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Kairos was coating his spear with poison, when his griffin Rook returned from his scouting mission. He had smelled blood in the water.

The eighteen year old [Rogue] raised his head, and put his bottle of [Hydra Venom] back around his belt as his companion landed on the ship's deck. The griffin, whom Kairos had raised from the egg, was no bigger than a foal; a tiny lion with a white eagle’s head, wings, and talons.

“They’re coming?” Kairos asked Rook, his friend nodding. The sound of crashing waves echoed around them; “Which direction?”

His feathered companion looked south and uttered a high-pitched screech. Most of Kairos’ crewmates were already on the Foresight’s deck, having waited for hours while playing dice. They looked at the scene with hope, their long wait coming to an end.

“Uncle!” Kairos shouted. “Captain! The ship is coming from the south!”

Almost everyone drew their iron weapons as Uncle Panos emerged from the ship's lower deck, his first mate and mistress Cassandra following him like his shadow.

The Foresight’s captain shared his nephew’s piercing black eyes and short black hair, with the addition of a thick beard. Unlike Kairos though, Panos was a true [Fighter], a tall bruiser favoring a two-handed iron axe. Like all Travians, his skin was naturally tanned. Kairos himself had the lightest complexion on the ship, owing to his mother’s Lycean heritage.

Cassandra, or 'Cass', was a beautiful, athletic woman of twenty-eight years, more than a decade younger than her companion. She kept her black hair in a braid falling on her shoulder, her amber eyes visible through her helmet. While a [Fighter] like Uncle Panos, she favored the sword and a rounded shield.

“I was wondering if we would have to return home with nothing tonight,” Uncle Panos said, his friendly smile putting the whole crew at ease. His ironclad confidence was almost infectious. “But it seems the stars have aligned. How many warriors onboard?”

Kairos translated the questions to his griffin, but it wasn’t a true dialogue of words. Rook had an eagle’s intelligence, and as such didn’t understand complicated concepts. Still, the young man had trained his feathered friend to count.

“Only twelve people with weapons onboard,” Kairos translated, Rook screeching a few times in short succession. “Their ship is bigger than ours, but they don't have any escort. Rook didn’t recognize one of the creatures on the deck.”

The griffin nodded, pointing at Cass’s armor with his beak.

“All metal?” Kairos translated with a frown.

“Your griffin must have seen an automaton,” Cassandra said, before turning to Uncle. “The numbers match those given by my informant. We can assume they were correct about everything else.”

“Which means the [Hero] onboard is level 41,” Captain Panos said. “Tall odds. I like them.”

“If a poisoned projectile can hit him, it will be over,” Kairos insisted. Hydra poison was so powerful that it ignored almost every form of toxin resistance. "Unless the Hero is completely immune to the [Poison] ailment, he will be dead within minutes.”

This poison was as potent as it was rare, since you needed the venom of a living or freshly dead hydra to produce it. Many wondered how Kairos had gotten his hands on the substance, which was the cornerstone of the whole raid. His secret was simple.

Everyone tried to kill hydras, but Kairos was the first to befriend one.

“That’s my boy,” Uncle Panos put a hand on Kairos’ hair, making his nephew smirk. “Always thinking of everything.”

“You did a good job, Kairos,” Cass added with a warm smile of her own, before turning to Uncle Panos to discuss the plan of attack. “Their ship is bigger than the Foresight, but we should be able to destroy their oars by ramming them. If we do it on both sides, they will be sitting ducks, and we can bombard them from a safe distance.”

Kairos favored that approach. A level 41 [Hero] would single-handedly slaughter everyone onboard in a fair fight. The better tactic was to avoid melee entirely.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t in the majority. A bald axeman, the ship’s master-at-arms Serras, immediately voiced his disagreement. “Captain, if the poison kills the [Hero], we’ll get little experience out of it! And none of us will earn a [Legend] this way! I say we board and finish him off after he has been weakened!”

