SilencetheHunger

Deadly Persuasion (Inciting Isekai) - Chapter 71 (Book 1 end)

The Academy ceremony was in full swing. Sera watched intently as participants, who had spent the entire year preparing for this moment, poured everything they had into the power test.

To the onlookers in the stands, it was little more than an exhilarating spectacle, a grand colosseum where the younger generation showcased their talents. Pass or fail, it was all entertainment—an opportunity to witness budding mages and warriors wield their abilities and magic in a bid to secure a passing grade.

But to the participants themselves, this wasn’t a mere show. It was a crucible, a place where futures were forged or shattered. The air was thick with tension, heavy as a mountain pressing down on their shoulders, threatening to crush them before they even began.

For commoners, success meant transformation. Passing the test wasn’t just personal—it was generational. It meant land, a monthly stipend for their family, and a newfound status that would inspire awe and admiration in their village or town. A single victory could rewrite the story of an entire bloodline.

For nobles, however, it was war. A clash of egos, a proving ground where failure wasn’t an option. Anything less than excellence would invite ridicule and shame upon their household. The strength of their young was more than a personal accomplishment—it was the lifeline of their family’s future.

A house guided by a phoenix wouldn’t turn into a barn.

“Lady Sera,” a voice perked up next to her: Lady Lila of the Stormshadow family. “I hear you used your recruitment token on a village boy. The Lindar family’s youth must be struggling. You know the Stormshadow family is always here to help. We have always been good friends, have we not?”

Sera smiled in response to the hidden jabs. Inwardly, she sneered. The noble families were all the same. “Indeed, I did,” Sera said, keeping her focus on the testing grounds. It was a simple test: strike the dummy and receive a passing grade. But it wasn’t so simple. She continued, “I assure you, the Lindar youth is far from struggling. Here we are, Rain, my favourite niece.” 

A young man, around the age of 13, stepped onto the stage. Hands behind his back, head tall, with long golden hair—a common sight in Lindar children—he displayed the grandeur of a noble family. He looked up at Sera and gave a cheeky smile.

Lady Lila’s brows perked up. “Second Tier?”

Sera relaxed in her chair. “The reason I haven’t had to use my token until recently was, well, because there was simply no reason to.” Sera glanced at Lady Lila. “You’ve spent too much time in the political sphere. Picked up bad habits.”

They looked at each other for a few moments, before both of them broke out in laughter.

“Yes,” Lila said. “I suppose I have, haven’t I? I heard about your mission. What happened to that village? Strange things are happening all over.” 

Sera nodded. She could say that again. And she hadn’t even seen the weirdest thing around: Levi.

Lila asked the question Sera had been worrying about for a while now. 

“So, where is your chosen? Is he already down there?”

Sera scanned the arena, but she didn’t see him. 

Where are you, Levi? She thought, trying her best not to nibble on her lip. Please don’t be hurt.

An annoying laugh tugged at Sera’s ears. She glanced behind her, and it took all her strength not to scowl. A young man nearing his thirties, wearing gilded leather armour looked straight at her along with gaudy hanging earrings to match, making no attempt to save face.

“That’s what you get for taking in a country lad, Sera.”

Today was really testing her patience.

Sera rolled her eyes. “I assure you, Alexander. The young boy I’ve chosen is more than adequate. Not that I’m interested in the games of idle nobles, anyway.”

Alexander nudged his nose at Rain, who was now standing in front of the dummy. “You may not be interested in the games, Sera. But can the same be said about the higher ups of your family?”

Frowning, Sera watched as Rain readied himself. What Alexander said was true. Sera was rarely home. She detested the noble circle. What she said was the truth: she didn't—wouldn’t—play their games.

She glanced over to the private booths where the higher ups of the noble families were busy watching the events unfold. No doubt the patriarch would be watching in concern. Rain, as the most talented child in the Lindar family, was their hope for the future.

Rain started. 

All eyes were on him. The students, the civilians… the high families.

Sera could only imagine the weight he must have felt. She knew, because she had experienced it herself. It was suffocating. She was just glad she got out of it without drowning. 

Mana swirled around Rain. He summoned a huge two-handed hammer made entirely of ice—his specialty. He stepped forward, and a geyser of water shot out the back of his hammer. He yelled out, swinging his hammer in a savage arc until it collided against the dummy.

“Initial Second Tier, Rain Lindar. 13 years old.,” said the announcer, eliciting a few murmurs from the crowd. The commoner class students gazed up at Rain in two parts: awe and jealousy.

Sera nodded to herself. 13 years old, Second Tier. It wasn’t bad. 

“Not bad,” Alexander said, stroking his chin. He perked up in his chair. “Ah, here comes my niece.”

Another boy appeared looking to be the same age as Rain, head raised high. The young man radiated confidence. 

Unlike Rain, who had used a weapon, the boy used nothing but his own fists. Despite his tender age, the boy was covered in dense muscle. 

Those muscle brains, Sera thought. Always going over the top with Strength Ingredients.

The boy screamed out and thrust a massive right hook to the dummy. It shook violently, causing numerous gasps of amazement to ring out within the colosseum. Rain glanced up at the Lindar family booth and bit his lip in frustration.

Sera sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. There was always going to be someone better than you. It was a lesson all but one learned every year.

Alexander, seated beside her, shot her a knowing look, the meaning behind it unmistakable.

“Mikeal Cherno, Mid Second Tier.”

Alexander crossed his arms, the smugness practically dripping off him. “Well, how do you like that? It seems like we’re ahead this generation.”

“Well done,” Sera replied, her tone laced with sharp sarcasm.

The ceremony moved on. Some of the youths received results they expected, as they already knew their stage of power. But most failed. Even if they managed to reach the first stage, the dummy wasn’t so simple. It not only gauged raw power but the mastery behind their technique as well.

There were even cases of Second Tier students failing due to their lack of control—a grim reminder of the dangers of rushed growth. Sure, they were Second Tier, but what good was it if their potential was permanently stunted?

Where is Levi?

Sera’s gaze wandered, her worry gnawing at her. The ceremony was nearing its end. She could feel the stares of the other noble families pressing into her like daggers. Levi wasn’t one to be late. He was mature for his age—too mature, perhaps. He was a good kid. He wouldn’t miss this.

Would he?

She just hoped he was safe.

The crowd stirred suddenly, breaking Sera’s thoughts. Everyone leaned forward in their seats.

What’s happening?

Her attention snapped back to the stage. A girl, barely thirteen, stepped forward. Despite her youth, she moved with the poise and grace of a born princess. It wasn’t the result of etiquette training, though most noble ladies went through that. No, this was innate.

Anastasia of the esteemed Forth family. Royal blood coursed through her veins.

She approached the dummy and withdrew a two-handed longsword from her spatial ring. With a grunt, she swung. The dummy groaned under the force of the strike.

For a moment, it seemed unharmed. But then—a deep gouge appeared, carved from shoulder to waist.

Sera gripped the arms of her chair, her nails biting into the fabric. No way. Was she in the Third Tier?

With bated breath, she waited for the result.

The announcer bowed deeply to the girl before declaring, “Anastasia Forth, Peak Second Tier. Twelve years old.”

Silence hung heavy in the colosseum, broken only by the thunderous eruption of voices as the audience processed what they’d just witnessed.

Twelve years old. Peak Second Tier.

Sera could hardly believe it. For a moment, she even forgot about Levi’s absence. Almost.

“Next up,” the announcer called, his voice carrying above the commotion. “Levi Caddel.”

Every eye turned to Sera.

“Even if the boy hasn’t reached the First Tier, he should at least show up,” Lila murmured, her tone dripping with disdain.

“Bah, can you blame him?” Alexander added, smirking. “Sera found him in some village on the outskirts of the kingdom. I hear they don’t even have proper food out there. Unless they fed their Seeds dirt as an Ingredient.”

Sera’s mana flared, sharp and dangerous. “That’s enough,” she snapped, and Lila shrank back. Alexander, however, was less easily cowed.

“Did you even bring him to the Imperial City?” he pressed. “Or are you too ashamed to show him to us?”

Sera turned to him, her eyes blazing. The leather of her seat tore under the weight of her aura.

“Sheesh,” Alexander muttered, leaning back in mock surrender. “You must really care for this boy, huh?”

“If you know, then keep your mouth shut.”

“Is that him?” Lila pointed.

A figure emerged from the crowd—a tall boy with tattered, mud-streaked clothes and no shoes. His white hair, cascading past his shoulders like ash, was the only pristine thing about him.

Levi looked up at Sera and smiled, but his expression faltered when he caught the judgmental gazes of the nobles surrounding her.

“Levi,” Sera whispered. Her heart twisted. What had he been through to look like this? He didn’t seem twelve anymore. He looked older—fourteen, maybe fifteen—and stood nearly 5'9".

Levi’s smile vanished as he ascended the stage with steady, unhurried steps. Anastasia glanced at him, but he didn’t spare her a second look. To him, she might as well not exist.

“You’re Levi?” the announcer asked, his voice hesitant.

Levi nodded.

“You may begin—”

A flicker of flame bloomed around Levi’s fist, modest at first. But when he struck the dummy, the entire colosseum trembled.

The dummy—no, the entire stage—was obliterated in a single, devastating blow.

Dust and silence filled the air. When it cleared, Levi turned to Sera, bowed deeply, and said nothing.

The announcer’s voice wavered as he declared, “L-Levi Caddel… Mid Third Tier. Twelve years old!!”

The colosseum erupted once more, louder than ever, but Sera couldn’t hear it. Her eyes locked on Levi, her heart pounding as a single thought echoed through her mind.

What have you become, Levi?

Book 1 end.

Otherworld Volunteer - Book 2

Dropping this here as some people have had troubles accessing book 2 chapters on patreon.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 85

He turned to Frank and said, “You and Elian stay close.”

Frank nodded, his face grim but determined. Elian gave a hesitant thumbs up, his hand shaking slightly. Owen could tell he wasn’t as confident as the others, but there was no time to comfort him.

Justin took a step forward, his expression hardening into a determined scowl. “Stay low and keep moving. I’ll take care of the golems.”

Without another word, Justin darted ahead, slipping into the shadows once more. His movements were quick and fluid, like water slipping between the cracks. Owen had no trouble keeping up, but Elian and the rest were lagging behind.

They approached the wide street leading toward the tower, the golems still pacing back and forth, unaware of their presence. Owen’s eyes locked onto their massive forms. The golems were huge, towering over the buildings around them, their stone bodies carved into vaguely humanoid shapes. The thick stone of their limbs and bodies glowed faintly, as though they were powered by some internal source of energy.

Justin’s voice cut through the silence, low but commanding. “Ready?”

Owen’s gaze sharpened. “Let’s do this.”

The plan was simple: Justin would take on both golems, while Owen, Frank, and Elian would do everything they could to keep them distracted. It was a risky maneuver, but it was their best shot. Owen was the strongest, but without the expertise to back it up, it was better to leave the killing to the professional.

The moment they crossed into the street, the golems paused. One of them turned its massive head, scanning the area. Its glowing eyes locked onto Owen, and a low rumble echoed from its chest.

Owen’s heart skipped a beat. Too late. They’ve seen us.

Without hesitation, Justin leaped forward, drawing his blades from their sheaths with a smooth, practiced motion. He closed the distance between himself and the golems in a blur of movement, his figure disappearing into the shadows and reappearing with a speed that defied the eye. The golems, however, were no slouches. They shifted their enormous feet, the ground shaking beneath them as they braced themselves for a fight.

The first golem swung its massive fist at Justin. Justin, with his vanishing shadow Skill, dodged the fist as it crashed into the ground where he had just been standing. The force of the blow sent a shockwave rippling through the street, causing the buildings to tremble. Justin, however, was already gone, his form darting behind the golem’s back. He moved like a shadow, never staying in one place for too long.

Owen watched in awe as Justin weaved between the golem’s swings, his blades slicing through the air with deadly precision. The golem’s stone skin was tough, but Justin’s strikes were relentless, finding weak points in the stone with every blow. The second golem, not wanting to be outdone, charged toward Justin, its eyes glowing bright with fury.

Was this what talent looked like?

“Now!” Justin shouted.

It was their cue. Owen, Frank, and Elian rushed forward, drawing their weapons. Frank swung a heavy mace in the air, his movements clumsy but powerful. Elian had a short sword, his hands trembling as he held it. He was clearly out of his element, but his determination kept him moving forward.

Owen didn’t hesitate. He drew his own sword and rushed toward the first golem at blinding speed, hoping to distract it long enough for Justin to finish it off. He aimed for the golem’s leg, where the stone seemed to be weakest. His sword bit into the stone, chopping out a section of it.

It’s useless! Owen thought as the golem swung its arm down toward him. He barely managed to roll out of the way, his heart pounding in his chest. Frank’s mace struck the golem’s side with a resounding crack, but it only seemed to anger the creature further.

The second golem, seeing that its companion was engaged with Justin, turned its attention toward the others. It charged at Frank, its heavy footsteps causing the ground to shake. Elian raised his sword, but his hands were shaking so badly he could hardly hold it.

“Get back!” Owen shouted, rushing toward Elian to shield him. He shoved Elian out of the way just as the golem’s fist came crashing down, sending a wave of dust into the air. The impact sent Owen tumbling to the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs.

He gasped for air, feeling his body ache from the force of the blow. But there was no time to rest. The golem was already turning, preparing for another swing.

Owen gritted his teeth and forced himself to his feet, even as pain radiated through his limbs. He had to move, had to act. This wasn’t the time to hesitate.

Justin’s voice rang out again, this time laced with a hint of frustration. “Hurry up, Owen!”

Owen didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed himself forward, closing the distance between him and the golem. He aimed for the stone joints at its knee, hoping to slow it down. His blade slid into the joint, but it only made a dull scraping sound.

This isn’t enough.

He could see the golem winding up for another devastating punch. Pyris launched a fist at its face. Like starfall, her punch slammed into the golem, bolinding it, knocking it off kilter before landing on the other side of the road. She had claimed some time.

Owen’s gaze fell on the huge pile of rubble to his left—stones and rocks from the collapsed buildings.

A plan formed in his mind.

He sprinted toward the rubble, grabbing a fist-sized chunk of rock and hurling it at the golem’s face. It hit with a solid thud, and for a moment, the golem hesitated. Its glowing eyes shifted toward the source of the disturbance.

That was enough. Justin took advantage of the momentary distraction, darting behind the golem and driving his blade deep into the creature’s neck.

The golem let out a massive roar of pain, staggering backward as its stone body cracked. Justin didn’t let up. He drove his spear deeper, slashing at the joints with surgical precision. The golem's movements slowed, its strength fading with every strike until all resistance was severed.

But there was no time to celebrate. The darkness had arrived.

The second golem had nearly closed the distance between itself and the group. Owen turned, barely breaking a sweat. Thankfully, the others were now at the tower.

Owen, along with Justin and Pyris, rushed to the wide open grounds, Owen looked in horror as fifteen or so giants sprinted toward them. He looked up, whatever was blocking the sun had almost entirely obstructed the light. And with it came a familiar dread. The earth rumbled. A few more seconds later, a vast wave appeared over the canyon. 

The wave was approaching. 

Justin, Owen, and Pyros blasted past Frank and stopped in front of the doors. He placed Owen down as he pushed upon the doors. Just like the tower, they were huge.Everyone pushed on the enormous doors.

“Hurry!” Frank said with urgency in his voice. 

The door groaned open. Frank was the first to push through, almost throwing Elian to the side. Owen supported him, and they, and the others, practically leapt inside as the giants approached along with the devouring wave of sand. 

Entering, Owen was quick to close the door. He used his shoulder, slamming into it with full force. It crashed shut from Justn’s forceful push.

The giants crashed against the door, but once closed, for some reason, it didn’t budge. A minute later, they were consumed in darkness. 

Owen hadn’t given the tower a good look. His, and everyone else's entire focus was locked onto the door, in hopes that it would remain shut. Now with them being washed in an abyss-like black, they panicked. 

Elian was the worst off, but Owen kept his hand on his shoulder.

“It’s so dark!” Elian cried.

“Calm down,” Owen said, quickly taking out a torch seeping with special oil. Owen lit it, and the light ate away at the darkness.

A voice, ancient, almost divine, seemed to enter directly into Owen’s ears. It felt like it was clutching at his throat, strangling him. But the feeling vanished a second later.

It said, “Humans… After so long. Let’s play a game.”

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 84

At some point, Owen had placed Frank down onto the shelf. He used the fire in his palms to cauterize the devastating wound at his front and back. For any normal man, the injury would have killed him in minutes, if not seconds. But Frank was no ordinary man. He must be from a Lineage family. 

It had taken them well over forty minutes of careful walking and shimmying to descend the cliff. They were left with just one more flight of stairs, and they would reach the bottom. But Justin stopped. He gazed into the city. The golems were still roaming around, searching for something.

“What do we do?” Elian asked, gazing at the huge tower in the distance. “One misstep, and we’ll be swamped by Monsters in seconds.”

“Then don’t misstep,” Justin said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Owen watched the golems carefully. Most of them were on the left side. Whereas only four were on the right. It was an easy decision to make.

“We’ll have to stay on the right side,” Cruz said before Owen could. “We’ll take it slow. They’re not light on their feet. We’ll know when they are approaching from a good distance away. When they approach, we’ll hide in one of the houses, and stay silent.”

He turned to the others and said, “Make any noise, and you’ll not just end your own life, but ours, as well.”

The others nodded, their expressions serious and attentive. This was a matter of life and death.

The sun dipped behind the canyon, casting a growing shadow. Soon, visibility would shrink to nothing, but that wouldn’t make a difference; they were about to be engulfed by a crushing wave of sand.

Justin nodded. He was the first to make a move. He descended the stairs. He first harvested the core from the golem he had killed, then disappeared into the shadows cast by the nearby buildings.

He returned twenty minutes later with ragged breath. It seemed like moving through the shadows, and the fights from before were catching up on him. He looked at Owen and said, “Let’s go. Now’s the perfect time.”

The others quickly followed. None dared not to. Justin led them into the streets of the city. The buildings were made from carved rock. It was the same rock from the cliff walls, crafted into bricks. Each building had a small wind-catching tunnel built atop the roof, providing the house with an extra cool breeze. The windows had no glass; it was just a hole in the wall. Curtains blocked the sunlight and sand from entering.

Owen’s heart was smashing against his chest. He could hear the heavy footsteps of giants all around him. They were close. Or at least that’s what Owen’s worried mind led him to believe. But he trusted Justin. If he was still moving, then that meant they were still safe.

Justin stopped. Owen flinched, looking all around him—his supernatural senses screamed at him. Without saying anything, he ducked into a building on their left. Everyone followed in haste, crouching below the windows, or hiding under the stone furniture. Owen was below a window with Justin by his side.

Everyone controlled their breathing. They refused to move a centimeter. The stomps from outside were getting closer. Then a crash collided against the roof of the building. Rock fell. It destroyed the tower. Does it know we’re in here? Owen started to panic. He wasn’t the only one.

Louis was shivering. He grabbed hold of his wounded shoulder as fear glazed over his eyes. His lips quivered. They turned blue. He stood up. Owen waved at him to sit back down. He whispered, pleaded, but the young man didn’t listen. He was mumbling something.

It turned louder. He said, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this,” His muttering turned into shouts. “I can’t do this! I can’t–”

He sprinted toward the door. A smiling face appeared. Louis screamed. He scrambled to the side, to where Owen and Justin were hiding. He leapt out of the window. He made it three panicked steps before the golem grabbed hold of his torso, wrapping its massive hand around him.

He plucked him up from the ground, then started walking away.

Owen grit his teeth and stood up, but a hand firmly held him in place. Justin looked at him with a grave expression. “This time, you can’t act like the hero. You will die.”

“He’s right, Owen,” Pyris chimed in, her face serious.

Owen listened to Louis’ screams. His fingernails dug into his palm. He wanted to rush out and save him so bad that it hurt. Every fiber of his being was telling him to go help him. Rescue him. But he knew deep down that if he did, it would be certain death. Not just for him, but for the others too.

He could already hear the giants moving, chasing. He heard a crash, then a groan. It was like they were fighting each other. Then footsteps resumed, traveling into the distance.

Justin left to scout, and when he returned, he nodded to Owen. It was time to move. 

Owen took a deep breath, shook his head, then refocused on his objective. They walked for around an hour. It took much longer than expected as the golems seemed excited. Because of that, Owen and the others kept on having to hide until the way was clear.

Peering around a narrow alley that they had come from, a wide street came into view. To the right, all the way down, was the enormous gates of the canyon city. To the left, was the tower they were aiming for. The street was wide enough to fit at least six cars side-by-side. And it was what was causing the holdup.

At the tower, two smiling golems paced back and forward.

If that wasn’t enough to cause them trouble, it was getting dark. Fast. Although Owen could no longer see the sun as it had retreated behind the canyon mountains, he could envision that strange black… thing, beginning to obstruct the sun.

From memory, they had ten or twenty minutes left. If that.

“Shit, what do we do?” Frank asked, peering over Owen’s head. “Make a run for it?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Owen said. “We won’t make it before they engage. Elian and the others aren't fast enough.”

“Unless we carry them,” Frank said, taking a step back. He crossed his arms.

Justin shook his head. It was as if he didn’t need to look to know what was happening. “Even if we carry them, we won’t make it. We either need a distraction, or kill them quick enough so that we don’t attract the others.”

“I think the former would be the better option,” Elian said nervously.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Frank said. “The only one that can kill them is Justin, Owen, and that lady there.” He glanced at Pyris. 

“I like that challenge,” Justin said with a smile. “Let’s do it that way. We don’t have time to worry about luring them away.”

“Are you sure?” Elian asked, his voice tinged with doubt. “Are you certain we don’t have enough time? Attacking them would be risky, you know?”

“And we’re ignoring another possibility,” Owen said. Everyone turned to him as he continued, “We don’t know what’s inside that tower. For all we know, it could be filled with more golems. Or something worse.”

Cruz sighed and said, “Does it matter? If we don’t get in there by the time night hits, we’ll be swallowed by a shit ton of sand. I’d rather go out swinging than die a pathetic death like that.”

They turned silent, then Owen nodded and said, “Alright.” He turned to Justin, worried. “That means you’ll have to take care of both of them before we all die. Can you do it?”

“Oh, Owen pal,” Justin said, slinging his arm over Owen’s shoulders. “Of course I can. But the dying part… Well, that will be up to you.”

Before anyone could respond, a shout broke through the tension—Pyris had spotted something. Her voice rang out from behind them, a faint yet piercing shout. “Got movement! Golems inbound!” Pyris’ star-powered fists crackled as her body tensed, and she pivoted to ready himself for a fight. Owen couldn’t help but feel the burst of energy radiate from him. 

A shadow darted in the corner of Owen’s eye. It was Cruz, the stoic archer, with his warbow strung and his quiver full of deadly arrows. Cruz’s sharp eyes scanned the perimeter, scanning the environment for anything that could be a potential threat. "We can't afford to wait. They'll be upon us in no time," Cruz added, his voice cool and detached as he notched an arrow, readying himself for the impending battle.

Owen’s mind raced as the seconds ticked by. The decision was clear. They had no more time to waste. If they didn’t act now, they would be overwhelmed by the golems, and they wouldn’t have a chance to reach the tower.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 83

They pressed onward. Five minutes stretched into twenty, yet the passageways showed no variation. Beige rock walls formed an endless, oppressive monotony, devoid of features. Owen kept his focus on Justin, their only hope of finding the correct path through the labyrinth. He trusted him—implicitly.

But the same could not be said for the others. Doubt crept into their expressions, building with every step. The survivors exchanged uneasy glances, their nervous energy palpable. Only Elian maintained a stoic composure, his confidence unshaken.

Even Louis, the one Justin had risked himself to save, was casting wary eyes toward the scout’s broad back, suspicion etched into his face.

Justin came to an abrupt stop and turned, his sharp gaze scanning the tunnel behind them. It stretched long and straight, with no turns or exits—a stark and inescapable corridor. The others instinctively avoided his eyes, but Frank met his stare head-on.

“What is it?” Frank demanded, his voice carrying an edge.

Justin’s tone was steady, measured. “Something is following us.”

The survivors recoiled. Unease turned to panic. Frank furrowed his brow, summoning a fireball to his palm. The flame twisted in his grasp, dense and heavy, more than mere fire. With a sharp thrust, he hurled it down the passage.

The fireball hurtled forward, its searing light illuminating the bleak walls as it travelled. For a moment, the tunnel seemed empty. Then, as the fire reached its peak, flickering shadows danced on the stone. A chill ran through the group as monstrous shapes flickered into view.

Owen's jaw tightened as the truth revealed itself—the same predatory beasts that had nearly claimed Louis’ life were hunting them again.

Louis paled, fear overtaking his features. Without a word, he spun and bolted past Justin, his terror driving him forward.

“Move!” Justin barked, and the others obeyed, surging down the passage.

Owen took his position at the rear, his instinct to protect overriding any thought of self-preservation. As the strongest, it was his duty to ensure the safety of the others. Justin and Pyris flanked him, while Cruz and the rest stayed tightly grouped in the centre.

No matter how fast they ran, the creatures were faster. Owen could hear them now—high-pitched chirps echoing through the tunnel, the sinister clacking of mandibles snapping in anticipation.

He glanced back just as he heard the sharp twang of something snapping. His heart froze as an arrow whistled through the air, its speed cutting through the shadows like a razor. It hurtled straight toward him.

Justin raised three shadowy lances from the ground. The first two struck true, shattering into the oncoming wave of arrows, but the third lance struggled under the barrage. Arrows flew relentlessly—ten, twenty, too many to count. Each impact sent vibrations through the air as Justin’s defences faltered. A few arrows slipped past, whistling dangerously close. Owen, relying on his enhanced reflexes, plundered the energy from those that neared him with glancing touches, wincing at the faint sting left behind.

“Justin, they’re getting closer! How much longer?” Owen shouted, his voice edged with urgency as he refused to look away from the chaos behind him.

“We’re almost there. Keep your little legs moving,” Justin replied, his tone sharp but focused as he conjured another lance to block an arrow.

“They’re not that little!” Owen snapped, his irritation clear even as he deftly absorbed another arrow’s energy.

Then, Owen saw it: a faint light at the tunnel's end. His heart leapt, a surge of hope driving him forward. The light flickered like a distant promise of escape, yet its distance was impossible to gauge. Before anyone could react, Frank surged ahead, his legs igniting with flames. Each step left scorched marks on the tunnel floor as he accelerated far beyond the group. In a matter of seconds, Frank was already thirty metres ahead—then forty.

“Wait up!” Owen called, frustration breaking through as he plundered another bolt. This one stung more than the others, its power searing his palm. He grit his teeth against the pain, refusing to falter.

The light ahead suddenly disappeared, replaced by something massive and ominous. Owen squinted, confusion giving way to dread. A towering stone face emerged from the gloom, its jagged features blocking the tunnel like a sentinel.

Another Stone Golem. Owen’s stomach churned at the sight of the Monster-grade foe.

“Not again,” he muttered under his breath, his body already bracing for a fight. Pyris seemed to have the same idea, her fist shimmering with swirling star energy as she prepared to strike.

