Weapons of Mass Destruction

Chapter 595: End of the 2nd tournament

So what do you say to tens of thousands of attendees watching you as you stand alone in the ruined area of the last event? You only have a few seconds before the system teleports you back into the common area after your sister forfeited.

Well, obviously, in a burst of pride and with adrenaline still rushing through your body, you shout your real name out loud and follow it with a threat. You tell them how terribly you will fuck them up if anyone ever tries to touch someone belonging to you, whether it is your family, the other members of your group, or anyone who might be working with you. You tell them that what they just witnessed was nothing, and that itʼll be childʼs play compared to what you will be capable of in the next three years.

So go on. Try to act smart, have fun playing around on Earth, and hope I die before I can make my return. Maybe I really will die, maybe you have nothing to worry about, and someone as maniacal as I am will crash against the wall that kills me.

But what if that’s not the case?

Say you get the clever idea and try to find out more about my background. You already know what I look like; you might even have photos and videos. Some of you could probably figure out who I am even before I gave you my full name. But now that you have both my name and my sister’s, there can’t be many siblings named Nathaniel and Victoria Gwyn. It should be easy.

So, maybe you think it’ll be a good idea to locate members of my family, hide them somewhere, and blackmail me once I get out.

To that, I say: I have Earth’s most powerful healer, and I promise I can keep healing and killing you for years. I can come up with ways to cause you as much pain as possible. I’m petty enough to spend months, even years, making it happen. So I ask you again.

Would it be worth it?

And I say this: try me. Go ahead, if youʼre really that confident.

”I will fuc—”

Before I can finish that sentence, I find myself outside. Unlike last time, my mana locks itself back under my control immediately, and not a whiff seeps into the area around me.

It might be because my broken body is healed, but it feels lighter as if some sort of weight has fallen away. Even now, I am still strongly convinced I am the most normal one in Group 4; I mean, we’ve all seen Lily elongate her arms and grow new ones from her back, so there is no debate about that.

Maybe I’ve always been meant to be a little bit of an asshole. Fitting into that place where I ”respect” others and ”their opinions” just seems silly at times.

Once I locate the presence I’ve been searching for, I teleport there and place my hand on Channeler’s shoulder. For a moment, I consider using his name, but it doesn’t quite come to me. Was it Rafael, Raphael, or Ralph? Saying the wrong thing would be awkward.

”My man,” I say.

He shudders with surprise at the unexpected touch but regains control and looks back at me.

”Yes?”

”I have your arcane item.”

We gather under the tree in our area, everyone in Group 4, along with Myrra, and Channeler’s harem, who watch as he puts on the armor I’ve made for him. I’m much better with swords and weapons, so this one was very difficult. Unsurprisingly, Miwa’s advice helped a lot, as did some of the things I learned as a lumoran technician, well, assistant technician.

The armor covers his entire body, and it isn’t even that bulky. Looking at it, you might even expect it to be kind of flimsy. Wrong. The materials I used are top-notch. I used an assortment of metals, alloys, mana stones for the plating, and lined the inside with leather so the raw metal wouldn’t chafe and more besides.

The chest plate is a deep matte grey, layered with faint lines that pulse dimly when he moves. Those are the mana inscriptions, woven through the armor like veins. It reacts to his movement, strengthens under pressure, and even has the ability to deflect weaker skills without him so much as having to lift a finger.

And then there are the mana stones. They’re embedded deep, locked into the framework of the armor to act like batteries. Each one is charged and connected through its own series of insulated channels. The armor draws power from them constantly; it uses that mana to strengthen the joints, support his muscles, and prevent the weight from slowing him down. It not only makes him faster and stronger, but it also helps him maintain his speed and protects him from exhaustion.

In theory.

The chestplate is layered with inner supports. Beneath that is a thin core linked to the stones that serves to distribute mana across the suit. It’s not really smart tech or anything fancy, it is just built to last and work. The gauntlets and boots are reinforced. He can block with his arms without feeling the shock, and he can land hard without twisting anything. There are no energy channels, nor is there an accompanying glow, just pressure resistance and weight support.