“From what I was told, Pelopidas the Tempest Spear is unmatched in close combat,” Cass warned, having organized the raid's finer details. “I would rather receive less experience but get his Legendary Weapon, than lose the entire crew for fleeting glory.”

Many warriors voiced their agreement for one approach or the other, while Uncle Panos abstained from taking any side yet. Having served two years on the Foresight, Kairos had learned much about his style of leadership; his uncle always listened to everyone, saw where the wind blew, and then settled on a firm course of action.

“Mmm…” The captain turned to the ship’s magician. “Rhadamanthe? What do the winds and stars say?”

The only [Spellcaster] of the crew, the minotaur Rhadamanthe was a ten-feet tall, humanoid bull with fur white as snow and a crimson toga. As the crew’s astrologer, he could often glean information about the future by observing natural signs.

“If we do not board, victory is assured,” the minotaur spoke with a guttural voice, “but if we board, a new [Legend] will be born.”

This caused quite a ruckus, shouts of ‘boarding’ turning almost overwhelming, much to Cass’s chagrin. Everyone on the Foresight was either a [Common] or an [Elite] rank; none of them had a [Legend], the divine power that allowed an individual to transcend mortality and eventually achieve apotheosis.

Kairos himself held his breath. He too dreamed of earning a [Legend], becoming the champion his homeland of Travia desperately needed. Would this be him? Doubtful. The odds were long, and opportunities rare.

He could also see the greed in his uncle’s eyes. Panos had fought on the sea for decades without ever reaching the rank of [Hero]. Now that he approached forty years of age, his prospects were dwindling.

Whatever the course his uncle would choose, Kairos would follow his captain’s orders. Everyone could speak their mind on a Travian ship, but in the end, their commanders’ decisions were absolute.

“Alright, we’ll see when we reach the ship,” Uncle Panos said before raising his ax. “Everyone at their post! Let’s take this [Hero] down and show the Thessalans who truly rule the Sunsea!”

The men raised their weapons and shouted a war cry, even Kairos; although he briefly worried they might spoil the surprise with their loudness.

The rowers went below deck to seize the oars, while the warriors led by Cass adopted a fighting formation. Kairos himself, following the plan, approached the archers and presented them with his hydra venom.

“Arrow tip only,” Kairos told his crewmates, as they poisoned their projectiles. “Do not touch the venom, or it will corrode your skin. One drop and you are dead.”

Thankfully, by now the crew knew his expertise in poison and followed his advice religiously. Kairos did notice a new face among the archers, a brown-haired teen with freckles on his face.

“Hey!” Kairos smiled at him. “You’re the new recruit, Orion?”

“I am,” the teen nodded shyly. Kairos was tall and lean, so he must have looked intimidating to the newbie.

“Is it your first raid?” the [Rogue] asked, trying to put him at ease. “The first one is always the harshest, but you’re in good hands.”

“Thanks,” the bowman replied with a nod, putting his poisoned arrows back in his quiver. As Kairos put back his bottle around his belt, Orion couldn’t suppress his curiosity. “Hey, is it true that you befriended a hydra?”

“If you want to know...” Kairos winked at him. “Yes, I did.”

“How?” the youth asked, astonished.

“One head at a time,” he joked, Rook yapping at his side.

Unlike many of his compatriots, Kairos had access to the rare [Beast Tongue 1] skill, which allowed him to understand most animals. Many had wondered why he ‘wasted’ a Skill Point on a non-combat ability, considering their line of work, but it had proven to be a wise investment.

“Ship in sight!” the galley’s sentry shouted, Kairos and the archers moving into position.

Having hidden between two steep rocks straight out of the open sea—a spot selected by Rhadamanthe—their ship had remained undetected, preparing to ambush their target. And at long last, the enemy was within sight; a ceremonial galley ship gracefully skidded on the waters under the sun, blissfully unaware of the danger at its rear.

