Chương 75: Walking Among Demonic Giants

"Son, what is this all about?" WARHOL asked. As people typically did when he didn't hide his aura, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face him. They did seem more startled than usual, though. Was it because of his massively increased stats, he wondered? Such an increase would boost his aura significantly. He would work in the future on suppressing his aura better, for the comfort of the little man. Lance approached him slack-jawed. They stuttered a response, "D-dad, what is g-going on?"

"Why are you mumbling, son? Did that dragon slap you too hard?" Why was everyone looking at him like he was a unicorn with wings?

"DAD!" Lance shouted.

"You have wings!" All at once, the facade faded away. Crap! He had forgotten to hide his newly acquired dragonfly wings! SHIT!

"Well... the cat's out of the bag! I'll explain in a moment." Warhol opened a portal to the training excursion's site. He waved his hand, generating a gust of wind which swirled his son into the portal before they could object.

"Don't worry, everyone! I will have your leader back in a shake and a jig!" Warhol stepped through and closed the portal behind him. His new location was a fiery realm of brimstone and lava uncharacteristically called Topia, the Realm of Peace. He was sure there was a great story behind this place's decay, but he really didn't care about it right now.

"DAD! What is this about?!" his son shouted.

"I was in the middle of a very important team-building exercise!"

"An exercise? It looked like you and that dragon was just hitting each other. How was that a team-building exercise?"

"To show which one of us is top dog, of course! But that isn't the issue right now — what gives with the wings?!" His son's glare was withered in the same way his wife had glared at them during an argument. He thought it was unfair his son should've inherited such a trait. Warhol sighed.

"Well, I will tell you the truth... it is a rare genetic defect. Wings, evidently, grow in the family at a certain age once a certain level of magical prowess has been obtained. With you being a Paladin, you won't have to worry about that, though, son. Praise be the Gods!" Lance's glare only intensified.

"I am going to slap you silly right here and now if you don't let out the truth! NOW!" Damn! That lie would've worked if Lance had been ten years younger! Rats!

"Fine! You want the truth? Here it is — I discovered an artifact capable of mutating my body. These mutations not only grant me incredible abilities, but they also double my stat points each time I mutate. That is why I have wings! Happy?" Lance didn't look happy, that was for sure.

"Why would I be happy about that?! Jeez, dad — you vanish for over a month and then show up at the worst possible time and with new wings to boot. Now you tell me you've been mutating yourself?! What is going on?!"

"What's going on? Son — in case you forgot, a Horror capable of consuming our whole planet is inbound, a Horror which has just eaten the outermost planet in our solar system. If we don't stop that horror, our whole existence will be devoured. I have recognized that this artifact and the mutations it offers is the only way we are going to stop it. Now, in case you forgot, today is your final training excursion. So, instead of giving me the third degree, how about you prepare yourself to fight some demon giants?"

He then shot a beam of light into the sky which exploded into a dazzling array of fireworks.

"Every demon in a ten-mile radius is going to come after us, so I would get ready if I were you."

"Mother—" Lance cussed. Warhol tried out his new wings and was high in the air before he expected the speed and ease of movement beyond what he thought it would be, far more natural than he thought it would be. From his vantage point, he saw the lumbering hulks of giant, dissected corpse-giants lurching forward. Each of the giants had flies the size of grass huts and maggots bigger than a cat coating and harassing their putrid black and blue and yellow skin.

Warhol incanted [Block Scent] to help deal with the noxious odor. For good measure, he incanted and 'threw' the same spell toward his son. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Speaking of, Lance — far below on the ground — did his best to prepare for the battle by reinforcing his body and armor with mana. He must've learned how to do that in the time they were away. Or from one of his courses. Or had he taught the boy? He couldn't remember.

What he did remember was that no matter how Lance prepared himself for this battle, nothing he did would be sufficient. These rotted giants were elite 'soldiers' in a demon god's army. Because of celestial and inferno compacts, they couldn't fight the demon god itself, so the next best thing was their elite troopers. At level one thousand, these giants would be the best source of XP for his son while also being far outside of his fighting ability.