But Frank acted first. His orange flames flickered brighter as he hurled a fireball directly at the Stone Golem’s face. The fiery orb collided with a loud crash, sending the creature stumbling back. For a moment, it seemed like a breakthrough—but then Owen saw it. Between the golem’s long stone fingers, a smile widened, unnervingly humanlike. The fire hadn’t even scratched it.

“Frank, look out!” Owen shouted, his voice cracking with urgency.

Too late. A creature perched on the golem’s shoulder loosed an arrow, the motion almost imperceptible in its speed. The projectile shot toward Frank, and even with his fiery speed, there was no room to evade.

The arrow struck home, embedding itself deep in Frank’s stomach. Blood spilled from the wound, staining his clothes a dark crimson. Frank staggered, coughing violently as he gritted his teeth against the pain. Despite his injury, he roared defiantly and launched another fireball. This time, his aim was precise. The fireball struck the creature atop the golem’s shoulder, igniting it in flames. The monster shrieked as it tumbled from its perch, consumed by fire.

Owen’s gaze darted to Justin, whose grin was unnervingly steady. A flash of understanding passed between them. Justin was about to do something reckless.

“Frank, duck!” Owen yelled. To his relief, Frank obeyed without hesitation, dropping low even as pain wracked his body.

Justin moved. He was a blur, a streak of black that Owen struggled to track. Shadows clung to him like a second skin as he darted past Frank, leaping high into the air. A black lance materialised in his hand, sharp and deadly. With precision honed by countless battles, Justin drove the lance straight into the golem’s eye.

A thunderous groan echoed through the tunnel as the golem stumbled backward, its massive frame collapsing under its own weight.

Frank, still clutching his stomach, gripped the arrow embedded in his flesh. With a sharp, pained motion, he yanked it free. Blood spurted from the wound, but Frank gritted his teeth, refusing to falter.

Owen rushed forward, grabbing Frank under his arm and hauling him along. “Keep moving!” he shouted, not daring to slow down. The sound of claws scraping stone and guttural growls from behind spurred him onward.

Frank, despite his injury, lobbed another fireball over Owen’s shoulder. It struck the tunnel floor, creating a burst of flames that sent their pursuers screeching to a halt. The beasts hesitated, unwilling to charge through the inferno.

Emerging from the tunnel, Owen gasped for breath as he took in their surroundings. They stood on a narrow ledge carved into the side of a massive cliff. Below, the drop stretched endlessly into the darkness, easily an eight-hundred-metre fall. Glancing down, Owen’s eyes widened as he saw the fallen golem. Justin’s black lance had pierced its chest, pinning it like a grotesque trophy.

Owen turned to Justin, his chest heaving. “You really are a menace,” he muttered, half in awe, half exasperated.

Justin smirked but said nothing, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “The way’s here,” he said, gesturing toward a treacherous trail that descended along the cliff face.

The group moved quickly, the path barely wide enough to accommodate them. Forty metres ahead, the trail shifted into a steep, spiralling staircase that carved downward into the canyon. Owen’s nerves frayed as he glanced back toward the tunnel.

An arrow whizzed past his ear, its sharp whistle startling him. He glanced toward Frank, who clung precariously to the edge of the path.

“Owen, shit!” Frank said, looking gazing down the sheer cliff drop. 

“If you’re complaining, that means you’ll make it!” Owen shouted back. “Now shoot those damned things!”

With a grimace, Frank launched three fireballs in rapid succession. The first two missed, their flames dissipating harmlessly against the rock walls, but the third found its mark. The explosion engulfed one of the creatures, and the flames quickly spread to the others.

Cruz seized the opportunity, spinning around and releasing an enormous arrow from his war bow. The javelin-like projectile struck one of the fleeing monsters with a sickening crunch. The rest retreated back into the tunnel, their shrieks echoing in the darkness.

Relieved, Owen turned back to the staircase. As they descended, he couldn’t help but look down. Hidden within the canyon below was a sprawling city of beige stone. Buildings of various shapes and sizes clustered together, but one structure stood out: a massive tower at the city’s centre. It rose high above the surrounding structures, its thick base tapering to a sharp point nearly five hundred metres above the ground.

Owen’s breath hitched as he noticed movement within the city. Stone golems—at least a dozen, perhaps more—roamed the streets, their massive forms weaving through the narrow alleys. They peered into windows and scanned the roads, searching for something—or someone.

“It’s a hidden city,” Owen murmured. His stomach tightened as he realised their destination lay directly within the golems’ domain. Darkness loomed ahead, heavier than before.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 82

Chunks of rock rained down from above, fracturing into jagged shards as they struck the ground. Owen shielded himself with his bare arms, the fragments bouncing harmlessly off his hardened frame. Around him, the others scrambled to defend themselves. Shields were raised, abilities flared to life, and energy blasts cut through the falling debris. They survived, each in their own way, but not with the ease Owen did.

Justin, as always, was untouched. He danced through the chaos, slipping effortlessly into the shadows, avoiding the falling rocks as though they had never been a threat.

The barrage continued relentlessly, shaking the cavern with every impact. Dust filled the air, choking their breaths and obscuring their vision. Owen gritted his teeth, convinced the mountain was about to collapse and bury them alive. Then, with a final deafening crash, the chaos stopped.

Owen lowered his arms, coughing through the haze of dust. He stepped back instinctively at the sight before him.

From the wreckage of the rockfall, a figure emerged. Two muscular arms, tipped with claw-like fingers, gripped the edges of a newly-formed chasm. The face that followed was eerily human yet grotesque, its mouth curving into a cruel smile. With a fluid motion, the creature released its grip, flipping gracefully through the air before landing heavily on its feet.

It was massive, ape-like in build but entirely made of jagged stone. Every movement exuded raw power, each step reverberating like a drumbeat through the cavern.

“Owen, what the hell do we do?!” Cruz’s panicked voice cut through the tension.

“Run!” Owen barked back, but as if in mockery, rocks crashed down, sealing every exit. The tunnels were blocked. They were trapped.

“Survive!” Justin’s calm voice rang out a moment later before he vanished into the shadows.

The beast moved first, its clawed hand grabbing a boulder the size of a small cart. With a casual toss, it hurled the massive rock at Frank. Eyes wide, Frank abandoned his shield and dove out of the way just as the boulder obliterated the ground where he’d been standing.

Chaos erupted. Everyone scattered, sprinting in frantic patterns to avoid the monster’s onslaught. It grabbed more rocks, hurling them with terrifying precision. Each impact sent shards of stone flying like shrapnel, slicing through the air and tearing at flesh and clothing.

Owen dove behind a massive boulder for cover, his sword clutched tightly in one hand. A boulder slammed into his hiding spot, shattering into fragments that pelted his face. He barely registered the pain, adrenaline numbing his senses, though he felt the warmth of blood trickling down his cheek.

The shattered rock continued its deadly arc, smashing into the far wall. The explosion of stone sent sharp fragments ricocheting in all directions, forcing Owen to duck lower.

Damn it. What now? Owen’s mind raced. His breathing was ragged, heart pounding in his chest. He knew the creature was far too strong to face head-on. Its very presence radiated overwhelming power, making the air heavy and his limbs feel sluggish. His sword would barely scratch it.

Then, a scream pierced through the din. Owen snapped his head around the edge of his cover and saw Frank in the creature’s grasp, its monstrous hands tightening around his struggling frame. The beast raised Frank higher, as if ready to tear him apart.

Owen’s stomach churned. I have to do something.

Gritting his teeth, Owen pushed himself off the ground and sprinted toward the monster. He caught Pyris’s eye, ready to shout for help, but she was already moving, her determined gaze locked on the beast.

Owen reached it first. He activated Overpower, feeling raw energy surge through his limbs. With a guttural cry, he swung his sword in a powerful arc, aiming for the creature’s face.

The blade met stone, screeching as it scraped against the monster’s jagged features. Sparks erupted as the edge carved a deep gash into the rock. The force of the blow reverberated through Owen’s arms, but the beast barely flinched, its cruel smile intact.

Then it moved—so fast that if it weren’t for Owen’s enhanced reflexes, he would have missed it. But he didn’t. Eyes widening in alarm, he threw himself to the side—only for a kick to slam into him. It crashed into his ribs, sending a blinding pain lancing through his body. He smashed into the wall with a sickening thud, the sound of cracking ribs echoing in his ears. Blood filled his mouth as he coughed, the metallic taste sharp on his tongue. He looked up, dazed, to see the golem's stone lips curl into a mockery of a smile.

"Toss a boulder above its head!" Owen heard Justin’s calm, calculated voice from somewhere behind him.

The golem’s glowing eyes flickered as it turned, distracted by the movement of a boulder Pyris hurled past its head. The beast paused, its massive foot still raised, Frank dangling helplessly in its other hand.

"When are you going to act?!" Owen shouted, spitting blood.

The shadows on the wall flickered unnaturally, twisting and pooling into a formless mass. From within the darkness, a lance of pure black shot forward with blistering speed, piercing the golem's neck. Its eyes widened momentarily, glowing dim before they dulled entirely. The stone colossus faltered, then fell forward, collapsing onto Owen with the weight of a mountain.

Darkness engulfed him, the air crushed from his lungs. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind before light returned. Justin, with Owen's appendages assisting him, peeled the massive corpse off of him.

You have defeated a Stone Golem (Level 76).

Owen gasped for air, dragging himself to his feet with Justin’s help. “What took you so long?” he groaned.

Justin smirked. “Had to find its weak spot. Without that, we’d be dead. Elite grades don’t go down easily, but everything has an Achilles’ heel.”

Owen glanced at the corpse. Between the jagged stone plates of its armour was a patch of soft, exposed flesh. “You spotted that while it was attacking us?” Owen muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “How much combat experience do you even have?”

Before Justin could reply, Cruz’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Golem’s down, but we’ve got another problem!”

Owen turned to see Cruz, Natalia, and Shivam battling a second golem that had emerged from the tunnels. Cruz stood at a distance, his war bow already drawn, a massive arrow glowing with faint energy nocked against the string. He let it loose, the projectile whistling as it struck the golem’s shoulder with a heavy thud, chipping its stone armour.

“Nice shot!” Natalia shouted, darting forward with twin daggers in hand. She zigzagged past the golem’s heavy strikes, carving thin but precise cuts along its legs to slow its movements. Shivam flanked the other side, his spear darting in and out like a serpent, aiming for the joints where the stone plates were weakest.

The golem roared, swiping a massive hand toward Cruz, but the archer was already moving, his next arrow drawn and glowing brighter. “Natalia, Shivam, keep it busy!” he called, unleashing another shot that shattered part of the golem’s head.

Back near the first golem’s corpse, Owen grimaced as the adrenaline began to wear off, the full weight of his injuries settling in. His ribs ached with every breath, and his hands trembled as he reached for his storage emblem. Channelling a surge of energy, he focused on the corpse before him, hiding it in his storage. He’d plunder it later in fear the powerful corpse would only weigh him down.

Owen nodded, clutching his side as they turned toward their classmates. “Let’s back them up. I don’t think they can hold it off much longer.”

By the time they reached Cruz, the archer had loosed another arrow, the golem staggering as Shivam drove his spear deep into its chest. Natalia finished it off, leaping onto its back and plunging both daggers into its neck—the weak spot Justin had discovered. 

Joining in, with the help of Pyris’s star strength, they finished it off after a few more hectic moments.

Owen scanned the room, counting heads. Seven. They’d started with eight. The first fight had turned to chaos, up until everyone found their footing. 

He looked at the pile of rubble and the legs of a survivor crushed beneath it. No burial. No time. Just a silent, bitter acceptance as he turned toward the next tunnel, following Justin into the shadows.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 81

“Hi Elian, it’s nice to meet you,” Owen said, letting go of the man’s hand.

“You must be a Lineage given those fancy Fragments,” Justin said over Owen’s shoulder. “Strange. I’ve never heard of you.”

So he’s a human from Justin’s Earth? Or rather, the novel’s Earth…

Elian chuckled. “I’m just from a recent Lineage family. I would be surprised if you knew me. But you should know my father? Aaron Ash. He’s a great explorer.”

“I know of him,” Justin simply said, losing his curiosity. He continued, “Let's go. Introductions can wait till later. We have monsters to evade, and a tsunami to beat.”

Justin led the classmates out of the tunnel, and sped up toward another. It was the passageway Justin had found before. 

Owen was in the middle with Pyris, Cruz, Natalia, and Shivam. Justin was in front, in charge of scouting. Together with Owen, was Elian, and another young man. The others called him Louis. He had short dark brown hair. He seemed innocent. He held a wound on his shoulder and tried to hide himself from wincing in pain.

The others were more experienced, however. Maybe because of Owen’s lack of outward seriousness, the other survivors didn’t pay him much heed.

“Are you friends with him?” Louis asked as he jogged beside Owen. He looked at Justin.

“Yeah,” Owen replied truthfully.

“You need to be careful with him,” he said. “I heard that he befriended a Waker a couple years ago. When he was bored of him, Justin threw him to the curb. He’s not someone you can trust.”

Owen remained silent. He knew Justin didn’t have the best personality. You just had to get on his good side and stay there. However, it was interesting to hear more about the Lineages from people of the novel’s Earth. Waker’s were what the people of that Earth called the Unawakened. Those who were currently going through schooling to learn how to survive in the Land Between.

“We’re here–” Justin’s eyes bulged and suddenly leapt on the ground, rolling.

Owen, thanks to his incredible reflexes, noticed it the moment Justin did. He collapsed to the ground, and the moment he did, something tore passed where his head used to be. It smashed into Louis’ shoulder, throwing him, and impaling him against the wall.

He screamed. It curdled Owen’s blood at the sound. 

“Inside, now!” Justin shouted. 

The other survivors left the man in an instant, scrambling into the passageway. All but Owen and his team, and Elian. Elian was the first to rush to Louis. He grabbed his body, relieving the pressure. He turned and said in panic, “Please, help!”

Owen glanced to the side. Monsters of strange shapes filtered out from their dark holes. Their backs were hunched, arms twisted and elongated. One of them emerged from the darkness. Four slitted eyes gazed at the humans. It wore rough hemp clothing. The same that was used to store the crackers Owen had consumed at the ruins. A huge arrow, or bolt, was attached to its arm like it was a naturally formed crossbow. It was responsible for firing the arrow. 

Owen’s eyes widened, but a clumped mass of pitch black spears shot up from the earth. The arrow smashed into the spears, snapping them before stopping. More emerged, aiming their arrows at them.

“Leave him!” Justin shouted. “Screw this!”

From the power of the monster’s arrow’s, Owen understood they were even stronger than the scarlet crabs, despite their lesser size. With the amount of them filtering out the walls, glaring down at them, death was imminent. Yet Owen didn’t hesitate. 

Casting a sand cloud as big as he could, he covered his side of the wall completely. At the same time, he bolted to Louis, legs taking him as fast as he could go. Owen grimly noticed that the bolt had gone through Louis’ shoulder, straight through the rock. 

Owen took a breath, and Plundered both the rock, and the bolt. Louis watched in both amazement and pain as the ammunition sticking through him vanished before his very eyes. 

They retreated into the tunnel. Nothing was following them. They ran for a while before stopping. Louis’ screams were getting louder. More panicked. He had lost an arm. Blood sprayed as his face turned paler by the second.

Justin walked up to him and punched him straight in the face. Knocking him out. 

“What did you do that for?” A young man approached Louis. His name was Frank. He was a big man, gruff, with a full beard. Considering everyone here was just over eighteen, it was a great feat. Fire flickered in his hands, he pressed it against the severed arm.

Louis shot awake, screaming. It only lasted a few seconds before he fully lost consciousness because of the pain. It appeared he wasn’t used to feeling a wound like that. These people must have hid for all of this time.

“All that screaming was hurting my ears,” Justin said. “Ah, he’ll be fine.”

“He lost an arm, Justin, he won’t be fine,” Frank said with a frown. “Not in this place. Not when he has to fight for his own survival.”

“That’s cheap coming from someone who abandoned him so easily,” Justin snapped back. “If I recall, it was only me, Owen, and Elian that stopped to help your friend. And what do you mean he lost an arm. It’s only a flesh wound.”

A flesh wound? Owen thought, glancing at Louis’s arm. A massive hole had ruined his shoulder, effectively making his arm useless.

“Guys, enough,” Owen said, the sound of flesh tearing was still fresh in his mind. “What’s done is done. We don’t have time for pointless squabble. We need to survive.”

The situation calmed down after that. Owen gave Pyris a nod before storing her in his soul, and then in one motion, brought out Tess. Like a statue, she just stood there as an emotionless husk. Owen’s heart pranged, but he swiftly got over the sickening sensation of having just summoned a human corpse.

He ordered Tess to heal Louis, and she listened devotedly. Golden light shimmered from her hands, and in an instant, she healed Louis’s savage wound. The other survivors, and even Cruz and his team looked over in shock. Owen knew what they were thinking. Owen not only had one humanoid Spectre, but a second.

“What the hell,” Frank said, glancing over. “That woman was a Spectre? What rank is she?”

Owen ignored the question as Louis finally came too.

“What… what happened?” Louis gazed at where the wound was located, but now, there wasn’t even a scar. Tess’s healing ability was no joke. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes. 

“You almost lost your arm mate,” Justin said. “If you want to live, we need to move before the desert swallows us whole. Good to move?”

Owen shot Justin a helpless glare, but Louis simply nodded. He grit his teeth, then stood up.

“I can move,” he said, feeling his arm, moving it this way and that.

“Great,” Justin said. “Follow me closely. There’s a reason none of those beasts use this passageway. Let’s find out why.” 

Justin walked and everyone followed his words. They stayed close-by. His words rang true. Why did those powerful monsters avoid this place? Owen was afraid to find out. 

After ten minutes of walking, the passageway opened up considerably. From tunnels, to a spacious room. Owen flinched. On the ceiling was a huge face. It was carved into the mountain. The walls and floor trembled.

Its eyes opened. 

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 80 (End of Book 1)

The week was over faster than he expected. He spent most of his time finalising everything from the farm, to the buildings, to the mines, to the defences. He left no stone unturned.

On the last day, they had an enormous pyre near nightfal. Clark the Cook had spent the entire day whipping up an enormous feast. Along with fresh cheese from Coo, and glistening fruits from Bimpnottin’s garden, it was a spread worthy of kings. 

Everyone feasted until they couldn’t eat anymore in risk of imploding. Then, they danced around the fire, showcasing their dances from wherever they came from. They have lost their memories, but some things were ingrained into them, lodged firmly into their bones. Some sang songs, some beat drums that they had crafted themselves.

Owen wasn’t much of a dancer. In fact, he hated it. He couldn’t think of anything more awkward; getting up on the stage, everyone looking at you, judging. Owen always steered away from social gatherings like that. It was better to never try rather than risk making a fool of yourself.

But here? He didn’t get the chance. Rizael dragged him in front of the fire to join in the group dance. It reminded Owen of a Scottish caeli. A simple dance, one with a lot of spins and turns. Owen thought he’d hate it, but instead, he joiend in the laughter. 

Cindrelle and Mirian joined too. 

After a while, Owen finally managede to leave the dance. Where’s Pyris? He looked around, but couldn’t find her. The sky was glowing orange, and soon, the world would be cast in darkness. 

It wasn’t until he scanned the castle did he notice Pyris watching the event from atop the walls. 

Owen grabbed a platefull of food, and then approached, climbing the walls, and stood next to Pyris. All he could hear was shouting, the beating of drums, and laughter coming from the pyre that reached into the sky above.

“Don’t feel like joining in?” Owen asked, sliding the plate of food on the battlement in front of her. “This is the last time we’ll see them before heading out tomorrow.”

Pyris plucked a piece of crab meat from the plate, and gently placed it in her mouth. She chewed once before swallowing. “In my culture, we save the celebrations for when we return.”

“That would make sense,” Owen said, lips curling into a smile. “But people also need to believe that just because I’m gone, there are others to prop them up.”

Pyris turned silent as she watched the pyre, the reflection of fire dancing in her eyes. Owen knew that she was thinking about her home. How could everyone celebrate when she herself didn’t have a single victory? How could se celebrate when all she knew, everyone she loved—was dead?

Owen bit his lip, before saying, “We’ve been fighting everyday to better our future, to become stronger. Tomorrow, we head out in search for a Gateway. To evolve. Everything changes once we get through to the other side. Back to Earth.” Owen placed his hand on her shoulder. “One step closer to revenge.”

Pyris tightened her grip into a fist so hard, her bones creaked. She nodded, the blaze in her eyes growing stronger. “One step closer,” she muttered under her breath.

“You should rest. I’ll be relying on your strength for the coming travels, you know?”

Glancing up at the stars that spread across the skies, even without nightfall, she said, “Sleep won’t affect my power. The stars make certain of that.”

***

Five days had passed since Owen, Justin, and the other humans had left his kingdom in search for an Outpost. The longer he stayed in the Cursed Lands without evolving his Class meant he was forever going to be stuck at Level 50. For his people, he had to find it. 

Stopping, Owen gazed up at a canyon. The grand, towering mountains loomed overhead, evoking a sense of breathtaking awe. Owen wasn’t sure why, but he could feel the history exuding from the rock. He could feel the life that once was.

Footsteps lead inside.

“What do you think?” Owen looked at Justin and continued, “Think they’re human steps?”

“Probably not,” Justin said. “I just know I want out of this hellish sun. I feel my skin peeling from my face. Literally.” Justin walked ahead, Owen followed. 

“It looks like it too,” Owen said, looking disgusted at Justin’s face. “Like a shrivelled, peeling fruit. We need to get you some moisturiser or sunscreen. Or both. You should wear this.” Owen pointed to Dune’s Crest. 

“I won’t say no,” Justin replied. 

They all decided to follow the footsteps implanted into the sand not just in hopes of finding survivors, but at the very least a reprieve from the alien sun above.

Owen’s sight wandered to the cliffs above. Some parts of the walls looked odd. Like they were handcarved, instead of naturally formed. Owen even swore he saw a window, the edges were too perfect to be formed by nature. Then he even saw steps, like someone had created a walkway on the edge of the cliff. 

Then Owen’s widened. 

In the distance, on either side of the sheer cliff walls, were battlements. In the middle of the path lay a… body.

Justin grabbed hold of Owen and dashed to the nearby cliff walls. They were cast in shadows. Owen could take the hint. Something had killed whoever lay face first in the sand. His heart sped up. He gazed up all around him, to the paths carved in the mountain, to the battlements, to the other areas covered in shade.

“Stay here,” Justin said. 

Owen nodded as Justin disappeared from sight. Five minutes passed and Owen was beginning to worry. What was taking him so long? 

Thankfully, he popped out of the shadows right in front of Owen. Owen jumped. “Holy shit, you scared me,” he whispered. 

“Hey,” Justin said with a smile. “I can only take so many bad comments about my appearance before it starts to hurt my feelings, you know?” 

“Well?” Owen ignored him.

Justin pouted, but said, “do you want the good news, or the bad news?”

“Good news first.”

“There’s some folk up ahead.” 

“Really?” Owen asked with eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Justin replied. 

But Owen squinted his eyes at the black haired young man. It seemed like something was wrong. 

“And the bad news?”

“There’s monsters stalking this place,” Justin said. “There’s tunnels in the walls. It’s difficult to see, but look over there, where the shade meets the rock.”

Justin pointed into the distance. Owen followed his finger. Right where he was pointing at, was a dark shadow. But there was a small entrance where it became even darker. It was a tunnel. 

“Monsters have been coming out of them, hunting them,” Justin said. “A lot of them are scared. I say we leave them.”

“What?” Owen asked. “Are you serious?”

“If we go beyond this point, we can’t escape without a fight,” Justin said. 

Owen shook his head, and said, “No. We need to try something. If it’s too risky to fight, then there has to be another way.” 

Justin smiled helplessly. “I knew you’d say that. That’s why I told them we’d come up with a plan. When I left, I took the time to scout out one of the passageways. A lot of them are dangerous with signs of monstrous activity. But there is one with no evidence of being occupied. And look–”

Justin nudged his head up. The sun was dying down. It was moving over the hills. Owen estimated they only had four hours or so of light left before the nightmarish tsunami washed over the land. They were stuck here.

He continued, “We don’t have time to look for another place. We either leave them and find a place of our own, or forge ahead, into whatever lies beyond those battlements.”

Owen thought it through, then said, “The fact that the monsters live in the tunnels means that it’s safe. If there are no signs of life in the passage you’ve found, that means that it might fill up with sand during the night.”

Justin nodded along, agreeing with him.

“That means we’ll have to find a safe place further in the canyon,” Owen said. “We should act fast. Take the survivors through the tunnel, and find a safe place to hide out the dark night further in the canyon.”

“Then let's go. Stay close behind me. Protect your left side. There’s no way of knowing what may leap out from the walls,” Justin said, jogging ahead.

Owen followed. He kept both hands tight around Heartseeker’s Edge. They ran for five minutes, turning a corner in the canyon. It was then that Owen spotted more holes in the walls. They were approaching one. 

As they passed, Owen couldn’t help but look within. The fine hairs on his nape raised. Something was looking at him. He could feel it. Owen picked up his pace. 

They arrived at a larger passageway. Just as Justin walked forward, a spear tip was thrust at his face. He ducked underneath it, blasted forward with a quick step, and grabbed the person’s throat.

“Woah there,” Justin warned. “Did your mother never tell you not to poke your sharp stick at people’s throats?”

“Justin,” Owen said, stopping him. Justin retracted his hand. 

“It’s good to see you all,” Owen said. 

He looked at everyone. It was a group of six. They were scared. Some had large wounds carved into their flesh, while others were relatively unharmed, apart from a few scratches here and there. Some of them already had their Remembrances summoned. One man had long armguards, one had a shield, and one had a weapon. The rest of them seemed to lack any Remembrances at all. Or at least they hadn’t summoned them. 

The thing that surprised Owen, however, was that none of them had dried lips. Sun damage was evident on their exposed skin, but their lips were fine. Like they had been constantly drinking water.

Justin also noticed. He wasn’t shy about asking, “Oi, which one of you has water? I’m dying here.”

“I do.” A hand raised from the back of the group. He had brown hair, just short of touching his shoulders. Freckles across his nose and under his eyes.The young man wore a slender leather armour adorned with gold. It was a Fragment.

He had a kind smile and a friendly face, but it was clear he was scared like the rest of them. He kept looking behind Owen and Justin, outside, scared that something would leap at them. 

He materialised a Fragment in his hand. It was a grey, polished metal container. Etched onto the front was a water drop. Below it was an eternal symbol.

“You’ve got the good stuff,” Justin clicked his tongue as he snatched it from the young man’s hand. With haste, he drank the water within.

“Sorry, he doesn’t have much in the way of manners,” Owen said with a wry smile. “I’m Owen, thank you for the water. We really needed it.” He didn't really. Before he left, he had gathered tonnes of water in his storage. But they didn’t have to know that.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he replied with a weak smile. “If I can help in any way, then I’m more than happy to. Drink as much as you want, it’s endless. Or well, technically it isn’t, but I don’t have to worry for a long time, if you know what I mean.” 

He laughed nervously, scratching his head. He glanced at Owen’s hand. His eyes widened. He quickly grabbed Owen’s hand and shook it, and said, “Sorry! Where’s my manners? My name is Elian. Elian Ash.”