Their family’s ship, the Foresight, was a Travian war galley thirty-three meters in length with two sails, a main and a smaller one at the front. The galley was smaller than the target, but also far faster; its bronze ram at the front would easily smash into the enemy’s flank. The ballistae at the back were also ready to fire at a moment’s warning. While the larger ship would shrug off projectiles at distance, the bolts would pierce its flanks at close range.

Rhadamanthe moved behind the main sail and started spellcasting, blowing wind from his hands to propel the ship forward. Like a shark pursuing a seal, the Foresight emerged from the rock formation to chase after its target.

By now, archers and spearsmen stood on the deck, while the other warriors like the bald axeman Serras remained in standby. Uncle Panos led from the front with Kairos, while Cass commanded the rear.

“Rook, you fly out of range and you stay there,” Kairos told his companion, the griffin screeching in disagreement. “No, you are too young and too small for combat. You might even get hit by one of our arrows.”

Uncle Panos looked at the scene with amusement, until the young griffin finally obeyed and flew high in the skies. “Anxious?” the captain asked his nephew.

“A little,” Kairos admitted. “I’ve never fought a [Hero] before, let alone someone above level 40.”

“Me neither,” Uncle replied. A rival Thessalan city-state had promised them a king’s ransom if they killed their enemy’s champion, but that was only after they failed to do it themselves. “Your dad did though. He once had a shot at slaying Zama the Unconquered, and always regretted never seizing the opportunity.”

“Why didn't he try?” Kairos asked.

“He had children at home,” Uncle Panos looked at the ship with a distant, thoughtful gaze. “I don’t.”

Kairos observed his uncle in silence. His nephew had pushed him to take the job once Cass proposed it. Their hometown needed money and supplies to make it through the winter, though the [Rogue] believed that a friendly relationship with a Thessalan city-state would be even more valuable in the long-term.

Uncle Panos didn’t care about long-term planning though. It was the glory's call that motivated him, plain and simple.

A horn echoed from the Thessalan ship as a warning, but it was too little, too late.

The Foresight closed in on the target from the left, but instead of smashing into the hull and sinking the vessel, it instead rammed against the oars. The bronze ram shattered them, while Cass ordered the ballistae to attack, pulverizing part of the Thessalan ship’s deck and tearing apart some crewmen.

At close range, Kairos finally saw the crew of the target vessel. Few warriors were onboard, hoplite [Fighters] wearing heavy bronze armors, spears, helmets, and shields. One of them wasn’t even human, but a humanoid automaton made of solid tin; probably the creature which Rook couldn’t identify. Outnumbered more than two to one, the Thessalan crew had formed a defensive wall of shields while branded slaves hurried below the deck like cowards.

Kairos had no trouble identifying the [Hero] onboard, a tall figure in heavy silver armor and carrying a silvery spear surrounded by swirling winds. A Legendary Weapon from the time of myths, before men overthrew the old gods to take their powers for themselves. Kairos immediately looked at the commander with his [Observer 1] skill.

Pelopidas the Great

Legend: Tempest Spear (Hero).

Level: ???

 

As expected, the [Rogue]’s skill rank was too low to get more information. Most of the Foresight’s crew, with a few exceptions like the commanders, were around level 20; they stood no chance against this man in a straight fight.

Wearing leather armor, sandals, and a helmet, Kairos had traded protection for mobility, as befitting of a [Rogue]. Taking a step back, he threw his spear straight at the [Hero], aiming for chinks in the armor below the arm right as the enemy raised his weapon. The spear impaled Pelopidas below the arm; while any such blow would have crippled a normal man, it only elicited a growl from the legendary warrior.

Emboldened by his success, bowmen and spearsmen assisted Kairos by unleashing a volley of projectiles, but most bounced off the shield wall. The [Hero] took a few arrows without flinching, before casually removing Kairos’ spear from his flank and tossing it into the sea.

Still, the plan was a complete success. The Thessalan vessel’s oars were destroyed, and the Foresight continued its course forward. Rook circled the battlefield from above, yapping to encourage the Travian raiders.

