Stormforge (Rise To Omniscience Book 5) Read online

  It was down in the water that Morgan could sense the real monsters. In fact, there was a single Beast down there, so vast that it stretched for nearly half a mile and must have weighed several hundred tons. The beast’s power was immense as well, reaching near rank 50 at his closest estimate.

  The core’s density also told him that this was, without a doubt, a Pinnacle beast. However, despite the enormous danger a creature like this posed, it seemed completely uninterested with anything above the surface of the water. Morgan had witnessed two boats go by, right over where it was lying, and the beast didn’t so much as twitch.

  Seeing this made him wonder what types of beasts could be lurking in the depths of the ocean bordering the other side of the East Kingdom. Were there monsters out there that were more powerful than the Pinnacle King? If so, could he somehow get them back North to fight on their behalf?

  Morgan snorted at that, dismissing it as unlikely. Getting beasts to fight each other was extremely difficult. Whereas humans would provide them with the energy needed to advance, other beasts wouldn’t really do much other than perhaps fill their bellies. The same was true of humans. While killing other supers and mages did award some small amount of energy, overall, hunting beasts was far more lucrative.

  This was where Morgan differed from them both. As a beast created with human DNA, he was in the unique position of being able to gain the maximum from both. His Soul Stealer trait made it possible for him to rip the cores of humans from their bodies, much as he’d do to a beast. This made him entirely different, even as supermages went.

  The thought of other supermages made Morgan’s mind go back to the only other two he knew about. Dabu, the man who’d mentored and helped him through a lot of difficulties, was dead now. And Gwendolyn, the woman who he’d only recently reconnected with, the closest thing he had to a mother, had been captured by the Pinnacle King. She was probably dead as well, having likely been tortured for information before being disposed of.

  Morgan wondered if she was one of the many twisted monsters he’d killed during the battles to protect the North. Just another twisted corpse on the battlefield for the crows to pick over. A wave of sadness hit him then and he had to fight to hold back the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

  This is no time to lose your composure, he berated himself.

  Millions of people were counting on him, so he needed to set aside his personal feelings and focus on the mission.

  Katherine hadn’t contacted him last night, but he wasn’t overly concerned about that. The Queen of the North was likely just busy, and he’d probably be hearing from her soon. He was tempted, if only for a moment, to reach out to her through the amulet. She’d be the only one who could activate the link, but she would feel it if he pressed the small button on the side.

  He wanted to talk to someone, as he’d been alone now for an entire day. It was true that he’d been alone inside beast zones and training for periods longer than this, but it just felt different when there was no training involved. It was also difficult because he knew Sarah wouldn’t be just a twist of the beast zone key away.

  Since when have you become so dependent on others? Morgan thought. There was a time when you were always on your own, and you handled yourself just fine then.

  His self-recrimination wasn’t really going to do him much good, so Morgan instead focused in on his status, the screen flashing into view before his eyes and letting him know of his progress.

  Name: Morgan

  Advanced Supermage: Rank - 51

  Energy to next rank - 1,242,648/4,000,000

  Ability Advancement - 11,660/15,000,000

  Total Available AP: 1,271

  Ability - Natural Disaster

  RP - 4,580/4,580 (Regen - 46 per second)

  Strength - 484

  Agility - 629

  Constitution - 467

  Intelligence - 458

  Wisdom - 460

  Skills - Supersonic flight, Concussive Burst, Stormforger, Rupture, Nature’s wrath, Maximum Might, Compressive Blast

  Traits - Dense body +, Recovery +, Aura sense (inherited), Aura flare (inherited), Perfect Self, Soul Stealer

  Extra - Gravity storm (4th category), Starbreaker (3rd category), Collapsing star (Nova), Shooting star

  He’d absorbed the two cores a few hours ago when he’d gotten particularly bored, deciding to put everything toward ranking up rather than his ability advancement. His Perfect Self just wasn’t improving, remaining as it was when last he’d checked. He understood why, as he didn’t really feel as though he’d been trying all that hard. Now, though, he wondered if it might be possible to work on self-improvement during his trip. He would be on his own for most of the time, and what better way to spend it than on self-reflection?

  13

  About five minutes after he started reflecting, Morgan grew bored and gave up. He’d never really been the philosophical type, and he just felt too restless to sit still and think about how he could improve himself when he already knew the answer. Training and more training. Strength was the key to improvement and right now, he was severely lacking when compared to those he was fighting against.

  Thankfully, he was distracted by a hazy outline in the distance, which soon revealed itself to be land. Morgan felt relief when he saw that, as the far bank of the river marked the city closest to the capital, meaning he was only about four or five hours away. The thought of flying for so much longer wasn’t exactly exciting, especially seeing as he’d have to cover a whole lot more ground before returning home, but still, it was nice to see he was making progress.

  He yawned widely, then looked down at himself. His wounds were now completely healed thanks to his Recovery, but his clothes were still quite dirty and smelled less than fresh. Meeting a ruler of a country demanded at least a little decorum, and even if he wasn’t the most eloquent when it came to matters of politics, he knew that he needed to look presentable.

