Chương 22: Titles and Tremors

"So… how many men does it take to kill a demon up here, usually?" asked the young lieutenant transfer, racing to keep up with the Bratstvo Morosv Captain.

"I learned in the Morozniki Infantry that a proper demon-slaying squadron should have at least five men for a Common-7 grade demon—the weakest grade a demon can be. Two relic shield-bearers must be in front, two relic supporters must be in the back, and the blademan must be the fearless leader, coordinating the surround with perfect efficiency. Why did we not employ that formation just now?" The Captain didn't look over his shoulder as the lieutenant struggled to follow him.

"Is that what they teach new recruits down in the south nowadays?"

"Yes! General Maksim of the Velich Battalion was my—""Maksim is an old, dawdling fool who can't tell the difference between an elkkin demon and an oryxkin demon if his life came down to it. Forget everything you've learned in your warm summers. That formation is only useful for keeping men alive." The lieutenant blinked.

"Isn't that the point."

"No. The point is killing the demon." The Captain glanced at the lieutenant then, making the young man shiver.

"Here in the north, we send two men against an entire battalion of forty Common-7 demons."

"... Only two?"

"One to kill the demons," said the Captain.

"The other to put him down if the lead gets into his head." —Conversation recorded outside Moroskaya Hold after the Slaughter of the Seven Thousand For the next twenty minutes, the four of them simply slaughtered their way deeper into Mine Zimnerudik. There wasn't a better word for it.

'Slaughter' was just right. Miriyela moved like a royal battering ram at the very front, bashing and crushing and smashing every unfortunate elkkin demon standing in her way. Sharsana bit and mauled whoever the princess couldn't get instantly with her wide hammer swings, while Kazimir limped behind the both of them, eviscerating every demon that somehow managed to get past Miriyela and Sharsana's wild frenzy.

Every once in a while the entire mine would even shake, rumble, and tremble in response to their battles, but neither Miriyela nor Kazimir seemed to care, so neither did Orland. Because Orland was at the very back of their formation, and there was nothing for him to do. They moved through the marked shafts following Kazimir's spatial-restoration blade.

First they descended through the first lower shaft, and then the second lower shaft, and then the third lower shaft, each level separated by a vast chamber infested with astral lead lumps. More and more elkkin demons emerged from the deeper levels and chambers, but they were dragging their feet, disorganized, and completely unaware they had intruders to deal with up until the moment a hammer or a chainblade or a claw flew at their faces. The scattered groups of demons didn't stand a chance against them.

By the time they cleared out the largest chamber in the third lower shaft—exactly halfway down to the deepest level of the mine—Orland had killed exactly zero more demons since his first two in the first lower shaft.

"... Can you guys let me do something?" he grumbled, feeling itchy and irritated as he looked around at the fifty or so demon corpses scattered around the chamber.

"I can fight too, you know?"

"But why would we let you do that?" Kazimir said calmly, wiping demon blood from his blade with a strip of cloth as he sat on a pile of corpses.

"Historically, the 'Hero' has always been the backline mage of the party. The 'Hero' is the one who throws the most devastating attacks, raises the largest defenses, and supports the rest of the party with their sheer variety of elemental abilities. The 'Hero' doesn't waste mana on grunts that the vanguard and the frontline can erase without trouble."

"I've got a hundred and forty mana now!"

"And you'll be glad you still have mana if you need it later. We'll stop here for about ten minutes to take a break, and then we'll continue down." Then Kazimir glanced at Miriyela, who was also busy wiping demon blood from her armor with a rough cloth while sitting on a much, much larger pile of corpses.

"You are a strong warrior, though. No wonder you were named one of the prophesied companions." Miriyela glanced up at him, and for once, she didn't immediately bristle at the old wolf.

"Of course. My Title is'Warrior'. It would put shame on the Kamengradskaya name if I could not handle this much.""'Warrior'? Do you not have the 'Monarch' Title?"

"Nay. I… did not manage to obtain it in time," she said quietly. Then she froze, as if realizing she'd said something out of turn, and looked squarely at Kazimir.

"What about you? What is your Title?""'Champion'."

"Oh." She sounded stunned for only a moment before shaking her head.

"No, it only makes sense. You are a good warrior as well. You said you were a former soldier from… somewhere?"

"The Bratstvo Morosov."

"Ah. The northern men."

"Have I not told you that many, many times—""What are Titles, anyways?" Orland muttered out loud—mostly to himself—but he realized his blunder when both Kazimir and Miriyela looked at him. Even Sharsana lifted her bloody snout from the corpse she'd been sniffing at to stare." … I mean," he said slowly, throwing a grin onto his face as he waved a hand absentmindedly, "I know what Titles are. I just wanted to… uh, test Miriyela's knowledge. It's our first time partying together and all.

Kazimir already got tested, so now it's her turn." Kazimir sighed.

"This shoddy excuse again?" But Miriyela, fortunately, straightened where she sat with immediate delight and stopped wiping off her armor.

"Ah! A royal examination, then? Ask freely, Great Hero. I received only the finest of education from the greatest tutors in the royal halls of Mount Kamengrad!" Orland's grin became real. Fucking nailed it.

