Free Web NovelChapter 7: Emulation...
The veteran soldier turned gesturing over his shoulder toward the massive sprawling network of muddy trenches and spiked barricades in the distance.
Caius stepped out of the reinforced steel carriage, his boots instantly sinking three inches into a thick frigid soup of black mud.
The coldness of the mire bit directly through the soles of his expensive leather footwear, but he didn’t care.
He was too busy staring at the bleak post-apocalyptic landscape stretching out before him. The air was so thick with sulfur and burning magic that it felt like breathing fine glass.
The scarred soldier didn’t wait for him.
He trudged forward with his heavy mud-caked boots making a rhythmic wet slapping sound against the earth as he led the way down a narrow trench pathway.
Caius dragged his feet out of the slop, struggling to keep pace while carrying the heavy canvas duffel bag.
’The atmospheric density of mana in this region is completely erratic...’ Ereba noted with her voice swirling smoothly around the inner lining of his mind. ’It feels jagged... Like a shattered mirror...’
’That’s because this place is a graveyard for both humans and monsters,’ Caius replied internally with his eyes scanning the steep walls of the dirt trench. ’The ground itself is completely oversaturated with old spells.’
The veteran soldier suddenly stopped.
He didn’t turn around.
He just stood perfectly rigid in the middle of the narrow pathway with his shoulders hitching violently. A wet, horrific rattling sound erupted from the man’s throat.
"Ugh—" The soldier violently clutched his chest, his single good eye widening to the absolute limit as a thick fountain of dark purple-tinged blood aggressively sprayed from his lips.
Before Caius could even think to reach out, the veteran’s knees completely gave way.
He collapsed face-first into the freezing black mud.
His body twitched violently once, his fingers clawing uselessly at the dirt, and then he went completely, utterly still and his single eye glazed over instantly, staring blankly into the gray smog.
Caius froze, his foot hovering just inches away from the dead man’s legs.
’What the hell?’ Caius thought with his heart skipping a beat. ’He just... died? Just like that?’
’The corruption in his lungs finally reached his core...’ Ereba observed with her voice entirely detached, as if she were analyzing a broken piece of pottery. ’Mortal fragility never ceases to amaze me. He was rotting from the inside out while he was speaking to you.’
Heavy deliberate footsteps echoed from the thick fog ahead as the sloshing of mud signaled the approach of another figure.
Through the gray curtain of smog stepped a towering man wearing a dark, heavily dented iron breastplate.
He had a thick, unkempt black beard and a massive, jagged scar trailing from his jawline down into his collar.
His eyes were completely cold and the man stopped, looking down at the fresh corpse resting between him and Caius.
Without a single shred of hesitation or respect, the towering man raised his heavy iron boot and stepped directly onto the dead soldier’s back, using the corpse as a stepping stone to cross a deep puddle of liquid mud.
The body let out a pathetic squelching wet wheeze as the air was forcefully compressed out of its lungs.
Caius’s jaw tightened.
This place was truly a godless vacuum...
"Trash," the towering man rumbled, his voice sounding like iron grinding against stone. He kicked the corpse to the side of the trench wall, clearing the path.
He then fixed his piercing, slate-gray eyes directly onto Caius, taking in the sight of his clean expensive silk collar and pale unblemished skin.
"I am Sergeant Vance," the man stated flatly. "I run this specific sector of the meat grinder. I don’t care who your father is, and I don’t care what noble house spawned you. Out here, a noble title won’t stop a beast from ripping your throat out."
"Understood," Caius said, keeping his voice entirely level.
Vance let out a short, harsh grunt.
He reached behind his back, unhooking a bundle of heavy metal from his belt, and violently tossed it forward.
The metal slammed hard against Caius’s chest.
Caius stumbled backward with his breath catching as he barely managed to catch the heavy, slightly rusted iron chest plate and the generic steel shortsword tossed at him. freewёbnoνel.com
The weight of the crude armor nearly pulled his scrawny frame straight back down into the mud.
"Put it on," Vance commanded, turning around to lead the way deeper into the trenches. "Standard-issue infantry gear... If it doesn’t fit, tough shit... Take it up with the gods."
Caius quickly slung the canvas bag over his shoulder, gripped the heavy iron plate and followed the ruthless Sergeant.