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 79

Upon returning, Owen was met with a cacophony of jubilation and celebration. The air buzzed with cheers, the weary sighs of relief, and the warm embrace of his people's gratitude. But beneath it all, Owen didn’t feel like a victor. The weight of loss clung to him, pressing down with an unforgiving force.

The first thing he did was pay his respects to the fallen—those brave souls who had laid down their lives defending the fledgling kingdom he had carved from the unforgiving sands. There was no evidence left of their sacrifice; the tidal wave that followed the battle had swallowed everything, washing away the pyres and traces of the funerals. Yet, Owen stood on the windswept sands, silent and still, letting the dry granules slip through his fingers as if bidding them farewell once more.

“They fought with everything they had,” Pyris said, her voice a steady anchor in the tumult of emotion. She stood rigid, her posture a testament to a life shaped by rigorous military discipline.

“I know,” Owen replied, his voice hoarse, as if every word scraped against the dryness in his throat.

The journey back had taken two gruelling days of relentless travel. Every moment, Owen remained tethered to the events unfolding at his home through the Emblem's connection. His General, Vestid, had orchestrated the defence with unparalleled precision, turning what could have been a bloodbath into a testament of resilience. Without Vestid's keen strategic mind, the loss of life would have been catastrophic.

Pyris was formidable in battle—a hurricane of strength and skill—but leadership was not her forte, and in that, she mirrored Owen. The weight of command, of ensuring safety and unity, was new and alien to him. He was learning to navigate this maze not through expertise but through the guidance of those whose experience far exceeded his own.

Owen knew what needed to come next: to move forward, as he had learned to do countless times in the brutal land that became his home. He walked to the heart of his territory—a stretch of compacted, wind-swept sands—and called forth the Units he had acquired through the brutal slaying of Jonah. The scene was almost surreal as over forty figures materialised, each bowing low, a silent acknowledgment of their new Lord.

Unlike the Orcen Lord's guaranteed orcish troops, Jonah's forces were diverse, just as Owen's were. Soldiers, artisans, and skilled labourers stood before him, some faces still haunted by their past allegiance. There was no anger in Owen's gaze, no bitterness at the losses they had inflicted. Instead, there was a strange, unsettling calm—a sense that this cycle of life and death had become all too familiar.

“Yesterday, you fought for a tyrant obsessed with power,” Owen addressed them, his voice unwavering. “Today, you fight for something greater—a collective, a nation not built on conquest, but on the strength and spirit of its people. You are not just soldiers here; you are the foundation of what we will become.”

A spark lit in their eyes—hardened warriors and crafters alike—hungry for a purpose beyond bloodshed. They were individuals summoned to a world teeming with chaos, yearning for significance and stability. Owen might not have desired endless war, but he now grasped the necessity of wielding strength when required.

“Those who have stood with me from the beginning, step forward,” Owen commanded, and Lome and his steadfast comrades moved without hesitation. Owen distributed the precious Skills and Fragments he had fought tooth and nail for, each gift met with reverent nods and gratitude. Then he turned to the orcs who had defended the kingdom valiantly, bestowing upon them tools of war and protection, untainted by prejudice or hierarchy.

Everyone's efforts were acknowledged—from the warriors who had bled for their home to the builders, miners, and even the eccentric Bimpnottin, whose ingenuity had proven indispensable.

But perhaps the most valuable boon from the recent battle stood quietly amidst the summoned units: a high-level alchemist, his robes speckled with stains of past concoctions. His mastery over anti-venoms and curative potions glimmered in his intense gaze. He would be vital, especially with the shadow of the Great Rot threatening the Cursed Lands. If not for this stroke of luck, Owen knew he would have been willing to part with a fortune in Credits to secure such expertise.

As he took in the sight of his new, multifaceted force, Owen’s chest tightened. The battle had been won, but the true challenge—the building of a nation that could stand against the dark storms yet to come—was only just beginning.

In the span of just a few weeks, Owen had transformed his domain into a flourishing stronghold. The simple water well he’d started with had been expanded into a robust system, its stone rim reinforced and surrounded by new storage tanks. Seven sturdy buildings now stood in neat formation outside the main settlement, fortified with mortar and topped with thatched and tiled roofs. At the summit of the mountain that housed his kingdom, a towering watchtower pierced the sky, its silhouette a sentry against the horizon.

There were some voices of concern regarding the watchtower, that it would guide others here. But Owen and Vestid had already gone through the pros and cons. The truth of the matter was that it was better to spot the enemy and prepare themselves before they stumbled upon their kingdom by chance. 

Bimpnottin, though initially grumbling under his breath, eventually joined forces with the other farmers to bolster the crop yields. Rows of hardy vegetables and grain now blanketed the rocky soil, green life defying the unforgiving landscape.

The hunting teams moved with tireless precision, tracking and taking down the scarlet crabs that scuttled across the sandy plains. Each hunt ended with Owen using Plunder to extract the valuable meat and materials, which Clarke the Cook expertly smoked for long-term storage. The downside: Owen's relentless use of Plunder no longer granted him any stat increases, and he had reached the Level cap of fifty. Progression would now have to wait until he ventured through a Gateway.

Departure loomed on the horizon.

His Units now numbered around one hundred, a bustling force of soldiers, craftsmen, and labourers. The once quiet paths of his kingdom were now alive with activity; wherever Owen walked, life surrounded him. The ease of constructing new barracks with Plunder kept up with the growing needs of his people.

Cindrelle’s forge glowed day and night, her mastery over molten sand yielding gleaming sheets of glass. Paired with polished metal, Owen had integrated tall light tunnels within the mountain’s interior. When the sun reached its zenith, the main corridors of his burgeoning palace shimmered with warm, natural light, casting an opulent glow across stone walls and intricately carved doorways.

But progress was soon marred by an ominous turn. The Great Rot came sweeping in far sooner than expected, its reach swift and merciless. Bimpnottin was the first to show symptoms, skin paling and voice rasping with unnatural groans. Yet Owen, ever the strategist, was prepared. Over the past weeks, he had worked tirelessly alongside Rizael and the new alchemist, mass-producing an antitoxin tincture designed to stave off the disease.

The illness was monstrous, devouring flesh and warping the mind until its victims became mindless husks, driven only by the need to spread their affliction.

Owen’s first instinct was to profit; the demand for a cure would be insatiable. But a flicker of conscience burned through that thought, one he couldn't ignore. He opted instead to price the anti-toxins affordably, ensuring that survival wasn’t a luxury but a right.

Within days, other merchants flooded the market, offering their own concoctions at sky-high prices. The slow pace at which Rizael and the alchemist could produce the tinctures left a painful void in the supply. Buyers watched the market with hawk-like vigilance, and every batch Owen released was snapped up in minutes. By the fifth day, Owen had to halt his sales; scalpers had begun hoarding the anti-toxins, reselling them at grossly inflated rates. The profiteers’ greed gnawed at him, but for now, he would focus on what mattered most—keeping his people safe and his kingdom standing.

With the threat of disease vanquished, Owen turned his full attention to strengthening the lives, power, and home of his people. The kingdom thrived under his care, but he knew that vigilance was key. He had already begun expanding the network of watchtowers to nearby mountains, where signal fires served as their primary form of communication. If something menacing approached, Owen needed to know instantly.

Preparations complete, Owen stood at the massive war table, surrounded by his trusted Generals and the newly integrated humans from Jonah’s castle. The room was filled with a quiet tension, the light of torches casting flickering shadows on the stone walls.

Hands braced on the table, Owen met the eyes of those gathered, giving a nod to Justin and the other humans. “Next week, I will be departing alongside the other Lord Candidates to search for an Outpost. I don’t know how long this journey will take—weeks, perhaps months. During my absence, Vestid will oversee the army, and Balthus will manage all other affairs. If there are any concerns, now is the time to speak.”

A hand shot up, bold and eager. Rehan, with a mischievous glint in his eye, leaned forward. “I have one big, mighty concern,” he declared, a grin stretching across his face. “We’re going to miss you.”

Laughter rippled through the room, and Owen’s heart swelled. He took a moment to look at the faces around him—the warriors, the builders, the people he had fought for, bled for. They were more than just a kingdom; they were his family.

A smile broke across Owen’s face, warm and genuine. “And I’m going to miss you all too,” he said, voice steady but soft, carrying the weight of his promise to return.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 78

Owen ignored it for now. What he was doing was risky; risking his life for a few extra credits. But there was something inside that couldn’t be obtained with just raw currency.

Coming to the protected stone door, Owen paused. It was protected by various traps and enchantments. If he was to brute force it down now, he didn’t want to imagine what would happen to him. Maybe his current Vitality would resist the magic… but that wasn’t something he was willing to risk. He had to remain in tip top condition if he wanted to get away from the troll.

So it was a good thing that he had prepared for this.

Owen brought out a potion he had bought just yesterday from his storage. It was a purple liquid that looked like it had mercury flowing within. Washing the shimmering liquid was almost hypnotic. Owen shook his head, then uncorked the bottle, and splashed the door, hinges and all, with the liquid.

The door sizzled, and a smell of burning rock consumed the underground basement. He saw the enchantments in full, twisting, and swirling all over the doorway. They shattered, the mana evaporating in the air. 

Only when that was done, did Owen kick open the door, revealing a spacious room packed with various alchemical supplies. Owen rushed into the room, still feeling the oncoming steps of the giant troll. He stored everything he touched, from beakers, to other science equipment.

He stopped in front of a furnace. It radiated and pulsed mana. Even Owen, who wasn’t a mage, felt its intensity. He touched it, and with a thought, all of its Runes appeared in his mind.

[Everbloom Cauldron]

| Tier: Champion

| Type: Alchemical Furnace

| Description: The Everbloom Cauldron is an elite-grade furnace, meticulously crafted by the Sable Artisans to aid in the production of complex elixirs and potent drugs. Made from enchanted obsidian and infused with perpetual flame essence, it ensures precise temperature control and efficient fusion of rare ingredients. This cauldron boasts a unique catalytic chamber that amplifies the potency of any concoction, making it highly sought after by master alchemists and covert operations.

| Runes: Ember Consistency, Alkahest Flow, Catalyst Amplifier

Ember Consistency: This rune maintains an unwavering, stable heat throughout the furnace, crucial for crafting drugs with precision. It ensures that temperature fluctuations do not occur, preventing the degradation of sensitive ingredients.

Alkahest Flow: This rune enhances the fluid dynamics within the cauldron, ensuring seamless integration and perfect dissolution of complex substances. It optimises the reaction rate, allowing ingredients to blend uniformly and boosting the efficacy of each batch.

Catalyst Amplifier: This rune magnifies the effects of catalytic agents added during the crafting process. It unlocks hidden potential within components, enhancing the potency of the resulting drug or elixir and often yielding a higher-grade product than usual.

It wasn’t a Fragment, so he couldn’t store it within his soul, nor could he evolve it in any way. It would forever remain at the Champion rank… But it was the first Champion ranked item he had received. Happy, Owen stored it.

Something of such high quality could never be bought from the market. Well, that was a lie. There were times when some people would place something on the market not having any idea of what it was worth. Maybe it was something that had little use now, so they wanted to get rid of it. Something like the enchantment destruction potion Owen had bought and used.

However, Ansel had already claimed most of them. 

The giant troll was close now. Its steps thundered overhead, shaking the earth as if the world itself trembled in fear. Owen even heard it breathe—a guttural, rhythmic sound that rumbled like a storm, even though he was still beneath the sand. Owen grimaced. Getting out wasn’t going to be easy.

Despite what most believed, trolls were fast. The troll's lumbering gait was a ruse—a calculated deception to lure prey into a false sense of security. It moved with the lethal agility of a predator when it sensed a true chase, and Owen knew this was no different. Every instinct screamed that this monster was no mindless brute. It was cunning, capable of setting traps and playing with its prey before the kill.

But Owen wouldn’t be the fool caught in its game.

Emerging from his subterranean cover, he darted from the castle’s flank, choosing the right side where the crumbled battlements cast long, jagged shadows. He cast a dust cloud around himself, an arcane shroud of swirling grit and wind that he hoped would blend seamlessly with the chaotic desert winds. For a fleeting moment, he thought it worked. The troll’s towering form hesitated, its eyes narrowing as it scanned the horizon.

Then, a roar split the silence, a sound so powerful it sent shivers down his spine and kicked his danger sense into overdrive.

“Damn it!” Owen spat as he bolted. A fraction of a second later, a massive chunk of stone, hurled with uncanny precision, slammed into the sand where he had just stood. The impact was like a meteor strike, erupting in a geyser of sand and shattered rock that clawed at his exposed skin. He felt the burn of grit slicing his cheek but didn’t dare slow down.

If I get hit, it’s over.

The troll’s eyes, deep-set and burning with primal fury, locked onto him again. Owen pumped his legs harder, the muscles straining under the relentless pace. He veered left suddenly, a sharp pivot that made his knees scream in protest. Behind him, another boulder slammed down, tearing open the desert floor and leaving a crater that swallowed the sun’s light in a yawning, dark maw.

Thinking fast, Owen kicked up a fresh wave of sand, shaping it into a spinning vortex with a snap of his fingers. It coiled upward like a living wall, blocking the troll’s line of sight. But Owen knew it would last only a heartbeat.

He sprinted, each step a test of balance and reflex as the sand shifted treacherously underfoot. The desert was an unforgiving arena, its heat searing, the wind dragging at him like greedy hands. He could feel the troll’s breath, hot and sour on the back of his neck, as it pushed closer, smashing aside the vortex with a swing of its tree-sized arm.

Owen dropped to a slide, barely dodging a backhand swipe that passed so close above him, he felt the displaced air crackle with latent force. Rolling out of the slide, he came up running, eyes scanning frantically for any sort of terrain that might give him an edge. Just a sliver of hope.

He spotted a jagged outcrop of rock half-buried in the dunes, a natural cover that might buy him a precious second. With a burst of speed that made his heart feel like it would burst, Owen dove behind it as the ground shook again. This time, the troll’s attack sent a shockwave that cracked the rock face and sent a plume of sand cascading over him.

Panting, Owen focused his mind, drawing on his connection with the sand beneath him. He sent threads of his power deep into the earth, conjuring a second dust cloud—this one thicker, denser, infused with tiny shards of stone that could sting the troll’s eyes and slow it down.

The troll roared again, its voice carrying frustration now, the first sign of impatience. Owen's eyes gleamed with grim determination. If he could keep it at bay just a little longer, if he could reach the craggy hills that jutted from the earth, he stood a chance.

He launched forward, weaving through the shifting sands like a phantom, every nerve in his body taut, every movement honed by the knowledge that a single misstep meant instant death. The troll lunged, its shadow swallowing Owen whole, but at the last moment, he twisted, dropping low as the monstrous hand crashed down behind him.

Dust and sand exploded into the sky, but Owen was already moving, his breath ragged. Then, he stopped. With a practised motion, he allowed the sand to envelop him completely, cutting off every trace of his presence. The world seemed to hold its breath.

The troll raged, swinging its gargantuan club in wide, furious arcs. Each strike thundered through the desert, shaking the ground with enough force to splinter rock and crack the earth. Owen could feel every impact deep in his bones, each one a reminder of how close death loomed. He clenched his jaw, hoping to any god who might be listening that the monster would tire before it discovered him.

By some divine stroke of luck, the beast’s rage yielded no prey. Sand Camouflage cloaked him, blending him seamlessly with the shifting dunes. After a series of frustrated, guttural roars, the troll hesitated. It sniffed the air, eyes squinting with raw irritation, before turning back toward the mountain pass. The tremors of its retreating footsteps echoed for long moments, each one a little softer than the last.

Owen didn’t dare move until silence reigned once more. Slowly, he rose, the sand cascading off his body in delicate streams. His breath left him in a shaky, half-mad chuckle as tension ebbed away. Watching the monstrous silhouette lumber up the jagged pass, he allowed a brief grin to crack his dust-covered face.

A groan escaped him as he turned, muscles protesting from the strain. There, half-hidden among the rocky outcrops, his team emerged one by one, eyes wide with shared relief. Owen nodded, a silent signal passing between them.

It was time to head back home.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 77

Lord Emblem — Strategic Command Network: Establishes a telepathic link with all Units within a 50-mile radius, allowing instantaneous communication of orders and updates.

Passive Bonus: Increases reaction speed of Units by 15% when executing commands sent through the link.

Owen’s brows rose at the Emblem. No wonder Jonah was able to order attacks from so far away. 50 miles… It sounded like a massive amount, and it was, technically. But in the Cursed Sands, 50 miles wasn’t even enough to reach a second Outpost. 

But still, here, in this castle… Owen used the ability with a thought, a smile curling from his lips.

“Can anyone hear me?” Owen spoke through his mind. It was a strange sensation, as if he was talking to himself. But an answer rang through his ear the next moment. It was vaguely familiar, just more nasally and distorted. It was Bimpnottin.

“My Lord?” 

“Oh that’s great, you can hear me!”

“My Lord!” Rizael shouted a moment later. “I was in the middle of creating a potion. I thought my mind was being invaded by an attacker. I spilt everything.”

Owen chuckled. “Sorry. Was just testing out a new ability.”

“Are you coming back How far are you? Close?” 

“A few days travel, if we run,” he replied. “But I have some things to do here. Tell the others that I’ll be heading back tomorrow if all goes well.”

“People died… I couldn’t save them.”

“I know,” Owen replied, his throat tight. “I ended it on my end… Give them a good funeral. I’ll talk again later.”

Owen cut the command network as his gaze descended onto the dead bodies of the founders. Hassan, who he thought of as a friend, lay dead in a puddle of his and others' blood. Owen sighed, then plundered their bodies. He wasn’t as lucky this time. For Emblems, he only received one more: Rapid Mana Regeneration. It was from Doyles, their strongest magic user. It was also one of the weakest Emblems he had received, but that was par for the course with magic abilities. They were far more rare and potent compared to physical ones.

As for regular Skills, he received quite the haul. Most of them would go to his Units, but there was one he kept for himself: Improved Physiology. It was just like Condensed Muscles and would provide an extra burst of strength and durability. 

Right now, his entire fighting style revolves around speed, strength, and reflexes. Together, it was a brutal combination. Along with his sand magic to obscure the battleground, he doubted there would be many, if any, first year Lord Candidates that were stronger than he was. After all, the amount of Stats he had essentially made him a 12-Star Talent.

Other than Skills, he had obtained an assortment of Fragments; swords, spears, and other more unique weapons like scythes. The armour was both light and heavy. None of which were better than his own, of course, but they’d prove essential to his friends. 

“Done taking in your spoils?” Justin asked, looking up at the mountain pass.

“I am, why?” Owen followed his gaze and noticed that, despite it being later on in the day now, the serpents had arrived and were now looking down at the castle. There had to be at least two-hundred of them. Owen tightened his grip around his weapon.

“Because it looks like we’re in shits creek,” Justin said with a small smile.

“Ring the bell,” Owen said. “We can tell the others what’s happened when the fight is over.”

Owen contemplated summoning the troops from inside his storage—most of which he had never seen before. Jonah must have had them hidden. He also noticed that he had one more Alchemist. All of them could only be summoned from his territories.

Justin rang the bell, and twenty or so warriors came scrambling out from within the depths of the castle. When they noticed they were under attack, they rushed up the walls. 

Deciding not to summon the Units that would only add to the confusion, Owen and his party stood atop the walls, along with the reinforcements. The ranged attacks of his team readied themselves.

“Wait,” Owen shouted his command, and everyone remained still. They hadn’t even realised that Larian wasn’t here, a testament to his fake leadership skills.

Owen waited until the serpents were a little closer, before thrusting his raised hand down. Then, like a wild storm, the sound of bow strings and crackling lightning ravaged the oncoming monster tide. 

Standing atop the wall, watching the scene unfold, Owen thought to himself, The only thing I’m lacking is a ranged ability. Something to do with a sword, preferably. I’ll have to hunt one down. 

Owen had a lot of knowledge lodged in his brain. Although he hadn’t managed to make much use of it yet apart from the odd thing or two, he knew exactly what monster dropped what Skill. He had one monster in mind. A Skill that would work seamlessly with his current fighting style.

But that was for later. 

Unlike Larian, Owen used the tall walls to their utmost. When the serpents reached the bottom of the walls, he’d unleash boulders from his storage on top of them without care about who was watching. Without the viper at his neck, he wasn’t worried about showcasing a little of his unique power. 

If the monsters weren’t crushed under the sheer weight of gargantuan boulders, then Gorath’s magic made quick work of the others. Cruz, also, showed the effectiveness of an archer dedicated to the pursuit of strength. His massive warbow didn’t care about distance, or armour. It reached all, boring holes through flesh, scales, and bone, all at once in devastating power.

But the troops of the castle didn’t escape entirely unscathed. The serpents also had archers, their arrows laced with powerful venom. 

Owen quickly bought a few potions of anti-venom for now, and handed them to the healer—Natalia. She rushed around, healing the wounded.

How good would it be if she was a healer focused on poison? Owen mused to himself.

With the numbers of the serpents dwindling by the minute, it was almost time to personally get involved. But just as he was about to leap into the midst of battle, a bone chilling roar split open the noise of war. 

Owen bit his tongue as he gazed up once again at the mountain pass. Each foot thundered, clearly heard from the castle. 

“What’s that?” Cruz shouted.

Owen’s blood stilled. “It’s the mountain troll.”

Giving power to his words, a massive head emerged. Along with it, was a long white beard, piercing blue eyes, and the same flesh in the same hue. Muscles surrounded its body like bundled steel wire. It held an enormous club, made from a tree—or something even larger. Hundreds of spikes lined the weapon, creating a savage instrument of death.

It slammed its weapon, resting it against the mountain, before picking up a hulking boulder three times the size, no… at least 6 times the size of the ones Owen had dropped himself—and threw it right for the castle. Like ammunition fired from a catapult, it tore rioght for them, slamming into the wall, exploding it in a mangled mess of shrapnel. Four people were eviscerated into a bloody miss, their trace of existence gone with the breeze.

Owen, with bloodshot eyes, glanced back up at the beast and watched as it picked up yet another boulder.

“Retreat!” Owen screamed.

The moment his words left his mouth, all the others leapt off the battlements and into the town. A second later, another rock smashed into a nearby building, levelling the entire thing. 

The monster picked up another.

“Do we fight it?” Mirian asked, her words short and quick. 

“Absolutely not!” Owen shot back. “It’s not something we can fight. We return home. Rehan, guide them all back. I have a few things to grab.”

Rehan nodded and shouted, his words piercing the screams of pain. “Everyone follow me!”

Thankfully, once everyone noticed a large swath of them detach from the castle, they followed, mostly. Owen noticed a few stragglers continue further into the castle. Maybe for a thin grasp at safety, or maybe to loot. 

Whatever the reason was, Owen followed them. Then, his instincts screamed at him. Time slowed. His heart thrashed. He glanced overhead to an oncoming boulder. It was accurate. But not at him. 

“Watch out!” Owen screamed, but it was too late. 

Three people who were about to enter the main castle were flattened in an instant, their figures vanishing. Owen sprinted full speed ahead. Activating Overpower, he swung his blade at the boulder in a crazed arc. He cut through the middle, separating it. In one swift movement, he rolled into the castle, and continued, sprinting full speed into the depths. 

He had one aim: the alchemy. One thing was for certain, Larian—or rather Jonah—had put their entire wealth into that one room, and it was ripe for the picking. 

Stomps approached, forcing Owen to grit his teeth. The troll wasn’t retreating. No. It was coming right for him.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 76

Four days had passed, and Owen was seated with the rest of his team—and a few extra he had become friends with.

Cruz was one of the newest additions to the castle. He had stumbled upon it with his own team, although they had lost the majority of them to the monsters lurking in the deep sands. He was a tall man, bald, and incredibly strong. Because of his thick muscles, Media might have led others to believe he was a fearsome warrior, but he wasn’t. He was an archer. An artillery archer, to be exact. To be effective, he had to plant his feet into the ground. He couldn’t move like Draed could. And in that regard, his bow also mimicked his style. It was huge, hulking, and appeared unwieldy to Owen. Yet Cruz displayed its effectiveness atop the battlements with crazy precision.

Along with Cruz, were two of his party members: Natalia and Shivam.

Shivam was another ranged user, but he used a strange weapon Owen had never seen before. It was a ring quadruple the size of a standard frisbee. It always returned to his hands when thrown, like a magnet was attached to his palm. Maybe there was. With long brown hair, bronze skin, sharp facial features making a handsome face and protective leather armour, Shivam seemed almost used to the hot climate. That, and the fact his English wasn’t perfect, told Owen he was of Indian descent. Well, it was all made clear when Shivam told him directly, but still, Owen liked to figure things out on his own.

Natalia on the other hand was american. Blonde hair, presumably dyed because of her darker eyebrows, and a normal face, she wore armour just like Shivam. She was a healer. 

They met on the third day and kicked it off really well. They weren’t happy with Larian's approach to leadership, struggling to find the inconsistent logic in his actions. Owen agreed. He also noticed a few other things during his time.

The first and most important was that no matter how much they scoured the castle and its surroundings, they couldn’t find a gateway. If there was one, they’d have found it already. 

Justin did however, discover a hidden room that was used as the real station of alchemy. But Justin couldn’t get in. There was some potent magic tied to the room that not even Justin dared to try getting through. He did get a look into the keyhole, though. There was no gateway. When he looked, there was no alchemist. It was also heavily guarded. He only had a moment to look before the guards would be onto him like hellhounds.

Other than that, Owen noticed a few peculiar things happen. Some of the summoned warriors—Larian’s Units—begin to vanish. The founders; Hassan, Jonah, Doyles, and Hannah, also started making their presence less available. They were off somewhere, doing… something.

“How long are you here for, exactly?” Cruz asked, patting his lips with a clean cloth. Well, as clean as they come, anyway.

Owen stirred from his thoughts. “Not long. Another day, perhaps. The serpents have lessened considerably. With their reduced numbers, and with these walls, I doubt there will be any problems for the foreseeable future. And I need to get home.”

“Mind if we join you?” 

At Cruz’s words, Natalia and Shivam rose from their bowls of stew, giving him expectant looks.

Owen chuckled, slapping Cruz’s arm. “Doubt my Lord will say no to more men. Of course, you’re welcome.”

“Good,” Cruz said, gently tapping the table. “Good. This place gives me the creeps. Like there’s always someone, or thing, watching.”

“I know what you mean,” he replied. “Every kingdom has its spies, I suppose.”

Cruz shook his head. “This is different. Feels like there’s a blade aimed at my neck and I can’t shake it for whatever reason.”

“Is it your premonition ability?” Owen asked, spooning a portion of stew into his mouth. The meat was tough, the soup a little sour, but it filled his stomach. With his vitality right now, even if the meat was rotten, it’d have no effect on him. Bar the wretched taste, obviously. 

“Must be,” Cruz said. “Works only sometimes. But ever since I’ve entered these walls, it’s been bothering me ever since. Must just be the low Mastery.”

“Could be. Don’t let it bother you too much. If we’re together, I doubt anyone can stop us from leaving; even if they wanted to.” 

Owen made no attempt at hiding his words. Everyone in the castle had seen them fight, and although Owen hid most of his strength and abilities, there was one common consensus throughout. Don’t mess with Owen, or his people. 

“I hope you’re not lying about the cheese,” Shivam spoke up. “I like cheese.”

