Arthur's first instinct was to immediately jump into battle but his logic stopped him. The giant man had said he’d need his spear soon, not that he would have to fight him. After all, if the man had wanted to harm him, he could have easily done so while Arthur was indisposed with the lesson cube. True to his expectations, the giant man didn’t strike him, instead reaching out a hand to help Arthur to his feet.

  “The name's Maverick. Just Maverick,” he said. His hand completely dwarfed Arthur’s own.

  “And I’m Arthur Ward. What did you mean when you said I’d need my spear soon?”

  “Exactly that,” Maverick replied, “these mountains are the Anchor’s territory. I can never come here without the bastard sending something after me. We’ll be having company soon.”

  Cursing, Arthur topped up on his stored healing ether. He was about to offer Maverick the same but reconsidered. Arthur knew nothing of the man besides his name. For all he knew, Maverick was lying about the incoming threat to get him to lower his guard. Still, Mavericks' statement had given him pause. An Anchor was the being at the centremost point of a fallen world's corruption, an avatar of sorts. As much as Arthur had grown over the last few days, he had a long way to go before he felt ready to fight an Anchor. And such a being was personally sending fallen monsters after Maverick. Just who was he?

  Reading the man's description helped Arthur understand why the Anchor took him so seriously. Maverick was a monster, one with centuries of experience behind him.

  “He’s coming,” Maverick suddenly said, taking his great axe off his back and entering a battle stance.

  Arthur turned to look at what Maverick was staring at so intently. There was a speck in the sky, the size of a small bird. It was growing larger alarmingly fast.

  Arthur read through the System notification and sighed. He would feel bad now if he didn’t give Maverick some bottled healing.

  “Thank you,” Maverick said, not mentioning that it had taken Arthur so long to offer it, “the healing will be a massive help. Be wary of Samuel's mirror magic. His mount's got a nasty breath attack too.”

  “Likewise, thanks for the ward. Arthur was unsure how Maverick had accurately deduced the effect of his skill. The fallen realm didn’t have a System conveniently describing everything, which meant that the giant man was a master at reading magic too.

  Judging by the familiarity with which Maverick had said their opponent's name, Samuel seemed to be a foe he’d fought with regularity. Just how strong was this bastard and what in the nine hells was a mirror affinity? Arthur didn't get any time to ask any questions before Samuel was upon them. Small mercy that it was, the fallen elf’s mount wasn’t a dragon as he feared but a wyvern, two-legged instead of four and far, far weaker. It wasn’t that Wyverns weren't strong, dragons were just stupidly powerful.

  Arthur was glad he wouldn’t have to face one today. The Wyvern was a beautiful creature, even corrupted, slightly larger than a male lion with a twenty-foot wingspan. It was covered in emerald green scales that shimmered in the light, that looked paradoxically hard and soft at the same time. The elf riding on its back was no less stunning, the first male Arthur had seen since his refinement that might give him a run for his money.

  Both of their fallen enemies were level 290 and exuded enough power that it felt like gravity had increased severalfold. Maverick had fought these monsters before. How the hell was he still alive? That was when Arthur felt it. A familiar sensation, yet so foreign and alien to Haadran he almost thought he was dreaming.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  A drop of rain had fallen on his head.

  Arthur had never seen the weather change so fast, not even in England where it was famously temperamental. A second after the first drop fell, the heavens opened up. Thunder clouds covered the sky and lightning struck the ground right beside him, the crashing thunder that followed deafeningly loud. In the span of a few breaths, the world around him had drastically changed, the torrential downpour making it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of him.

  Arthur was soaked to the bone and he turned to stare at the creature responsible for the drastic change in the weather, the Flood Wyvern. Arthur had never met a creature with such a powerful domain. The Wyvern had taken control of an area dozens of miles across and imposed its will over the hostile concepts backed by the planet itself. Every raindrop that fell contained a law that leached warmth and energy from anything it touched. A step above a base concept, it was difficult to resist entirely, even with all his investments into Draconic Vitality.

  The torrential downpour had turned day into night in a matter of seconds. This was power, unlike anything he’d ever seen. Arthur turned to look at Maverick, who was glowing bright gold. Once again, Arthur wondered how the hell the man was still alive.