The only problem is getting in and out of the armor. It takes a few minutes, and he needs several people to help him, so that might be a slight issue. The armor is also quite heavy, and another big problem is going to be charging it. With his reserves, it would take weeks to charge the armor enough to use 100% of its capabilities even for a few minutes at a time.

But I’ve already thought of that. I may be an asshole, but at least I’m a rich and smart asshole. I went out and bought several extremely high-quality mana stones. Ten of them. And I’ve been filling each one with as much mana as possible over the course of the tournament, inscribing them so they can be slotted into the armor and exchanged for a filled one.

Each of these mana stones should be able to power the armor for hours. At maximum output, probably for two or three hours, during which time he should be able to wipe the floor with the average Hard difficulty attendee.

In theory.

With rumors that Hard difficulty will probably reach the 13th floor some time in the next year or two, Channeler should have plenty of time to become Earth’s apex predator, assuming someone doesn’t kill him when he’s not wearing the armor, though he seems pretty smart.

In theory.

As for the description:

Manabound Frame (Low Arcane) -Forged from reinforced arcane alloys and lined with mana-reactive channels, this armor consumes vast amounts of energy just to remain active. In return, it grants the wearer unstoppable momentum and an immense resistance to both physical and magical assault. Built to function under extreme strain, it demands constant mana input to maintain full capacity. Without it, the armor becomes dead weight; however, when fully powered, it turns the wearer into an unstoppable frontline force.

After putting on the helmet, Channeler takes a few steps toward me and comes to a stop. For a moment, he loses his balance, but the output is currently set below 5 percent, just enough to allow him to move as he normally would without feeling heavy while keeping some of the defenses active.

”Nathaniel,” he says, his muffled voice drifting out from under the helmet.

”Yes?”

”How much would something like this go for in the system shop?”

”That? Hmm, probably around 200,000 to buy and around 100,000 to sell.”

”Shards?”

”No, pieces of deer jerky. Of course, shards.”

”Youʼre giving me something worth 100,000 shards?”

”It’s probably worth a bit more. It has a nice base, and if I could make it so that it didn’t rely on mana batteries and change some things that I had to tweak for someone of your power level, I could probably turn it into a mid-arcane item with a bit of help.”

”Youʼre giving me something worth more than 100,000 shards?”

”I would like to say Iʼm lending it to you so that I could take it back once the tutorial ends, but by then, something like this wonʼt be valuable enough for me to bother with. So yeah, you could say it is a gift. Not for free, of course, you still have to do all the things we talked about and find all the people we mentioned.”

”Of course, I’ll keep my word, Nathaniel. I promise.”

”There’s no need to be so serious. Also, sorry about the design; I know it’s a bit rough.”

”Itʼs ugly as fuck,” Myrra shares her unprofessional opinion from the side.

No one from Group 4 raises their voice to defend me, and I make sure to remember that.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I continue, ”But the performance is good. I have prepared a manual as well, so you can get some training in for the few weeks before you return to Earth. I’ll even try to charge some training mana stones so you can train and save the ten I gave you. Do you still plan to clear the 13th floor and head back to Earth in the next few weeks?”

”Yes, I’ve already made deals with a few of the smaller groups, and we’ll be coordinating our returns and make an attempt to organize back on Earth. Samuel was pretty helpful too; he told us a lot about how the army functions and gave us some contacts, so we’ll make an attempt to discuss things with them.”

He removes the helmet, revealing his uselessly handsome face, though determination is etched on it.

”I have a lot of data I can share with them. There are too many people with videos and information on you, so I wonʼt try to hide your capabilities. I think it would be counterproductive. Not to mention that I’m expecting you to grow a lot in the few years we’ll have before you return. In the meantime, I’ll be using your name a lot, and people from Easy difficulty are very eager to communicate.”

”Donʼt take in everyone you meet,” I reply.