"Great. So, for starters, what's a Title?" Orland said, spinning every gear in his head to come up with his questions as he sat on a pile of corpses as well.

"Also, what are Title abilities? And acquired skills too, while you're at it. On my tag, they're the only things I… uh, haven't tested anyone on." Not the smoothest. He still had to work on his mouth. But if there were two things he knew about Miriyela, it was that she was strong— and she liked the 'Hero'.

"A Title is a designation someone can get through the consumption of an Apotheca-Class relic known as a Title tag," she began, giving Kazimir a cursory nod as the old wolf tossed pieces of bread at the two of them from one of his hip pouches.

"Once consumed, the Title becomes part of their soul and body, granting them base attribute levels as well as an associated Title ability. Unlike relic abilities, title abilities remain with you no matter what." Orland blinked as he chewed on his bread.

"So, they're like… innate powers?"

"Indeed," she said, sounding pleased.

"There are many, many Titles in the world, from 'Knight' to 'Guard', 'Scout' to 'Assassin', to even non-battle-related Titles like 'Scholar' and 'Miner', 'Fisherman' and 'Diplomat'... there is likely a Title for every job you can think of. Each one has a unique ability, and each one can also be promoted three times using Promotion Tags, which are Apotheca-Class relics as well. Each promotion increases the specificity of the Title and refines its ability.

For example, a 'Warrior' may become an 'Iron Warrior', and then into a 'Sunforged Iron Warrior', each promotion strengthening the associated ability." Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Then she gestured to herself mid-bite, placing a hand over her heart.

"My Title is 'Warrior', and my ability is Steelheart. Apart from giving me twenty levels in base might and resilience, it also moderately improves my natural stamina recovery and bodily regeneration, which means I can fight longer than ordinary warriors and recover faster from all physical strain." She looked at Kazimir then, who was also nibbling on his own bread.

"And the ability for 'Champion' is Valorcrest, which is an aura-type ability that slightly improves the natural stamina recovery and bodily regeneration of all allies around them, including themselves. Unlike 'Warrior', it gives much less base attribute levels to the 'Champion' themself—both at base and with each successive promotion—in exchange for a weaker, area-of-effect version of the ability, which makes the Title highly sought after by commanders, captains, and anchors on the battlefield."

"Hmph." Kazimir's head tilted idly as he took a swig of alcohol from his flask.

"You were a good student, at least."

"Of course I was," Miriyela said, this time with a bit of bite.

"I'd also suspected you were a 'Champion' already."

"Oh yeah?"

"While we were descending, I noticed my stamina recovery was much faster than usual. Unless you had a relic that boosted your allies' stamina recovery, you likely had Valorcrest, which can work in tandem with my Steelheart to significantly increase my stamina recovery and regeneration." Kazimir gave a small hum of improval, though he said nothing in response. Orland listened quietly as well. So is that why I've been feeling like I could hike through the woods for much longer than usual?

Kazimir's Title ability has been affecting me this entire time? But Miriyela, having gobbled down her first piece of bread, snapped her fingers at Kazimir for another. Kazimir tossed another over begrudgingly.

"As for acquired skills, those come from Apotheca-Class relics called skill tags," she continued.

"Much like Title tags, they give someone acquired skills once the skill tags are consumed. Unlike title abilities, though, acquired skills are typically practical skills that could be learned through time and labor, which means consuming a skill tag is simply a method for someone to obtain that skill while bypassing all of the effort." Orland's eyes widened at the sound of that.

"Does that mean if I wanna learn how to… like, play the balalaika, I could just eat a 'balalaika-playing' skill tag and suddenly know how?"

"Indeed you can. Although each race has a limit on how many acquired skills they can have before they have to start removing some of them. Humans can have up to ten acquired skills, but dwarves can only have up to five. If you want to acquire a new skill, you would have to eat a skill removal tag to remove some of your old skills."

"No way." Miriyela tilted her head.

"Yes… way?" Orland hadn't meant to say that out loud, but he immediately began imagining all the possibilities. If 'reading' was an ability that was learned, then he could eat a reading skill tag and immediately learn how to do it. The same went for writing, swordsmanship, riding, lockpicking… all of the useful skills. He felt the child in him waking up again.

"So what do you gotta do to get them?" he asked, leaning forward where he sat.

"What are they called again? Title tags and skill tags? How do you—""For both relics, the base offering is obviously a tag," Miriyela explained.

"For skill tags, the main offering is usually blood from someone who possesses the skill you desire. If you want a balalika-playing skill tag, you'll have to find someone who knows how to play the balalaika first. For Title tags, however, it is a little more complicated.

You can theoretically offer any magic materials you want for the main offerings, but if you wish to offer the 'Warrior' Title and offer Inanna wool from cottonsheep, belly fat from a cetusian salmon, and spirit jelly from a low-grade spirit, she might just decide to give you the Title tag for 'Farmer' instead. You offer materials with properties closely related to the Title you desire and pray Inanna sees your vision… is the general way to go about it." Kazimir interjected as well.