Among the bowmen, Kairos noticed Orion frantically trying to draw a second arrow out of his quiver. The youth was clearly stressed out by the fighting. “You’ll get used to it!” Kairos told him with a smile. He knew the importance of keeping morale high, especially in battle.

“Maybe I will get a promotion to [Elite] Rank,” the bowman replied with the same cheerful expression, as their ship turned around. “When was your first raid?”

“At fourteen,” Kairos replied, Serras tossing him a second spear. His sister had just died of starvation then, and he had taken to the sea to find food so his mom wouldn't perish too.

“Your smile…” Orion trailed with a frown.

“Hm?”

“You smile all the time, but it doesn’t always reach the eyes.”

Perceptive. Truth be told, Kairos was as stressed as Orion himself, he just learned to hide it. Fear was contagious, and killed more men than swords.

The Foresight’s oarsmen and Rhadamanthe’s changing winds allowed the ship to circle around the Thessalan ship to the right. This time, they would hit the oars on this side, fully immobilizing the target and turning it into a sitting duck.

“We board!”

Kairos raised his head at his uncle in surprise. “We board?”

“We board!” Captain Panos confirmed, the warriors roaring in delight.

“Panos, that’s suicide!” Cass shouted from the rear, while Rhadamanthe looked worried. “None of us are powerful enough to defeat that [Hero]! Let’s just circle and bombard them until the venom takes its toll, and then we board!”

Although Kairos thought his poison might have weakened Pelopidas enough for the kill if he didn’t have unnatural Vitality, he couldn’t help but share Cass’ worries. “We should wait until after a third round of projectiles, Uncle!” he pleaded with his captain.

“There is no glory in letting poison win our battles,” Panos replied, a few hotheads among the crew nodding. “A [Hero] deserves a better death!”

Kairos could see the hunger in his captain’s eyes and immediately read his mind.

Uncle Panos intended to kill Pelopidas himself, and hopefully steal his [Legend]. Having no children at home and with age catching up to him, this may be his last chance at becoming a [Hero] himself. He would either ascend, or die trying.

As the Foresight approached the Thessalan ship, raiders readied grappling hooks in preparation for the boarding, with Uncle Panos at the helm. “Men!” he shouted to his crew. “Today, we claim a tribute of gold and blood! People will sing songs about our victory for thousands of years—”

A tornado cut him mid-speech.

The Foresight trembled, as a mini-cyclone formed on the deck. It shredded four men to the bone, and cut through Uncle Panos’ left side, tearing off his arm and leg. Meanwhile, a burst of air sent men flying, including Kairos himself. His back hit the main mast, and the shock made him drop his spear.

The raider collapsed facedown on the deck, right next to a shredded corpse. Kairos struggled with a concussion, his vision blurring. He noticed a silver shape land on the deck, followed by shining warriors in bronze armor.

The Thessalans had boarded the Foresight.

And the result was devastating. The [Hero] raised his spear, and sent three men flying into the sea with a casual swing. If the poison weakened him, Pelopidas didn’t show it. Meanwhile, his men engaged the raiders in combat, the automaton impaling an archer through the gut before flanking Serras. Orion quickly backed down, unable to keep a cool head at this sudden turn of events.

Realizing the danger, the Foresight's rowers emerged with weapons in hands from the lower deck to defend their vessel. Pelopidas lazily raised his spear at them, swirling blades of cutting winds disemboweling five raiders.

And Uncle Panos… he was screaming on the deck, drowning in his own blood with half his body torn to shreds.

The sight made Kairos almost rise up and rush to his uncle's side. Unfortunately, Pelopidas was making his way towards his location, although not for Kairos himself. Instead the warrior focused on Rhadamanthe and Cass at the rear.

If Kairos rose up, he could dash to his uncle’s side, but Pelopidas would almost certainly intercept him. The young pirate had no hope of taking on a level 41 [Hero] in a straight fight. He might bypass the enemy and reach his uncle, but a single mistake and the magical spear would skewer him.

