The bounty hunters were naturally taken aback by Arthur's brutal attack; some looked away and a few looked like they were about to puke. Arthur didn’t blame them. What he’d just displayed wasn’t standard battle practice, it was savage violence, pure and simple. When boiled down to its core concept, that was what true combat was, not an art form but the desire to kill your foe by whatever means necessary. And if his savagery unsettled his foes…. well, that was just the cherry on top.

  “You're barbaric, Arthur,” one of the remaining humans spat. “A disgrace to your species. A rabid mutt like you needs to be put down before your disease spreads.”

  Arthur didn’t even bother replying to the woman. She was very clearly set in her ways, almost certainly speciest and probably thought humanity had achieved the heights of culture and civilisation. What was more barbaric than trying to kill a man for monetary gain? Arthur's health was down a fifth, not too terrible, but his stamina was spent. As fast as he regenerated the stuff, the attribute didn’t account for mental fatigue.

  In the span of an hour, Arthur had created a life form that may just bring the universe to its knees, operated a ritual that would never again be replicated and was now engaged in a battle against a dozen foes over twice his level. It was a testament to his tenacity that he hadn’t keeled over yet.

  Unfortunately, the people he was against were no fools. The fire and light mages amongst them had taken steps to eliminate any shadows forming in their vicinity. That was annoying and eliminated his most sure fire shadow assassination technique. They also seemed to know the exact moment he started channelling his ether into cloaked Blade. Perhaps his expression had given it away or maybe someone amongst them had a legendary threat-detection skill. Losing his insta-kill attack was annoying, but he didn’t let it throw him off.

  Instead, he channelled his energy into a skill that had never seen the light of combat. Shadow step. While the bounty hunters had eliminated the shadows beneath their feet, they hadn’t accounted for the ones that formed beneath their clothes on their skin. They were too weak to be primed into shadow bombs, but they'd serve as a good destination point to teleport to. Arthur had been practising the skill on and off for the past few weeks and had managed to get its activation down to two seconds—nowhere near instantaneous, but he was getting there.

  He disappeared from where he was, right before the latest ranged barrage of magic reached him and stepped out of the hypocritical woman's shadow. A ten-inch-long spike of magic penetrating through her heart killed her instantly and Arthur used the confusion to kill the two mages closest to her.

  Three down.

  Twelve left to go.

  In the end, it took him another five minutes to finish off the bounty hunters. He managed to kill an additional seven before the others decided to cut their losses and flee, using his shadow step twice more in the fight to catch his enemies by surprise. He hadn’t mastered the skill yet, but he’d approached a level where he was comfortable using it in battle. The two hunters who he’d injured with his Reflective Shield had sadly been taken with the fleeing bounty hunters so that was two more enemies he’d probably be seeing again.

  The first thing he did was quickly rush over to Alyssia and finish healing her properly. Arthur was honestly surprised his attackers hadn’t tried to use her as a hostage against him. It seemed the bastards were not as unscrupulous as he’d feared. They had a little decency to them. Only when he was satisfied that Alyssia would suffer from no future complications did he focus on his own injuries.

  Boy was there a lot.

  He’d lost over two-thirds of his health, had a gaping hole in his stomach where his liver should have been and he’d broken half the bones in his body. His left hand was missing three fingers, lost when he’d been forced to sacrifice them against a dagger. He’d only been half successful, as the half-inch deep gash in his throat could attest. The dagger-wielding assassin had appeared out of nowhere, having bided his time while Arthur exhausted himself against the others.

  It was the closest he had come to death since facing the shadow panther all those months ago and served as a reminder that he wasn’t quite invulnerable, just extremely durable. Had he been forced to face all the bounty hunters without Alyssia first whittling them down, he’d be dead right now or captured, which was a sobering thought. It seemed he owed the alverin once again. She’d saved his life. The woman in question wasn’t waking up, but Arthur chalked it up to ether starvation and exhaustion. He’d healed her body in full.

  His injuries, however, were far more difficult. Poison and corruption festered in his wounds and lingering traces of concepts fought against his healing magic. The gash in his neck, in particular, was proving troublesome. He’d healed it thrice already, but the injury would return when he was done. In the end, he decided to just wrap it in a makeshift bandage to deal with later when he was well-rested. Healing using his health was always a strange experience, spending health to recover it.

  While his healthpool now showed it was full, Arthur instinctively knew only 81,520 points of it could be used to fuel his skills. The remaining 250 odd thousand would be locked off from conversion purposes until enough time had passed that he would have regenerated the health back naturally.

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  I need more titles boosting my natural health regeneration, not just my healthpool.

  Sighing, Arthur touched his neck tentatively. The torn shirt he was using as a bandage was already soaked in blood and it was beginning to drip down his chest. The injury cost him thirty health a minute which didn’t put much of a dent in his regeneration, but it was irritating and stung like the world's worst paper cut. He was leaking blood like a faulty fountain, literally dripping gold. Grumbling, Arthur began gathering all the dead bodies. It was a dirty task but he’d made the mess and he wouldn’t leave it to another to clean up.