As he walked, he focused internally, feeling the deep, bottomless ocean of absolute darkness resting within his soul.
He was physically scrawny, yes. His muscles were weak, and his stamina was entirely unconditioned for brutal grueling physical labor.
But his mana pool?
It was utterly gargantuan.
By binding his soul to Ereba, the Chained Goddess of the Void... his spiritual capacity had been expanded to an impossible degree.
’Of course it’s because I’m letting you draw upon my mana.’ Ereba said with a sigh.
He didn’t just have a reservoir of mana... he had a silent sea of potential energy waiting to be unleashed.
And more importantly, he had the SSS-Rank Grimoire of Emulation permanently etched into his palm.
The system descriptions had made it clear: the Grimoire would allow him to copy and cast any spell he saw but what the lore hadn’t explicitly highlighted was the sheer efficiency of the conceptual artifact.
The Grimoire cut the mana cost of any emulated spell exactly in half.
With his massive, god-tier mana reserves and a fifty-percent discount on every single high-tier spell he stole... He was a walking tactical nuke masquerading as a weakling.
Sergeant Vance suddenly stopped in front of a heavy damp leather curtain built into the side of the trench wall.
He violently ripped the curtain to the side, revealing a dark claustrophobic dugout.
"Your new home," Vance sneered, gesturing for Caius to get inside. "Try not to die before dinner since replacing your slot is a bureaucratic pain in the ass."
Caius ducked his head, stepping into the dim, suffocating interior.
The air inside the dugout was completely foul. It reeked of wet wool, dried sweat, cheap tobacco, and the distinct, coppery tang of old blood.
A single, sputtering oil lantern hung from a wooden support beam, casting flickering, unstable shadows across the room.
Seated on crude wooden crates and rough cots were six individuals.
They were his new squad.
The moment Caius stepped into the light, every single head snapped toward him.
They were a grotesque mix of penal troops with branded necks, disgraced minor nobles wearing tarnished crests and desperate scarred mercenaries who looked like they would slit your throat for a copper coin.
They took one look at his fine silk collar, his pale skin, and the pathetic, sputtering gray "Ash Husk" aura actively radiating from his frame.
The dugout violently erupted into a chorus of harsh mocking scoffs.
A burly mercenary with a jagged scar splitting his lip leaned back on his crate, letting out a loud, theatrical burst of laughter.
"Well, look at what the carriage dragged in!" the mercenary barked, pointing a dirty, calloused finger at Caius. "A pristine little noble boy! What did you do, kid? Spill wine on a high priest? Or did your daddy finally realize you were a useless cripple and ship you out here to die?"
A disgraced minor noble sitting in the corner let out a snide chuckle, sharpening a dagger on a whetstone.
"He’s got an Ash contract..." the noble sneered, his eyes filled with bitter resentment. "A pathetic, sputtering little chimney sweep. He won’t last five minutes out there. I bet ten silvers he doesn’t survive until sunset."
"Make it twenty," another mercenary shouted from the back. "The first wave of Blight-Fiends will tear that silk shirt right off his scrawny back."
Caius didn’t say a single word. He quietly dropped his heavy canvas duffel bag onto the dirt floor, entirely unbothered by the mockery.
’What a delightful collection of absolute trash...’ Ereba’s voice echoed in his skull and her tone dripped with pure disdain as she inspected the squad’s mana signatures.
’Their cores are so small... so utterly pathetic... Looking at them actually makes me feel slightly ill, Caius. They are like insects bickering in a puddle of stagnant water.’
’Let them talk.’ Caius replied mentally, keeping his face perfectly expressionless as he dragged a wooden crate over to a dark corner and sat down. ’I need you to focus, Ereba. Could you scan their mana? I’m not here to make friends... I’m here to find someone worth copying.’
Ereba didn’t know what Caius meant by copying but she could guess that it was from the Grimoire in his soul.
’Hmph. Very well...’ the Goddess huffed mentally. ’But I assure you, there is nothing of value in this specific room. Their spells are rudimentary at best.’
Caius leaned his back against the damp dirt wall, closing his eyes to tune out the squad’s continuing laughter.
He was hyper-focusing his senses, tracking his environment like a gamer waiting for high-value assets to load into an arena.
