*[Human - Holy Paladin Lv 14] has been slain – XP has been given.*|
***
*[Holy Pontiff – Floor Boss Lv 20] has been slain – Partial XP has been given.*
*Your Class has reached Lv 15 – Points allocated, +1 Free Point*
*Your Race has reached Lv 15 – Points allocated, +1 Free Point*
*Your Class has reached Lv 16 – Points allocated, +1 Free Point*
*Your Race has reached Lv 16 – Points allocated, +1 Free Point*
The wall of notifications was the first thing he saw — all of them hovering in his vision, stacked and flickering in front of him, waiting for him to read and dismiss them. For a few seconds, he just stared, blinking through the faint campfire light leaking in from a gap somewhere to his right, his brain struggling to process why there were still notifications at all.
After not being able to put two and two together, Deacon waved the System Notifications away, and with a disoriented gaze, he watched as they faded slowly, and the faint swaying of the canvas above his head.
Letting out a slow sigh, Deacon struggled to rein back his sluggish and heavy thoughts that were clouding his mind, and in his opinion, it didn't help that the air around him felt stale and was heavy with the stench of sweat, ash, and burnt canvas.
… System, I need a cold soda, Deacon thought to himself as he remained lying in his camping bag for a moment, staring up at the tent's fabric roof as it rippled with the wind, the faint sound of shifting embers somewhere nearby. Then, without warning, his Quest Panel flickered to life before his eyes.
Floor Eight – War of Kingdoms Event 4: Eclipse
It has been one hundred and twenty eight days since the war between the Holy Human Kingdom and the Tyrannical Undead Kingdom erupted in its entirety. The once-mighty banners of both kingdoms are now drenched in blood and decorating the grounds of the battlefield along with the corpses of thousands.
The brutal stalemate had finally broken in a pyrrhic victory for the Tyrannical Undead Kingdom at the death of the Holy General Obi.
After the death of their Holy General, the soldiers and knights of the Holy Human Empire have retreated back to their castle, where the Tyrannical Undead Kingdom's forces have begun to lay siege to the last remaining bastion of the Holy Human Kingdom, Dawn's Breath - The home of the Holy Pontiff. However, through the collective effort of a five-person group, the once-impenetrable walls of Dawn's Breath finally fell—and 64.32% of its population promptly came down with a severe parasitic laxative.
As you've laid waste to the last bastion of the Holy Human Kingdom, you have but one objective that remains until the Undead Pontiff claims complete victory on the continent of Monarrow and becomes able to expand his armies beyond.
As mercenaries of the Undead Kingdom, your final goal is in sight; do anything and everything in your power to kill the Holy Pontiff and his rebirthed General before dawn.
Floor Completion Criteria:
▸ Kill the Holy Pontiff ✔
▸ Kill the Spirit Guardian ✔
Time remaining: COMPLETED
Rewards: Immediate access to Floor Nine & Bandana of the Undead (Unique) & Sanctified Sunstone(Rare)
And with that, the fight, the Pontiff, everything came back to him all at once.
His neck–
With wide eyes, Deacon lurched upright so fast the bedroll twisted around his legs as he stood up on both legs, his hands shooting to his throat. His fingers dug into the skin, tracing along the spot where Veladoros had cut through.
He could still feel it — the heat, the tearing of every muscle and vein in his neck under the Pontiff's blade. But beneath his touch, there was only solid flesh, marked by a thin, shallow scar running halfway along his neck.
He froze, staring at the barely visible bottom of a camping bag that was a couple of meters away from him for a few tense seconds before letting out a sharp exhale that ended in a disbelieving chuckle. Then all at once, his legs lost all semblance of strength along with his shoulders that slumped, and he collapsed back into his camping bag as the rush of adrenaline caught up to him all at once.
"H–Holy shit," he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking a bit from the dryness. "How the fuck am I still alive?"
He sat there for a bit, trying to steady his breathing, waiting for his heart to stop feeling like it was trying to punch through his ribs.
Eventually, as his heartbeat steadied and the fog clouding his mind lifted, Deacon forced himself upright and took in his surroundings. But even with the slight unzipped section of the tent door that let in a bit of campfire light, he was still unable to see much of anything within the tent.
Closing his eyes for a moment and confirming that his mana reserves had recovered enough, he cast a modified Ignis.
As he snapped his fingers, ten small flames flared into life, drifting into the air around him. The glow filled the tent, painting everything in dull orange and red. His eyes adjusted slowly — and then he noticed them.
Four shapes sitting across from him, still as stone.
Jass, sitting slouched with her glaive resting beside her camping bag, eyes bloodshot and sunken. Sam, sitting cross-legged near the tent flap with his hands holding onto his staff and staring at him owlishly. Esmerelda was beside them, her wand resting against her leg, eyes rimmed with red, but remained locked onto him, and Bonehead sat hunched over in a chair near one of the corners in the tent with some smoking incense beside him and holding his journal in his lap as his head faced him.
Deacon froze halfway through pushing himself up.
"…Hi," he said weakly as he adjusted himself in the camping bag he was now sitting on.
Jass was the first to move. She blinked once, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing, then pushed off the ground and closed the distance in two strides. She didn't say a word and instead grabbed Deacon by the shoulders and pulled him in so hard it knocked the air out of him.