After a moment of consideration, frustrated, angry, and clenching his teeth…

Kairos played dead.

The moment wasn’t right yet.

Rhadamanthe and Cass immediately moved to intercept the [Hero], trying a pincer attack. The minotaur created a blast of focused wind, which Pelopidas countered with one from his spear. The magical weapon proved far more powerful, sending the minotaur crashing against the ship’s ballistae.

“Like sheep to the altar,” the [Hero] mocked them in Thessalan as he stepped over Kairos’ body to confront Cass, sealing his fate.

Now.

Thankfully, Kairos always carried a poisoned dagger around his belt. Drawing it, he hit the only exposed area within his range: the [Hero]’s left heel.

The surprised Pelopidas bent his knee in pain, but managed to use his spear to avoid collapsing entirely. Cass exploited the opportunity to charge at him, ramming her sword into the T-shaped hole in the helmet and piercing the [Hero]’s eye.

Instead of collapsing, Pelopidas bashed Cass with his shield and tossed her to the side, blood dripping from his face. He then turned his head to look at his new attacker, Kairos having risen up behind him; the [Hero]’s skin had turned purple from the poison, his face a vision of Hades itself.

“You!” Pelopidas rasped, lightning erupting in his remaining eye while wind swirled around his spear.

At this moment, a screech echoed from above as Rook dived down like an eagle. The griffin caught the [Hero]’s helmet and picked his remaining eye through the gap with his beak. The blinded Pelopidas let out a scream of pain and surprise, losing his focus.

Kairos immediately slit the [Hero]’s throat.

Perhaps the pain and surprise disrupted his magic, for the wind around the [Hero]’s weapon dissipated, the weapon falling to the ground. Pelopidas trembled for a few seconds before collapsing on his back.

He didn’t pretend to be dead.

Unlike the raiders, the [Hero]’s men didn’t maintain their ferocious assault after their leader fell. Instead, panic spread through their ranks, doubly so when Kairos grabbed their champion’s magical spear and enemies surrounded them from all sides. Cass shouted a battle cry as the surviving raiders fell upon the Thessalans like wolves.

What followed was a flash of blood and fury, the battle turning into a crimson haze. Kairos vaguely remembered tearing through the automaton and tossing its scraps overboard. Everything else was a blur.

When he regained his composure, the Thessalan warriors were all dead, but the raiders had lost more than forty people. Rhadamanthe, Cass, Serras, and Orion were among the survivors, but most of the best raiders had perished.

“Uncle Panos!” Kairos immediately rushed to his family’s side. Rhadamanthe was already tending to Panos, casting a healing spell on his wounds. “Uncle!”

“Panos!” Cass and the rest of the crew attended to their captain, his first mate panicking. “Panos!”

Rhadamanthe looked at Cass, and Kairos saw the grief in his eyes. He didn’t even need to listen to the verdict; even if Rhadamanthe’s spell had closed the wounds, no mortal man could survive such loss of blood.

“Uncle, I’m sorry,” Kairos apologized, tears forming in his eyes as he knelt at Panos’ side. “If I had… if I hadn’t waited—”

“Nephew…” Panos interrupted him, breathing deeply as he looked at the magical spear Kairos wielded, “Is the [Hero]... dead?”

Kairos nodded.

“Good…” Panos managed to raise his right hand, putting it on Kairos’ hair with pride. “That’s… my boy…”

Cass took his last hand and knelt to his side, exchanging whispers with her lover. Kairos backed away, the victory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Kairos,” Rhadamanthe took charge, forcing everyone back so Cass could enjoy a private moment with Panos for the last time, “search their ship’s lower deck while I examine the Foresight.”

Kairos gave one last glance at his dying uncle before obeying, Rook brushing against his leg like a cat. His companion could sense his sadness, and wished to alleviate it.

