A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Oliver allowed it to come within an inch of his head, as he centred him. And then he struck. There was only one Form appropriate for testing this new strength – the form of Overwhelm. The light and dark that surrounded his arms heightened, and then exploded, drawing back into his body, and filling him and his strike with power.

He met the enormous claw that had sent him flying so many times before. He saw the vicious edge that it held within those scissor-like weapons. He strained in preparation for the resistance to come, and forced all he had into it.

CRAAAAAAAAACK! CRACK CRACK!

The first bit of carapace burst apart in a web of cracks, shattered like pottery. He cleaved straight through the meat beneath, as though it was nothing more than fish on his plate. His blade burst through the back of the claw as well, as crack followed crack, and what was once as hard as rock was soon revealed for the brittle material that it was.

His sword sliced straight through the claw, and then continued on towards its head. It closed the targeted eye, as it had done so many times before, but it was too little, too late. Oliver's broken blade passed through the eye as well, and then down into the top of the thick Carapace of the body. Another loud crack, as its last line of defence was shattered, revealing its most vulnerable parts.

Oliver's blade did not slow. It passed through it all, until it came out again, at the bottom of the body, bringing with it a trail of blood and guts.

The Boulder Crab stood for a moment, with a massive gash running straight through the front half of its body, and its claw completely cut through. Green blood pooled underneath it and it was quickly as wide as a pond, almost a hand deep, and still continuing to flow. Continue reading on empire

A last, mournful wine, and then the beast collapsed in on itself, its legs splayed outwards.

Normally, that would have been when Oliver would have taken a sigh of relief, exhausted from combat, but with all that excess power flooding through him, he felt barely a flicker. He waited for the inevitable collapse, which Ingolsol and Claudia had warned him of, but it didn't come, even if the warning of it did.

That pain in his organs that had seemed far away now seemed just the slightest bit closer. Different from the dull ache that he'd felt for the past few weeks, this was a tidal wave that threatened to consume him.

"I'd wait on that for the next few hours," Ingolsol said, somewhat cruelly. "I'm sure you won't be quite so keen to welcome it when it comes."

They flooded the plateau to welcome him. Karesh and Kaya eagerly, all but sprinting, unconcerned with how they might look, whilst the others hurried, some of them feigning indifference, as they attempted to keep themselves looking graceful.

"Holy. Holy. HOLY! WERE THE GODS WATCHING?" Karesh drew up the corpse, looking at it up close, he seemed unable to capture what he felt in a single word. He said the same thing again and again, with an increasing intensity, until he eventually shouted at the sky, overcome by adrenaline.

Kaya was hardly any better. He looked at the blood on Oliver's back, the deep gash, the bruises on his head, and then he looked at the corpse. He looked at Karesh. He wanted to dance just as eagerly as him. How could he contain himself after seeing that? What even was that?

"That was the legend of Oliver Patrick," Verdant said, echoing the very thoughts that Kaya seemed to be thinking. The priest had an eerie habit of doing that. "The same legend that the Solgrim villagers spoke of, with an eagerness."

The priest allowed himself a wide smile, and that was likely pushing it, for him. He fancied himself a reserved man, but he could do nothing to quell the shaking of his hands, the eagerness to say something, anything. But all that he wanted to say he didn't dare to speak to Oliver in front of so many people.

He'd seen it, after all. It was even greater than these students knew. It was that which all the strong coveted. The Blessings of the Gods, and the breaking of the Boundaries. Oliver had shattered another. Verdant could hardly believe it, but the Fragment of Bohemothia inside of him whispered of its truth.

Galvin watched with a stern eye. He seemed to be politely making space for the others. Oliver turned, and caught his eye, and the man sighed, forcing himself to speak. "Tavar will have to hear of this," he said. "He will not be displeased… But I imagine he will be troubled. As am I." He went silent for a moment.

"Your father, Arthur… even they didn't…" he struggled to find the words. "Oliver Patrick, you frighten me."

Surprised by those words, Oliver tried not to show it. He felt his heart beat slightly faster. Was that Gavlin declaring him an enemy, along with his fear? Was it the same thing that Dominus had warned him of, that the Fragment of Ingolsol inside of him was liable to get him killed? But the words of Gavlin as he walked away seemed to stifle that. So shaken, he even seemed to forget the taboo.

"The Third at fifteen," he muttered. "If this isn't handled delicately, a war might break out."

"A moment, Lord Minister," Verdant said, holding back his own desire to speak with Oliver in favour of more important things. "I would speak to you on that, and perhaps offer what counsel I can."

Gavlin looked at him, as though seeing the priest for the first time. He glanced at the shirtless Oliver, covered in his cuts, and then at the broken sword in his hand. Something in him seemed to give way, as he sighed and nodded to the priest. "Fine. We may talk," he accented, leading them a distance away from the rest. Verdant spared Oliver a nod as they went, as though to reassure him.