Summoned A Hundred Years Too Late

Divinity is obsession. I have yet to ascend, but my analysis of gods and demons alike converges toward that conclusion.

Tash is obsessed with knowledge, which makes her a more interesting conversation partner than the others.

Out of all the divinities, I’m glad she chose me.

As for my own obsession, I have yet to decide.

Excerpt from the notes of Raymond Ludval, The Iron Vein Magus.

The twenty-five kilometers separating Lanterne from Esmera seemed shorter than they used to. Despite it being Alexandra’s third day running and fighting, her physical condition was excellent. Her legs weren’t sore, nor were her feet.

She couldn’t claim the same for her mental state.

The last few kilometers were a haze.

The late afternoon sun was still out when she reached Esmera. Since her run-in with the Wardens, she was wary of passing through the main gate, so she waited for the light to come down.

She moved along the wall in total silence. Once she reached the right place, she bent down and lifted the hidden trap door with one hand, and slipped through it, entering Louis’ hideout.

He wasn’t home.

The place was exactly as she’d left it. The air was stale, thick with the smell of damp stone and the faint tang of old oil.

A half-eaten heel of bread sat on the desk beside a cup with dried wine at the bottom. She tore the bread and shoved it into her mouth. Then, she picked up the bottle and poured herself a glass.

She sat on his bed, the straw groaning under her weight.

Alexandra had tried to find a reason why it wouldn’t be true. She really did. But no matter how she spun it, the new achievement on her status couldn’t be explained any other way.

“I killed someone.” She rested her elbows on her knees and grabbed her hair. “I fucking killed someone.”

Alexandra stayed motionless for a long moment, her mind replaying the scene over and over. John’s laugh, his body falling limp at her feet.

Then she thought of the others. “They’re dead too. Aren’t they?”

It wasn’t an illusion. Lanterne was just gone. That’s why her quest didn’t complete.

Her eyes caught her pants, her shirt, the fabric riddled with holes she hadn’t bothered to patch, the sickle at her belt.

She hadn’t paid them back. She never would.

“If John could escape…” she whispered. But she didn’t finish her sentence.

She stared at the ground.

After a while she unhooked the sickle from her belt. It was so light it didn’t feel real. The blade was clean. She didn’t remember wiping it, and that was somehow worse. Like it hadn’t happened. Like John had just stopped existing.

His laugh. That stupid, genuine laugh, like she’d said something actually funny right before she—

She pressed her palms against her eyes.

He had hated her. His eyes made it clear, even more than his words. She deserved some of it. Just a little.

The final blow hadn’t even hurt that much.

The metallic taste of her blood filled her mouth. Her cheek was bleeding. She’d bitten through it. She forced her jaw to relax.

She examined the edges of her blade, both spine and belly. Chips were starting to show. It was never made to fight. An old tool Lara had given her because they weren’t using it anymore. She needed it sharpened, or replaced.

The lamp flame bent sideways and steadied. She stared at the flame so hard she could almost see the air burning around it.

It was stupid, but she didn’t want to replace it. Even her previous plans of learning to wield the axe felt wrong. She turned the sickle in her hand. The wooden handle was worn out. She would outgrow it. She was already outgrowing it. Her newfound strength made it too light to leverage properly.

She set her sickle on the desk.

But…

She remembered picking flowers with Lara. How excited she was about unlocking a new skill. Therion working the fields. Bamir’s warnings. Marick’s rugged authority.

Lanterne. The villagers.

Gone. And she’d killed the last one herself.

Louis still wasn’t home.

She wondered what he was doing, and shook her head. His class was made for the night.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Alexandra summoned her journal. Opened it.

Find a settlement (1/1) -> Quest Completed: +10 exp, +1 PER

Daily Quest Streak: 16 -> 17

No new skill quest. Alexandra clicked her tongue. This was her first quest of that type, so she’d been hoping for an orientation skill.

“Not a huge loss.”

While it would have no doubt proved useful, it wasn’t a priority.

She turned to the next page.

Name: Alexandra Ward

Class: Heroine of Quests

Rank: Iron

Level: 3 (20/150)

Strength (STR):26

Dexterity (DEX):25

Constitution (CON):27

Intelligence (INT):26

Perception (PER):28

Class Art:

[Quest Journal] – A living record bound to its bearer. Generates daily quests tailored to the surrounding environment. Completing quests yields experience, rewards, and contributes to an ongoing Streak. The longer the Streak, the greater the bounty.Class Perks:

[Event Quests] (Iron)[Adventuring Party] (Iron)General Skills:

[Inflict Weakness] (Uncommon) - 6[Sickle Mastery] (Common) - 9[Dark Bolt] (Uncommon) - 4[A Face Among Many] (Common) - 2[Life Curse] (Uncommon) - 4[Combat Sense] (Common) - 6[Sure Footing] (Common) - 7[Running] (Common) - 5Achievements: Defiance II, Diligent Quester, Insurrection II

She felt like a different person compared to the Alexandra who left Esmera two days ago. Insurrection’s bonus to all stats gave her a total of fifty points. It wasn’t quite enough to double her previous attributes, but it was close.

