Weapons of Mass Destruction

Chapter 521: Training room

POV Aaron Dalton

It’s been three days, and Iʼm already sick of this goddamn cold. The snow keeps blowing into the camp, and sometimes they send us outside to clear it ourselves just to conserve more mana for the sake of maintaining their war armor.

Dennis and I have always preferred warmer weather, and not even the clothes the lumorans gave us do much to help. Sure, the new clothes do keep out the cold, but they’re bulky and difficult to move in.

Nat claims it’s because they’re trying to avoid spending money on us, and despite Leth’s repeated warnings, he’s already started modifying them. He’s adjusted them for each of us, primarily by adding circuits we can power with our mana to boost their heat retention.

He said the efficiency was “so shitty that someone from Easy difficulty could’ve done better,” but he has no time to make any improvements. Now he and Sophie have gone full psycho mode, and they’re pressuring Leth for as much information as possible. Nat even started a couple of fights with the other groups of technician’s assistants: once with the thylarin trio and another time with the vyssari, the human woman, and the giant.

Something tells me he would start fights with all of them if he thought it would help. The clashes are becoming more frequent, as each assistant group strives to prove themselves and move on to more interesting tasks.

Dennis groans next to me and tucks his gloved hands away under his armpits.

(Am I the only one who thinks that the clothes and heating that Nat made for Biscuit are a lot better than ours?)

(My man, that corgi eats better than we do, and Nat was thinking about making a heated bed for him the whole time you were training with Kim.)

(Fuck.)

(Yeah, but he’s cute, so…)

(I know… fuck.)

“Dennis, Aaron, my tiny human friends,” a deep voice interrupts, resonating nearby and making me groan.

Not this guy, not now.

I turn to see Hed, the giant man from one of the other groups, walking closer. And It doesn’t help that those thick protective clothes make him seem even bigger.

“Fuck off, Hed, we’re not in the mood for talking,” Dennis says, putting my thoughts into words.

“Hahaha. You must be Dennis. Aaron’s more polite.”

“Aaron is worse, he just doesn’t say it out loud.”

I nod briskly as Hed looks me over, and shift a bit, to use him as a shield against some of the cold wind.

”Haha. Where I come from, humans aren’t quite so… outspoken.” He says, as his smile grows even wider, seemingly unfazed by the biting wind and falling snow.

“You’d love the internet, my man,” Dennis replies with a smirk.

“Dennis, tiny human, I don’t appreciate your tone,” Hed states, his voice growing stern, without letting even a hint of anger leak into his tone.

“Do you think we don’t know the kind of shit you guys have been saying about us in your reports to technician Quent?” Dennis presses.

“Oh,” Hed finally understands, a smile spreading across his face. “You mean like telling him about the way you guys are constantly sneaking around, trying to break into workshop storage to grab more blueprints and armor parts? I wouldn’t call that talking behind your back, Dennis. It’s nothing personal, those are just the rules we all have to follow.”

“Try telling that to Nathaniel,” I say, joining the conversation.

Hearing that he immediately straightens up, looking around as if checking for someone, then turns back to us with a growl. “Nathaniel wouldn’t start another fight, not after the last time he got punished by Camp Overseer Serabeth.”

Knowing how it will rile him up, I just giggle, while Dennis adds a snort of his own.

Hed growls again and quickly turns to leave.

(Fuck, that was close. Is it done? I think I did ok hiding it from him and he may be a nice enough guy but he can be nosy sometimes.)

(Yeah, it went perfectly, and the defensive array didn’t seem to react. We’ll definitely need a few more tests to be certain, but we should be able to sneak into some of the less important tents,) Dennis nods.

(Good! Nat will be happy.)

POV Nathaniel

The Exoria deployment camp has a training hall. Or something like it—one or two stories tall, long and narrow, with multiple “rooms.” Sure, some people might think it would be silly for me to be constantly training, even as our worries regarding the current state of the expedition are growing worse.

Is this some kind of secret spy mission deep into monster territory? Is this a suicide mission where the lumoran Champion intends to throw himself up against a hoard of monsters to stop some kind of evil plan? Is this just the normal way Champions operate, delivering surprise attacks and hiding, in an attempt to prevent the enemy Champions from joining forces?

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

This should be the 2nd front. The snow and everything else match what we’ve learned. The question is: how deep are we into the 2nd front? Things don’t look good at the moment. There shouldn’t be any reason for us to have “disconnected” from the Absolute’s web and hide our presence so much. The web itself disappearing doesnʼt help either.

So either we’re doing something we don’t want our own forces to know about or there’s something we don’t want the monsters to know.

It’s exactly the kind of “fun stuff” that I can’t help but pity the others for having to deal with, especially since most of the mercenaries and even some of the lumorans seem spooked and won’t tell anyone why.

Anyway, back to training.

“Serabeth, hello, can I use training hall number 2? Number 1 would be nice, but you clearly hate humans so much that you won’t let me. Tell me, might you be a xenophobe, Serabeth?” I ask.

As usual, I find the camp’s third-in-command spending her time here, engrossed in training. She’s probably on par with the Champion’s two disciples, maybe slightly weaker, but she’s undoubtedly one of the top dogs in the camp.

I can almost hear her groan in annoyance, but I’m more than willing to exploit her easygoing nature. “Hed complained about your harassment of their group, Nathaniel. And no, I’m not a xenophobe, I just dislike little shits like you.”

