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EV B2 Chapter 40:
🕑 Added 2025-02-25 05:28:07 +0000 UTCWe didn't have time to continue our conversation for very long as the next wave started. But Alana was having trouble doing any damage or holding the creatures for any period of time with the severe level disparity. She had leveled up all the way to level five, but it was still proving difficult.
She hadn't assigned her stats yet, but even then, it was only pulling her so far. And I really didn't want to just push her level up unless we absolutely had to. If we could figure out a way to get her a class, that would be ideal. I was struggling to remember the exact details of how I got my class. I recalled that it involved a lot of training without leveling, but we didn't quite have the luxury of doing that. We'd have to run the dungeon challenge at least one more time when Astrid was here.
So, instead of pushing further after wave nineteen, I suggested we bow out.
Alana grimaced and argued, "Well, we can just do one more so it's not hanging over our heads and then run it again with Astrid. Besides, if Astrid is as strong as you seem to think, wouldn't she be able to get to twenty by herself? I know you could."
I considered her words. "Okay, but you just stand there and don't do anything. I'll take care of it quickly."
I was perhaps showing off a little bit as I flashed around the circle. Alana did actually have to do something—pausing to root a couple of the monsters as she turned to jog away—but she was never in any real danger. And besides, even if she had died… well, I had to admit, I was being a bit overprotective.
When we finished and got the 20% confirmation, Alana let out a whoop, pumping her fists in the air.
We received a reward that would keep us comfortable for a bit. Because until Astrid was back, I wasn't planning on running the challenge again. No, I was going to basically pound Alana into the training floor over and over again until she had advanced—both in her spells and through natural stat growth—until it wasn't feasible to get much out of it anymore.
I was nowhere near the teacher that the automaton that had worked with me in my ideal was. One of my original deals with Loki was that I didn't have endless patience nor a perfect understanding of the techniques that she was trying to learn, especially as they were more mana-based. And while I could do that, I didn't even have one of the core stats for it. The way Alana wove her spells was also beyond me. The most I could do was try to train her abilities in combat, both in melee and in dealing with ranged adversaries.
So, I spent a lot of time running around our training room, jumping and dodging, and pushing through control spells. Alana didn't get frustrated easily, but she still spent most of the time frustrated, as I was simply too fast or too strong. That didn't mean I slowed down so she could actually succeed, though. Rather, it forced her to just work harder—constantly.
She was running on not enough sleep, her brain overtaxing her to a point where she was nearly always hungry despite not having moved much. And after the fifth day, her hair hung limp on her head. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, with deep bags under them, and she bit at her lip with a worrying concentration that made me half concerned she was going to tear it off.
The five days of training weren't only useful for her, but they were also useful for me. I was currently using a wooden shortsword with Liar's Gambit. I had the Arcane Edge pulled as close as possible, but the illusionary edge hit Alanna frequently. She didn't appreciate the feeling of phantom pains or imagining that she was debuffed or poisoned, but knowing that it was fake was a huge advantage. She learned to push through it and hold her spells despite many terrible conditions.
I learned how to adjust the spell in a more fine-tuned manner so that, most of the time, I could influence what sort of effects my targets would think they were afflicted with when they were cut by my blade. It was nice because I could use some illusions to do other things. I learned how to adapt the basic disguise skill to make it appear as if my blade was on fire, dripping poison, made of ice, or even surrounded by glowing, illusory smoke that would pass through barriers. It was fun, and I eventually even started playing around with it, making her think it was a snake that had bitten her. I didn't think it would work at first, but she said that it had felt like she had been injected with venom that nearly paralyzed her.
In fact, we were working on a theory that if I could convince someone that they had been killed by something appropriately deadly, they might actually just die. We obviously hadn't tested that theory yet, though.
My higher stats allowed me to continue working for longer than she could. Oftentimes, I'd have to stop and sleep for a full night, even when I wasn't fully exerting myself in a physical sense. I had more than enough time to continue building my relationship with the priests of Tyr. I did some simple tasks like escorting VIPs and collecting certain items—nothing super important or pressing. All the very important stuff was done by the members of the church.
However, as I started to learn more about the organization, I realized that my initial plan wouldn't work the way I thought it would. Sure, I was disguised, but nearly any suspicious death could potentially be blamed on Loki or his followers. Instead, I would need to not only leave it ambiguous and have plausible deniability, but I'd also have to have absolute, concrete proof that I wasn't the one who made the kill—and likely pin it on someone else.
This was becoming significantly more difficult than I had initially bargained for. I was no master assassin or anything of the sort, despite the fact that I had developed some skill for combat. This level of intrigue wasn't really for me. It wasn't something that should be. Nor did I apparently have much talent for it, as I was making no progress. I had talked with Brother Peter a few other times but never had any inspiration for how I would arrange the man's death in a way that looked not even like an accident but as if there was an explanation that everyone would buy—even those suspicious of people like me.
I had mentioned my plans to Alanna but never made it a focus of our conversation. So, as she was taking a break from her latest attempt to control me, I decided to put her devious mind to work.
"Hey, Alanna. About this priest of Tyr. What conditions would you consider an open-and-shut case if you were investigating it? Something that would make you not want to look deeper into it?"
She tapped her chin as she cocked her head, her hair falling away from her face as she looked at me. "Hmm. That's hard to say. I'm not sure anything would make me not look into it, but I believe I'd have to have lots of witnesses. And maybe some random chance of equipment failure that couldn't be traced back to anyone. But that would be hard to arrange."
"That's the whole point, though," I nodded. "I wouldn't expect it to be easy, and I'm not sure what level of reliability they actually want. It seems more like it's important to make the body just disappear without it being obviously traced back. But the more I think about it, the more I'm sure they'll know it was Loki who arranged it. I just don't know enough about the politics to understand what sort of blowback they're looking to avoid—or how I could go about it."
"Well," Alanna said, "it looks like you have two options. Either accomplish the mission so well that everyone is convinced they know who did it and why, with no suspicion leading back to you or Loki—though I suppose your cover identity could be used. The face is distinct enough, and Miles is a common enough name that I don't think you'll have any problems. But the other option is to go learn some more about the politics or even ask for clarification."
I grumbled about having to ask but realized that was probably the easier and smarter route. I considered calling up Loki—we hadn't talked in the last couple of days besides a few brief chats—but decided not to bother him with it and instead buzzed Jorg.
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