“Natalia perked up, eyes shining. “And I like milk! Oh man, milk. I want a cup full when I get there. I’ll even trade a Fragment for it.”

Owen laughed. “No need for that, Natalia. My Lord’s a generous man. You want one cup? He’ll give you two.”

Natalia’s eyes sparkled even brighter.

“And those fruits,” added Cruz, licking his lips. “They sound bloody delicious.”

Owen nodded, imagining it. “Right now, I bet Bimpnottin’s already made something new and incredible.”

At the thought of home, Owen’s heart tightened. When he closed his eyes, he could almost see them—Bimpnottin, Coo, Bubbles, everyone. Their smiles, their laughter, even their squabbles, so familiar they brought an easy smile to his face.

After dinner, the group drifted out of the main hall and into the streets, talking about life before this strange adventure. But, oddly, Owen found himself struggling. It wasn’t embarrassment holding him back, or a lack of words. Just…there was nothing to tell. His old life had been so small. A blur of commutes, long work hours, and barely enough time at home to eat or shower before collapsing into bed to start over.

Cruz gave his back a hearty pat. “Look at you now.”

Owen smirked. “Yeah.” As they reached the battlements, though, they weren’t alone. Lord Larian and the other founders stood along the wall, gazing into the night.

“Lord Larian,” Owen greeted, not bothering to bow his head. “A nice night, don’t you think?”

Larian nodded. “Indeed.”

Owen and the others moved closer. “I was thinking of leaving tomorrow. The serpents have dwindled. I hope that’s alright?”

“Yes,” replied Larian. “Perfect timing, actually. Thank you, Owen, and all of you. I understand our newest allies will be leaving as well?”

Cruz stepped forward. “Yes. Thank you for the shelter these past weeks. We won’t forget it.”

Larian’s lips formed a faint smile. “I’m glad we could provide refuge in this dangerous world. I trust your rewards were worth it?”

Owen nodded. “My Lord will be pleased.”

“Good,” Larian said, “that’s good.”

Owen’s heart clenched abruptly. He felt it through his System—a warrior down, and then another, then another. His eyes snapped toward his own territory. They were under attack. His mind raced as he took in the speed of the deaths. By the time he got back, his people would be…

Think. Shit! Owen took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay focused. After a single heartbeat, his eyes blazed open. Activating Overpower, he pulled every ounce of strength from his body. His limbs protested under the surge, but he moved in a blur, sword swinging with blinding speed. Not even Larian had time to react as Owen's blade didn’t go for his throat, but Jonah’s.

The unsuspecting Jonah, who always stayed at the back, playing the weak one. Everyone froze, stunned. Why had Owen just attacked?

Jonah looked at him, wide-eyed, a hand going to his neck as blood seeped between his fingers. His head slid off, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.

You have defeated a Lord Candidate: Jonah Preston (Level 35).
| You have gained a Lord’s territory!
| You have gained a Lord’s Units!

Owen’s pulse hammered. In seconds, over forty new units filled his storage, ready to defend his own kingdom. Ignoring the shock-stricken Larian and the founders brandishing their weapons, Owen’s focus remained on his System. The deaths had stopped.

Owen exhaled in relief. Just as I suspected.

Beside him, Justin conjured a ring of shadowy lances, each aimed at the founders’ throats and spines. If they made a move, they’d be skewered in an instant. The founders stood paralyzed, clutching their weapons.

“What the hell’s going on?” Justin asked, curious.

Owen let out a humourless laugh, his rage simmering beneath. “It was a setup,” he said, gaze piercing the founders. “They weren’t looking for people to help. They were scouting land. The serpents? They were sending them daily, controlling their numbers with drugs, bleeding us dry. Meanwhile, they sent forces bit by bit to amass near my territory.”

Justin’s expression darkened, shadows pooling ominously at his feet.

Owen pointed to Larian. “Larian’s just a figurehead. Jonah was the real Lord, the mastermind meant to slip away if things went south.”

“What made you so sure?” Hannah yelled, veins bulging.

Owen shook his head. “I wasn’t. It was a hunch. A gamble, based on a few hints.”

Hannah’s voice shook. “And you killed him just on a hunch?”

Owen ignored her, crouching over Jonah’s body and Plundering without hesitation. Several Skills—puppet control, alchemy—transferred to his System. Not ones he needed, but valuable for his units. His focus, though, was on the Emblem that appeared. It was a good one.

Owen’s eyes met Hannah’s and the others’. “If it’s my people or others, I’ll choose mine. Every time.”

Hannah’s voice was taut. “What’ll you do with us?”

Blood for blood. Owen glanced at Justin. “Kill them all.”

Hassan raised a hand in panic. “Owen, wait—”

But Justin’s lances struck before he could finish. Owen looked away as the spears impaled them all in an instant.

He opened his System. It was time to see what he’d gained.

The Bizarre Circus - Chapter 2

Warning: Gruesome content.

“Jin,” May said, rushing over. “Stay calm, I’m here. No one can hurt you.” Her voice, just like in the other world, soothed his worries. 

Her hand brushed his hair, fingers sifting through his long locks. He felt the tingle on his scalp, his tensed shoulders lowered. “Was it the same nightmare again?”

Jin nodded, face in hands. “It was finally the night to reach the second tier. The tier of the Marionettes Whisper. You should have seen it May—” Jin tightened his fists in excitement. “—I was in the centre of the stage. You know how I always dreamed of being at the centre in a stage play? Well this time, I was. It was amazing. Everyone cheered and clapped. Sure, they wanted me to die. Wanted my Reflection to out and Fracture. But it was still a cool feeling. It was like I was meant to be up there.” Jin lightly punched his leg. “Like I was meant to walk.”

May listened on with a frown adorning her beautiful face.

“I absorbed all their emotions, using it to power myself. In the end, I succeeded. I reached the second tier. God, I felt so strong. My legs… were so powerful.”

May handed him a cup of water and sat on his bedside. “Remember what we’ve gone through, Jin? These hallucinations… they are an escape. They’re not real. You mustn’t fall under their spell.” She sighed. “Have you been taking your medication? Be honest with me, Jin. I don’t like liars.”

Jin squirmed. “I have.”

She looked at him good and proper.

“I really have,” Jin said honestly. “But the hallucinations just keep getting more… real.”

She nodded. “Then I’m sorry, Jin. But we’ll need to heighten the dose. It won’t be for long. Just long enough so that you can battle back the hallucinations on your own. We don’t want this to get worse, do you understand?”

Jin clenched his hand tight across the plastic cup. It first deformed, then cracked. Jin looked at it in shock as he dropped it on the floor. “I’m strong,” He mumbled to himself, flexing his forearm. He felt the strength, the same strength from when he had reached the second tier of the path of the Masquerade. But how? All of that was a dream, an hallucination, a creation of his own, twisted mind. None of it was real… and yet as he felt the strength course through his muscles, reality and imagination were merging together.

Pain assaulted his mind. He clutched his head just as the door opened again. The newcomer was the director. She looked back in worry, and said, “His condition has worsened.”

The director had the same face as his master. Masculine, sharp facial features with a long moustache. In the real world, he never wore a hat. His hair was black and grey, slicked back. He dragged over a chair, sat down, and brought out a tube of pills from his pristine lab coat pocket. 

The director’s gaze was intense, assessing Jin as he twisted the pill tube slowly in his hands. “Is everything okay, Jin?” he asked, voice level, but firm. “We know how exhausting these hallucinations must be for you.”

Jin looked down, flexing his fingers. “I don’t know. I feel like I was... there. Like I reached some new level. It’s like I was in control. I felt powerful. But…” He stopped, glancing from May to the director, searching for understanding.

The director exchanged a quick look with May and leaned forward, his expression softening. “Jin, I know it’s hard to accept sometimes, but what you’re feeling—it’s just a symptom. Your mind is very convincing at conjuring sensations that feel real, but they’re illusions. Think of it like… a cruel trick your mind is playing.” He shook his head, adding softly, “That world is a figment, not reality.”

“But… it feels so real,” Jin insisted, his hands beginning to shake. “The power, the people, the rituals—I can feel them in my bones.”

“That’s precisely why we need to help you distance yourself from it.” The director held out a few pills. “Take these, Jin. They’re designed to calm the mind, to make it clear. With time, that other place will fade, and you’ll realize what’s real and what isn’t.” He glanced at May. “It’s normal for someone in your state to think they can feel things that aren’t there. It’s why we’re here.”

May offered a reassuring smile, placing her hand on his. “Remember, we’re with you, every step. You don’t need to face this alone. Just try to let go of that other world… of the illusions.”

Jin’s eyes darted between them, his confusion and frustration mounting. He swallowed hard and finally nodded, taking the pills. He whispered, more to himself, “I just wish I knew what was real.”

The director gave him a steady look, his voice low. “Trust us, Jin. We’re here to help you find that truth.”

“The cup,” Jin said in sudden realization, frantically searching the floor. But it was gone. He leaned over the edge of his bed, nearly toppling out before May caught him.

“It was right here,” he insisted, his eyes wide with desperation. “I felt the strength from the other world. That wasn’t a hallucination.”

“Jin,” the director’s voice cut in, steady yet unyielding.

“The cup,” Jin repeated, nearly shouting. He turned to May, who looked back with a conflicted gaze. “You saw it. You were right there. You saw me crush it.”

May placed a hand on his arm, her touch soft but her expression firm. “Jin, I don’t know what you think you saw, but there was nothing there. See? No cup, no evidence. You’re letting these… episodes take over.” She offered a slight shake of her head. “Please, take your medication.”

“No.” Jin’s voice wavered, his fists clenching. “I know I’m stronger now. I reached the second tier.”

The director picked up a cup from the side, holding it out to him. “It was a cup like this one?”

Jin nodded slowly, eyeing the cup as if it held the last shreds of his sanity.

The director extended it. “Then show me. Crush it. Prove to us that you’re as powerful as you believe.”

Jin’s jaw tightened, his muscles coiling as he gripped the cup. He squeezed, focusing every ounce of strength—yet nothing happened. He pressed harder, his breath labored, veins bulging across his forehead, until finally his grip slipped, the cup unscathed.

May gently pried the cup from his hands, her look a mix of sympathy and restraint. He stared back in disbelief, crushed by the weight of a reality he couldn’t accept.

Head hung low, he mumbled, “I’ll take those pills now.”

The director nodded, his voice calm but cold. “Just a setback, Jin. Happens all the time. Take the pills, and you’ll feel better soon. We’ll return to our normal sessions once you’ve had some rest. Just hang in there, alright?”

Jin swallowed the pills, his body feeling as hollow as his hope. With each second, his limbs grew heavy, his thoughts dulling to a murky fog. Just as the world slipped away, his head throbbed, the room spinning, May’s muffled voice barely reaching him. “He’s having another episode.”

Darkness closed in, a cocoon that wrapped tight around him.

He woke with a start, drenched in sweat, the scent of cheap perfume and stale popcorn in the air. His heart hammered as he chanted, “This isn’t real. It’s not real.” But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he took in his surroundings—a dim room of bunk beds, tent fabric overhead, a single wood-burning stove at the center. It was too silent, too empty. His heart sank.

A Night Tide.

The tent curtain flipped open, and Jin flinched, brandishing a nearby fire poker. May entered, her eyes glinting with worry. Her voice was hushed. “Why are you still in bed? It’s a Night Tide. Did you have another episode?”

Jin tensed, every nerve on edge. This isn’t real. This is all in my head. But he could feel the cool iron of the poker in his hand, hear the soft rustling of the tent. He tried to will himself back, but nothing happened.

“Quick,” May’s voice grew urgent.

He shook his head. “You’re not real.”

“What?” She blinked, taken aback.

“I’m not going. None of this is real.”

She tilted her head, studying him with a strange smile. “Not real?” Her laugh started light, then turned guttural, a sound far too dark for May’s gentle frame.

Jin’s back pressed against the rough fabric of the tent as he watched her jaw unhinge, splitting wide until her cheek began to tear, flesh pulling apart, her lower jaw dropping almost to her chest. Then something started crawling up her throat—a hairless baby’s head, grinning with sightless sockets.

The creature inside May’s twisted form giggled, its voice a hoarse, childish whisper. “That’s a funny joke. If this isn’t real, then you won’t mind if I take that body, will ya’?”

With a snarl, May’s arm splintered open, bone reshaping into a jagged blade as she lunged straight for him.

The Bizarre Circus - Chapter 1

I've been really ill these past few days and haven't been able to write anything. However, I have a chapter one of a story I wrote a while ago. It's not much, but it's something. I'll be resting a couple more days and then I'll be back, hopefully well rested and rejuvenated. Thanks everyone!

Chapter 1:

The City of Eldritch Lights was a nightmare given form, a twisted carnival under a sky forever cloaked in shadow. Lanterns of unnatural hues—violent violets, festering greens, dark as coagulated blood—swung from ropes and towers, illuminating cracked archways and buildings that seemed to breathe. A sea of faces loomed around Jin, pale and expectant, their anticipation thick in the air, pressing against his mind as he peered through the curtain slit. They watched him from within the fog, ghostly eyes reflecting the shifting lights as if the very souls of the crowd hungered for his performance.

Backstage, the scents and sounds of the circus enveloped him. The excited hum of voices mingled with incense as he peered into the crowd. His senior brother and sisters moved in mesmerising synchronicity on stage, swallowing blades, conjuring illusions, and calling forth tamed creatures that leapt through rings of fire. Jin observed, captivated as always, their mastery stirring equal parts admiration and trepidation within him.

The performers passed by him, clapping his shoulder in encouragement. Younger disciples offered him looks of pity...and expectation. 

A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Scared?”

Jin turned to see May beside him, her coiling hair framing gentle, green eyes that seemed to glow softly, even in the dim light. She had a calm, grounded presence, someone who’d been through storms and anchored others through them, too. Once a trapeze performer, she brought a steady warmth that few in the sect dared show him.

He forced a smirk. “Me? Nah. Why would I be?”

May’s lips curved in a small, knowing smile. “You’re always like that. Acting unbothered. Makes me a bit envious.” Her voice softened with a hint of curiosity. “How do you manage it?”

He shrugged, keeping his tone light. “Easy—just tell yourself none of it’s real. Works like a charm.”

She shook her head, an affectionate exasperation in her look. “It’s not a trick, Jin. Just… be careful up there. Remember, no matter what they throw at you, you’re more than just a performance.”

He nodded, but caught a hint of hesitation in her stance, as if there was more on her mind.

“Something else, May?”

She sighed, glancing down before meeting his gaze. “There’s talk of a young master in the stands tonight.”

“A young master?” Jin's attention snapped away from the stage preparations, his frown deepening. “Great. Lucky me.”

“Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it. With him watching, you’d be building a future few could match. That is… if everything goes well.”

“Yeah, if I don’t Fracture.” He gave her a level look. “Who is he, anyway?”

She hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of her cloak. “Not from a sect—a family. Rodger.”

His stomach dropped. “You mean that Rodger? The ones who supposedly hunted a Leviathan during the Night Tide?”

She shrugged. “Just a rumour.”

“Rumours are usually true enough,” he muttered.

“Scared?” she asked, her tone softer, more genuine this time.

He chuckled. “Nah. Not at all.”

“Tonight, behold the raw spectacle of the Bizarre Carnival Sect in all its glory!” The Ring Master’s voice cut through the murmurs with twisted enthusiasm, his scarlet long coat sweeping behind him, a pitch-black top hat shadowing his grin. “You will witness, with your own eyes, a junior disciple step onto the path of true cultivation…” His voice dropped lower, dripping with a kind of lunacy. “...Or, perhaps, you’ll be fortunate enough to witness the Fracture!”

The crowd’s roar intensified, excitement filling the air like a living, pulsing thing. Jin felt it reverberate in his chest, each beat a reminder of what lay ahead. They want to see me die, he thought, a flash of morbid humour slicing through his tension.

“Good luck out there, Jin,” May said softly beside him, her voice laced with a rare, quiet concern.

Jin looked at her, trying to memorise the kindness in her face, wondering if it would be the last time he’d see it. “Thanks, May,” he replied, barely above a whisper. But as he turned, he met the eyes of the Ring Master—his own master—and knew with a chilling certainty that tonight’s “show” would push him far past what he’d ever experienced. A grin, wide and bright, spread across his face as he tossed the heavy curtain aside, stepping into the glaring lights.

The crowd erupted in applause, a tidal wave of energy surging from every cheer and clap as Jin strode into the centre of the ring. He raised his arms high, igniting his presence with a fierce gleam in his eyes, soaking in the crowd’s fervour as it tumbled towards his core, hungry for his every move. His breathing steadied as he took in the rush—a sweet, heady feeling, pure nourishment.

With a thought, he summoned his first illusion: a nimble figure in a jester’s garb, dancing through the air. Another appeared beside it, juggling a ball, each motion smooth yet hauntingly colourless. Jin hadn’t reached the level to grant them vibrance yet; he was only in the first tier. The jesters spun, and then, slowly, their bodies distorted, twisting into monstrous shapes—tentacles unfurled from their sleeves, and their mouths widened to reveal endless rows of sharpened teeth.

Jin moved alongside them, his own body bending unnaturally, and gasps rippled through the crowd, wide eyes reflecting the battlefield Jin conjured. He drew on the memories lurking in the minds of the audience, pulling fragments of their darkest fears, weaving their nightmares into life. The spectres clashed, ghostly battles playing out around him. Terror flashed in their faces—yet, slowly, fear transformed into thrill, into awe. The crowd’s nightmares collided, struggled, and one by one, Jin destroyed them, releasing a wave of emotion that thundered toward him, an offering he absorbed hungrily.

A stabbing pain flared in his core as it stretched and contracted, the evolution process sparking within him. His core tightened, stretching to harbour the raw emotions of everyone beneath the circus tent. But this was only the beginning.

Jin’s gaze found the young master in the stands, an unmistakable presence: clad in a fur-lined Taoist robe with a glinting armoured chest plate, sneering back at him. Unlike the others, his emotions were guarded, his expression unreadable, a looming fortress in a sea of commoners. Jin’s smirk faltered, but he reached out, calling on the forbidden power of the Shadowed Carnival sect to draw from the young master’s core. It crashed into him, a monstrous wave that jolted his psyche. Blood trickled from his nose. Jin’s shadow twitched and writhed, an ominous reflection flickering to life.

“He’s going to Fracture!” someone from the crowd shouted eagerly, leaning forward, eyes alight.

Biting his tongue, Jin focused. The shadows coiled around him, spiralling like writhing smoke, and he released the illusions he’d woven before, calling on the pure emotion that surged from the audience. Their awe, fear, and excitement cascaded over him, the young master’s feelings settling last, sticky as tar. Jin felt his desperation, his deeply rooted fears—the looming shadow of his brothers, the ever-gnawing sense of inadequacy—all pouring into Jin’s soul like a poison. But he held onto it, let it sink in.

His shadow began to take shape, a pulsing reflection clawing against him, demanding to be freed. He fought it, pouring every ounce of his will into restraining the creature. But its strength was immense, twisting free, and for a moment, Jin stared in horror as his own shadow—a hulking, distorted monster—turned toward the crowd with a contemptuous sneer.

Jin recalled his master’s words, his voice steady despite the searing pain. “A Reflection of one’s soul is to be commanded and controlled. I am the master here, not you!” He gritted his teeth, pulling from the audience's awe, their fear, their wild excitement. It was a torrent that threatened to crush him, a weight that pushed him to his limits. And as the emotions crescendoed, his world fractured, his vision bleaching into a stark, blinding white.

In the silence, he saw it—a version of himself, grinning with eyes stretched wide and a mouth too full of teeth. From his back sprouted scarlet, bony appendages writhing with life. A jagged crown of bone sat atop his head, crowned by a single golden eye blazing like a jewel.

“You have succeeded,” it rasped, voice fractured and hollow, like a forgotten echo. “You have awakened your Reflection. Rejoice. Tier Two: The Marionette’s Whisper.”

The vision shattered as a jolt of force pulled Jin back to reality. Silence draped over the tent as the crowd collectively held its breath. Jin looked down, noting with satisfaction that his shadow was different now—larger, thicker, and stretching beyond him. He felt the raw power pulsing within, his body a vessel brimming with strength. Flexing his hands, he felt bones creak with newfound energy, and, with a triumphant grin, he punched the air. The crowd roared in response.

He bowed, one hand to his chest and the other raised. Then, his gaze caught the young master, watching him with a coolly appraising look as he clapped. Jin’s heart swelled with exhilaration, but as his eyes shifted, he saw his master.

There, in his master’s deep green gaze, he found a flicker of disappointment. It was gone in a breath, fading like an illusion.

As the crowd's cheers swelled, drowning out the world around him, Jin felt the electric thrill of victory coursing through his veins. But beneath that euphoria, an insidious doubt crept in—was he truly in control? The shadows continued to swirl, tugging at him, eager for freedom. He fought against the weight of their collective emotions, his heart racing with adrenaline and fear.

Suddenly, a tremor shot through him, a crack in his concentration that sent a shockwave through his core. The hulking figure of his Reflection loomed larger, a grotesque echo of his darkest self, and for a brief moment, Jin faltered, his control wavering.

“No!” he shouted, voice trembling with defiance as he struggled to rein in the chaos. “I am the master!” But the shadows thrashed violently, pulling him into their depths. Panic clawed at him as he felt the connection with the audience shatter, their energy slipping away like sand through his fingers.

Jin gasped, feeling the world spin as reality warped around him. The crowd’s cheers faded into a muffled roar, replaced by an eerie silence. The very fabric of the circus tent began to dissolve, colours bleeding into one another until nothing remained but a blinding light.

“Wake up! Wake up!” he screamed into the void, a primal instinct urging him to escape, to break free from the grasp of the shadows.

In an explosive rush, everything imploded, the sensation of falling enveloping him. Darkness swallowed him whole, a suffocating void where time lost all meaning. Jin clenched his eyes shut, bracing for impact as he felt the ground give way beneath him.

With a jolt, he awoke in a stark white room, heart pounding in his chest. Confusion enveloped him like a heavy fog. The sterile smell of antiseptic stung his nose, and the steady beeping of machines filled the air. He blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, reality clawing its way back into focus.

Jin's body felt heavy, unyielding. His arms were strapped down to the bed, panic surging within him as he pulled against the restraints. A wheelchair sat ominously beside him, wheels glinting under the bright lights. The starkness of the hospital contrasted sharply with the vibrant chaos of the carnival he had just left behind.

Jin concentrated on his breathing, willing his legs to move, but as always, they remained unresponsive. He managed a smile, but it was a pale imitation of the one he wore in the other world—meek, weak, and pitiful. His head drooped, a sense of defeat washing over him just as the nurse rushed into the room.

Her face mirrored May’s.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 75

The moment the sand seeped down into the stone like water through soil, Owen and his team rushed as fast as their legs took them to the mountain. They were too late, the serpents dominated the high ground above—but Owen expected that.

Owen kicked up a storm of sand, sending it tumbling up the hill. Rehan, with his radar ability, guided Draed and Gorath’s long range capabilities to devastating effect. Lightning struck through the sand cloud, reaching its target, electricity lancing to multiple different targets while the sound of Draed’s arrows thudding against scales echoed across the rocks.

While that was happening, the assassin duo: Justin and Mirrian, vanished from sight. The sound of screams from above told Owen everything he needed to know. 

Owen and Lome, as the strongest of the forces, blasted through the dust cloud. Owen grunted and slashed his sword with the might of Overpower hugging his blade, in a wide arc. It cut through four serpents all at once, and he moved instantly into the depths of their formation. 

Lome, unlike Owen who relied on speed and supernatural reflexes to dodge attacks, was an unstoppable tank of destruction. With the axe he had acquired from the orcen Lord, he shrugged off the venomous attacks of the snake's bows and blades and teeth as he swung his weapon like a wild storm. There was no technique, no grace—only a savagery that was born into him. 

With improved teamwork, without communication, they cut through their opponents. Owen was the first to crest the top of the mountain. He saw serpents in the hundreds all charging right for them. He saw it clearly; the haze in their eyes—one born from either potent drugs or powerful mind control. 

Owen held no hesitation. His blade had bled, oozed out any shred of hesitance he had within him. They were drugged, mind controlled perhaps, but right now they were the enemy.

Behind, Owen’s figure, and the entirety of the battle, was shrouded with his sand. No-one from the castle could see them. Rehan, in a heightened position, gave him the signal that there were no prying eyes.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Owen plundered all the corpses at once. 

Much to his dismay, he didn’t gain any stats from the serpents. Seems like I’ve reached the limit for these types of monsters, Owen thought, clicking his tongue. If he wanted any more points now, he had to kill even stronger monsters. His dream of endlessly grinding thousands of weaker creatures had been ruthlessly stamped into the dirt.

However, he wasn’t too distraught at it. He had expected it for a while now as he watched the amount of stats he gained per monster dwindle each time he used his Skill.

But when one door closed, another opened. And for Owen, that door was one of knowledge.

Skill acquired — Drug Resistance: completely resist the effect of any type of drug.

The Skill told him exactly what he needed to know. They weren’t mind controlled. His original thoughts had come true, and it was worse than he expected. 

Owen clenched his teeth and engaged in an onslaught of splashing blood and steel, narrowly avoiding venomous strikes with every breath. He let his instincts and reflexes take over as he thought about this whole situation.

They were drugged. The evidence was concrete. But who was doing it? The only thing that made sense to him was that it was another Lord using the serpents to grind down enemy forces. It was smart. The Owen of before would have said that it was barbaric. But the Owen of today could only agree with the method.

Why use your own troops, having them die, when you could use the lives of others?

Owen ducked underneath an oncoming arrow as they fought their way to the funnel system they had created yesterday, and killed another serpent with a thrust of his sword.

Then the question remained: who was the enemy?

He tried to think it through based on the flimsy knowledge of where he was, but he drew blanks. From these parts, he knew no-one. Not a single Lord. Well, it didn’t matter. Whoever the Lord was, he or she couldn’t be far. He just had to get past the troll to figure it out. 

By the time Owen had shaken his trance-like state, he had battered the serpent's back through the funnel. Then, it was Gorath and Draed’s turn. Using small battlements as points of elevation, they reigned down arrows and spells alike while Justin used the funnel itself to fuel his shadow lances, skewering anything that dared to enter.

From there, if before could be considered a one-sided smash, when Owen used the funnel—it was a slaughter.

The battle was over in fifteen minutes. They didn’t retreat. They only knew of attack. It went against everything he understood about the serpent's crafty nature. Owen’s chest rose and fell as he gazed at the carnage of the battlefield. Rehan gave him a signal. The warriors from the castle were coming. Owen paused for only a moment to catch his breath before he rushed to plunder the corpses—and paused. A sudden thought emerged. What if he plunders all but the meat? The corpse would remain. So that’s what he did.

He didn’t know if it would succeed, but it was easier than he first thought. With the words plunder everything but the meat and bones of the serpents, it worked. He gained a Serpent Spectre—of which he’d later sell as he had no use for it—and another Skill, cold blooded. He kept that for later.

Owen cancelled Sandstorm Fury and glanced over his shoulder to see the warrior Hannah emerge. She looked at the funnel creation in shock, then scanned the corpse-scattered battlefield. To his surprise, the warrior-ess stomped forwards, her brows knit, face turning red. 

“What the hell’s the meaning of this?” She asked, clenching her fist around her axe.