  So, right there, high in the sky, Morgan stripped out of his clothes. He then plummeted straight down, hitting the river with the force of a dropping meteor, sending up a veritable explosion of water. He’d made sure there was no one within sight before he’d done this, so Morgan’s impromptu morning bath went unseen.

  He rose from the water a few moments later, feeling refreshed and reinvigorated. The water was cool, contrasting nicely with the increasing heat from the morning sun. If he were to guess, it was getting close to seventy degrees, though it likely wouldn’t grow too much hotter.

  He flew back up, staying close to the water as he wasn’t exactly decent right now, and allowed the air streaming by to dry him. The pack Katherine had supplied was thankfully waterproof and airtight, otherwise, he’d have completely ruined its contents several times over by now.

  Probably why she gave me a bag like this in the first place, Morgan realized. He did tend to ruin things and was never one to shy away from getting dirty, especially in a fight.

  The air felt pleasantly cool when contrasted with the water, and Morgan was dry in no time. Digging through his pack, he removed a fresh set of armor, this one more suited to the warmer climate and got dressed as he flew. There were a lot of buckles and straps that made it somewhat annoying to get into, but Morgan knew that if Katherine had done the packing for him, she’d have included what she thought necessary.

  The fact that there’d been a small note with the words ‘wear this when meeting Le’vine,’ were sort of a dead giveaway. There was a cloak attached to the bundle as well, though Morgan didn’t put it on. There was no way something like that would help him in a battle. He’d seen people wearing cloaks and how much they restricted movement. He wasn’t going to sacrifice his mobility just to look good.

  Besides, Morgan thought as he examined his reflection in the surface of the river. I look just fine as I am.

  He shot upward as he reached land, noting the strange, ridged trees with leaves only at the top and almost no branches. They looked almost like ca
nopies, and there were some strange-looking round things growing near them. Looking around to make sure no one was near, Morgan dropped back down, snatching one as he passed before taking back off.

  Upon closer inspection, he could see it was some sort of fruit, though it was extremely hard on the outside and didn’t look all that appetizing. He briefly wondered if the hairy brown thing even was a fruit, but the strange sloshing coming from within told him that he probably wasn’t supposed to eat the outside.

  Forming a small blade with his Stormforger, Morgan sliced a section off the top, releasing a very pleasant, slightly sweet smell. Turning the small section, he’d cut over, he found that it was covered in a wet, off white flesh. Tentatively, Morgan stuck out his tongue, swiping it over the interesting-looking fruit.

  It had a strange, sweet, and slightly musky flavor with a bit of an aftertaste. But, overall, it wasn’t bad. He scraped his teeth across the bottom section, feeling the mushy-looking substance flake away. It was far more fibrous than he would have guessed, but still tasted quite nice. Swallowing the small mouthful of whatever this strange fruit was, Morgan raised the open section to his lips and tilted it back.

  The moment it touched his tongue, Morgan knew he’d found something great. The juice of the fruit was far better than the actual flesh. It carried with it the same flavor but was much lighter and sweeter. It was one of the most delicious things he’d ever had the pleasure of drinking, and it was hard to believe it had come straight out of a fruit just growing near the river.

  He quickly finished its contents, dropping back down to collect several more. He saw that some were green, not yet having developed the same interesting exterior as the others. He left those ones, figuring they had yet to ripen. Morgan spent the next hour of his flight over the sea of swaying fruit trees, picking, opening, and drinking.

  Though he really wanted to continue enjoying them forever, his stomach was soon too full of the juice to take in even one more drop, leaving him feeling slightly nauseous. Still, Morgan did not regret overindulging, packing as many of the fruits as he could into his pack for later consumption.

  His mood now greatly improved, Morgan flew onward. Twenty minutes later, he spotted the walls of the second-largest city. He angled to the left — making sure he wouldn’t pass directly over the city and raise alarms — and continued on his way to the capital city of the East, Admire.

  Several hours after passing the city, the capital finally came into sight. The novelty of the passing countryside had quickly worn off as he flew over the land that seemed to be all water and tall reeds. He wondered if he might be able to pick up a few books before continuing after his surprise meeting with the Queen. He’d never really been much of a reader, but boredom could make scholars of just about anyone.

  Now that he was approaching the capital, Morgan wondered how he could go about getting an audience with the Queen. Should he simply enter the city by air, fly straight into the castle and demand an audience, or should he take the more diplomatic approach and come into the city the normal way?

  Morgan knew which he’d prefer. He could save himself a lot of time and effort by simply flying in, but rulers tended to be temperamental, and he wanted to make a good first impression.

  The normal way it is, then, Morgan thought resignedly, landing on the ground inside the cover of some trees to avoid being seen.

  There were many people already on the road, so he’d been forced to land quite far back and now faced a trek through the thick undergrowth to reach the road.

  Staying on a trail is for people who can’t fly, Morgan decided after only a couple of minutes.

  He could safely fly inside the cover of the trees, so long as he landed before he reached the road. He did just that, weaving his way between the thin trunks and avoiding the ground in general. The forest all around was lit with colors to his Aura Sense. None were strong enough to pose a threat, but it was nice to see so much wildlife around after the desolation in the North.