“Because I’m human, right?”

“Fuck off. And no, you’re not allowed to use training hall number 1. Number 2 is taken, so take number 3.”

“Sounds good.”

Before I leave, she stops me. “Nathaniel.”

“Yes?” I ask, coming to a halt.

“Just a little warning. A bit of competitiveness is fine; you guys can even beat the shit out of each other if you want, but don’t cross the line.”

“Where is the line?”

“Try me and you might find out.”

“Thatʼs as expected of someone so xeno…”

She rouses her mana and I cut the sentence short, before giving her a small bow and quickly leaving.

Not even for a moment do I doubt she would kill me if I screwed up too badly. Hell, if killing me increased the lumorans’ chance of defeating enemy forces by 1%, Serabeth would be willing to skin me alive. She knows I know that, and she doesn’t mind some teasing. I swear, it must be difficult nowadays to find someone who doesn’t jump at every shadow.

I suspect that even she doesn’t know why we’re here. That’s my guess. Simply put, our situation is extremely… precarious.

Entering the training room number 3, I activate a panel on the wall and the canvas door closes, sealing the room and shielding it. It’s fairly simple: rough gray-black stone floor and the walls are made of even more of that incredible canvas, providing plenty of shielding, and a degree of privacy. Still, I’m fairly certain that someone like Serabeth can access the data.

Yup, even though I didn’t agree to any cookies, my data is probably out in the open for the lumorans to look at.

If they are selling it though I would like a cut of that money. But there’s nothing I can do about it, and it’s not like I could do this kind of training in our tent-house thingy.

I allow myself to relax a bit and let my mana cycling become a bit sloppier, allowing a touch of mana to come leaking from my body and fill the training hall. A satisfied breath escapes my mouth. It’s like coming home and trading your jeans for a pair of comfy sweatpants.

If the human race were slightly more advanced, we’d wear sweatpants everywhere, free of judgment. They’re obviously more comfortable than jeans.

Just one more thing to do after banning invisibility skills. I’ll need to look into it after Biscuit becomes Absolute.

Stepping to the side, I activate another panel and a target pops out of the ground on the far side of the room—a metal circular plate complete with shock absorption and a set of fancy inscriptions.

This room is surprisingly durable, only numbers 2 and 1 surpass it. And if the rumors are to be believed thereʼs even a number 0 for the Champion, and damn, how Iʼd love to see that.

Even number 3 can endure my tricolored orbs, but the problem is mana allocation. There’s a set amount of mana for everyone, and if you want more, you’re required to use your own. Especially when using a lot of bombardment-style attacks, after all, you don’t want Serabeth’s assistant cursing you or threatening your salary.

Knowing this, I activate another panel and a small pillar rises up. I put my hand into the groove at the top and start filling it with my mana. And this time I give it a lot, a really nice chunk in fact. Satisfied, I let it slide back down, knowing I should be able to train more now.

[Empyrean Lance] is one of those skills I’m still deciphering, and I’m quite a ways off from fully understanding it.

I form a lance woven from luminous energy, layer upon intricate layer. It radiates with a brilliant glow, quietly humming by my side.

After feeding more mana into the structure, it hums stronger. Its core of white and golden light shimmers, and the tip glows with blinding intensity, pulsing with the rhythm of my mana and heartbeat.

I wonder, is the white part meant to be like a tricolored orb on the verge of destabilizing, while the gold part acts like a stabilizer? Is it just an “evolved” version of the tricolored orb? Wouldn’t that be too lame for a level 300 primary class skill?

I fire it off, and it pierces through the air, leaving streaks of prismatic light in its wake. There’s no extreme shockwave or wasted energy like with the orbs. The lance is much more concentrated and directional.

It hits the target, exploding into a blinding light.

I’d be disappointed that it didn’t pierce through if I didn’t know how insanely tough these targets are.

Even so, there’s a small amount of damage on the target. Some of the inscriptions have been weakened, and the material underneath has bent inwards. The floor below has grooves in it that are now filling with some strange liquid that quickly hardens, restoring them. But the target remains damaged.

Using my eyes, I notice even more subtle damage. Three of my tricolored orbs exploding right next to it never even made its frequency shift, yet this lance at level 9 managed to do so much more.

Someone call the admins.

Stepping closer to examine the target, I tap it with my finger and wonder how the lance compares to Fracture. Sure, Fracture is stronger. No question, that sword is evil. But something about the lance feels kind of similar. Especially the way it releases those concentric waves and destabilizes materials and mana reminds me of Fracture, even with Fracture’s tendency to straight-up erase everything.

So the question remains, was the lance influenced by Fracture, the weapon I made? Was it influenced by [Eclipse] with a focus on destabilization rather than taking over entirely? Is the lance more mana based than Fracture with its reliance on [Disintegration]?

Or am I just overthinking this when the lance has nothing to do with Fracture?

Overall, I’d say it feels like a combination of [Resonance] for the purpose of damaging materials and [Eclipse] to mess with mana, all focused in a concentrated area. The most interesting part though is that weird field that hangs around after the lance disappears—creating a small area where mana is harder to use and materials feel weaker, at least from my testing. It’s not exactly mana radiation, but it’s certainly close.

This is going to need a lot more testing.