Owen shrugged. “Doing what we were hired to do. To kill the enemy. Honestly, your reaction surprises me. On all metrics, we’ve completed our mission with exemplary results. No?” 

“You—” She said, grinding her teeth. “Tomorrow, don’t do this. We need the serpents at the wall.”

“For what reason?” Owen asked, unperturbed. 

“You ask too many questions.”

“And you don’t provide nearly enough answers,” Owen shot back.

“It’s Lord Larian’s orders,” she replied, voice sharp as a blade. “The men need to be forged. Can’t do that if you extinguish the fire.”

So she said, and Owen couldn’t help but detect the still remaining shock evident in her eyes as they twitched back and forth to the battlefield. Owen didn’t blame her. For seven people to defeat an army of a hundred or so serpents… they’d have never believed it unless they had seen it with their own eyes. 

But with Lome and especially Owen guarding the front, chopping up the enemy into pieces, it allowed the ranged and stealth users to kill to their desire. The funnel also helped tremendously.

“Consider it a little break for them. A reward,” Justin said, appearing from the shadows. Hannah jumped. Justin chuckled. “Afraid of ghosts? Strange, considering there’s plenty of them hidden inside these walls.”

Hannah tensed but regained her composure a moment later. “Just do as you’re told, and we won’t have any problems,” she said and left with her team. 

Owen shook his head. “Justin, what did you discover last night?”

Justin leaned against the wall of the mountain. “Nothing big. But the little things add up,” he explained pointing at the blood pooling, forming a tiny river as it descended down the mountain pass. “The blood. The fighting within the castle. They said that the so-called founders killed monsters, but what kind of monsters? The blood splatters are too little to be the serpents, or something else their size. The battle evidence; the scars on the walls done by swords, the odd arrowhead laying around—the shadows.”

“The shadows?” 

Justin lounged his hands behind his head. “The shadows,” he repeated. “If you look closely enough, they begin to tell a story. And it’s not one of fairy tales or the supernatural. It’s one of men.”

Owen frowned. “You’re saying they didn’t fight monsters, but other people?”

Justin shrugged. “I can’t be certain. But like I said, the little things add up. We should ask them what monster they killed back when they claimed the castle. If it’s the serpents or something bigger, I’ll know they’re lying. Something too small, I’ll know they’re lying. But that’s not all—” 

Owen listened. 

“That Larian… I’ve noticed a few things wrong with him. First, his leadership skills blow. I mean, he was in charge of claiming the castle, leading these people up until this point. You’re telling me there’s no-one better to lead than that? That Hassan guy seems way better, yet he seems almost… subservient to Larian. Two, he always looks to the others for answers. Hassan, Hannah, Jonah. He seems incapable of making his own decisions which goes against the impression he leaves. Thirdly, during that first battle, I noticed… fear. Not the fear of seeing a strong opponent, but a fear someone has that’s never been in a fight before.”

He’s right, Owen thought, nodding along. Everything Justin had discovered, Owen had already thought of it all. It wasn’t adding up. 

“Regardless, the others seem to agree with his leadership,” Owen stated, pinching his chin in thought. “We need something more concrete.” Owen changed the subject. “Any sign of a Gateway?”

“None so far. I’ve gotten as far as the crypts below, but still nothing.”

“Keep looking, but be careful. After this stunt, they’ll be paying more attention to us than before. ”

On the way back, Owen levelled up again, reaching Level 44. He placed his accumulated points into Dexterity—not that it made a noticeable difference. If a score of 10 in any Stat was peak Olympic level, each point added beyond that began to show diminishing returns.

At this stage, it would be the mastery of his Skills that made the real difference. That was easier said than done.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 74

They were brought to a large room in the cellar of the castle. Old marks lined the wall that may have been where wine racks had been situated. Whatever had been sitting there, had been longed lot long before. If it were wood, then they’d have used it for fuel for fires.

At least thirty or so beds had now taken their place. Beds was putting it nicely. All they had done was create a rectangle border, then put sand into it, covered it with leaves from a specific cactus, then covered it with a burlap sack. Well, it was better than nothing, he supposed.

“You’ll find your beds at the back of the room,” Josh said, pointing to the back. “Now, there’s a lot of soldiers here, so it may get a little rowdy in the morning. If I were you, I’d try and get up before them. The rush to the food hall is a chaotic one.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Josh,” Owen said with a smile, then changed the subject. “What do you think of Larian?”

Josh thought for a moment, before saying, “He’s a good leader that does what is must in order to protect his people. Sure,” said Josh, chuckling, “those methods may seem barbarous to others, but we’re not in a place to think otherwise, are we? Together with the founders, I think we’ll make it.”

“The founders?” Owen asked.

“Oh, Lord Larian hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?” Owen smiled.

“If Lord Larian hasn’t told you about it then—”

“What’s wrong?” Rehan interrupted. “We come here and fight for you, risk injury, and this is how you treat us? As outsiders? What are these ‘founders’?”

Well done on the manipulation tactics, Rehan, Owen thought, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry for my friend’s rudeness,” said Owen. “It’s just that we’ve come a long way, and Larian’s leadership has made us a little… wary, if that’s the right word? We need to know who we’re fighting for, Josh.”

Josh shifted on the spot, then reluctantly said with a sigh, “Well, I call them the founders. They are the original people that took over the castle. When they got here, it wasn’t open. Monsters resided within these halls. It was thanks to them that we now have this place.”

“Them?” Owen pressed.

Honestly, he felt a little bad watching Josh squirm under his questions. But he needed to know not just for his own safety, but of Justin and the others. They had followed him here, for payment, but also for a potential gateway back home. Owen had to know everything. That nagging feeling at the back of his mind was gnawing at him. 

“Larian, Hassan, Jonah, Doyles, and Hannah. They were the ones who found this place. It was only after that did they start to find us, guiding us here to safety. They are heroes.” Josh’s eyes sparkled. He was telling the truth.

“So Larian lied?” Owen asked. “He said before that they fought with more to claim this place.”

“Oh that? He tells that to everyone now. People felt unsafe when they were told there were monsters in here. When people look at this place, they think it impenetrable. So when they’re told otherwise, they get a little scared.”

“Josh?” a woman walked into the room. She had short ginger hair, choppy, like she had cut it herself with a blade. She wore a metal chest piece with pauldrons to match. The metal looked like it was bubbly, with various holes all the way around it. It was the only metal on her body. Her greaves and arm-guards appeared to be of a hard leather. Holding a spear, she exuded a valiant air that was impossible to hide or fake.

“Everything alright?”

“Yep!” He said with a smile. “Was just telling the newcomers a little about Larian and the founders.”

“You know we don’t like talking about that, Josh,” she said, frowning.

“I know, but they were just a little worried, that’s all. Besides, they seem strong enough to know the truth.” Josh looked at them, and their weapons/armour. “Looks like they’ve seen plenty of battles.”

“You must be Hannah,” Owen said. 

“I don’t care if you have questions, don’t go badgering the people here. We’re all scared and hungry and we don’t have time to deal with your bullshit. We just need you to fight and kill those beasts. Do your job, get paid, then get out.”

The moment her words were over, she turned around and left.

“She’s got a good spirit that one,” Rehan said. “I think she’s my type.”

Owen grinned. 

“Well,” Mirian spoke up. “That was a warm welcome.”

“Sorry about that.” Josh scratched his head with an awkward smile. “I would like to say she’s not usually like that, but she is. Like you, she’s seen a lot. But I think deep down, she’s kind at heart. It’s mostly thanks to her butchering skills that we’re able to eat the serpents. We all have our flaws at the end of the day.”

Owen clapped his shoulder. “We certainly do.” 

***

With Josh leaving, all that remained was waiting on Justin to return. Owen had told the others to be ready for anything. Justin could be caught at any moment, and depending on the reaction of Lord Larian, there was a possibility they’d have to fight their way out.

At some point, the room started to fill up. Men and women reeking of blood and sweat made the room almost nauseous to be in. Owen was hardly adverse to it. The stench of corpses had long stuck to his nose hairs. There wasn’t a moment that went by where he didn't smell the putridness of battle. Or maybe it was just the memory of it that had stuck to him.

Regardless, the smell didn’t bother him. But the looks they gave him and his party did, however.

“Are they asking for a fight?” Rehan whispered. 

“They just don’t trust new faces,” Owen replied, not even attempting to lower his voice. “I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t either.” 

“But according to that Lord, we’re the only one that’s accepted their pleas. They should be on their knees thanking us.”

“What did you say?” A tall, muscular man had just finished dropping his hard leather chestpiece to the floor when he nudged his nose at Owen. “We should thank you, huh? Think you’re all superior? Let’s see where you get that confidence from.”

Owen stood up with an apologetic smile, hands in surrender. “He didn’t mean anything by it. We don’t want any trouble.”

The man grumbled, then wandered over to his bed. A woman next to Owen, who had a gnarly scar across her forehead, spoke up. “Sorry about Hank. He’s got more testosterone than brain cells.”

Owen chuckled. “No apologies needed.” Owen nudged Rehan. “It was his fault for being rude. Seems like these sands put all of us on edge.”

“You can say that again,” she said and thrust her arm forwards. “Name’s Sarah. I’m in the Forward.”

“As in on the battlefield?” Owen asked. “I saw you. Feel bad for the serpents that meet your blade.”

Sarah grinned. “They have it coming.”

A couple more hours passed and the wave had already crashed against them. Submerged, it was pitch black. An hour later, and the darkness swirled. Owen noticed a presence appear on his right, guard down, he already knew it was Justin. 

“Find anything?” Owen whispered. 

“Just a little—”

Although it was pitch black, Owen saw the mental image emerge. Justin was grinning.

“It’s time for bed,” Justin whispered. “I’m exhausted. Tomorrow’s going to be fun.”

A man of his words, Justin explained nothing, and went straight to bed. Owen’s lips twitched, annoyed. But then he thought it through… were people listening in? Justin wasn’t one to play childish games. Everything he did had a reason. 

And so, Owen hit the hay, eyes turning heavy until everything turned black.

***

Josh wasn’t lying when he said it was a mad rush for breakfast. Owen and the others had gotten up especially early, so they were already at the table with their meal: meat and potatoes. Candles, at least sixty of them, lined the hall, trying their damndest to battle the darkness still consumed by the wave.

He figured it’d be the same meal every day. There wasn’t exactly a farm attached to the castle, after all. Not like Owen’s kingdom…

A few minutes later, a storm of people entered, pushing and shoving their way to the food tables. Owen just shook his head. He’d never seen so many people desperate to eat before a workout. That was why Owen kept it light. Not enough to fill him up, but just enough to satiate the hunger grumbling in his stomach.

Just as everyone had taken their seat, Owen placed his hands on the table and rose. Justin and the rest followed him.

“Ah,” Josh said from the side, “Leaving already? You barely finished. Oh, and the wave is still overhead.”

Owen flashed him a smile. “Ain’t no rest for the wicked.”

Radioactive Cultivator - Chapter 11

Paul would have liked to say that the trek back was an easy one. But it wasn’t. Even with a Hellmarcher lurking, powerful monsters stalked the Rot. So, Paul did what he did best—slathered himself in muck. Thanks to that, he managed to get back to the frontier—the gate that led into the Underpit.

A little distance away, he carefully stashed away the radiation core in amongst a pile of trash. It was too close to the gate for anything here to be scavenged. It was as safe a place as any. 

Behind the enormous gate that blocked the world of the Rot away from civilization, were numerous containers on either side that housed any of the equipment the expendables needed. Paul had long lost his. In the middle, where the smaller gate was located to get through, was a box with countless powerful shower heads inserted. 

He flashed them his work ticket. “Expendable Paul back from work,” He said, showing them the ticket. “Job complete.”

“Where’s the others?” A tall and brisk man said, his voice holding a severe tone as he looked down at Paul. 

Paul remembered him: Qris. As cultivators who worked in the ‘inner’ of the Rot, they usually held less standing than those outside. He had a deep scar on his ear that looked like it was staying attached just barely. Despite his surroundings, his grey uniform of an enforcer was pressed, all with straight lines at the seams. He was a Category 2 cultivator. That meant he had survived the second nightmare.

“Dead, mostly,” Paul replied simply, eliciting raised brows from all the other enforcers that guarded the exit. There were eight in total. Paul resisted the urge to slap his forehead. Idiot, he thought, chastising himself. “Rod of the Ren family is alive, though,” he added, as if that made the situation any better.

Qris tightened his grasp on his weapon: a one-handed scimitar. 

“Hellmarcher demanded I be let through,”  Paul said, sweat forming. Hellmarcher had let him leave. But would she do the same a second time? “A life for a life.”

Qris frowned, looking past Paul as if he was thinking about something. He nodded. “Let him through,” he said, turning his body. 

“Senior brother, is that a good idea? What if he’s lying?” One of the other enforcers said. He was young, barely older than Paul.

“Then he’ll wish he hadn’t.”

Paul believed him. They knew where he lived. They had his records. It would be like a butcher entering a chicken coop and swooping out one of the weakest among them. Although, that wasn’t true anymore, was it?

Quickly, he stripped off until he was butt naked, then stepped into the decontamination centre. Arms wide, legs spread like he was making a snow angel, he drew in a long breath, holding it. The nozzles roared to life, high pressure water slamming into him. There was no attempt at controlling the temperature. Ice cold water washed over him, only for him to stumble out the other side dripping wet, freezing, wearing nothing.

The others on the other side gazed over in looks of good natured mockery and laughs. Some even whistled.

“Stop gawking will you?” Paul shouted, face turning red.

“It’s even smaller this time, Paul,” someone shouted from the crowd.

“That’s a straight up lie and you know it!” Paul shouted louder this time, his antennas twitching in frustration. Even the cultivator’s couldn’t help but smirk. 

Paul ran to the awning that lay at the side where his clothes awaited him, and got changed in a flash. Damn people, Paul thought, his smile weakening. 

Now that the job announcements for the day were over, stalls took over the spacious square. Unlike in the streets of the Underpit where most of the shops and stalls were located, the ones here focused on tech, and bits and pieces recovered from the Rot. Processors, metal, wood, electronics—anything—were sold here. 

If Paul had declared anything at the frontier, then he’d have to sell it here after it was cleaned. And of course, the enforcers took a split of the profits.

Paul patted his empty trouser pockets with a click of his tongue. All his savings were back home, since he couldn’t carry anything with him. Well, he could, but the awnings designated for changing weren’t exactly safe. The enforcers rarely ‘enforced’ things like that. Mostly, they let the denizens of the Underpit get on with everything themselves. That included crime, for the most part.

But apart from petty theft, there really wasn’t much crime to be had, truth be told. There was the odd bar fights and drunken sexual assault, but nothing the older generation didn’t stamp out themselves. Mostly, the Underpit was a tight community. 

After all, they were all in the same situation, surviving together. They relied on each other. 

Paul rushed back home, darting through the market, and into the streets. He noticed his steps were much quicker than before. Additionally, he noticed that his senses were more focused now, sharper. He felt the change in the air. When he moved in one direction, the draft washing over people, highlighted their figure in his senses. It was strange; like he had eyes on the back of his head. It heightened his sense of smell, and his balance, too, as he narrowly avoided crashing into a stall peddling hand carved wooden sculptures. 

Dense metal pipes were a common sight outside of the buildings. Whether it was smoke from the inside fires to keep warm, or for waste, they stuck out like a sore thumb. The apartments, travelling up high, the highest being four floors, lined the streets with clothing lines. Colours of all kinds washed the streets in vibrant oranges, greens, and more commonly, boring beiges, blacks, and grey. Combined with the neon signs that noted the more successful shops, made the streets feel alive.

One thing everyone had to get over was the smell of stale smoke and trash that wafted in from the Rot. It clung to everything, especially the clothes. That was why perfume and cologne was really popular in the Underpit. He smelt it everywhere he went. 

As he marched down the streets, the waft struck his senses. Lai’s perfume stall, Paul thought as he approached. 

“Ah, Paul,” Lai—the owner of the stall—waved him over. She was slightly hunched over, with deep, crow-like wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. In her furry hands was clenched a bottle of perfume that she had just shown someone else.

“Lai,” Paul said, bowing with a bright smile. “Anything new today?”

She nodded, hummed to herself, turned around and fetched a square crystal perfume vessel. Her thick tail, pointed with a stinger, almost knocked over a perfume atop the table. But she knew better than that. The glass design on the front had diamonds on it. Paul wasn’t sure if it was done from the crystal work, or it was a sticker of some sort. He whistled. “Wow, Lai, that looks amazing. Looks like Nicholas has upgraded his glass work, huh?”

Lai waved her hand. “Oh, he’s always getting better in his old age. The doctor said he should be slowing down, but I think he’s got another good 10 years in him.”

“Nicholas? I believe it. Nothing’s gonna keep him down for long.”

Lai smiled. “The container is just a prototype. It’s the smell that’ll blow your socks off.”

“Good longevity?”

“The best,” she said proudly. “Go on, squirt a little on your wrist. A little, Paul. Or It’ll blast its way down the street otherwise and it’s almost dinner time. No one likes chomping on perfume. Even a perfumer knows this.”

“I’ll be careful,” said Paul, spraying a little on his skin. 

“Well, what do you smell?”

Paul’s antennas twitched as he sniffed his wrist. “The top note is a citrus, with a fruity punch at the end. The heart… Floral, with another punch of citrus—lemon, specifically. The lower notes, amber, smoked wood. And—” Paul sniffed again, deeper this time, his eyes lighting up. “Vanilla. It smells amazing.”

“Has your smell got even stronger?” 

Paul chuckled. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“Oh, Paul. Since you’re here, can you be a darling and help me with some boxes?”

“Of course,” said Paul right away. 

“That old man of yours won’t mind you being a little late, will he?”

Paul chuckled. “That’s always a possibility.” 

“Well, if he kicks up a fuss, direct him to me. I may be old, but back in the day I worked in the Rot as an excavator. This tail of mine still can crack rock open.”

“That, I can believe.” Paul glanced at the powerful scorpion's tail behind her back, and followed Lai into her small home. Boxes were sprawled all over the room. He heard the tinking of glass in the back room, where Nicholas was busy working the furnace. Paul felt the heat radiate from within. 

Looking at all the boxes, Paul rolled his sleeves up, and got to work.

***

A couple hours later, Paul finally returned home. Paul had started at a young age helping around the streets, taking on odd pieces of work here and there. That was how he started working in the Rot. It was a steady line of progression. One moment he was helping move boxes, then pipes, then he was cleaning them in the Rot.

As a cockroach, he didn’t have the strength as excavators did, but he had a limitless supply of energy that let him work from dawn to dusk, without tiring. 

Standing in front of his house, it was a small apartment consisting of four levels. His was on the 3rd. Sallie—his moth neighbour—had a keen interest in plants. Because of that, consuming the walls all the way up to the top, and along, was a verdant green vine. The petals were yellowish-green. 

Paul walked up, knocked on the door. He waited for a moment before the door swung open. Wearing a one piece eyeglass with various zooms, a brown apron with rippling muscle, appeared his old man. He looked at him, inspecting him. 

Paul sighed. “No, I didn’t bring anything back.”

“Then go and get something,” his old man said and slammed the door in his face.

Paul’s brows twitched. 

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 73

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” Owen replied.

“Why not?” Larian scanned the people of his kingdom. Many were busy with tasks of their own within the streets; skinning, butchering, or training their swordsmanship. 

Owen noticed that indeed, most of them were humans, like Owen. In other words, they were Lord Candidates. Those that had managed to stay alive to now, were no doubt powerful warriors in their own right. They fought day-by-day. 

He turned to Larian. “Although, I do have a question for you,” 

“If it’s something I can answer, then gladly.”

“You are a Lord with no doubt plenty of credits available to you. Yet, why don’t you hand out armour for your people? Instead, you rely on expensive alchemy to cure them of the venom instead of simply relying on defence. It’s cheaper, and it’s a better investment.” Owen glanced at them again. Most of them were busy wiping ointment on their wounds. No doubt it was some form of anti-venom.

He continued, “And to that point, why did you command them to go down on the battlefield? At least two died. If you relied on archery up top, like you did at the beginning—they wouldn’t have perished.”

“You think they were needless sacrifices?” Larian looked at him with a serious expression. Tall, muscular, with his hands secured behind his back; the man exuded the aura of a Lord. Unlike Owen.

But Owen didn’t back down. “I do.”

“Then that’s where you’re wrong, Owen,” Larian said. “If they refuse my order, then when the going truly gets tough, when we face an insurmountable enemy, then what’s stopping them from turning the other way?”

Owen tensed, clenching his fists. “Are you crazy? You brought your men out to die for something like that? So that they’d remember who’s in charge?”

Larian’s people tightened their grip across the handles of their blades. Those with bows pinched the string, as if ready to fire at any moment. 

Larian stopped, his eyes were shrouded with hidden fury. “You don’t know what it was like back then. You didn’t see it. You weren’t there. There were many more of us, at least eighty strong. We were annihilated. Why? Because we didn’t want to fight, no-one had the heart to push us into battle, to risk death. Now I have achieved that. When I order it, we fight to the death. That is what makes a powerful Lord.”

Owen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew of powerful Lords that would do anything it took to win their battles. But this just seemed so… pointless? Letting two strong warriors die because of… a need to showcase the loyalty they had for him?

Owen didn’t get it. Perhaps he couldn’t.

As Larian walked further ahead, Justin whispered in his ear. “Don’t press him. Something’s up with the people here. Like… this guy is their god, or something. Look at their eyes. They’re ready to cut you down where you stand.”

Nodding, Owen replied in a whisper. “When you get the chance, disappear. I want to know everything about these people. Larian specifically. Something here stinks. I won’t feel comfortable until I know what the smell is.” 

Larian led them to the main castle building. It was in the form of a huge box, with ramparts above. At the front, four dark stone pillars announced their arrival. The floor was paved in a lighter stone. 

Walking inside, the Lord brought them into a large food hall. He swept out his hands. “Get something to eat. It won’t be much, but it’s better than nothing. That door at the back… don’t go there. We do our alchemy there. You asked why I don’t waste our money on armour, when it is a better, sound investment?”

Owen nodded.

“Because an alchemist is our lifeblood, for any kingdom,” Larian said, but it was strange. It was like he was reading off of a script, and not off the top of his own head. “We pour money into anti-venom, because it increases the level of our alchemist. The warriors may suffer with pain for a little longer, but as a result of that, our potions are stronger.”

Owen glanced at the door. Four men stood in front of the door, guarding it. Unlike the others, they did have solid armour. Even their weapons—Fragments—appeared to be of much higher quality.

“So you use the suffering of your people to better your alchemist?” 

Larian looked at Owen, as if looking down on him. “You have been here for what, a little over a month? If you’re squeamish at such a result, you’ll have a hard time surviving what’s to come, Owen. But us? We’ll be ready. Our alchemist can churn out potions faster, with higher quality than most.”

Owen turned quiet for a moment as he pondered the man’s words. After glancing beyond the disgust he felt, he was right. Levelling their alchemist while they could, was definitely the smartest decision possible. But to do that, to make that decision, one had to have a ruthless mind.

Although Owen himself was willing to do anything it took to protect his people, was that one of them? He wanted to stop his people from suffering, not add to it. 

After a moment, he said, “We’ll have a hard time surviving what’s to come… What do you mean by that?”

Larian shook his head. “Enjoy your meal. The fighting will renew again tomorrow. Someone will show you to your sleeping quarters after where your payment will be waiting. Thank you for coming here, truly.”

Owen nodded as he watched Larian walk over to Hassan and Jonah. Owen noticed Larian spent more time looking at Jonah for a little longer than usually someone would normally pass a greeting.

“Food, right on,” Justin said, pulling Owen’s attention. Justin rushed to his spot at the table where a large spread of food awaited. Well, it was large, sure, but Larian was correct when he said it wasn’t much. Most of it was a starchy vegetable that looked very similar to a potato. Other than that, there was plenty of meat. Meat which belonged to a humanoid race of serpent…

“Ease up,” Owen said, clapping Rehan’s shoulder. “Everyone, get some food for you. Larian wasn’t lying when he said we’d need the energy for tomorrow. It’s going to be a long day.” 

As they all sat, a lot of prying eyes were sent their way. With a mouth full of food, Justin said, “You think there’s something wrong with my face?” He turned to someone that was close to him. The woman had a large scar scored over her eye. It wasn’t a normal looking scar, but one that had burned a gruesome mark onto her face. It was from venom. 

Justin raised his brow as the woman gave him a gruff look, “Well?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with my face?” 

Owen kicked his foot underneath the table. Justin looked at him, gave him a grin, then started ripping into the meat that had been prepared.

Owen shook his head and did the same. He was hungry, and although he had plenty of food in his storage—food cooked by his own chef, that was—he didn’t dare take it out. He looked at the meat for a little longer than he should, then took a piece, and bit into it. It was tough, probably due to the high muscle content, and it tasted slightly… off.

Not poisoned, but off as in… herby? It was difficult to grasp. Even more difficult to tell if it was just seasoning, or something else. 

Whatever it was, it put him off his meal entirely. He’d just eat something later when he didn’t have dozens of people scrutinising his every move. When everyone was finished, Justin was the first to stand up. 

“Well, I’m off to find the toilet.” he said, already taking steps towards the exit. 

It’s like he had ants in his pants, Owen thought. Just as he was about to leave, Justin flashed him a knowing smile before disappearing. 

Owen sighed. He really hoped he wouldn’t get in too much trouble, or get himself caught. That would be difficult to explain. 

As Owen and the others rose from the table, a younger man approached. He looked green behind the ear, not a scar to be seen. He walked over with a kind smile, his long blonde hair barely above his blue eyes. 

“You must be Owen,” he said, placing his arm forward for a handshake. “I'm Josh. I’ll be showing you where you’ll be sleeping tonight. Would be a problem if you stumbled into someone else's bed.” he laughed. “The last time that happened, the others weren’t too pleased to say the least.” 

Owen grabbed his hand. “Josh, nice to meet you.”

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 72

With the sun transforming the skyline into a gorgeous orange, Owen may have once wanted to sit down and watch it set. But now it signalled something that only raised too many questions, and brought with it the sign of doom. Night. 

Owen and his team cautiously made their way up the mountain pass. He knew it was dangerous, knew that if they travelled too far, then lives may be lost. But he also knew that he needed information. That sinking feeling in his stomach only grew stronger the longer he remained in this place; like a niggling thought at the back of his mind that was worming deeper within.

As they kept on going, the temperature plummeted. It was as if night had already descended, but because of the orange still in the sky, that wasn’t the case. 

Rehan shivered and pulled his collar up. “Supernatural heat one moment, the frigid cold of the north the next. Why can’t it just remain as one.”

“Afraid of a little cold?” Justin mocked from the side.

Rehan chuckled. “You don’t know half of the things I've gone through in my life, lad. A little cold is the least of my worries.”

“You don’t even know half of that half of the things you’ve done yourself.” 

Shoulders slumping, Rehan said, “Yeah, well if I did, then the statement still stands. You’re what, barely 14?”

“18.”

“When I was that age, I’d already hunted beasts that you only thought of in your nightmares.”

“Again, you have no memories.”

Rehan snapped. “Well If I did, they’d frighten you to death, boy.”