Orion joined him, clearly shaken. “You’re alright?” Kairos asked him, seeing the paleness of the bowman’s face.

“I…” The archer shook his head. “I didn’t expect something like that.”

“Such is life,” Serras replied, grim and resolute. “Toughen up or scram.”

Kairos noticed his griffin had looted the [Hero]’s helmet and put it on his head to imitate the raiders. “Rook!”

His griffin yapped back, stubbornly keeping the oversized helmet on even as it threatened to fall off. A few crewmates chuckled at the sight, their unofficial mascot bringing some much needed levity.

With a heavy sigh, Kairos boarded the Thessalan ship alongside the other raiders, slamming the wood door to the lower deck with his weapon. The gate collapsed, revealing collared slaves and priests in toga hiding behind them, their hands raised in surrender.

Wise.

The raiders forced every passenger on the main deck, from the oarsmen to the slaves. Kairos had them kneel in two lines at the point of his new spear, while his crewmates searched the deck below.

As expected, the ship had been a sacred boat dedicated to the dead Pelopidas, carrying one hundred and fifty people in total, most of them rowers. Unlike the Foresight’s oarsmen, however, none of them were armed, having trusted their [Hero] to defend them.

Besides oarsmen, the ship also carried six male priests, probably attendants of the fallen [Hero], and twelve slaves, each carrying a brand on their chest. Most were young girls smelling of perfume, probably the dead Pelopidas’ concubines.

They looked at Kairos and his new spear with great terror, while Rook buffed his chest with pride at his side. And as despair overcame the conquered, Kairos felt divine energy fill his bones, their fear granting him true strength. In an instant, he was no longer one of the nameless people lost to history.

He had earned a [Legend].

You earned the Legend: [Travian Reaver]!

You upgraded your Personal Rank from [Common] to [Elite]. You can now progress past level 20, your Strength rank has been raised to C+, and your Charisma rank to B+. You earned the Legendary Skill: [Hero Slayer].

You gained four levels (total 21) and 8 Skill points. You gained access to the [Cutthroat] Rogue specialization and its associated skill tree.

[Hero Slayer]: Legendary Skill, 2 Stars. If you attack [Hero] rank enemies, you ignore their magical defenses and damage resistance.

The message felt bittersweet. On one hand, Kairos had fulfilled his ambition and gained a [Legend]; he could help lead the Travian people, and hopefully return them to their lost glory one day.

But it had cost him another family member.

The raider glanced at the weapon he wielded, and for which his uncle had perished.

[Anemoi Spear] (3 Stars Legendary Item).

You do not possess the necessary Rank to fully wield this item’s power.

Cass and Rhadamanthe soon joined him on the captured ship, while axeman Serras stepped out from its lower deck. Cass made a sullen face, and Kairos noticed Uncle Panos’ body was missing. He must have been transferred below deck alongside the dead.

“So?” Cass asked grimly, all business. “What about the cargo?”

“They carry a battalion’s worth of food down here,” Serras responded, his eyes full of greed and hunger. “Fine wine, cheese, dried boars, cakes… gold and silver too.”

“We won’t have to eat seeds tonight,” Cass said with a sad smile, although she was only half-joking. Travian lands were so poor, that trade or raiding were among their only methods to feed their families back at home. “Everyone will have their share upon landing.”

“What about the Foresight?” Kairos asked, anxious. The ship had been in his family for decades, and he was sentimentally attached to it.

“Minor damage, although we will need to repair the deck,” Rhadamanthe said. “Although I cannot say the same for the crew. It was a mistake to attack so early.”

Surviving raiders, Serras among them, glared at the minotaur for demeaning their bravery. With so many losses, Kairos knew better than to encourage a feud inside the crew, and immediately tried to defuse tensions. “What is even the name of this ship?” the young sailor asked, trying to change the subject.

“Who cares, it failed to live up to it anyway,” Serras said with disdain.