  Seeing the corpses of his enemies and touching their now cold, lifeless flesh was very different from actually killing them. Their eyes were wide open in shock, glaring at him accusingly for what he’d done. Faced with the same sight a month ago, Arthur would have lost his lunch. Right now, however, he found himself apathetic. His body had changed so much he wasn’t even human anymore and so had his brain it seemed. Hell, he had an extra one from his refinement somewhere in his skull. Killing came easily now and Arthur wouldn’t be losing any sleep over this.

  For that, at least, he was grateful. He looted whatever was valuable from the dead bounty hunters, a few rare daggers, an elite-ranked battle axe and a number of other weapons he wasn’t familiar with. Nothing truly stood out to him until he came across a beautifully crafted hammer on a halfling's corpse. Arthur tried to lift it and almost fell flat on his face. The thing was far too heavy for him to use, requiring a strength stat far beyond his paltry 260.

  Kneeling down next to the tool, Arthur admired the beautiful craftsmanship. It was made from a dark green metal that radiated a pleasant warmth. The handle was wrapped in mahogany leather and engraved with a beautiful, spiralling pattern. Arthur identified it.

  By the time Arthur finished reading, he couldn’t prevent the grin from spreading across his face. What such an incredible tool was doing in the hands of a second-rate bounty hunter was anyone's guess, but Arthur counted his lucky stars that the bastard had come after him. The growth-link attribute was something he had never seen before on an item, not even the legendary ones for sale in the System store. He’d seen pale imitations of the trait, yes, but not something so simple and unrestricted.

  “That's a great tool you’ve got there young man. Many would covet it more than your origin blood.”

  Arthur started in place and almost face-planted for the second time that day. Trying to regain his dignity, he straightened up and turned to gaze at the half-giant.

  “For someone so large, you’re awfully quiet, you know that.”

  “You did not just call me overweight, did you Mr Ward ?” The half-giant mock glared at him, hand placed on her chest in fake outrage. “And here I thought you would be a chivalrous hero.”

  “Really?” Arthur asked, deadpan. ”After seeing me try to bite a lion's face off.”

  The half-giant shuddered. “Yes, that was… something. I have never seen anyone fight the way you did, with such disregard for your body. Is that a trait of your new species?”

  “No, definitely not. I’m just insanely durable, mostly from my titles. It allows me to fight while disregarding my safety. As far as I know, that won't carry over to any of my descendants.”

  “That's a nasty cut you’ve got on your neck by the way. I have a potion that can heal it if you’d like. Oh, I've yet to introduced myself. The name is Solana,” the half-giant said, handing him a glass vial that looked comically small in her hands.

  Arthur’s eyes widened in surprise. The potion she’d just handed him so casually was epic-grade. He quickly stored it in his storage ring, along with all the other elixirs he’d looted today.

  “My name is Arthur Ward, but you already know that I guess.”

  “Are you not going to use the potion? I didn’t poison it or anything,” Solana said, indignation written all over her face.

  “No, no, no, it’s nothing like that,” Arthur quickly explained. “I’m saving this for when I’m truly hurt. I don't want to waste it on something so trivial, and besides this injury will hopefully net me a level or two in my healing skills.”

  Solana beamed at him. “My apologies. I’m in my third century and I'm still jumping to conclusions it seems. And yes. Titles aren’t written into your genetic code, but they do have some influence on your offspring. Most of the time, the effect is negligible, but exceptions do occur from time to time. Still, a wound from a Corpse Eater is no easy thing to heal.”

  “So that's what that grey bastard was. A Corpse Eater. Do they actually you know—"

  "Eat corpses.” Solana chuckled. “Not exactly, but that's the name their species was given. A race of alchemically-designed hunters made when such practices weren’t forbidden, they get their name from how insidious their magic is. That wound on your neck is filled with a parasitic concept that mimics the signature of your soul. Your body doesn’t even register the injury and so it won't heal naturally.”

  “That’s why they’re called Corpse Eaters. Those marked by them are walking dead men, their wounds eating away at their life until death finally claims them. A Corpse Eater doesn’t have to kill you, they’re patient hunters. They’ll cut you and wait.”

  Arthur cursed. “So that bastard’s going to come back isn’t he?”

  “Well, you cut off his arm and speared him through the stomach so I’m sure he’ll be delayed for a while. With your soul affinity, the poor sod will never fully recover. I think he got the worst of the exchange.”

  That was little consolation. Arthur just knew the Corpse Eater would pop up at the most inopportune time.

  “Anyway, forget about all that. I didn’t come here without reason. I come as a representative from the Council of Alchemists. Before we talk business though, can I get a look at that summon you created. If I’m not mistaken, the next time you summon her, the connection between you two will finally be complete.”

  Etherious: Originator

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