As the duo bickered, Owen took in his surroundings. It was composed mainly of rock and sand, but there was something that played in his mind. A red, tattered flag atop a rod of metal sticking out from a pile of rounded rocks. And there it was, flapping in the wind. Owen’s heart quickened. 

We’re almost there, Owen thought, turning to his people.

“Stop,” Owen said, putting up his hand. “Rehan, Justin, and Mirian, scout ahead. We should be coming up to the place. Whatever you see, do not engage. We will create a barrier here in case you are chased.”

The trio rushed ahead while Owen got Gorath and Draed to perch upon a heightened rock. While they were doing that, Owen and Lome created a funnel in the valley. Owen made it from plundered rock, then Lome enhanced it with metal. 

To the sides of the narrowing wall they had created, Owen dug out a pit all the way along on both sides, making only one path in. Here, Owen would mount the defence against the serpents. After all, why would he share with the others, when he could take all the experience for himself? What was more, is that he needed privacy to utilise Unlimited Plunder. 

At the end of the day, he had to worry about his own people. The stronger they became, the safer his kingdom would be. The terrifying visage of the orcen Lord cleaving down his own people was like a brand burned into his thoughts. He had to have that level of leadership, had to inspire that fear in his enemies—to thwart any attack on his land.

It was time to give those defending the walls a little rest.

Justin, Rehan, and Mirian returned a few minutes later. They all looked like they had seen something terrifying, their eyes hazed over in disbelief.

“Troll?” Owen asked, guessing what that reason was.

They nodded. “How did you know?” Justin asked.

“I told you, I know things,” Owen said with a smile, only to wipe it off the next moment. “Apart from that, what did you see? Was it possible to look over to the other side of the mountain?”

Justin shook his head. “No way. That thing loomed above. There’s no getting around it either.”

“I wonder if we can go below,” Owen said to himself, but Rehan overheard it.

“Why not?” he asked.

“We could give it a try,” Owen replied. “We can use your radar ability to tell if we need to stop. I'm just a little hesitant. It’s easy to fall into a tomb in the Cursed Lands. It’s why not many people dig down, despite having the ability to do so.”

“Then why did you carve that mountain of yours into a wasp’s nest,” Justin asked, summoning a lance from the darkness to lean on. “That’s pretty dangerous, no?”

“Well, that was more out of necessity.”

“So,” Rehan interrupted, “what’s the plan, my Lord? Stay here and wait out the wave to battle the serpents in the morn’?”

“No,” Owen said. “Since we can’t get answers here for now, we’ll head back and get them from the castle.”

So they returned. Owen didn’t let the disappointment of having questions go unanswered get to him. He couldn’t get to understand the serpents, for now. But tomorrow? He’d figure that one out when the monsters attacked tomorrow.

Upon returning, Hassan… and the Lord was waiting atop the high walls. The people belonging to the castle were still shifting bodies of serpents inside the castle. Despite them being almost human, they’d use the serpents' meat for food. The toxin in their bodies would be used to coat their weapons, and their fangs would be used for alchemical potions. Here, in the Land Between, corpses were an invaluable material. If they had no use for those materials, the Lord could just sell them on the market. 

And with a quick check, the Lord was doing exactly that.

The gates opened up and Hassan and the Lord were already making their way down the stone stairs that led up the walls.

“Owen, right?” The Lord said with a smile that held little emotion. his voice matched his impressive stature—commanding. “My name is Larian. You’ve sacrificed a lot to help us. Thank you, truly. We’ve sent many parties out in the sands, but few have come with the help needed.”

“Because they’re not crazy?” Owen asked, hands relaxed in front of his body.

“Because there’s not many out there,” he replied. “Or because my hunting parties didn’t come back.” 

“Well, my Lord didn’t send me here for free,” Owen said, making it clear he wasn’t here for anything else. “Naturally, we expect payment.”

“Naturally,” Larian said, smiling. “Please, this way. We’ll talk about payment.” Larian and Hassan guided them through the city. 

The buildings were made from an old brick, a type of stone that wasn’t native to the area. With how much rock Owen had plundered, he could be considered an expert in that regard. It was yet another question he had. Why did the people of this castle build it here? Was it because it was close to the entrance of the mountains, or was it for some other reason?

Owen, to his surprise, noticed a lot of younger children here, as well as older. Those who couldn’t fight. The children looked at them with smiles, approaching with high spirits despite their gruesome surroundings.

The Lord’s War really doesn’t discriminate, Owen thought grimly.

Owen matched their smiles, but upon noticing Lord Larian, they returned back to their homes. Well, Larian didn’t really have the approachable air, that was for certain. 

Larian spoke up. “Hassan tells me you can see the future. Or parts of it, anyway. Is that why you headed up the mountain? See anything?”

The older gentleman discreetly fidgeted with his fingers. It lasted only a second, if that. And if it weren’t for Owen’s crazy attention to detail, he’d have missed it. What is he nervous about? 

Owen shook his head. “Only a monster that struck fear in our hearts. We didn’t dare head any further.”

“I’m relieved,” he said. “If I knew you were going to go up there, I’d have warned you not to. That monster—the troll—isn’t something I have any notion of entertaining.”

“Did you settle here knowing there was something capable of wiping you out in a single second?”

“Heavens, no. When I arrived, I was lucky enough to be close enough to Hassan and a few others. We barely survived that first night, not to mention those after it. Battered, and almost broken, we arrived at this place. High walls, easily defendable, with a mountain pass on one side. God was blessing us. We noticed the troll was there a few days later, but it didn’t seem to leave its nest.” Larian gazed up at the mountain pass. “I admit, there were a few who weren’t keen with the idea of being so close to that… thing. But we had to pick our evil. In the end, we decided to stay here.”

Owen nodded along. “Were you always the Lord?”

“I wasn’t no. We didn’t really have a Lord. Everyone worked together. But things started to get strained. Everyone had different ideas on how we should run it. In the end, I was chosen.” After a moment, he added, “that’s enough about us. How is your Lord? Is he a good leader?”

“A good leader?” Owen asked himself, and in the end nodded truthfully. “He has his flaws, as all men do. But he cares for us. He’s gotten us through some very rough patches. What more can I ask for?” 

“You should join me here, instead.”

Owen frowned.

Radioactive Cultivator - Revised + Extra chapters

Xianxia meets Warhammer 40k meets… Sports?

In the toxic wasteland of the Rot, Rai Jin Paul is an Expendable, fused with a cockroach and sent to die, regenerate, and die again to make a meagre living.

Above, the cultivators reign supreme, led by the unstoppable Hellmarchers in their mechs. But Paul refuses to be crushed. To escape the Rot and enter Sanctuary, the legendary cultivators’ city, he must master radiation qi and fight through a brutal sporting tournament where the losers earn nothing and the winners gain everything. It's his only shot to rise—or be buried for good.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 71

“Gorath,” Owen shouted above the twanging of bow strings and war cries, “focus your attention on the left, they’re going to break through!”

Gorath listened. He shoved an archer to the side as he summoned his powerful lightning, and fired it into where the serpent troops were the thickest. Although he didn’t use Chain Lightning, and a result of that was only one of the beast’s falling, the latent static still affected those around it, slowing them down.

Draed, using the fact they were slower now, shot accurate arrows into their vitals. Hearts, eyes, throat; anywhere Draed could deal maximum damage possible, he hit it with ease.

“We need to push them back!” A man wearing a golden crown said from the side, he looked the part of a Lord. Eyes laser focused, back stood straight; he released the air of someone with pools of experience in a leading position. He spoke, loud and clear with no way to refute, “Exit the walls, flank them—and Kill!”

His troops roared at the command, at least twenty percent of them were human. The melee warriors rushed down the stairs of the battlements, heading to the large gates that lead to the outside. 

“Follow!” Hassan shouted to Owen. Already giving his word that he’d help, Owen listened.

Owen kept Lome with Gorath and Draed on the walls. He didn’t feel comfortable letting Gorath stay on his own.

Leaving the gates, Owen rounded the walls with the rest of the army to attack the serpents in direct combat. They clashed together. 

Owen found his target, but just as he was about to cleave it in half—he stopped himself. Gritting his teeth, Owen redirected his attack to slice the monster’s arm, resulting in the humanoid snake dropping its weapon. With a flick of his blade to the serpent's throat, the beast fell.

Justin was with him, and had no reservations about displaying his power in front of everyone else. Wherever the shade of darkness lingered, Justin used it to his advantage, summoning black lances from the earth and skewering any opponents that attacked him, or got near.

Taking a breath, Owen slowed himself down. Right now, he had the strength to cut his way through the large swaths of snakes like a hot knife through butter. But doing so would reveal that he was a lord. The Lord. The strength he had, only someone at the top of command could obtain that level of power right now. 

So, he fought with a power only a powerful troop should have. He even hid the fact that he had magic, sand magic. The less these people knew, the better.

Serpents were, on average, much stronger opponents than Sand Hounds. Not only that, but their clawed fingers were laced with potent poison. And that continued with their weapons, too. Even getting nicked with one of those was enough to cause death. If it didn’t, you’d wish you were.

But as Owen dodged a curved blade, and replied with an attack of his own, thrusting his sword into a serpent's chest, he was stuck in thought. The biggest counter to these beasts was heavy armour. Their venomous claws, fangs, and weapons had no effect if the attack was blocked. 

However, glancing around, hardly any of the warriors had durable enough armour. They wore leather or fur for the most part, hardly enough to endure the war they were currently subjected to. 

It didn’t make sense. Hassan had said they had been battling these monsters for weeks. That was enough Credits to afford everyone heavy armour, with plenty to spare. So, if the Lord wasn’t offering the people fighting in his war the armour needed to survive, then what the hell was he spending it all on? 

Neither was it a case of a lack of armour on the market. Owen had checked before. There was plenty of armour to buy, some even of higher quality. The only reason Owen hadn’t purchased any was because he had a Blacksmith of his own. It would only take time before he had his own, using the resources he had available. 

Besides, for him, it wasn’t a necessity as he had tall walls to fend the scarlet crabs from. This Lord had the same… so then why order a melee when they could whittle down their numbers from above?

All things led to ineptitude. 

The fight raged on for the better half of three hours. During that time, Owen made sure to hold back his killing power without making it obvious. It was easy to do. Not long ago, he always hesitated with taking a life, even if it was a bloodthirsty monster. He also still lacked sword experience. It was easy to revert back to it as a disguise. 

Maybe it was because he knew that he was strong, that he was able to enter a strange calm during the battle. He noticed things he usually wouldn’t in the dance of death; like their expressions, for one. They acted crazier than the descriptions he was used to in the book. They didn’t care about taking a hit to score one of their own. As a cautious race, it didn’t make sense.

And then there was the maddened glint within their eyes. They were dilated, enlargened, like they were intoxicated or… drugged.

For some reason, none of this was sitting well with him. From the niggling feeling of familiarity with Jonah, to the seemingly drugged up serpents that betrayed what he knew about them, to the inexperienced Lord above the walls. Something was wrong. He just had to find out what it was.

***

Owen finished taking the life of a serpent when he heard the sound of a horn; the noise of retreat. The serpents slithered back up the mountain pass to where Owen assumed would be their nest.

Glancing at the warriors, he noticed a lot of them were actually the humans—Lord candidates like Owen. But now they were pale faced and laced with venom. They rushed back, obviously expecting something.

The first thought on his mind was why did the majority of the human forces attack on foot, and why were the summoned units stationed safely atop the wall. Most of them also had melee weapons. Why didn’t they help?

Anti-venom? Owen thought further. But why would the Lord supply them with anti-venom, and not provide them with the proper protection. Not only would armour last far longer, it was a sound investment to the people who were protecting his land. Anti-venom was expensive. The ingredients were difficult to come by, and with a quick glance of the market, it was made apparent that handing out so much of it would be infeasible. 

So that meant they had an alchemist. 

I don’t like this, Owen thought. He just didn’t know if it was him being paranoid, or if his worries had merit. Whatever it was, the whole situation stunk.

As the others returned, Owen’s vision remained on the passage that led up to the expansive mountains. Although he couldn’t exactly recall the details within the book, he had a vague recollection that there was a mountain troll there. Ansel dealt with it much later, when he had to go through the canyon as a shortcut. But it was just one of the many—far to many—fights that took place. 

And it should still be there. It wasn’t a monster that the serpents could take on. How did they get past it? Just what is going on? 

“You look at that ridge any longer and you’ll burn a hole through it,” Justin joked.

Owen chuckled. “Just wondering where all those serpents have gone. They’ve battled for weeks. That’s a lot of deaths. A lot of bodies. Why do they attack in small scales, when they have the numbers to assault this castle and kill everyone in it?”

“I’m sensing it’s time for a little more walking.”

“Little bit of walking never killed anyone,” Owen said, smiling. He waved his hand up to Draed, signalling them to come down. He had questions to ask the Lord, but first, he’d find some on his own. 

He turned to Justin, “Do you feel something… off?”

“Like a stink that won’t go away?” Justin replied. 

Owen nodded. 

Justin glanced up at the walls. “A little,” he said, a grin emerging on his face. “Want me to do a little digging later on?”

“If you can. Don't get caught. And try to find a Gateway if you can. It may be hidden. Check for secret passages; a castle this old is bound to have its secrets,” Owen said, turning back to the ridge as Draed and the others arrived. “But for now, I want to see what’s going on up there.”

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 70

“A price?” Hassan asked, sighing. “It won’t be cheap, will it?” 

Rehan smiled. “Nah, it won’t.” Rehan laid out the terms. Ten fragments and five Spectres. On all accounts, it was an enormous amount—depending on the grade of them, that was. For the Fragments, at least 5 of them had to be of Apprentice quality, and two had to be of Adept.

Hassan grit his teeth, and so did the others. Hassan said, “That’s not something I can decide on my own. Such an ask is—”

“Impossible?” Owen asked.

Hassan shook his head. “No, not impossible. But our kingdom is run by democracy. We will have to put it through a vote.”

“Democracy?” Owen said. 

“Well, when it comes to rewards, it is. Since we all fight for them, it’s only natural we decide what happens to them. Usually, they go to those who have contributed the most. Fought the most. But depending on what it is, it could go to anyone that can utilise it the most. Of course, we need to vote on that.”

“Sounds far,” Owen said. Although, he didn’t agree with that. They were in the middle of a war. How did they have time to think about how to distribute rewards?

“Let’s head on out,” Owen said. “I don’t want to wait here any longer than you do.” They left the cave, and Owen sent Pyris a nod. She nodded back, then started her return back to the kingdom.

“Where is she going?” Hassan asked, cursious.

“The Lord has use for her,” Owen said, shaking his head. “Her talent is… frightening.”

Scenes of previous fights appeared to flash through Hassan’s eyes as he nodded. “I was actually hoping to have her fight with us.”

Owen grinned. “Wishful thinking. You’re stuck with us.”

“That’s enough,” Hassan said as they started walking across the sands. “Actually, I’m happy we ran into you.”

“Really?” 

Hassan nodded. “Your skill to see the future? I believe that’s more useful than any fighting ability could prove to be. After all, we have powerful warriors of our own. What we need is something to truly turn the tide against those slithery bastards. Do you know about the serpents?”

Owen tried his best to not kick up the sand as he walked. Every step he took was measured and light, or at least, that’s what he was trying to apply. Looking up from his feet, he said, “a little. They have a habit of making an oasis their home. Somewhere nearby, there should be a water source.”

Hassan’s eyes lit up as he stroked his chin. “We haven’t found that. Must be over the mountains.”

“Have you scouted them yet?” 

“No, it’s impossible. There’s a troll-like monster made of rock that guards the passage.”

“And the troll doesn’t stop the serpents?”

“No, it just lets them through.”

“Strange.” 

“Do you know anything?” Hassan asked, looking at him in need of an answer. Owen didn’t have it.

“I don’t,” he replied truthfully. “I told you before. My Skill has limitations. Sometimes it tells me about the future, sometimes it doesn’t.”

“Sounds like a shitty ability,” Jonah said from behind.

“You’re not wrong,” he replied. 

Honestly, Owen had a lot of knowledge about what would happen in the future, hidden events, the weakness of almighty monsters. But he was in an area where he couldn’t utilise it at all. He was in an area away from the main character, away from everything he knew about the story. 

He was hoping that this Outpost would trigger some memories of the book. Maybe there were some descriptions he could make use of. At least then he could gain an idea of where was. Well, more of an idea than he already had. Owen believed he was in the east, but he could be wrong. Making moves based on that vague recollection would be dangerous for not just him, but his people. He had to be certain of where he was.

They had travelled for a total of seven days. According to Hassan, there was one day left to make it to the Outpost. A lot had happened during that time. They had killed scarlet crabs, slain sand hounds, and slaughtered an armoured worm, while finding caves to keep away from the monstrous wave at night.

Owen didn’t get to plunder any of it, or store it. He didn’t want to reveal that ability to any of the others. Even if it was just the storage part of the skill. Owen was true to his words; he didn’t trust any of them, and he’d keep it that way. 

Because of that, he didn’t get the chance to plunder anything. The only recompense was a measly Level. Because he shared the experience with everyone else, he didn’t even get to a second Level. That was a grand total of two points…

Hassan on the other hand, with the increased efficacy of Owen and his troops, had Levelled up twice. With his Talent of 5-Stars, which was one above the most common Talent grade, earned ten Stats.

Despite that, Owen couldn’t complain. He knew that right now, with his current Stats, he was considered a 10-Star, or above. Honestly, he wasn’t good at maths, so it was just a guess. 

During their travels, Owen was constantly on a knife's edge. Not because of the monsters hunting them out on the sands, but what was happening back at home. He hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye, or directly give orders. The only thing that settled his nerves was the fact that in that whole week, not one person had died. It meant their new wall was working, making defence easier. He just hoped it would stay that way.

It was strange. The further he travelled away from his kingdom, the more… empty he felt. Images and scenes of Bimpnottin, Coo, Cindrelle, Bubbles, and all the others would play in his mind, causing a smile to curl onto his lips. 

It had barely been a month, and he already had a new home. 

On the eighth day, they arrived. Cresting a dune, the entirety of the Outpost made itself known. Owen sucked in a breath of hot air.

Before him, a massive castle loomed like a sentinel over the barren desert. Its stone walls, weathered and cracked, had endured countless sieges, and yet it stood tall, defiant. The imposing portcullis at the centre was down, its thick iron bars forged to withstand anything the desert could throw at it, be it man or beast. Above the gate, battlements stretched along the perimeter, lined with soldiers gripping crude but effective clubs. They stared down the path with wary eyes, scanning the horizon for signs of movement.

To the left, the castle clung to the edge of an enormous mountain range, its jagged peaks cutting into the sky like the teeth of some ancient predator. The cliffs towered so high that they cast long shadows over the Outpost, offering relief from the relentless heat. The mountain itself looked impenetrable, save for a single path that sliced through it—a narrow, winding gorge that seemed like a knife had cleaved the rock in two. It was the only direct route through, and today, that route was under siege.

From the heights of the mountain path came the serpents—humanoid in form but reptilian in every other aspect. They moved with a sickening grace, their scaly bodies sliding and twisting as they advanced, eyes gleaming with cold malice. Arrows rained down from the battlements above, but for every serpent that fell, two more took its place. The creatures’ hissed commands echoed off the cliffs, their language harsh and foreign, their purpose clear: to break through the Outpost's defences.

Around the Outpost, the air shimmered with the heat, but even that was preferable to the approaching battle. Owen could feel it—the tension building, the weight of what was to come. The Outpost, for all its strength, was on the verge of being swallowed whole by the storm.

Hassen grit his teeth. “We need to hurry!”

Owen and the others rushed with him, approaching the metal gates of the castle.

“It’s Hassan, open up!”

Owen heard voices from high above as the gates opened up, the grinding of gears gritty and loud. Hassan brought them immediately to the left side, where the siege was at its fiercest.

“Gorath!” Owen shouted, his command silent.

Gorath grunted. Mana swirled around the air, tousling his long, braided hair. In a violent, crackling surge, tendrils of lightning blasted onto the battlefield, lashing the attacking serpents. Two of them struck by the strongest tendrils fell to the floor, dead. The last one was too stunned to react to an incoming arrow to the throat.

Atop the battlements, Owen’s heart pounded in his chest. The acrid stench of smoke and blood filled the air, clinging to his senses like a suffocating shroud. Around him, the battlefield was alive with chaos—the sharp whistle of arrows slicing through the air, the crackle and hum of spells erupting from both sides. And beneath it all, the deafening cries of the dying echoed like a haunting chorus.

This was war. It wasn’t glorious or noble. It was raw, brutal, and unrelenting. But he wasn’t knew to the feeling. Owen readied himself.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 69

Hassan appeared confused. “You know me?”

With a thought, Dune’s Crest vanished from his face, revealing himself to the others. Hassan’s eyes widened. “Owen, it’s you?”

Owen grinned. “Who else would it be?”

“I would never have guessed,” Hassan said in surprise, a small smile curling from his lips.

Owen chuckled. “I had an inkling. I knew there was something familiar about you, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.”

“Was it the handsome voice?”

“You wish. It was your aura. The air around you. I have a few friends back in the Lord’s domain that are quite similar. The air of a military man.”

“Who said I was in the military?”

“When we were talking about guns and the army. You seemed well versed in that field. And well, your scary appearance might have played a part as well.”

Hassan smiled and sighed. “You don’t know how good it feels to see a familiar face. This is isn't the most… hospitable place.”

Owen massaged his shoulders. “You can say that again.”

“You know him captain?” Jonah asked.

“I do.” Hassan nodded. “We worked at the same company. It was thanks to Owen that we made it out alive.” 

Owen scratched the back of his head. “I’m sure you’d have managed without me.”

“I still have nightmares about those days, you know,” Hassan said, dazing out for a moment. “We’ve lost people here, too. But there? It felt different, you know? It felt… real.”

“I know what you mean,” said Owen, frowning. “That was our home. Death in this desert feels… a little less, I guess?”

Owen only realised what he had said when he noticed the grief stricken look flash through Hassan’s eyes. That was right. Owen had left behind parents that barely loved him. Hassan had a wife. A child. How difficult must it have been for him?

Hassan trembled, squeezing his hands into tightened fists. His bones creaked, only to release his grip the next moment. “I… I knew that the likelihood of them surviving was miniscule, even before we reached that subway. Those monsters—they couldn’t survive that.”

“You don’t know that,” Owen said heavily. “There’s no way of knowing. They could be hiding—”

Hassan interrupted him, voice sharp. “And how long can they hide for without starving to death?”

“Maybe the military—”

“The military?” Hassan spat. “You think they’re some guiding light for the rest of humanity? The army’s most likely been pulled into other, more strategic regions to recoup their strength.”

Owen sighed, stood up, and placed his hand on Hassan’s shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring any of this up.”

Hassan inhaled, then shook his head. “You didn’t bring it up. It’s always on my mind regardless. Should your Lord be here soon?”

“He won’t come personally,” Owen said. “But he’ll bring orders. I’ll warn you though, the likelihood of you being allowed access is slim to none. 

“C’mon, Owen, you know me…”

“I don’t, actually,” Owen said, wandering over to stand beside Pyris. “Sorry, but even before the shit hit the fan, I didn’t even know you existed.”

Jonah glared at him. “How can you be so heartless?”

“My heart has nothing to do with it,” Owen replied, arms crossed. “Just like you’ve run across the desert to find help for the people you care about, I fully intend to do the same.”

Hassan looked up at him, hand rested on his spear. “You’ve really changed, you know that? Just a few weeks ago, you didn’t know how to speak your mind. Others led you astray. You struggled with your decisions.”

Owen glanced out of the cave, to the endless sands that consumed everything, and said, “Here, we’re forced to change, or die stagnating. I’ve learned a lot during this time. Learned how to fight. Taught myself how to come to terms with loss. But most importantly, I now understand how to survive. How to serve my Lord so we can protect our friends.”

“Your words are dark, Owen.” Hassan leaned back against the wall of the cave. The orange and red fire glimmered, the smell of meat wafted through the cave. “When I was in the army, I was stationed in Iraq when fire fights were common. I lost people, too. Not just to the fighting, either. I lost them mentally. When we returned, they weren’t normal.”

“Who is?”

“Not normal, as in, they were a husk of their former self, Owen. They lost themselves. One of my friends killed their wife. One of them shot themself in the head to finally get rid of the fight.”

Owen stilled.

“You see, when we return from war, people think the fighting has stopped. But it never does. We go from one battlefield to another. And this time it’s an unseen enemy. Yourself. Owen—” Hassan said, looking at Owen. Owen listened and so did the others around the fire. “—It’s easy to abandon your humanity to survive. Many have done it. But to keep it, to selflessly help those in need, regardless of what horrors you’ve seen? That is absolute strength.”

Owen locked eyes with Hassan for a few moments. Owen wanted to say that it was easy to think that, if he wasn’t a Lord. If he didn’t have others to worry about rather than himself. If he was to act selflessly, rushing to rescue others that needed help, that was all well and good if he was alone. But he wasn’t. He had people that relied on him. 

Worse yet, was that Owen questioned Hassan’s motives. Was all of this a ploy to get him to reveal himself? Did Hassan have notions that Owen was the true Lord? That was impossible.

Owen smiled. “Was all of that to change my mind? The Lord has the final say. I’m not even the strongest general there.”

Hassan shook his head. “Believe what you want. Just words of advice.”

It turned quiet for a while after that. Everyone ate their meal in peace. But inside Owen’s mind, it was anything but tranquil. His thoughts were spinning.

The more he thought about it, the more it was making sense to him that wherever Hassan’s camp was, could very well be an Outpost. If it was, and Hassan’s Lord had taken it over, then there may, just may, be a Gateway within. 

Some gates had various ways of opening them up. Some needed to have their guardian defeated, whether it was on the surface, or in a dungeon below—a crypt. Whereas some had to be unlocked via a puzzle. 

He had asked Hassan whether this was the case, but of course he received no answer. The gist of it was, if Owen wanted to find out, he’d have to go there himself. But that was dangerous. Although he knew Hassan, his words before were true. Before all of this had happened, he had only seen him in passing before. He hadn’t even given him a single word of greeting.

How could he trust him? Was Paul being dragged into a battle, an ambush? It was impossible to know. But the fact was, he had to find a Gateway. If he wanted to grow stronger, evolve his Class, it was a must.

“There’s people approaching!”

Owen smiled and approached the mouth of the cave. Rehan, Lome, and the others had returned. Gorath was with them now, as well. Still a distance away, Rehan’s words reached his mind thanks to his scouting Skill he had obtained from evolving his Class.

“What do we do, my Lord?”

Owen thought for a moment. He needed to find a Gateway, that was important. But he could be heading into enemy territory for all he knew. However, Owen couldn’t find a reason for why their Lord would want to create an enemy. 

He was just being paranoid. Maybe. The fact was, they’d be able to earn Fragments and Spectres, improving his forces, all the while he would gain a steady stream of constant experience from the serpents.

“We go with them. There’s something I need to see with my own eyes. Have Mirian return with the plan and have her catch up with us.”

Owen trusted Mirian in that regard. The scene of her darting amongst the orcen camp, coming out on the other side alive was still branded in his mind. If there was anyone he trusted to go alone in this desert, it was her.

Rehan said something to Mirian, and she darted the way she came. 

In a moment, they returned. Hassan’s men tensed as they glanced at Lome. Green yellow flame spat from his eyes as the undead warrior inspected Hassan’s men.