The place where she didn’t feel the change was her intelligence. With the sickness of mana suppressing her, she simply couldn’t. And she wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to examine her thoughts too deeply.

Insurrection was a little scary. Such a potent reward for what was essentially murder. It didn’t feel right.

“Might be a problem going forward.”

Would people try to kill her for an achievement when she reached higher ranks? She knew her class was powerful, but she didn’t think herself unmatched at her level. Then again, from what she could tell, this world wasn’t some sort of hellscape where everyone killed each other for system buffs.

For the most part, at least.

She was able to skip directly to Insurrection II without getting the first, which she guessed was awarded for defeating an opponent two ranks higher while being unranked. It was a weight off her chest, as she wouldn’t have to worry about missing early achievements by ranking up too fast.

“Which isn’t happening,” she grunted. Her leveling speed felt too slow now. She wanted to rush at the Yshant, but the Gold rank beast was definitely too strong for her.

She was also getting close to the level limit for Sickle Mastery. She’d learned from Louis that common skills were limited to level ten. She’d need to upgrade it to uncommon, and start over from level one.

But apparently, upgrading skills wasn’t that simple. Something about inspiration, self-reflection, practice, a whole lot of things Alexandra wasn’t ready to do now.

When she finally closed the journal and snuffed out the lamp, the darkness of the room rushed back in. Yet she could still see. Not well, but she could see. She collapsed on Louis’ bed without removing her shoes.

She woke to gray light filtering through a crack in the trap doors. Her throat was dry.

Where was Louis? She was on his bed. He should have said something.

“Awake?” A woman’s voice greeted her.

Alexandra jumped to her feet. Sitting at the desk, legs crossed, a woman was looking at her.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

The woman smiled.

Wait, I’ve seen her before. Short hair, and that coat…

It was the woman from the Katori vessel.

“I should be the one asking,” the woman answered. “A secret hideout under the city walls… I doubt you have permission for this.”

Alexandra’s face fell. “That’s hardly your business.” Her hand reached for her waist. Her sickle wasn’t there.

Shit.

“No need to worry, Alexandra. I’m not here to harm you.”

Alexandra took a step back, and started channeling Dark Bolt. Just in case. “How do you know my name?”

“The Iron Vein Magus sent me.”

She tilted her head.

The Katori leaned forward. “Perhaps you will be more familiar with the name Raymond Ludval.”

Another step. Toward the trap door.

“Raymond,” she said flatly. “What does he want?”

“He didn’t say.” The Katori woman uncrossed her legs and stood. She was taller than Alexandra by half a head. “Save us both some hassle, and don’t try to run.”

She froze.

“He said you would be difficult.”

Alexandra looked at her. “What’s your name?”

“Sera.”

“Sera.” She let it sit. “You were watching me sleep.”

“I wasn’t.” She pointed at the book sitting on the desk. It was open. “Your little friend has interesting hobbies.”

Alexandra frowned. “Where is he?”

“Indisposed, I’m afraid.” Sera paused. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Tell me.” She stepped toward her.

Sera smiled. “First, you’re going to calm down and release that hideous spell on your finger. It’ll only hurt you.”

Alexandra opened her mouth, and closed it.

“Sit down.” Sera gestured at the bed as she returned to her chair.

Alexandra didn’t move. The Dark Bolt was still gathering on her finger. Sera didn’t seem to care.

She sat.

Their gazes met.

“The Iron Vein Magus tasked me with bringing you to Kator.”

“That’s not—”

Sera raised her hand. “All in due time.”

Alexandra interrupted her. “And it’s time to tell me where Louis is. I’m not listening until you do.”

The woman closed her eyes, then opened them again. “Fine. Your friend thought that spying on the most powerful man in town was a good idea. How do you think that went?”

Alexandra made to stand up, but Sera pushed her back down. “Tash almighty. Impulsiveness won’t resolve anything. He’s alive. If you want him free, you better listen to me.”

“Why would I trust you?”

“The Magus said you’d ask that. You’re free to look for him yourself. A shame, I liked his style.”