“Point taken,” Cass admitted. “We will give it a new name once we return to port. We will transfer extra oars from the Foresight to the captured vessel, and bring both back home.”

“What do we do with the survivors, Cassandra?” Rhadamanthe asked. With Uncle Panos dead, she was officially in command until the crew could elect a new captain.

“We throw them overboard,” Serras suggested, the captives flinching as he eyed them with disdain. “That’s more mouths to feed, and we already have too many at home.”

“They surrendered!” Kairos protested, “We are not executing helpless prisoners of war!”

“This will be sacrilege.” Rhadamanthe nodded in approbation.

“No one will be tossed overboard,” Cass said immediately, ever the pragmatist. “The Thessalans often have their nobles row with their slaves and citizens. Some of these captives could be worth a good ransom.”

“Some,” Serras conceded, “but most are worthless. We have lost our best warriors, and our recruits need easy levels.”

That was brutal, but the axeman had a point: the crew was decimated, and the survivors needed experience before they could make up for the lost manpower.

However, Kairos noticed most of the crew looked at him, waiting for him to speak up, instead of Cass or Serras.

He had earned a [Legend], and newfound respect from them.

“We aren’t killing surrendering enemies,” Kairos said. Although he did it out of pity and hatred for senseless violence, he added a few pragmatic reasons, to mollify the harshest raiders. “Even more, a massacre will encourage the crews of ships we encounter later to fight to the last man, instead of peacefully surrendering. Some of them could provide useful information on Thessalan coasts.”

“We will split the crew and set sail back to Travia with both ships,” Cass nodded, glancing at Kairos. “You’re in charge of the captured vessel.”

The younger Travian nodded in thankfulness but wished to address one subject before returning to work. “What were the client’s orders?”

“Take the ship and slay the [Hero] onboard.” Cassandra smiled, half proud, half bitter. Although she adored Kairos, no doubt that she would have preferred Uncle Panos to get the spear. “You keep what you earned.”

Rhadamanthe and Serras even patted Kairos on the back in congratulations, the crew applauding his success. Although he felt an invisible pressure on his shoulders, Kairos remained steadfast.

“Alright, you heard our captain,” Kairos pointed his spear at the captives, speaking in perfect Thassalan. “Get below deck and start rowing.”

“I won’t sully my hands for Travian trash!” one of the captured priests spat on the deck.

Kairos observed him with [Observe 1]. He didn’t care much about most of this man’s stats, except for the name, skimming most information.

Odesse of Sybaris

Legend: none (Common).

Race: Human.

Class: Spellcaster (Priest).

Level: 13.

“Odesse, there are two kinds of people in this world. Those who have a weapon at your throat, and those who row.” Kairos pointed the tip of his new spear at the priest’s chin. “Now row.”

The man shut up and moved to the lower deck like the rest.

As the two ships began moving north, towards his homeland of Travia, Kairos glanced at the Foresight. Rowers pulled bodies in clothes and pulled them below deck for later burial, while Cass took command with a firm expression.

Many would have wondered why his uncle threw away a perfectly good plan for a riskier one, but Kairos understood what had motivated him. Fear, desperation… and a touch of ambition.

In this harsh world, powerful people could develop a [Legend] of their own, gaining power and prestige. From [Commons] forgotten by history, to [Elites], to [Heroes] and [Demigods]… one could climb the rank until they reached the apex of the world. A place in a pantheon emptied of its deities.

The rank of [God].

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A note from Void Herald

Chapter sponsored by knightaether

Yeah, new story. Much like Never Die Twice, it started as a commissioned story now funded through Patreon. It's not going to be a comedy, as you can guess from that chapter and the warning tags. I will be bulk-releasing some of the early chapters soon, and then slowly upload the Patreon backlog. I hope you'll enjoy this tale ;)  

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Void Herald

Bio: I'm Maxime Julien Durand ([email protected]), a European warlock living in the distant realm known as France, spending half my time writing and the other half managing magical websites.

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