor, we didn’t expect you here. We didn’t prepare.”

“It is no trouble, Anthea,” the Ancestor says, and then looks at Jacob. “I came here to witness what the Generation of Legends is truly about.”

Jacob looks at the Ancestor and feels a well of power, even from this distance, that is impossible to describe. This man is not just stronger than anybody here — his power dwarfs all of the people present put together.

Then, the Ancestor sharply turns his head back and frowns.

“Is something the matter?” Queen Anthea asks, clearly wanting the celebration to return to normal.

“Someone just forcefully breached the Sacred Grounds,” the Ancestor says.

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