“The Lord has given word,” said Rehan. “We shall help, for a price.”

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 68

Owen admired Pyris’s ability. “What monster are you having problems with?” Owen asked, wanting to pry some information from the man. If what he said was true, that they had been tasked to brave the deserts in hopes of finding anyone to help them… then the situation was truly dire. And only one monster really reared its ghastly visage in his head.

Sandskewers. The monster Ansel would unleash. If it was them, then Owen understood their desperation. There was nowhere to run or hide. Fighting them was also a chore as they bred by the hundreds. They were akin to desert rats, just far more dangerous.

As the name implied, they relied on their thick tails pointed in a deadly spike. They swam through the sand unimpeded, making little noise, not even a tremble in the sand’s surface. 

“Serpents,” the man said. “Humanoid, with natural armour. Their strongest can melt rock with their venom. They use spears and javelins.”

“Serpents?” Owen asked, confused. He had heard of them in the novel, but they were so far away from Ansel that he rarely interacted with them. 

Does that mean we are in the eastern region? Owen thought. That kind of information was vital. It appeared that Justin had used the giant to travel an enormous distance. In the book, he had used the giant to travel for months before reaching the area close to the outpost. 

He couldn’t just use the Lone Wanderer to guide him. The giant used a random path, turning here and there. Owen would be lost before he knew it.

Owen didn’t like it. Once again, he couldn’t use the book's knowledge to his advantage. He was walking in the dark. But at least there was candle light now. It was better than nothing.

“They slithered over the mountains,” The man clenched his hands. “Before we knew it, at least twenty of us were killed before we managed to scramble our defence. It all happened so fast.”

“So many?” Owen frowned. “How many do you have left?”

The man was about to speak, but he closed his mouth the next moment. “That’s not something I’m comfortable sharing without my Lord's approval.” he looked around, scanning his surroundings. “I understand you have questions, but I’d appreciate it if you could ask them somewhere safer. Somewhere away from the sun? Like your kingdom?”

He asked that question looking straight at Pyris. It appeared he thought she was the leader. Owen had to admit, it did sting a little. But she did look like Lord material, whatever way he looked. Owen decided to roll with that for now.

“Sorry, I can’t do that,” Owen said. “Like you, I’d have to ask permission from the Lord.”

“She’s not the Lord?” he asked, incredulously. 

“Nope.” Owen grinned. “There’s a cave nearby. We’ll set up camp there. Rehan, lead the rest back to camp to ask what we should do.” 

Draed caught on quickly. “Alright,” he said, informally. It looked like he struggled to say that one word. Owen chuckled internally. 

With the others gone, it was just him and Pyris. He led the new arrivals into a nearby cave. Then, he handed out water containers for everyone. Like divine nectar, they gulped down the water. Perhaps knowing better than to drink all their water supply at once, they managed to control themselves.

“So,” the man with the spear said, licking the droplets of water from the corner of his mouth, not wanting to waste any. “We’re to just stay here until your Lord sends word?”

Owen sat down on a rock. “Exactly.”

He sighed. “Alright.”

"Captain, you can’t seriously be going along with this nonsense?" one of the warriors protested, he was young, his voice rising in disbelief. He wore black knee pads, with a cloak covering most of his body, sheltering him from the sun. leather armour only covered his chest. He had a crossbow slung over his shoulder. 

“Jonah, calm down.” The captain glared in warning.

“No, I won’t,” Jonah said, grabbing the strap of his crossbow. Owen slowly brushed his fingers across his blade’s handle. Jonah continued, “We have to sit here and wait while our friends die with every hour that passes? It’s bullshit. For all we know, he’s gathering people to surround us.”

The other warriors shifted on the spot. It appeared they were also thinking the same. 

“Jonah,” The captain snapped. “Don’t you think I already know this? But what do you want me to do about it? We’re forced to take a leap of faith. We have a mission from our Lord: get help. This is a gamble I’ll take. For him.”

Jonah’s fists tightened, only to let them go. He wandered over to the wall, and slid down it with his back. “Fine. But if we’re killed here, I’m haunting all of you in the afterlife.”

“No ones going to die here,” Owen said, giving his word, whether they believed that was another matter entirely. 

“Although I appreciate the words of comfort, they won’t mean anything until I’m back with your Lord’s help.”

“But that comes with its own set of problems,” Owen said. “You want my help, for what, from the goodness of my own heart? What are you offering?”

The captain dipped his head. “Credits. Fragments. Spectres. We have them all.”

Owen picked up on his words. If they had all of that, then it was a congregation of Lords all in one place. Only Lords could gain Fragments and Spectres. If they had excess to give away, then they were both lucky and had quite a few Lords.

Owen said, not letting it slip. “It must be a large kingdom, then, to have so many Lord’s all in one place.”

The captain's head snapped up, realising his mistake.

Raising his hand in surrender, Owen said, “Just picking up on your words. Meant nothing by it.”

He sighed. “Yes, it is quite large.”

“Captain!” Jonah shouted in protest.

“It’s fine, Jonah,” he said, then looked at Owen. “When we appeared, there were a lot of us nearby. We thought it was normal to be together, I mean. Only until we met a wandering Lord did we realise that wasn’t the case. He had travelled for quite a distance. His flesh had blistered horribly. It was a miracle he still stood. He ended up becoming our leader.”

The captain took another sip of his water, before continuing, “Under his leadership, we hunted monsters by the dozens. Cleared Rifts. Gained the rewards. Got powerful. We thought we were at the top of the world with the System’s Stats flowing through our veins. Many of us could even cast magic. Magic. And then Serpents arrived. And we devolved back into mortals.”

Owen listened carefully to each and every word. He knew how important they were. It was vital to glean any information he could from the man’s words. 

He just wasn’t sure if the captain was intentionally making their kingdom seem larger, more powerful than it was. Maybe he was telling the truth, but maybe he was lying. Making their kingdom seem mighty would thwart Owen’s plans of attack, if he had half the mind to do so. Which he didn’t. He was too focused on himself, than to worry about attacking others for no reason.

Well, he guessed there was a reason. To Plunder their Emblems. If he could gain them all, even Ansel, the main character, couldn’t hold a candle to his power. He imagined it now; a Lord with multiple boosts to every single unit.

On the battlefield, he’d be unstoppable. 

Owen shook his head at the thought. He wasn’t a warmonger. Wasn’t a cold blooded murderer. 

They talked and hunted together for a whole three days. Owen was inwardly happy at that. Someone back at camp had made the smart decision to wait for a while before sending people back. It was a guise to make it seem their kingdom was much farther away than it actually was.

Was it Rehan’s doing… or his new General? Or maybe it was someone else? Whoever it was, needed to be praised when he got back.

In those three days, the captain and the others had fully rested. And during those three days, Owen talked with each and every one of them to ascertain their true motives. However, the only thing he could be certain of was their desperation to return. 

Owen had even made friends with a few of them. Mainly the captain. There was something familiar about him. The way he moved, the way he talked. A man of few words, but when those words were spoken, they had a rough edge about them. Like he was from the military, or something. But with everyone wearing facemasks, even Owen, who hadn’t taken off Dune’s Crest. 

They had hunted a lot, resulting in Owen learning who was a threat, and who wasn’t. On average, they were quite strong. Compared to Owen’s Units, they were lagging behind, but it wasn’t that small of a difference. Most likely it was a result from their constant fight with the serpents. 

However, there was one man that made Owen feel a little… uncomfortable. It was Jonah. With all accounts, he just appeared to be a young man in his early twenties. He was brash, easy to anger, and emotional. But something about him made Owen’s skin crawl. Like he wasn’t who he said he was.

Worse, was that the name ‘Jonah’ stuck out to him. But he couldn’t remember why.

On the third day, sitting round the fire in the dark, cool cave, preparing dinner. The captain finally took off his headscarf.

“Hassan?!”

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 67

You have plundered Tess Rontmore

| Skills gained — Divine Resilience: One's body is constantly infused with holy energy, passively increasing his natural health regeneration by a small amount, especially in the presence of sunlight.

| Spectre gained: Tess Rontmore

Owen stood up in a daze. He did it. He clutched at his heart, his soul. He felt a new apparition to his body flare into existence. Tess was now a part of him. 

“Owen, are you—”

“I’m okay,” Owen said, biting his lip. “I need to summon her. To look her in the face. But my soul is stretched thin with you here.” He turned to her, eyes looking up to match her own. “Are you willing to enter my soul?”

Pyris nodded.

“I’ll see you soon, Pyris. And thank you.”

Owen returned Pyris to his soul. He suddenly felt… lighter. The strain of having a 7-Star spectre out in the corporeal world was like a weighted blanket pressed on his insides. He thought it would be freeing, but all that remained was an emptiness. Like he was alone. But he knew he wasn’t. Deep down, she was there, waiting to be called upon. 

I won’t be long, Owen thought, and summoned Tess.

A small woman spawned from a white flash. She had short dark grey hair cut into a bob. Her flesh was so pale, Owen wondered if she was even human to begin with. But she was, and that told Owen one thing he already knew. She was a dead Spectre. A mindless soldier that had no memories—a husk of their former self. 

She looked at him blankly, not a thought behind her golden eyes. Tess, plundered from his Skill, had no knowledge of the System. Unlike Pyris, who had chosen to enter the Lord’s War, she was ripped back into life without any say in the matter. She didn’t call him Lord, neither did she, nor could she, mutter a single word. 

Tess was dead.

Owen sighed, pinching his temples as the weight of his actions bore down on him something fierce. But what was done, couldn’t be taken back. It was time to think of his people. And she would be an incredible asset to both him, and them.

Name: Tess Rontmore

| Race: Human Undead (Spectre)

| Talent: 6-Stars

| Level: 1

| Class: Healer

Attributes:

| Strength: 13

| Vitality: 15

| Dexterity: 14

| Magic: 40

| Mana: 40

Skills:

| Radiant Blessing — Mastery: None
| Sacred Renewal — Mastery: None
| Divine Resilience — Mastery: None (Passive)
| Guardian's Grace — Mastery: None (Passive)

Skill Descriptions:
Radiant Blessing: Imbues a targeted ally with holy light, healing them for a moderate amount over time. Continues to drain mana as long as the blessing remains active.

Sacred Renewal: Releases a powerful burst of holy energy, healing the user and nearby allies. Consumes a large amount of mana but provides immediate healing in a wide area.

Divine Resilience (Passive): One’s body is constantly infused with holy energy, passively increasing his natural health regeneration by a small amount, especially in the presence of sunlight.

Guardian's Grace (Passive): Allies in close proximity to Tess passively receive minor healing over time as they fight, benefiting from his holy aura. This healing effect increases slightly if Owen is actively casting healing spells.

Tess approached him. Owen stood still, knowing that she’d never hurt him. She didn’t have the mind to. She reached out her small, dainty hands, and touched a wound cut into his arm. It wasn’t deep. It didn’t need healing. But she did it anyway. Her golden eyes brightened, and the same like channelled out of her palms, heating up his flesh. Because of Owen’s high Vitality Stat, it took longer to heal than ordinary. 

When she took her hand away, there was no wound, not even a scar. “Incredible,” he said in awe. It was just like Rizael’s basic healing spell, but far more powerful. It was the difference between someone that had all their powers revolved around healing, and someone that simply dabbled. And she was only Level 1.

He hadn’t received any Stats or materials, but that was to be expected. If he had to guess, then he only received Stats from the Devil Wyrm because of how strong it was previously. Even with it having been dead for a long time, it was still a monstrous beast.

Owen tried plundering the rest of the bodies, but nothing happened. It seems the corpses are too far gone. Tess must have retained her skeleton because of her healing properties? 

Whatever the reason was, Owen turned his attention back to Tess. She just blankly stared at him, following his figure, waiting for a command.

“I know you don’t understand what I’m saying,” Owen said, clenching his fists. “But I’m going to say it anyway. I have summoned you despite every fibre of my being screaming at me, yelling at me not to. I did it anyway. There are people that rely on me. If I don’t snatch any power in front of me, and they die because of it, then that feeling would be far worse than what I feel right this minute. My disgust with myself will wane. I’ve learned to kill. Learned to take what is not mine. But my people will live.”

Tess blinked. 

“I’m sorry. Truly. But your fight is eternal now.”

Owen sighed and placed Tess back into his soul, and brought Pyris back out. She gave him a long look. “Are you okay?”

“Just coming to terms with my life now,” Owen said with a weak smile. “I’ll live. Now let’s get back and set our sights on the next problem.”

Owen returned to his kingdom and picked up a few people. Namely Rehan, Lome, Mirian, Draed and Justin. Inviting any more was overkill. If it was an enemy Lord that had resided here for a while, then he wasn’t certain he’d be able to kill his way out. But if he wanted to escape?

With Owen’s current skills, he was confident in getting everyone away safely. 

They all ran across the desert. Speed was of the essence. Owen didn’t want these people arriving even remotely close to his kingdom. The less they knew, the better. As they neared, they climbed a dune from the west, so as not to make it obvious where they came from, and watched.

Owen had no way of knowing if they had scouting abilities that reacted to sight, but there was nothing he could do about that. 

Four of the six were human. The other two were of elven descent. One had dark skin, the other a pale red thanks to the sun above.

Right at that moment, a Sand Prowler erupted from the sand, pouncing at them. Its claws were like blades as it aimed for the paler elf’s life. A man with a covered face and dark skin, met the beast head-on with a spear. He struck the monster to the side, and the rest made quick work of the beast.

They were efficient, as if they had done this many times before. To cross the sands, they had to.

Owen frowned. The fight told him nothing of their abilities, just one of experience. 

Deciding that it was now or never, Owen stood up, making himself known. It took around ten seconds for them to notice him. At least that told him that their scout had limited abilities, if they even had one at all. It would be suicide if they didn’t. 

Owen, with his team, approached them. Once he was about 15 feet from them, a dust cloud of his own making swept over everyone. Maybe they’d think it was just a random gust of wind, but whatever their thoughts were, it wouldn’t matter. 

The sand settled almost immediately, and when it did so, Justin and Mirian were already in position, weapons aimed at their targets throats. They were two of the strongest of their party. The dark skinned man with the spear, and one in the middle of their formation wielding a staff.

Owen felt mana from the man. They were all wearing face coverings from the sun.

“Do you need help?” Owen asked, his voice powerful.

“What a weird thing to ask, considering,” The man wielding the spear glanced at Justin, who grinned in response. It was strange. The man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar. But he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“The sands are a dangerous place,” Owen replied. “It’s not easy to distinguish between friend or foe. So, what are you?”

“We don’t want any trouble. We are on a mission given by my Lord. A danger is approaching. We have been sent to try and find any other Lords to help the cause. Soon, we’ll be wiped out—”

Owen interrupted, “And why not just leave?” 

He paused as he looked across the sands. “And go where? It’s easier to defend an area than it is to wander without knowing what lies underneath, ready to pounce. Besides, what is attacking isn’t something we can run from.”

Owen felt danger crawl up his spine. Eyes hardening, another Sand Prowler broke out of the sands. Everyone whirled to attention. The man at the front was about to attack, but in a blur of movement, Pyris bolted past him. 

In one swift motion, she effortlessly blew open the monster's head from its body as stars swirled around her fists. The beast thumped down into the sand beside him. The man’s eyes widened at the display of power.

And that wasn’t even Owen…

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 66

Three days had passed since Rehan and the others had left, and the sun was now high in the afternoon sky. Owen had spent the entire time tirelessly overseeing the transformation of the mountain into a stronghold. With the help of his builders, the once-rough interior had become something of a palace carved into the colossal rock.

At the mountain’s entrance, a newly erected wall stood 25 feet tall, curving in a massive semi-circle with thick battlements crowning the top. High up, large holes had been installed in the floor, designed for raining down rocks and hot oil on any would-be attackers. It was a daunting first line of defence, one that felt imposing even to Owen as he inspected it.

Hunters and warriors patrolled the wall during the day, their eyes ever watchful for threats. By night, the entrance was locked down, guarded by hulking stone doors that sealed the mountain’s interior from any intruders. Owen knew there were creatures capable of moving beneath the sand, and by luck alone, none had yet found their way to his domain. The real danger wasn’t just one Sand Stalker discovering them—it was that once they did, more would surely follow, until his entire stronghold was overrun.

Sand Stalkers, Owen thought grimly.

In the book, these monsters were common but deadly, creatures that Ansel had accidentally unleashed when he discovered the first tomb. They swam through sand like fish in water, breeding rapidly and evolving into terrifying variants. Owen knew it was only a matter of time before they emerged. The new walls weren’t just built for aesthetics—they were a safeguard for him and his people against the horrors that lurked in the desert.

Just beyond the walls, he had cleared a large area within the mountain, intended as a welcoming hall of sorts. Two broad staircases on either side led up to the quarters reserved for his generals. To the left of the entrance was a narrow passage that took you deeper, where the barracks for the bulk of his forces were located. This layout would allow for easy access and defence in case of an attack.

The ground floor held a series of workstations, all meticulously crafted to support the various Classes in his growing community. There were alchemy stations, skinning rooms, a brewery, and even a full kitchen designed for Clark, his chef. In all, there were about 15 rooms, waiting to be filled with craftsmen and materials as they came in.

Beneath the main floor, the basement level connected directly to a newly dug-out mine. This tunnel system was spacious and efficiently organised to handle the movement of large supplies. Although Owen wouldn’t be around forever, he had to think ahead for his people. They needed access to resources like rock and metal, and the mine’s design would ensure they could harvest and transport those resources smoothly.

Further below, in the depths of the mountain, Owen had even created a spa room with a chimney that vented the excess heat down into Cindrelle’s forge. Not many had used it yet—most people wanted to avoid more heat in this desert environment—but it was there for those who craved the luxury of a sauna. Owen had tried it himself after it was finished but lasted only five minutes before feeling like he was being cooked alive, despite his enhanced Stats.

It had been an exhausting amount of work, but with little danger on the horizon, Owen figured it was best to focus on building while he had the chance. Cindrelle had been instrumental in these efforts. Together, they had fashioned an enormous container from Sandsteel to store Coo’s milk, which was being produced in absurd quantities due to her bloodline and Star rank. If she lived on Earth, Owen mused, she could probably supply an entire pasture by herself.

In the midst of all this construction, Owen had solved a mounting issue: the lack of proper sanitation. In the basement, he had carved out a crude but functional sewage system. Water in a bucket would wash the waste into a channel, and the remnants of Cindrelle’s forge provided a convenient method for burning it all away.

The desert plains were another story. The triangular castle he had originally constructed now lay abandoned, too costly in manpower and resources to repair. All his focus was now on the mountain, where he and his people had the best chance of survival.

Now, Owen stood in Clark’s kitchen, sampling a new dish he had been working on for the past week. It was a meat dish that used one of Bimpnottin’s new vegetables from his garden. It was a seed found in one of the nearby ruins. It looked exactly like a potato, just that it grew from the sand, instead of soil. It tasted the same, too. 

The dish tasted incredible. His taste buds danced as he held onto Clark’s shoulder. “You’ve outdone yourself, Clark.”

Clark beamed a proud smile. “Crab meat, potato, as you call it, combined with the milk from Coo, and the fresh batch of cheese, would make even the immortals pleased.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Owen said, savouring the taste. “All we need is salt and other seasoning to truly bring out the taste.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something to substitute them with,” said Clark. “We’ve done well so far.”

“Indeed we have.”

“My Lord!” 

A panicked voice belonging to a rushed Warrior arrived. “Rehan has finally arrived!” The Warrior stopped, looking at Owen as if he was some mythological being. Right. That was another thing that had happened. The church. Owen had to design a room for those who wished to worship… him.

He stayed clear of it for the most part, but he had heard that more and more people were joining it. Brook, the builder, was the leader of it.

As soon as the Warrior’s words ended, Owen glanced at the notification he had received from the System at Rehan’s arrival. He and the others had killed two scarlet crabs. But that was it. Thankfully, no one had died. 

Owen rushed out to the meeting room in the centre of his new palace. Rehan and the others were gathering their breaths. As soon as Owen arrived, they all saluted. 

“My Lord,” Rehan exhaled, and revealed his signature playful smile. “A party of six humans are approaching us from the south. but if they keep going, they’ll miss us with their current trajectory. What’s the call? Meet them, or ignore them?” 

Owen paused. The best call of action, the most sensible one, was to ignore them. At least until Owen was confident in the power he held. But at this point, he was certain he was one of the strongest new Lords not just in the Cursed Lands, but the entire Land Between. But that was the problem. He was only a ‘new’ Lord. There existed those that have been here for weeks, months, years. 

It wasn’t too dangerous considering there was a Level cap of 100 that would only be crossed once they entered a Gateway and evolved their Class.

However, with certain Lords all having 7-Star talents and above, with terrifying Lord Emblems that were in no way inferior to Owen’s, that meant that each one of them dwarfed Owen’s current strength. In other words, he still had to be careful despite his firepower at the minute. 

“We’ll meet them,” Owen said after a moment's thought. The others nodded without a single shred of hesitance. They trusted his call, resolutely, unwaveringly. “I know it’s not the smartest decision. But I have friends out there. If there’s even a chance they are alive… I have to risk it.”

“We’d hope you’d do the same for us, my Lord,” Rehan said. 

“Of course I would. How far are they?” 

“A day's travel. They’ll get here by noon tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Owen said. “That gives me time to make a quick detour.”

“A detour, my Lord?” Pyris asked from the side.

“To the north, there’s ruins. Skeleton remains lay below. If there’s a chance these people are powerful, a chance they attack, I need all the power I can get. I’m no longer putting anything to chance.”

Even if I have to force my humanity to take a back seat. 

Without waiting, Owen brought Pyris along to the ruins. The collapsed passageway was a small obstacle as Owen simply plundered the stone, and reinforced the ceiling so that it wouldn’t collapse on them again. 

Walking down the tunnel, Owen couldn’t help but put his hand to his chest. His heart thumped against his ribcage as he thought about what he was going to do. 

Bone worms resurfaced, but now, they proved only to be a nuisance. Owen sliced them all without even looking. Pyris didn’t even have to lift a finger, nor did he want her to. It was a good chance to relieve the burden pressed heavily against his shoulders.

They made it into the main room, where bone remnants poked out of the thin layer of sand. The worms had almost devoured them all. But Owen only needed a fragment to make use of his ability. 

Owen approached, crouching down. The woman—Tess—had the majority of her skeleton remain. Maybe they were leaving her to last. Owen placed his hand on her skull, and hesitated. 

There he was, hesitating once again. But the threats of the Cursed Lands demanded his humanity as currency. And he was willing to spend it, if it meant that his people would live. He glanced up at Pyris. She nodded. “It’s okay,” she said, almost in a whisper. “She will understand.”

Owen returned his gaze to Tess. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s hypocritical, isn’t it? I summon all of you from another world to fight for me. And yet this is my limit.”

“It’s not the same, my L… Owen. We all signed up for this. Don’t view it like that. In this place, we need to take power when it is offered. She will understand.”

“And if she won’t?” 

“Then we will bear it together.” Pyris crouched next to him, and placed her hand on top of his. 

Owen smiled, his heart fluttered. Was it out of romance, or the fact he could summon a Spectre of a dead woman?

Whatever the cause was, Owen no longer hesitated. He plundered Tess. And he watched in horror as his worst fear reared its ugly head.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 65

Most of the tickets Owen used ranged from 1-Star to 3-Stars. Only one knight was a 4-Star, a tall woman from the Rok’Ta giant race named Galina Stoneshield. Her face looked like it was carved from stone, with sharp angles and a bluish tint to her skin. Standing nearly 8 feet tall, she was a frightening sight.

She held a longsword that was probably meant for two hands, but she wielded it easily in one. What really caught Owen's attention, though, was the shield she carried—a massive kiteshield over 7 feet tall, thicker than any normal shield he'd ever seen.

One glance at her Status made it clear: Galina specialised in defence. She had two passive skills—one that made her shield absorb more damage, and another that increased the power of her shield bashes. The bloodstains on the pointed tip of her shield made that last skill all too real.

"Galina Stoneshield," Owen said, finishing his inspection of her System.

Galina stepped forward and slammed her sword and shield into the sand. "My shield is yours, my Lord."

“And my kingdom is yours too,” Owen replied with a smile. “It’s good to have you all here. Galina, you’re the most talented of the group, so I’m making you the general of the Knights. Any complaints?”

“None, my Lord,” she said, bowing her head. “It is my honour.”

“Great,” Owen said, clapping. He pointed toward Balthus in the distance. “That’s Balthus, my administrator. He’ll give you the rundown on this land. If you have any questions about the dangers here, ask Draed—the elf with the black bow. He’s the General of the Hunters. Got it?”

The new units bowed or saluted, then made their way toward Balthus. Owen turned his attention to his last ticket—the General.

Okay, maybe I need to come up with new titles for Draed and the rest, he thought, scratching his head. Commanders, maybe?

Scoffing at the thought, Owen tore open the ticket. A blinding wheel of light spun, settling on a gorgeous purple colour. 5-Stars. His mind raced with excitement. Would it be a legendary general in shining armour? Maybe a member of a godly race with golden eyes that commanded respect?

Owen’s excitement faded fast. From the light emerged a drunkard. Dirty, with matted ginger hair and thick arm hair, he looked like he hadn’t bathed in ages. His pointed nails were filthy, and he swayed on his feet, stinking of alcohol and… beef? He wasn’t even wearing armour.

The system must’ve forced him into an awkward, stumbling bow. It was a miracle he stayed on his feet.

Owen glanced at his Status, confused. The name “Vestid Pridecaller” sounded grand, but this man looked like a broken shell of his former self. No way the system got it wrong… right? The system was never wrong. Vestid must’ve gone through something terrible.

The beast-man was still bowing, eyes closed. Was he… asleep?

Owen approached and placed a firm hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Vestid?”

The man swayed, his head bobbing. “Huh, what?” He blinked up at Owen, his eyes shaky from too much alcohol. “Ah, my Lord! It’s an honour to… be here with—” he hiccuped “—you. Got any ale?”

Owen’s smile twitched. “Sorry, Vestid. All we have is desert. Brewing beer isn’t exactly a top priority.”

Vestid crouched down, cradling his head. “Oh no… that’s not good.” His eyes shot open, and he grabbed Owen's arm. “But it is on the agenda, right? How long till we get some?”

Owen thought for a moment. “Well, once I get a Winemaker or Brewer, maybe… tomorrow?”

Vestid’s eyes lit up, only to darken as Owen continued, “Could be next week. Month? Year?”

I could just buy one from the market, but I’m not wasting Credits on that. I’ll keep that to myself for now.

“The moment I get one, you’ll be the first to know, Vestid.”

“Oh… I appreciate that, my Lord.”

“I won’t sugarcoat things, Vestid. I don’t know what happened to you before you were summoned, and you might not remember either. But I need your help. I don’t have the experience to lead all these people. A few weeks ago, I was just an office worker. I need your leadership. Will you help me lead them into battle?”

Vestid hesitated, meeting Owen’s serious gaze. Something flickered in his eyes—maybe a spark of hope, or something long lost. He glanced at the troops scattered in the sand, all different in armour, race, and weapons.

“My Pride,” he muttered, sounding sober for a moment. “I… I don’t think I can do it.” He shook his head, clutching it like he was trying to squeeze out a deep, lingering pain.