He needed a high-tier spell... Something with devastating, wide-area destructive capabilities to carry him through the next thirty days.
WAAAAAAAOOOOUUUU!
The sudden, ear-splitting shriek of a magical warning siren violently shattered the peace.
The sound was a piercing, agonizing wail that echoed across the entire frontline, vibrating directly against the inside of Caius’s eardrums.
The dugout violently shook.
A massive explosion detonated somewhere nearby, sending a shower of loose dirt and small stones cascading down from the wooden support beams of the ceiling.
"Breach!" a voice screamed from the trenches outside. "The outer palisade is down! Palisade three is gone!"
The squad members instantly transformed. The mocking laughter vanished in a fraction of a second, replaced by wide-eyed survival panic.
"Move! Move! Get your weapons!" the burly mercenary roared, violently grabbing a massive iron battleaxe from the floor and charging out through the leather curtain.
Complete chaos violently erupted across the frontline.
Caius scrambled to his feet, slinging the generic steel shortsword onto his belt and hastily strapping the rusted iron chest plate over his chest.
He ran out of the dugout, stepping back into the narrow trench and the scene outside was an absolute nightmare.
The gray smog had turned pitch-black, choked by the smoke of detonating artillery spells.
The trenches were already running red with fresh blood as soldiers screamed, clashing wildly against a horde of invading monsters.
Blight-Fiends!
They were massive magic-corrupted beasts that looked like a horrific cross between a rabid wolf and a subterranean reptile.
Their bodies were covered in thick, jagged razor-bone plating that easily deflected standard steel blades and their jaws clicked together with enough hydraulic force to snap an iron shield in half.
A squad of penal troops right in front of Caius was violently overwhelmed...
A Blight-Fiend leaped completely over the trench wall with its massive clawed paws slamming hard into a soldier’s chest, instantly crushing his ribs with a sickening, wet crunch.
Caius’s breath hitched. His physical vessel was entirely weak.
He tried to lift his generic shortsword, but his scrawny arms strained under the sudden momentum as a feral Blight-Fiend caught sight of his crimson hair.
The beast let out a guttural terrifying roar with its muscular hind legs compressing before it violently launched itself directly at his throat.
"Shit!" Caius gasped.
He didn’t try to parry as he knew his physical strength was entirely inadequate. Instead Caius threw his center of gravity downward, violently diving face-first into the freezing deep black mud of the trench floor.
The beast flew directly over his head, its razor-sharp claws missing his back by a mere fraction of an inch and violently tearing a massive chunk of dirt out of the opposite trench wall.
Caius rolled over in the slop, his entire face and fine silk clothes completely caked in thick, foul-smelling mire.
’Ugh! Gross! Disgusting!’ Ereba’s voice violently shrieked in his mind with her pristine divine sensibilities thoroughly violated by the environment. ’I did not select a champion simply to have him marinated in pig mire, Caius! Stand up and erase these wretched creatures already!’
’Shut up and let me look!’ Caius roared back mentally, wiping a thick layer of black mud away from his crimson eyes as he scrambled back onto his knees.
His eyes aggressively scanned the chaotic, blood-soaked battlefield, desperately searching for a specific target.
Ten paces down the trench, he found it.
The disgraced minor noble from his dugout... the one who had snidely mocked his Ash contract was currently backed into a tight, dead-end corner of the dirt wall.
Two massive Blight-Fiends were slowly closing in on him with their jaw-plates clicking menacingly as thick strings of acidic drool hissed against the mud.
The noble wasn’t a standard martial fighter... He was a Pyromancer... A disgraced cast-out former Blessed of the Dawnfather.
Faced with imminent death, the noble’s expression turned entirely frantic.
"Get back! Get the fuck back!" he screamed, his voice cracking with pure terror.
He drew deep upon his core, forcing every single drop of his remaining divine mana to flow into his hands.
A brilliant blinding golden light violently erupted from his palms, the intense heat instantly vaporizing the moisture in the surrounding air.
He began weaving his hands at lightning speed, executing a set of highly complex fluid hand seals.
Caius’s pupils violently shrunk.
’There it is,’ Caius thought with sudden focus locking onto the Pyromancer’s movements. He mentally summoned the Grimoire of Emulation from the depths of his soul.