”Of course, there will be standards and requirements. By the way, NotAaron said that when we started building our organization back on Earth, we should give it a cool name and mentioned that you would want it to be Angry Kittens.”

Multiple heads slowly turn to look at the twins. It’s likely that only Izzy truly knows which one is Dennis and which one is Aaron, but they show no shame and continue to smile in mirrored fashion.

Channeler nods, guessing my answer from the looks we give the twins, ”I thought as much; I’ve collected a few ideas, and if you—”

”Angry Kittens will be fine,” I say.

Just as before, heads turn toward me, one of them with cat ears and a tail swaying from side to side.

”Okay,” Channeler agrees immediately without further questions.

After that, I give him some weapons I made from my mana using Mana Weaving and [Knitting]. Each one should match the level of epic items in terms of sharpness and durability. They don’t have any special effects. They’re just my mana, compressed, woven, and knitted together, and all around made to last as long as possible. It’s similar to my manabloc material and the manabloc chairs. I’m confident most of them will hold their shape for years before the mana inside starts to unravel. I’m also sure they’re tough and sharp enough to handle real combat.

There are enough for Channeler and his harem to use, with a few extras left over for trading. And Tess also made some plans for Easy difficulty to get in touch with some scientists once they returned to Earth. They’d be given items, mana, and other materials to examine and otherwise experiment with.

That should bring in a lot of money, either through selling the items or attracting investments. It could help build the foundation of our so-called “organization” or whatever we decide to call it. I’ve never cared much about that sort of thing, but I’m sure Sophie and Maya have done their best to make sure it’s all being handled.

As for me, I start explaining the armor’s hidden mechanics to Channeler. It puts pressure on his body, similar to a restrictive training emblem or burden enhancement inscriptions. The idea is to let him train while wearing the armor, without using up too much mana from the batteries.

It might cause a bit of pain, but I’ve tuned it properly. Still, I don’t like the expression he makes. I was expecting more excitement for such a useful training method, especially one I put so much effort into modifying for him.

I point that out, and he quickly shakes his head, telling me I’ve misunderstood. So I ask if he’s okay with me improving the inscriptions and making a few last-minute changes to increase the training effect.

He gives me one of those brilliant smiles, the kind that looks like it belongs in a photoshoot, and nods in a way that almost seems like he’d rather be shaking his head.

Even though only 24 hours remain, a lot happens in the meantime.

My sister is declared the Absolute candidate by Lissandra, who seems to respect her more than me. Unsurprisingly, there is no big fanfare about it since not even Vic wants to make a big issue out of it; she just accepts it in her pragmatic way.

Rumor has it that Lucien, also known as Spacepup, even got kidnapped for a few hours by a silver-haired woman who wanted to study a skill he possesses. This incident may have worsened the PTSD the little jerk already had.

So sad. Poor guy. I just hope that the woman didn’t find him only because someone talked to Myrra and told her to ask the silver-haired woman to check on him. He seemed to be trying pretty hard to stay under the radar.

Some people come to visit me, but I don’t accept any of them. Derick is one of the more notable ones, along with Yama, who, despite being one of the “kings,” follows that young Chinese girl, almost like she’s her personal guard or servant.

Sophie and Maya speak to them briefly before they leave.

The deal with Savant is wrapped up as well. The most cowardly, or perhaps the most patient, man in the world leaves, seemingly satisfied with our agreement. This time, I am too. Examining the Sword of Aeons gave me a lot of ideas for improving my future items.

After he leaves, Tacita stops by, but only to stand next to Lily and observe her. When Lily shows no signs of resentment or harm from being attacked by Tacita during the last event, the mute woman looks pleased, if only for a moment.

Out of everyone here, she seems to like Lily the most. Itʼs the kind of gratitude an injured animal might show to the human who treated its wounds and fed it while it was weak. That sort of thing. Even though she attacked Lily during the last event, I’m fairly sure that if Lily had been in any real danger of dying, Tacita wouldn’t have gone through with it. And I’m just as sure her mercy would only apply to Lily.