Although Owen didn’t know what was wrong with Vestid, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out as he glanced at his System.

Name: Vestid Pridecaller

| Race: Aerlar

| Level: 1

| Class: General

Attributes:

| Strength: 13

| Vitality: 28

| Dexterity: 14

| Magic: 38

| Mana: 30

Skills

| Prideful Presence — Mastery: Medium

| Tactical Withdrawal — Mastery: Low

| Strategists Insight  — Mastery: Medium

Skill Descriptions:

Prideful Presence: Vestid emits an aura of authority, compelling distant allies to fight harder. Increases allies' attack and defence by a moderate amount. Drains mana.

Tactical Withdrawal: From his distant vantage point, Vestid orders a strategic retreat, increasing the movement speed of all allies by a moderate amount and reducing damage taken by a small amount for 10 seconds as they reposition.

Strategist's Insight: Vestid gains increased awareness of enemy positions, allowing him to relay critical information telepathically. Allies within his command gain morale boost and increased perception of hidden threats.

The Pride was Vestid’s army. And from the look in his eyes when he mentioned them, Owen could tell one thing—it meant loss. Vestid had lost his people. Judging by his worn appearance, it had happened a long time ago.

Owen wondered, did Vestid join the Lord System before that tragedy, or after, when grief pushed him into despair?

“You’re not alone, Vestid,” Owen said, crouching to meet the beast-man’s gaze. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you. Well, apart from alcohol right now.” Owen chuckled, and Vestid gave a weak smile.

“We’re in this together,” Owen added. “I don’t know if you’ve lost many people, but I have. Every time, it feels like a burning rake tearing through my heart and mind. But for their memory, for their spirit, we’ve got to keep going—one step at a time if that’s what it takes. Would your men want to see you like this?”

Vestid shook his head, his eyes reddening.

“Right,” Owen said. “So let’s get up. I think there’s sand fleas here, and the last thing you need is a rash.”

Owen helped Vestid to his feet. The beast-man then slapped his own cheek, hard. He nodded, clearing his head. “Thank you, my Lord, for your words. I’ll stay with the troops and see what they’re good at.”

Owen smiled wider. “That’s the spirit. Oh, and we might need to change their weapons.”

“My Lord?” Vestid asked.

“I’ve gained a power that boosts everyone’s blunt weapon damage. We’ll still need spears, but most of them should use maces, hammers, things like that. They’ll learn it faster too.”

Vestid nodded, still a little unsteady. “I’ll keep that in mind, my Lord. I’ll organise the army into smaller units and special roles.”

“Perfect,” Owen said. “Honestly, most of what I know is from books and movies. I’ve got a lot to learn from you.”

Vestid shook his head. “I’m not in the right mind to teach anyone anything right now, my Lord. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no rush. And Vestid?”

“Hm?”

Owen smiled warmly. “Welcome to the family.”

From there, watched as Rehan left to scout the southern land. Today, he’d spend the night outside in a cave he had discovered previously. It was finally time to find out what was out there. He’d be gone days along with Draed and a set of orcs.

Only time would tell if they’d make it back. Owen prayed for them. As for Owen, he spent the rest of his day tending Bimpnottin. With the added units, along with the orcs, that totalled 40-ish people all looking for food to eat and water to consume.

Fruit was also a staple in everyone's diet. Before, everyone received one citrus fruit and a plateful of meat; whether that was hound or crab. For now, food was okay. But 40 people was a lot. Even with Owen’s storage filled, that would only last an estimated week—if that. 

They had to do something about food, and fast, if Owen wanted to keep summoning Units. And that wasn’t all. He had to make a public toilet.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 64

You have plundered The Grinning Devil x1.

| Claimed materials: Summoning Tickets: 4x Warrior, 5x Hunters, 3x Knights, 1x General.

| Stats gained: 15 Strength, 20 Vitality, 5 Dexterity, Magic 20, Mana 10

| Skills gained —

Symbiotic Surge: Connect to a host and empower them with your Mana and Vitality, making them stronger. When the host dies, depending on how much damage the body has received, empower yourself.

Fragment gained — 

[Saint Aldria's Cross]

| Tier: Elite

| Type: Relic

| Description: This ancient cross once belonged to Saint Aldria, a legendary healer whose touch could mend even the most grievous of wounds. In her final moments, she poured all of her remaining power into this relic, leaving behind a one-time blessing capable of restoring life from the brink of death. After its use, the cross will crumble to dust, its power spent.

| Runes: Divine Restoration (one-time use)

First, Owen felt the stats take effect—a warm sensation he never got tired of. That feeling of growth, knowing he was getting stronger, was addictive. But the excitement he should have felt after defeating such a powerful monster was dimmed by what had happened with Claire.

They had survived, but they’d also lost.

The Summoning Tickets he’d earned were incredible. Knights were a tier above Warriors—more specialised and with stronger class evolutions. They also came with better starting stats.

Then there was the General. Generals were like a lesser version of Lords, but specialised in war. They could strengthen the troops under their command, boosting their morale or making them less likely to flee. A strong General could turn a good army into a terrifying force.

Before gaining Claire’s Lord Emblem, Owen had lacked that kind of commanding power. Unlimited Plunder was powerful, but it didn’t make his units stronger by itself. Some Lords had Emblems that could completely change the course of a battle just by entering the field.

Now, Owen had one too. All his troops who used blunt weapons were significantly stronger. It didn’t enhance him, since he fought with swords, but for Lome and the rest of his army, who would switch to clubs and hammers, it was an incredible asset.

I’ll make it count, Claire. Thank you, Owen thought, clenching his fists.

He’d read about different monsters, but summoning a random Lord from the Cursed Lands, dominating their mind, and forcing them to fight each other? It felt wrong. Too cruel. And with so little time having passed, not many had killed another human yet.

If Owen hadn’t pushed past his hesitation with the drakzun, could he have made the decision to face Claire? He wasn’t sure. And he didn’t want to know. 

Lai’s words echoed in his mind. You just have to keep going. For them.

Finally, there was the skill: Symbiotic Surge. Owen hesitated. Taking it felt... wrong. But he'd already crossed that line. The real question was: did he even need it? The ability to empower someone else, likely Lome, at the expense of his own strength—what good would that do?

He pondered it further. What if Lome breaking apart counted as a death? But Owen dismissed the thought. His System was clear. If Lome truly died, it would say so.

It was a gamble, no doubt.

Owen preferred passive skills, like Condensed Muscles. They levelled up continuously, always making progress. Unlike Swordsmanship, which required constant fighting, sparring, or training. He had only 12 skill slots—precious, limited. Wasting one on this, no matter how powerful, didn’t sit right with him.

After much thought, he decided against it. If Lome's next evolution allowed him to summon an undead—if he could become a Death Knight—then Lome could use the skill on his skeleton summon, gain strength as it died, and empower himself. That would be the perfect outcome.

Next, Owen summoned the Fragment. It appeared instantly: a small white cross, gilded in gold, no larger than his hand, stained with blood. Just holding it filled him with awe. He could feel its history, hear distant, heavenly chimes echoing in his mind.

He glanced at Pyris. With this, he could cleanse her of the corruption, restore her to full strength. But if someone was on death's door later, and he’d already used it… he would never forgive himself. With a sigh, he willed the cross back into his soul.

Owen rose, taking a deep breath.

"How's everyone doing?"

“Don’t have any mana left,” Gorath said, still standing, barely. “Need a rest.”

“We all do, my Lord,” Draed said, using his bow to prop him up.

Owen was in agreement. “Pyris? How’s the corruption?”

“I feel it flaring up,” She said, moving her collar to the side, showing veins of purple. “I can still move. Just can’t use my War Skills.”

So that’s what she calls her abilities, Owen thought. 

Owen nodded. “Lome,” he said to the skeleton warrior who was currently repairing himself near the door. “Give the door a good push, will you?” 

Lome listened and pushed the door. It groaned open. Owen sighed in relief. It was over.

Finally able to take in his surroundings, he noticed just how destructive their battle had been. Thunder marks marred the floor, or what was left of it, anyway. Most of the tiles had shattered, revealing broken rock beneath it. 

One of the stone pillars had shattered, crumbling to the floor. He didn’t want to be in this room any longer than he had to. With his stamina drawn, Owen stored the rest of Claire’s body with great struggle.

He did a final check of the room, just in case there was anything hidden. But there was nothing. The room was empty.  

With that done, he led everyone out of the room, and glanced over his shoulder. He took one last glance of the room, the blood stains on the shattered floor where he had ended Claire’s life. Then, he sighed and left. 

***

Up on the surface, Owen spotted at least twenty new figures standing in the sands, their faces filled with fear and uncertainty. These were Claire’s people—now, they were his. Once again, he had claimed another Lord's followers.

Pushing past the discomfort, Owen approached. Whether by the System's design or something deeper, every one of them looked at him with trepidation. As he drew closer, they all bowed, except for one. A bug-man hybrid stood defiant, his expression tight with resistance. He was struggling against the System’s hold—the force that demanded obedience from new Units.

Owen didn’t need to guess his strength. The System revealed it clearly: a 6-Star Warrior named Kilk. His long, braided hair fell down his back, and his legs, curved like a cricket's, hinted at his agility. In his spiked-knuckled hands, he wielded a clubbed weapon similar to his former Lord's.

Kilk's Class had already evolved. From Warrior to Leaping Striker, specialising in devastating jumping attacks that crushed enemies beneath his blows. He was powerful but wary, dragged into this chaos. One moment he had a master, and in the next, he was notified she was dead—and now he stood before a new one.

Owen explained everything to them, leaving out nothing. The details of Claire’s death, their new reality—everything.

As he finished, Kilk’s expression hardened. Only then did he kneel. “This one greets his new Lord.” His gaze locked onto Owen. “Did she die bravely?”

Owen stood tall, fists clenched behind his back, and nodded. “She died a warrior. She died a Lord.”

Kilk bit his lip, lowering his head in silence.

Owen stepped forward, drawing her weapon from his soul and offering it to Kilk. “Will you bear her weapon in her memory? I need a Warrior as powerful as you, Kilk.”

Eyes filled with resolve, Kilk took the weapon, his hands steady. “I will fight on for her memory, my Lord."

“That goes for all of you,” Owen said, eyes meeting every single new unit. “This is your new home now. I will fight for you, protect you. All that I ask is you do the same for me. Look to your left. Now to your right. They are your family.”

“My Lord!” 

The people shouted. 

And next, were the Summoning Tickets he had gained during the fight. Together with Claire’s units, that was a lot of mouths to feed, and bellies to fill with water. 

Bimpnottin wasn’t going to be happy.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 63

You have plundered Claire Amonette x1.
| You have defeated a Lord with land. You have gained all of the Lord’s Units. 

| Claimed materials: Summoning Ticket 2x Warrior, Claire Amonette’s Meat and Organs x11 (Normal), Claire Amonette’s Bones x14 (Normal).

| Stats gained: 2 Strength, 4 Vitality, 8 Dexterity.

| Skills gained —

Condensed Muscles: Increase the effectiveness of one's muscles, improving Strength and Vitality by 10%. 

| Fragment gained —

Oziack's Razor Bat
| Tier: Adept
| Type: Blunt Weapon
| Description: A brutal weapon forged from the bones of a fallen beast, its surface lined with jagged obsidian shards. Though primarily a blunt force instrument, the obsidian edges can rend through flesh and armour with terrifying precision. Named after Oziack, a vicious tribal warrior who thrived on close-quarters combat, this weapon is infamous for inflicting both crushing and slashing damage in a single blow.
| Runes —
Jagged Rend: Each strike has a chance to inflict deep, bleeding wounds.
Obsidian Resilience: The obsidian lining can regenerate over time, maintaining its sharpness in prolonged battles.
Impact Tremor: When swung with full force, the Razor Bat generates shockwaves, disorienting nearby enemies with concussive blasts.
| Lord Emblem gained — Blunt Specialisation: Increase the effectiveness of blunt weapons for you and your Units by 25%. Blunt weaponed Units will start with the Skill: Blunt Weaponry. Blunt Weaponry will evolve faster than with other weapons. 

Although Owen glanced over the system notification, he absorbed the Skill immediately. He felt his muscles balloon, then retract, tightening into a condensed form. The Lord Emblem he had gained, had already planted into his System. It appeared he could gain an infinite amount of them. 

Disregarding how strong that was, Owen wasn’t in the mood to praise his Skill. A rare wrath wrapped around the entirety of his mind. What if Claire had been Caroline, or Lai? What if instead of Claire, it was them. 

Then the sadness, forlorn look of Clair’s severed head…. 

Claire's headless body rampaged for Owen. With the extra strength in his body, he met her head on. Her razor-line bat smashed against his blade. The metal in his sword groaned, and so did his arms. Owen had grown stronger, but so did Claire, and it wasn’t by a small amount.

Owen’s weapon crashed to the floor, but he had successfully parried it, barely. He copied Pyris’s move. He snapped his foot at Claire's knee-cap. All he heard was a sickening crunch as her leg twisted. She fell to one knee.

Pyris arrived. She leaped high up in the air, then descended like a comet. Her entire weight, legs combusted with starlight, slammed into Claire’s spine. 

Justin summoned lances of darkness, spearing through Claire’s body. Pyris wasted no time. She grabbed the weapons, then pulled, twisted them, turning them into huge meat-hooks. 

Lome arrived, axe high in the air. 

“Lome, cover the edge with bones and metal!” Owen shouted his command.

Lome listened. As it descended, a thick layer of both metal and bone seeped out of the edge of his weapon. Axe now in the form of a wide headed hammer, Lome crushed it into Claire’s body, strength enhanced from the Lord Emblem.

Claire, even suffering through so much, thrashed on the spot. But with her legs broken, arms smashed into pieces, she had no strength to muster. Pyris and Justin didn’t let her recover.

Owen arrived in front of her. She reached out in an attempt to grab his leg, but a lance of black metal stabbed through her hand, halting her action. 

With a drawn breath, Owen raised his blade, and thrust it deep into her heart. He held back nothing. His sword pierced through flesh and bone until it dug halfway into the tiles and rock below. 

You and your subordinates have defeated Clair Amonette (Level 32)

| Your Units have Levelled up.

Justin sighed in relief, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Utilising so many lances during such a short amount of time must have drained his mana reserves. Owen knew it wasn’t the end.

“You have fought well,” The old man said with humour in his voice. “But did you really think that our little play time has ended just because of the death of a pitiful human? Now comes the main event.” 

The old man’s grinning smile atop his head widened its mouth. The green smoke tumbled through the air. The old man swallowed all of it at once. Only for Owen to grin. 

At first, the old man held no reaction. But it didn’t last for long. He started twitching, veins rising, turning from a pale sickly blue, to a deep yellow that resembled the worst of poisons. He coughed and spluttered. Blood seeped from his true mouth. 

“You—what did you do?!” The old man screamed, the face atop his head twisted in pain and fury. 

Owen revealed a glass vial. Only a drop of yellow liquid remained. He waved it in front of him. “Although I have no knowledge of you directly… When I saw that green smoke. I realised something,” Owen paused. “You’re a mind dominator. You rely on empowering a host, and when killed, you absorb their suffering to power yourself. And all mind dominator’s have a weakness—”

“You poisoned the host…”

“When you weren’t looking,” Owen said, gritting his teeth. “When she was… still alive. It’s a good thing I have an alchemist who works quickly.”

The old man rose. Black green smoke seeped out of the demon’s mouth, and billowed around his arms, elongating them, looking like long, muscled arms made of green smoke. 

“Weakened or not, I’ll rip you apart!” 

The demon shot forwards. Owen, as the strongest amongst his team, had to meet the devil head-on. The devil threw a fist at Owen’s skull. Owen’s senses screamed out at him, warning him that it wasn’t an attack he could take. Owen didn’t intend to.

At the last second, Owen dodged the strike and slashed the demon’s side. There was no blood.

At the same time, just as Owen passed the demon, one powerful arrow slammed into his shoulder. Powerful tendrils of lightning joined it right after. It crackled, burning the old man’s flesh into smoking, charred skin. 

Owen noticed traces of static electricity linger around the arrow. Owen’s eyes lit up. As Lome, Justin, and Pyris met the old man’s monstrous strength, Owen retreated back to Draed and Gorath. As usual, Mirian was patiently waiting for her opportune moment to strike.

“My Lord—”

Owen interrupted. “Draed,” he said, whispering. “Focus your arrows. One more at the shoulder. Another below the heart. Make sure the arrow tip isn’t below the flesh. Just deep enough so the metal shows. Gorath, when I give the signal, give it everything you’ve got.” 

Owen then summoned a small obscure dust cloud, then glanced at Mirian. He pointed to the top of his head.

He didn’t wait for their approval as he dashed back to enter the fight. It was growing intense. The strength of the devil, even after being weakened by the poison he had prepared in case of emergencies beforehand, meant that it could kill them in one single strike if they weren’t careful.

One accurate strike from those fists covered in terrible dark green smoke, and it was over.

Because of Lome’s terrible dexterity, he took the brunt of the damage. He’d defend, only for his arms to smash into pieces. After he recovered, then it was his chest, and then legs. But he regenerated each and every time. Was it an ability of his race, or was it thanks to the bone manipulation he had gained after his Class evolution?

The plan was moving on, despite the danger they were all in. Draed had just fired the third arrow, planting just below the heart. 

Owen, sensing the moment had arrived, summoned the Orcen Totem Fragment and placed it on the floor. Not having to say any other words, the mana in the air spun and crackled, hair rising from the powerful static electricity. 

Mighty lances of electricity lit up the entire area. Just as they were about to slam into the old man and the arrows in an attempt to destroy his heart, he suddenly tore out all the arrows. The powerful lightning crashed into him. His muscles spasmed, burn marks lashed into his pale flesh.

Sand had long lightly covered the surroundings.

And then the old man laughed.

“Did you really think—”

Before he could finish his words, Mirian leapt out from the sand, and plunged her dagger deep into the man’s skull. The devil let out a wretched scream. Piece-by-piece, the man’s skull collapsed. In a burst of dark green smoke, it rose up to the ceiling before fully extinguishing. 

You and your subordinates have defeated The Grinning Devil (Level 52)

| You have reached Level 37

| Your Units have Levelled up.

| You have obtained a Title — Devil Spotter: You have met with a named monster and lived to tell the tale. All Stats increased by 5.
| You have obtained a Title — Named Killer: You have slain a named monster. All Stats increased by 10.

| You have gained the summoning Ticket: Knight x2

Owen collapsed to the floor, butt striking solid tile.

“Did you really think I thought your heart was your weakness?” Owen mumbled, wiping the blood from his skull. One of the old man’s strikes must have glanced past his head. 

Mirian kicked the old man’s body before walking over. Owen smiled. “Good job, Mirian.”

“Pointing to the top of your head?” Mirian said, sitting next to him. “What if I didn’t understand what you meant?”

“Then we'd be in a pickle, wouldn’t we?”

“And what if you hadn’t prepared that poison beforehand?”

“Then we’d be dead.” Owen chuckled. “But to think there was a named monster down here? Never would have thought it could open the door on its own. First time I’ve seen that.” Or read about it, he thought. 

The poison was something he had prepared along with all the other herbs he had given Rizael. During the three days of non-stop drakzun slaying, the alchemist had prepared it. He wasn’t known for poisons, nor did he have any bonuses towards them, but he still knew the basics of alchemy. It wasn’t so different from making healing potions—his speciality.

Although it didn’t have the effectiveness he had liked, it still made a big difference. Owen sighed in relief. Honestly, that was close. If he hadn’t prepared that poison beforehand, or hadn’t set up Mirian’s success… Could he have won?

He didn’t know. But it was time for his bonus reward.

The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 62

Rolling to a stop, Owen brandished his sword, ready for an attack. But he paused, eyes locked onto an old, malnourished man. His head was dipped down, displaying his bald head that had black markings that looked eerily similar to a wide smile. If Owen hadn’t noticed a trace of breath, he would have thought the man dead. 

The room was floored with dark grey tiles. Four massive pillars made of the same kind of rock were situated around the room, holding it up.

Owen’s instincts were yelling out at him. The aura the old man exuded was terrifying. The smile on the top of his head was practically begging Owen to attack, to make the wrong move. Run. Don’t look back. Those were the only thoughts rampaging through his mind.

The doors behind Owen slammed shut. Owen quickly glanced around, seeing that everyone was unharmed, he breathed a sigh of relief. But it didn’t last long. 

“What have we got here?” The man said, the black ink mouth on the top of his head doing the talking. “Humans. Hm, only two of them here. Ah. I see. You have a peculiar… scent about you. Something special. Something to… savour.”

“What do we do, my Lord?” Draed asked, bow at the ready.

“I don’t know,” Owen said, his heart thumping. Owen didn’t know who, or what, the old man was. He hadn’t read about him. What did he do, how did he fight? Could they even fight him?

The situation was going from bad to downright horrific. Owen didn’t know what to do. His mind spun. He had to buy time. 

“Great one,” Owen said, voice trembling. “We did not intend to tread upon your domain. I–”

“Tread upon my domain?” The old man asked, voice ancient. “You didn’t just tread upon it. You have bastardised it. Warped it. Slayed my devoted slaves that bred and brought me nutrition. How about this—” he paused, and Owen’s heart sank. “—You may return, but the rest of them will be your sacrifice. And after that, every Consuming Moon that rises, you will offer me two sacrifices.”

Pyris and the others looked at him. Perhaps anyone else would take him up on that offer. To sacrifice them in order to save his life. Perhaps it was the only right move. But what was the point in living if he sacrificed the only thing he cared about? 

Owen sucked in a stale breath, stepped forward, and entered a sword stance. 

“You have made your decision. Now you shall fight.”

Owen tensed as the mana in the air swirled. Gorath seemed to sense it more than him, which was unusual considering the orc’s Magic stat wasn’t that much more than his. Was it all down to talent? 

Placing that to the back of his mind, Owen gathered everyone and entered formation. It wasn’t a compact one, as Owen had no idea what abilities this being had. If he had something with a high area of effect, they’d all be dead in one strike. So, maintaining a little space, Owen readied himself for any attack. 

No attack arrived. Instead, darkness swirled in the centre of the room. When it settled, a confused woman gazed around. She was human, wearing a Fragment armour of high quality. She also held a bat in hand that was lined with razor-sharp obsidian pieces. Judging by the fresh scars on her face, arms, and thighs, the woman had seen a lot of combat. And since she was still alive and kicking, that made her strong. 

Owen frowned. What the hell was happening? 

She tried to speak, yet no words arrived. The old man’s mouth on the top of his head opened up, and dark green smoke shot toward the woman. 

She tried to move, roll, but she was locked in place. 

The dark green smoke entered her mouth. 

Her bones snapped and twisted and then returned back into their place. Her muscles ballooned in size, only to return back to their original state. Whatever had just happened, the woman’s well defined muscles now looked like bundled steel wire. 

The old man had… empowered her? 

Her eyes flashed the same green as the smoke, and they latched onto Owen and his team. 

“My champion,” the old man said, a hint of humour in his voice now. “Fight. Struggle. And then all will come back to me.”

Owen had no idea what the man’s last words meant, but he didn’t have the time to ponder them. The woman rocketed forward, shattering the tiles underfoot, displaying a type of speed Owen had only read about—not seen. She arrived in a moment, smashing her weapon down at Owen.

In a panic, Owen raised his blade to block the strike. The woman’s full might descended upon him. Owen knew it was vital not to get injured. Not here. Not now. He bent with the strike, letting his blade do the work. Stepping to the side, the woman’s club smashed into the tiles below, breaking them.

Not in a position to slash her with his blade, Owen struck her with the pommel. Hard metal meeting unarmoured armpit, the woman screamed out in pain. 

Owen felt something inside him lurch. Killing the drakzun were one thing. But this? The woman’s face was twisted in pain. Eyes, not of her own, dominated her will. 

“Stop,” Owen pleaded. “I don’t want to—”

In a flash, the woman swung her club in a savage arc, striking his blade, sending him hurtling through the air, tumbling on the floor to a rolling stop. Pyris engaged in a heartbeat. Unlike Owen, she held no qualms about ending human life. 

Fist covered in star power, she punched the mind controlled woman straight in the jaw. A sickening snap rang out in the room. The woman took the hit, and returned one of her own. Pyris ducked underneath it, knowing it was coming, and leapt out the range of danger. 

She controlled the range perfectly. Like a trained soldier was born to do.

The woman snapped her jaw back into place, then like an enraged beast, launched forwards again. This time her focus was Lome. But he wasn’t fast enough to endure her assault. In one swift move, Lome was sent hurtling back, bones cracking, splitting, and scattering across the floor.

“Lome!”

“Fuck this. I’m sorry,” Owen muttered and met the woman in a violent melee. Draed and Gorath fired their projectiles whenever they had space. 

While the woman was fighting Pyris, Owen fully merged with his blade. Heartbeat and sword becoming one, he stepped in the beat of his own heart, and slashed her throat with all his strength. There was no hesitation. 

She was pulled into this, and for that, he was sorry. But if it was between his people and her…

It was an easy choice to make. His blade bit deep, halfway severing her throat, but continuing was too tough. Not because he had held back strength, but because whatever the old man had done to her body, had made it far too durable. Blood spurted out like a fountain. Owen didn’t stop there. Neither did Pyris, or Justin, or Mirian.

Justin summoned blackened lances that skewered into her body, finding any unarmoured targets he could. 

Pyris fists, with the weight of stars, battered the mind controlled human senseless. 

Mirian kept on striking from the shadows, boring the woman’s back with quickened jabs of knives. 

Lome was still recovering, his bones mending back together. 

For Draed and Gorath, he had ordered them to not waste time on the woman, and instead attack the old man. It was clear they weren’t getting out of this without a fight. More so, if they could interrupt the old man, and weaken the woman that way, it would be more efficient. But that turned out to be a worthless idea.

Draed had fired an arrow that bore into the old man's heart. Gorath found a moment to strike, lancing his body with crackling tendrils of concentrated lightning. Draed kept firing, turning his body into a hedgehog filled with arrows. Yet the old man only laughed.

So, Owen turned his full attention back onto the woman. She was his champion. Killing her was the only way. He hoped.

And yet despite the severity of her wounds, she still fought on. Owen and Pyris hadn’t escaped unscathed. Owen especially. As a result of blocking her attacks, his left arm was numb. Maybe broken. But he didn’t have time to worry about it. The same was for Pyris. Even with her training and expertise, because she had to press the advantage and not let the woman recover, she had taken on damage as well. 

Owen’s blade whistled through the air as he cleaved her head clean off. His grip tightened on the weapon, knuckles white with restrained fury. There was no satisfying notification—no signal that her life had truly ended.

The woman crumpled to her knees, her head rolling to a stop at Owen’s feet.

From her neck, dark green smoke twisted upwards, filling the air with a sickening stench. Black ink seeped from the stump, reshaping into a grotesque grin as her decapitated body rose once more. 

Owen’s teeth clenched. Fury ignited within him, burning hotter as he glanced at her dismembered head, its features now twisted in sorrow.

Rage consumed him. He dropped to a crouch, seized the severed head in his hand, and with a feral snarl, ripped into it. Her soul, her power, her very essence—he plundered it all. Skills, Stats, and a Lord Emblem surged into his system like a torrent of raw, stolen strength.

"For her, I will have vengeance," he growled.