"Jass," Deacon wheezed. "You're choking me."
"Shut up, asshole," Jass muttered into his shoulder, her voice rough.
Esmerelda's hand shot out next, grabbing Deacon's sleeve. "I saw your head almost… she said with a trembling voice. "I thought you died."
Sam let out a sharp exhale as he made his way towards them and joined in on the group hug. "The hell were you thinking, taking on the Floor Boss practically all on your own?"
Bonehead got out of his chair and placed down his journal before leaping onto the group hug and causing everyone to topple over, with Deacon at the bottom of the pile, being crushed by everyone. "You're so fucking lucky you had three healers healing your ass and helped to patch you up."
For a long moment, no one said anything. The only sound came from the faint crackle of the fire and the wind brushing past the tent, which, with the help of the flames of Ignis, lit up everyone's faces.
Everyone looked exhausted with their hollow, red-rimmed eyes, split lips, and covered in grime and soot.
"Guys…" Deacon gasped from the bottom of the pile. "Did we win?"
"The fact that you're still alive, and that Quest Panel popped up in front of you, didn't tell you that?" Jass huffed before giving him a straight answer. "Yes, you dumbass."
***
Cracking open his can of chilled soda, Deacon leaned back in his chair, bare-chested except for the Serpent pendant hanging around his neck and resting against his chest. The condensation from the can rolled down over his fingers and onto the wooden table. He took a slow sip, savoring the burn of carbonation going down his throat before setting the can down beside him.
"I'm not human," he said plainly, eyes lifting to meet the others sitting around the rectangular table. "I'm a Jötunn."
A soft silence filled the air between the five of them at the table before it was broken by Deacon feeling four Identifies touch upon his soul.
After each of them Identified Deacon, he was met with four very different yet similar reactions: Jass leaned forward slightly, brow furrowed, while Esmerelda looked thoughtful as she turned her gaze to the face of the table. Bonehead tilted his head to the side and stretched at it confusedly, and Sam, sitting nearest to Deacon's left, just stared at the prompt in front of him and back at Deacon with pure confusion.
"…Do you think there were some aftereffects of him getting almost decapitated?" Sam finally asked, turning his head toward Jass, then toward Esmerelda at the bottom middle of the U they'd formed around the table, then over to Bonehead opposite him. "It still says he's human."
"Funny," Deacon muttered under his breath as he reached into his Spatial Sling Bag hanging on the backrest of his chair. He pulled out his Status Page and laid it flat on the table after folding the bottom half of the parchment backwards, hiding everything from his Racial Traits downward, but leaving his stats and everything else visible.
"Here," Deacon said, sliding it toward them.
They didn't hesitate to reach for it. Each of them leaned in, eyes tracing the faint glow of text reflected across the parchment. None of them tried to unfold it to see what his skills, spells, and achievements were; none of them were even tempted to do it.
"So that's why you've always had higher physical stats than me," Jass muttered after a few seconds, tracing her finger along the line that detailed his race stat distribution per level.
"How'd you manage to veil the name?" Sam asked, leaning forward. "Your Status always showed up as human. I know you didn't have the money to do so, and I've never seen you carry an obscurer – hell, how did the academy not find out?"
"And why hide it?" Esmerelda added, her voice quiet but steady.
"I didn't even know until recently," Deacon let out a slow breath through his nose, running a thumb along the edge of his soda can before answering. "I only found out I wasn't human the morning I was supposed to get my Class."
Jass frowned slightly. "Class assignment day? The day when we officially began climbing the Tower?"
"Yeah," Deacon said with a small nod. "That's why I was late and didn't make it during the Headmaster's speech."
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, the small glow from his soda's condensation pooling under his hands. "I had no idea I wasn't human until then. Hell, I still don't even know what a Jötunn really is; I've never seen a single book or record mention my race… Ever."
"What about your dad?" Esmerelda asked softly. "Did he not tell you?" She hesitated, then added, "Before he passed, I mean."
"No." Deacon shook his head slowly. "He didn't."
Bonehead's empty sockets flickered faintly as he spoke. "Then how did you learn that you were a Jötunn?"
"Dad… told me when I woke up that morning." Deacon's voice dropped as he said it, the words sounding as strange to him now as they had that day.
He leaned back again and explained everything — the day he woke up, the message from his father, the stranger who'd attacked his father, how supposedly the Tower interfered and got rid of the spectral image of his father and that man, and how his race revealed itself in his Status when the Class System activated.
He ended with a small, bitter laugh. "So yeah. My only lead's my dad."
"Who's also out of the Tower," Sam said, finishing the thought for him. Then, quieter but sharp, "The same guy who just up and left you one day."
"Sam," Esmerelda hissed, glaring at him.
"What?" he shot back, not taking his eyes off Deacon. "Am I wrong?"
Deacon didn't flinch. "No," he said, cutting off both Jass and Bonehead who'd been about to interject. "You're not wrong. But Status Pages don't lie."
The tent was quiet again except for the faint pop of the fire outside. The night air slipped through the gaps in the canvas, carrying the smell of ash and smoke from what used to be the Sanctum.
After a long pause, Sam's eyes lowered, and he nodded once. "No," he said quietly. "They don't."
Deacon leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight as his gaze dropped to the folded Status Page still sitting between them, the words Race: Jötunn glowing faintly through the parchment.