After confirming whatever she needed, Tacita vanishes again, but not before drawing an emoji into the air with the tip of a finger glowing with mana.

(´• ω •`)ﾉ

As time runs out, people spend more of it finishing up some last-minute trades and saying their goodbyes. I spend some of that time with Victoria, and we say our farewells away from everyone else. We share a few more pieces of information, advice, and some plans, hoping that we get the chance to meet again in Beyond. I also visit a few other people to make plans for an expedition to Beyond.

Neither of us is good at this kind of thing, so we keep it brief and part ways with a promise to see each other in the next tournament, which will probably happen in a year.

All that needed to be addressed is taken care of just like that, and the tournament finally ends, and we get our final notifications.

Congratulations on completing your 2nd tournament!

The third tournament will occur three years from the start of your tutorial. All rounds from Earth’s tutorial will compete together against another planet undergoing its own tutorial.

Congratulations, you have placed first overall in the 2nd tournament of Earthʼs tutorial. Your rewards have been improved.

Congratulations, you have placed first in the overall crafter rankings of Earthʼs tutorial. Your rewards have been improved.

You have rejected all event rewards in order to increase your final rewards. Your rewards have been greatly improved.

Please choose 2 out of 5 possible rewards:

Three active skills combination token

Passive skill combination tokens (up to mid-arcane rarity) x2

Passive skill (mid arcane)

500,000 shards

30-day beyond-stay tokens x2

Flashback Tess Hansen

Everyone except the little puppy in my arms is gone. And a single sentence hangs in the air before me:

Participation in the tournament is not possible in your current state.

With a sigh, I sit down on the ground and look at Biscuit. ”There can only be one reason I was forced to stay behind, right? Did you know?”

The speed of his wagging tail increases, and he licks my face before squirming out of my hands. After that, his size increases until he grows into his ”adult” form... obviously, he can do that now. In fact, he probably could have done it before, too, he probably decided to remain a little pup because he enjoyed the attention and had an easier time begging for food.

As he settles into his adult form, his fur ripples along the sides of his head, and a tiny set of budding, baby deer antlers begin to grow.

(Knew. One of us. Help.) He says.

”Arenʼt you the cutest little thing?”

He wags his tail even faster and moves closer, nuzzling my hand until I pet him.

”I’m probably not a mimic, or itʼs so fucked up that I am one without even realizing it. I think I could probably use [Declaration] to ensure I die the moment the mimic takes over, but if I do that and Iʼm not a mimic, it might decide to kill me, knowing I have no way to win.”

(Friend. Still.)

”Oh? So you’re saying Iʼm not a mimic yet?”

(One of us!)

”Your speech is better now. Is it because of these things?” I ask, reaching out to tap his antlers. In response, he woofs at me.

”I see. Iʼm glad to hear that. I promise I’ll tell Nat to feed you a lot and pet you a bit more frequently.”

He barks twice.

”Can you promise me something? I donʼt want to use [Declaration] because I’m afraid it’ll provoke the mimic, but if it does take over, can you kill me?”

(Not one of us. Food.)

For that brief moment, Biscuit seems terrifying.

”Thank you. Lissandra must have known, and knowing her, she’ll use it to bully Nathaniel. But Biscuit, who does that woman think I am? Some damsel who’ll just sit here and wait for her ex to save her?”

(Damsel? Food?)

”No, a ʼdamselʼ isnʼt food. Itʼs the word you use to describe a weak woman who would rather rely on others than focus on saving herself.”

I lift him up from the ground. He’s a bit heavier now, but he quickly shrinks back to his puppy form, and the antlers shrink dramatically, further adding to the remarkable cuteness of the little corgi.

”I think I have a plan, but I might have to do some bad things. I donʼt mind, though, and I’ll gladly pay the price with my conscience if it means I can see our friends again. And if I fail and die, so be it, as long as it’s just me, and only me. Will you help me?”

(One of us.) He says, as a cheeky smile spreads across his puppy face. (Help. Friend.)

”Thank you. Now, letʼs head to the second front and find some mimics to talk with.”