Instantly, his vision was completely overridden as a pristine golden system window cascaded downward, hovering majestically over the battlefield as he tracked the noble’s hand seals line by line.
[Target Locked: Disgraced Blessed of the Dawnfather]
[Analyzing Divine Mana Flow... 10%... 50%... 100%]
[Skill Recorded: Scorched Earth Ordinance - Tier 3]
’What a peculiar cheat you have, my Champion.’
Caius’s mind memorized the truth of the spell.
He felt the exact alignment of the hand seals, the specific frequency of the mana rotation, and the structural foundation of the golden fire but before the cornered noble could actually finish the final seal to release the devastating magic, the shadows above him violently ripped open.
A massive, monstrous shadow aggressively descended from the top of the trench.
An Alpha Blight-Fiend!
The creature was twice the size of the others with its body covered in pitch-black obsidian-like bone armor that pulsed with a corrupt sickly purple aura.
The Alpha slammed down directly onto the noble with its massive heavy jaws violently snapping shut around the man’s extended right arm.
CRUNCH!
"GAAAAAAAH!" the noble screamed, a horrific agonizing shriek tearing from his throat as his bones were completely shattered into splinters under the Alpha’s hydraulic bite.
The golden mana in his hands instantly violently dissolved as the spell entirely interrupted. The Alpha Blight-Fiend carelessly tossed the mutilated noble to the side like a ragdoll, leaving him to bleed out in the mud.
Then, the monster slowly turned its massive, heavy head. Its glowing, corrupt purple eyes locked entirely onto Caius.
The beast let out a low growl that rattled the rusted iron plate on Caius’s chest.
It compressed its massive, muscular hind legs, preparing to leap forward and violently crush the scrawny, mud-covered noble boy into a paste.
Caius didn’t run.
He stood perfectly upright in the middle of the blood-stained trench with his boots planted firmly in the freezing black mud.
He slowly raised both of his hands, his crimson eyes locking directly onto the incoming predator.
’Let’s see how you like your own medicine,’ Caius thought as an unhinged grin slowly splitting across his mud-caked face.
He engaged the Grimoire of Emulation...
[Activating Stored Skill: Scorched Earth Ordinance]
[SSS-Rank Modifier Applied: Mana consumption reduced by 50%]
[Drawing from Void Ocean reserves...]
Caius’s fingers began to move.
He wove the complex, intricate hand seals of the Dawnfather at an absolute blinding speed that completely defied human limitation as his hands became a flawless golden blur in the dark, smog-choked trench.
The Alpha Blight-Fiend launched itself forward, its massive claws extended as it violently soared through the air, closing the distance in a fraction of a second but it was already too late.
Caius slammed his final hand seal together, his palms locking dead center in front of his chest.
"Scorched Earth." Caius whispered.
Instantly, the deep bottomless ocean of Void mana inside his soul violently surged, effortlessly providing the required energy as a massive roaring pillar of brilliant, blinding golden holy fire violently erupted directly from his extended palms.
BOOM!
The shockwave of the detonation was entirely catastrophic...
The intense, apocalyptic heat of the golden flames instantly vaporized the liquid mud of the trench floor, turning the ground into a dry cracked crater in a millisecond...
The roaring pillar of fire slammed dead-center into the Alpha Blight-Fiend mid-air and the monster didn’t even have time to let out a final roar.
The S-rank destructive ordinance completely bypassed its obsidian bone plating, violently incinerating its muscles, organs, and corrupted core into absolute nothingness within a single breath.
The beast was entirely vaporized with its ash scattering into the wind before it could even hit the ground.
The pillar of fire continued onward, violently tearing a massive fifty-foot trench straight through the invading horde of monsters behind it, leaving nothing but a smoking molten path of destruction in its wake.
The golden flames slowly died down as a thick suffocating cloud of white steam rising from the dried earth.
The entire sector of the frontline went completely as the surviving squad members, the mercenaries, the branded penal troops, and even Sergeant Vance himself stopped fighting.
They stood frozen in the trenches with their weapons lowered as they stared blankly at the massive, smoking crater where the Alpha beast had just existed then, slowly, every single eye violently snapped toward the scrawny, mud-covered noble boy standing in the center of the destruction.
What the hell had happened?