  Several minutes later, Morgan pushed through the last of the undergrowth as he reached the road. He’d chosen a spot roughly half a mile from the city walls, so the area was pretty dense with traffic. Wagons trundled by, hauling all manner of goods, from lumber and other building materials, to piles of the same fruit he’d enjoyed so much before.

  There was a shipping canal a few miles down the road, and Morgan figured that all of the traffic must be coming from there. The capital itself was actually built away from any water to prevent attacks by sea, which seemed to be the preferred method of banditry in the East. This made it that anyone who was transporting goods was forced to haul it from the end of the canal using regular means.

  The traffic was so dense that Morgan had no trouble slipping in unnoticed, but he soon became frustrated at the snail’s pace in which they seemed to be moving. He debated simply flying up and over but fought the urge down, reminding himself that diplomacy was important.

  Unfortunately, his patience wasn’t limitless, and after nearly an hour in which he’d moved a grand total of about a hundred paces, Morgan was ready to scream. He’d already spent more than an entire day flying to get here, traveling thousands of miles, bored out of his mind all the while. Plus, he still had thousands of miles left to travel and now he was being held up by a bunch of merchants dragging donkey carts.

  The constant shouting, bickering, and shoving wasn’t helping his temper at all. The merchants, who were all fairly large and bulky men, seemed to the need to throw their weight around. They continuously sniped at one another, hurling insults and challenging each other to fights.

  However, unlike in other places, when a challenge was issued here, they seemed to take it seriously. Morgan had thus far witnessed no fewer than eight brawls, where the loser was forced to relinquish his place in line. He’d debated doing exactly that to move up, but once again, diplomacy forced him to stay where he was, keep his head down and keep moving. It was then that Morgan felt a hard shove in the small of his back.

  It didn’t really bother him as it didn’t cause him any pain, but it was still annoying. He figured it must have been one of the many merchants crowing the area and just ignored it. Another shove came, this time harder, followed by a gruff voice.

  “Why you clogging up the road, runt? Can’t you see there are real men trying to do an honest day’s work?”

  Morgan turned and found himself at eye-level with a slab of muscle and looked up to meet the man’s eyes, towering a full foot above his own. The people of the East Kingdom must have all been eating well, because it seemed that the average height around here was six and a half feet. This man was a giant, even by their standards, and stood well above the rest of the crowd.

  “Excuse me?” Morgan said, not quite sure he’d heard correctly.

  The man leaned down, his massive form blotting out the sun and casting a shadow over him.

  “Are you deaf, boy?” the huge man asked, eyes narrowing. “I told you to get out of my way. There are real men that need to get work done, and with runts like you clogging up our streets, we’re losing precious time and money.”

  “Yeah, well, I was here first, so screw off,” Morgan said, not feeling particularly patient.

  “Say that again,” the man demanded, rolling his shoulders back and slapping one meaty fist into the other. “I dare you.”

  Morgan rolled his eyes, deciding not to bother indulging the moron and simply turned back to face the road ahead. Several of the other merchants had turned to see what all the commotion was about, and he found himself facing more than a few pairs of pitying eyes.

  “Don’t you turn your back on me, boy!” roared the man, making those near him flinch.

  So, that’s how it is. Morgan didn’t appreciate the injustice.

  This man was bigger and stronger than the rest and used his weight to get his way. Morgan had seen men like these all his life, and he very much despised them. The fact that he was only around rank 9 had stopped Morgan from bothering with t
he idiot, but seeing as the man was asking for it, Morgan decided he may as well confront him.

  Turning in place, Morgan found that the man was red-faced, his teeth clenched in a snarl. He was reaching to his belt, where a heavy wooden cudgel swung unrestrained. Looking up into the man’s eyes and conjuring a look of utmost disgust, Morgan channeled his inner child, the one who’d survived on the streets of City Four and had known how to push all the right buttons.

  “Listen, whoever you are,” he began, keeping his defenses down and sticking out his chin. “You might think you’re some bigshot because you can throw your fat ass around and everyone will move. But I’m not someone you can mess with, so you’d best back off, bitch.”

  There was an audible gasp from the surrounding crowd, and Morgan felt a small sense of pride as the man reacted exactly as he’d expected him to. With a howl of rage, he ripped the weapon from his belt and swung it as hard as he could at Morgan’s obligingly presented jaw.

  While the man had tried to remove the offending boy’s head, that wasn’t at all what happened. He was dumbfounded when instead of killing the boy, his cudgel shattered to splinters upon impact with Morgan’s face. The backlash of striking something so hard backfired beautifully, shattering the merchant’s wrist and elbow, as well as driving a load of splinters deep into his palm.

  The man dropped to his knees, howling in pain and clutching at his now ruined arm. Morgan turned back to the shocked onlookers and simply shrugged.

  He hadn’t thrown the first punch. Whatever the man had done, he’d done to himself. Still, Morgan took no pleasure in defeating those weaker than him, and despite having done the right thing, Morgan found that it left a sour taste in his mouth. Though he was sure the fight was over after that, the scream of rage and pain that sounded from behind him, as well as the warning shouts from the others, told him otherwise.