"Basically, give Inanna something high-quality and convince her to give you the Title tag you want, but since the base offerings are difficult enough to get as they are—tags can only be obtained with materials obtained from extremely powerful spirits that only reside in specific locations that most country's royals are sitting on—most people don't have Titles. Even most Common-Grade soldiers in the Ostraviyskaya Armiya don't have Titles.

They're luxury powers only seasoned soldiers, well-travelled adventures, and other ambitious types can get. I don't have any spare tags on me. Do you, princess?"

"I do not."

"Well, you heard her. Without any tags, you'll be hard-pressed to get a Title or an acquired skill while you're on the road." Then Kazimir took a long chug from his flask, giving Orland a wry smile as he did.

"... But it's not like you would need a Title anyways, right? After all, you can't change it once you get one. Are you not satisfied with yours, 'Hero'?" A cold needle slid into Orland's spine, making him chuckle. Nervously. And maybe a little too quickly.

"Right. Uh-huh. I was just… asking Miriyela, you know?." He grinned, scratching the back of his head. Now that he'd learned everything he needed to know about his tag, he felt he was set on future questions for now. Maybe he'd have more later, but at the moment?

"Hey, what's this bread anyways? It's nothing like the bread in Rusalka. It's so… plain. Rusalka bread is so salty."

"And how would you know that, 'Hero'? Were you not host to the Belograd Manor's most exquisite and famous sweet breads the entire time while you were there?" Orland chuckled again, but deep down he kinda wanted to strangle Kazimir for the annoying questions. He wondered if the old wolf could tell. Then the mine suddenly rumbled harder than it usually did. All of them stopped chewing for a second. Kazimir looked back, Miriyela looked forward, Sharsana kept her eyes on the tasty demon corpses, and Orland looked up.

Nothing. They all shrugged and went back to their mid-battle snack. Then the mine rumbled again, and this time, the chamber shook hard enough that Orland almost fell off his pile of corpses. Miriyela braced instantly, one hand going to the corpses behind her, while Sharsansa spread her limbs and dug her claws into the stone. Kazimir alone remained unfazed, staying perfectly balanced where he sat on his pile of corpses, but even he frowned when dust began falling from the walls.

A cracked piece of astral lead even broke from the ceiling and shattered near Orland's boot. The thin metal flakes in the air began swirling faster as well.

"... Er," Orland mumbled, stuffing the rest of his bread in his mouth as he looked nervously around.

"Whet's gering on?" Miriyela lowered herself slightly, placing one gauntleted palm on the ground.

"There is a vibration coming from deep below. Forty meters… no, perhaps thirty meters beneath us."

"Ye ken tell the egxact destence?

"All dwarves of Kamengrad can decipher the nature and movements of the underground realm," she said proudly.

"For instance, judging by the way the scales on my armor ruffle every time I get too close to an unmined metal deposit, I can tell the main metal being harvested in Zimnerudik is 'songiron', which is a metal that naturally resonates with other pieces of metal, with the resonating pattern differing for each metal.

Songiron is greatly useful as natural metal identifiers for those who can decipher the patterns, but it is also commonly used as magic materials for relics like searching waystones, construct chains, and even the metal-sensing bands the Rift Sealing Corps are—""Focus, princess," Kazimir interrupted, still staring up at the ceiling.

"If you can tell that much, can you also tell me what that vibration pattern feels like?"

"The pattern? Of course. Something is spreading seismic force outwards from a single, concentrated point like… like—""Like a heartbeat?" Miriyela glanced up at him briefly.

"Like a heartbeat," she said slowly. And for the first time since entering the mine, Kazimir looked slightly alarmed. He stuffed the rest of his bread into his mouth, unsheathed his chainblade, and stood up to begin marching towards the far end of the chamber.

"Eet kan't be," he mumbled, mouth half-full.

"No wey." Orland shared a look with Miriyela, who shared a look with Sharsana. The chamber rumbled one more time as they shot to their feet and hurried after Kazimir, which was pretty easy to do since he couldn't run with that bad leg of his.

"What is happening, old wolf?" Miriyela asked, flanking his right.

"And don't talk with your mouth open," Orland said, flanking his right.

"I know this tremor," Kazimir muttered, keeping his eyes steeled forward as they quickly trudged through the lower fourth mineshaft.

"I've felt it many, many times in the north. It's the rift. It's growing faster." Orland scowled.

"What's that mean?"

"Demons that pass through a rift are limited by the grade of the rift, which basically measures how large the rift is. A Common-7 rift can only allow up to Common-7 demons through, but most rifts, after they're opened, don't grow that fast to allow even higher-grade demons to come through," Kazimir explained quickly.

"Nikolai projected this rift would grow by one grade per week it's left unsealed, which is about the normal rate of growth, but this tremoring means the rift is massively accelerating its growth for some reason." The mine rumbled again. This time, even the timber supports creaked overhead, and somewhere far, far ahead, a discordant chorus of metallic screeches echoed towards them. Kazimir's jaw tightened.

"... I think we're looking at a growth rate of one grade per hour here," he finished.

"When did we start feeling the very first tremor again?"