  Samuel descended from the Wyvern’s back. Unlike his mount, the elf's domain was tiny, barely extending half a metre beyond his body, but Arthur didn’t let its tiny size fool him. Samuel felt no weaker than his mount, and Arthur wondered just how powerful such a concentrated domain would be.

  “The court misses your presence, Maverick,” Samuel said, surprising Arthur. He’d forgotten that corrupted sapients didn’t suddenly lose the ability to speak. “I see you didn’t bring Lazulis this time. Tell me, has the dumb bird managed to fly since.”

  Maverick gritted his teeth and hefted his axe. “I will return the favour today. Esmerald will never fly again,” the giant man spat.

  Arthur didn’t need to be a genius to figure out what was going on. It seemed in their previous battle, Samuel had dealt a grievous injury to Maverick's mount, a large bird of some kind. Samuel, and Maverick apparently, had ties to nobility, which his human companion had apparently discarded. Arthur knew of only one court in Haadran. It was the main reason why he’d come to the Daggerfall mountain range after all.

  The Anchor, the centremost point of all corruption on Haadran and the key to purifying this fallen world ruled over it.

  Samuel sneered, somehow making the expression look majestic on his beautiful face. “You’ve fallen low, Maverick. You were never my match, even when you were a rider. And now you came with this pathetic human as a replacement. Your days of servitude cling to you like a foul smell. You're still crawling along the ground like a lowly maggot.”

  “Your kind always was a hateful bunch,” Maverick replied, “I guess I can thank the corruption for removing your mask, at least. It’s a shame it didn’t do anything for your dull tongue though. I’ve heard serfs who speak with more eloquence than you.”

  The veins in Samuel’s temples throbbed at the insult, running black with corruption. Arthur could see the madness in the elf's gaze now, the signs of a mind that had fallen. Corrupted sapients weren't necessarily evil. They merely gained an inclination towards destruction and lacked the empathy, control and compassion that would otherwise prevent them from acting on said destructive desires. In simpler terms, it made them into psychopaths, only it was nigh impossible for them to function as members of society. On second thought, that sounds like a textbook definition of an evil person, Arthur mused.

  He was only half paying attention to the old enemies' conversations. The upcoming fight was the most difficult one he’d ever been in—this was no time for half-measures. For the first time ever, he was going to bring every ability The Perfect Homunculus had to bear. He’d already used the Water Shell form of his Reflective Shield, so that was one skill out of the way. Next, he used Cloaked Darkness, which summoned a cloak of shadow that increased his defences against magical damage by 30% and increased his speed by 20%. It would also grant him short bursts of flight, which he felt was prudent against a Wyvern.

  Next, he used Cloaked Blade to place a Shadow Crest on his soul spear. For the next minute, every successful hit he managed to land on his opponent would decrease their speed by 5% up to a maximum of 75%. He then uses Augmented Recovery, which after now reaching level 6, would boast his health recovery by 22.5 times for the next twelve and a half minutes, and finally, Arthur used Overcharge, a skill he rarely used. It would increase his strength, agility and perception by fifty percent for the next ten minutes which would be followed by a period of weakness for the next six hours where the same stats would suffer a 30% penalty.

  Arthur was going all in on this—if the fight lasted longer than ten minutes, it meant things were going wrong. The amount of power coursing through Arthur's body right now was insane. He felt like he could crush the Daggerfall mountains around him with his body alone, and it felt like it wasn't only his bravado talking there. Samuel and Maverick seemed seconds away from combat which left him facing the Wyvern. Recalling the latest skill he'd unlocked, Arthur spent an additional thousand ether on his soul spear to grant it poison damage.

  This was it. Every second spent idle was a moment where his precious buffs went wasted. Arthur was pumped full of adrenaline so much so that staying still was almost painful. His emotions were running at an all-time high, excitement, caution, trepidation and a familiar one—an estranged friend he hadn't met in a long, long time.

  Fear.

  Arthur grinned. He stood at a razor's edge. This was why he'd come to Haadran. This was the challenge he craved, the challenge he needed to grow, to survive. Samuel didn't seem to be done with his posturing. That was fine with Arthur. He wasn't waiting for anyone's signal. Arthur stepped forward and through the shadows, his spear already in motion.

  He thrust forward.

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