Hence where he came in: Warhol had better things to do than spend hours upon hours watching his son fight ineffectually against corpse giants. Today was about incapacitation, then allowing Lance to claim the finishing blow. Once the giants got close enough, Warhol incanted [Slow] with an [Extension] sub-routine. His incantation impacted all six of the giants and slowed them below that of a crawl. They were practically frozen in place; he hadn't meant to inflict that degree of slowness.

He guessed he didn't know the strength of his own magic anymore. Oh well! With the giants slowed, Warhol prepared dozens of [Holy Bolts]. He muttered "Release" and the bolts shot at the giants, hitting them in their limbs, causing great damage which saw entire sections blasted apart, like puss-filled balloons. He was careful to not target the giants' vitals, those demonic cores which passed for their hearts which kept their monstrous forms 'alive.'

Rumbles shook the molten plains as giant-after-giant crashed to the ground after having their legs blasted apart. Still slowed, none of the giants posed even a remote threat to Lance, who, seeing what he had done, took up the mantle and [Super Charged] the giants' and their demonic cores with a [Holy Surge] active. That much was plain to him despite his height, thanks to his [Eagle Vision] incantation.

Each of the giants were killed in turn, a single [Holy super Charge] doing the trick when the attack was aimed squarely at the giant's chest. After killing six of the giant beasts, he knew his son had leveled up significantly. He also knew Lance must be out of mana. But since this was their last training excursion together, he wasn't about to see the training end after only six giants.

A quick movement at the ground, again, his wings working in such quick fashion he nearly overshot his landing zone and collided into his son, Warhol grabbed from his dimensional pocket several 'minor' mana restoration potions of his own make.

"Drink these, son. They will restore your mana and then some. You have more giants to kill." Two hours. That was the entire duration of the training excursion. The training battle was over. Surrounded them were slain corpse giants of the demon god's army. Dozens of them. Lance looked on the verge of collapse. Warhol was on the ground again appraising the labor.

"You did well, Lance. You must've earned an impressive number of level ups, yeah?" Once Lance caught his breath, he responded.

"I did! But... is this really it? For my training... I mean!"

"Yes, son. This is the last excursion. I need to focus on mutating and to properly do that, I can't keep taking time off to babysit your training. I'm sorry." Normally, Lance would've gotten angry with him when he used such words like 'babysit.' Yet they were too tired to do so now.

"What am I to do, then, dad? How am I supposed to help you fight the Horror if I am a fraction of your strength? This doesn't make sense!" He sighed.

"I know this doesn't make sense to you, but the fact is, son, that it doesn't need to make sense. I trained you, gave you my 'blessing' and let you in on the secret to my power. Well, my old secret, anyway. I am on to my new secret, now, and if I don't do all that I can to mutate and save the world, then I would be doing a disservice to my planet." He paused for a moment to catch his thinking.

"You know, I let Frank in on the secret not that long ago and he has been busy with the Oldest Complex ever since. You ask me how you can help. Well, maybe there, at the Complex, with Frank, is where you should go?" Lance wouldn't go for it — or so he thought. When they said, "Yeah, maybe I will..." he was surprised.

"A school friend might be interning for the Council, soon," Lance replied.

"It might be nice to spend what time we have together."

"A friend interning? Sounds like a plan, son. In fact, what is your friend's name? I will have a word with Frank and tell him to let your buddy in; I wouldn't want Frank or Josh's stubbornness to prevent a solid candidate from entering." His son opened his mouth but closed it. They looked conflicted. Eventually, they said, "I, uh, can't tell you, their name. She wants to get in by her own merits. I promised them I wouldn't use my connections to mess up the process. Sorry."

"No need to apologize, son," Warhol said without any annoyance.

"Keeping a word to a friend is the highest moral virtue there is. If that is the case, though, then I guess I do not need anything more. The portal back to your island is over there. I will contact you again when something is to be said. Goodbye, son, and take care." Lance nodded, said some words and stepped through the portal. Behind him — all around him, really — volcanos erupted by the hundreds, showcasing the fury of the demon god at dozens of his elites being slaughtered.

No doubt the God thought his realm was being invaded. As much as he might think it neat to slay a demon god, Warhol knew it would be a trivial matter. He formed a portal for himself and stepped through.