Thief of Time

[Book 2: The Moon Lords’ rise]

After spending a few minutes to get over the shock, Claud picked up the little violet box. Zulan Patra had fallen from the skies, but some people — probably his followers — caught him before gravity could end his life. It was a pity that the Spear of Fate didn’t die from whatever Crown did, but the world wasn't a perfect one.

He eyed the little box, who jiggled and rolled around in a manner that made him think that it was drunk. Extending a finger, he prodded its top. “Hey.”

The box jiggled.

“Was that your doing earlier?” Claud asked.

Crown rolled over to the side.

“I’ll…take that as a yes. Is that something you can do every time someone wants to lock on to me?”

Crown rolled back to its standing position, giving off a rather non-committal reply. Claud didn’t quite know what to make of that answer, so he gave it a pat before poking his head out of the window again. Hundreds of people were on the streets, trying to make their way to the place where Zulan Patra fell at.

As for why they were doing that, Claud couldn’t be bothered to find out. In fact, he had a feeling that a bloodbath was approaching; the Spear of Fate would probably lash out in both anger and embarrassment at the audience. Count Nightfall would be forced to make an appearance, the Church of the White God would intervene, Emperor Grandis would make a public statement…

Moons, this thing just blew up. All for this imaginary person called Tot. Now that the danger had passed, Claud found himself reflecting on his performance earlier. It was a rather shameful one; stricken by fear, he had decided to embark on the perilous course of drawing mana circuits.

Granted, there was no other way. If Presence Nullification had failed, he would have to face Zulan Patra, a battle he would almost certainly lose. The only way he could win was if the Spear of Fate came close to him, at which point he would have to use Absolute One and hope that his target didn’t dodge his attack. Drawing his second mana circuit would improve his desperate move — it was a waste, but Claud would not have it any other way.”

“Still, what are the chances of letting someone glowing and all punch you?” Claud muttered. “If only it was more low-profile.”

Skills couldn’t be adjusted easily, so there was no point. More important, being wary of any unknown skills was the first key lesson for virtually everyone, since skills that could grievously wound or kill someone did exist. The Spear of Fate, as a wielder of one such skill, would be very wary of potential holders of such skills.

Flopping onto his bed, Claud tried to sleep, but his subconscious was busily creating what-if scenarios for him to see, each of them scarier than the last. After failing to clear his mind for ten minutes in a row, he got up, moped for a few minutes, and then placed Crown on his shoulder.

The little box jiggled, and then rolled over to his face to nuzzle it. Claud let it nuzzle him for a couple of minutes, and felt a bit more relaxed throughout the little treatment. For some reason, he was seriously treating Crown as a pet, a pet that understood its owner.

He raised his fist to it. “Fist bump?”

Crown rolled over and bumped it, to his satisfaction.

“Thanks, Crown.” Leaning back, he stared up at the ceiling and finally opened his status.

Name: Claud Primus

Lifespan: 110 years

Active Skills: Presence Nullification (8), Flight (5), Binding Order (7), Cleanse (6), FiBoD;E??? (0), FiBoD;E??? (0)

Passive Skills: DiL???C, Mana Organ

Mana Circuit Superimposition: 1.36

Mana Control Proficiency: Intermediate

Comments: Your lifespan increased by quite a bit earlier, but it hurts my heart to see you burn seventy-two years of time in one shot shortly after that. Either way, you’ve drawn quite a bit for your second mana circuit; good job! Your improvement is pleasing to the eyes. Right, as a friendly reminder, if you ever want to find out about those odd skills, do consider approaching the gods or their Blessed. They should be able to help.

Claud scanned through his status, quirked his lips up at the comment attached, and then frowned. There was something odd about the words here, and it was the fact that he definitely didn’t use seventy-two years’ worth of lifeforce to draw his second mana circuit. That was not his doing; it was Crown’s…and apparently, the impurities of middle-ranked lifestones didn’t seem to affect the process.

He took a deep breath, but before he could confirm his hypothesis with Crown, the little box had fallen asleep…and it wasn’t like it could speak anyway. There was this regular breathing coming off it, and Claud couldn’t bring himself to wake the little guy up. Shaking his head, he gently placed Crown into a snug pocket of his clothes, and then got up from his bed.

The remedy for insomnia was alcohol, but since Triple-D used ingredients he didn’t quite want to learn about in their drinks, Claud would settle for something less dangerous. More importantly, he wanted to hear what the bartender thought about all this…while trying to influence his intelligence operations on the side.

It was dirty, yes. But necessary for him to live. If that meant that he had to lie and cheat his way through, Claud would not bat an eye. He had already come up with a few ways to lead his friend onto a wild goose chase, even if he didn’t like it all that much.

Slapping his cheeks twice, he stepped out of his house, where an extra-large din immediately flooded his ears. The streets of Licencia were incredibly lively tonight — in fact, it was the first time he’d seen the streets this lively. Zulan Patra’s arrival and challenge had already galvanised the residents of Licencia earlier, but the events that followed made it even worse. Now, most of the city was fervently discussing about the seemingly casual counterattack by the Thief of Time, which was more than enough to injure the Spear of Fate.

His ears continued to twitch as Claud took in the torrents of wonder and praise from all over the place. Most of the discussion was centred around how Tot had injured Zulan Patra without even showing up, but quite a few were talking about how Grandis was going to change.

Change? Change how? The real Tot is a tiny one-folder who just got absurdly lucky, that’s all! Claud rubbed his head and decided not to listen to the chatter on the street. The more he heard, the worse he felt — what if Emperor Grandis was to arrive personally to put down the alleged monster of the Third Godsfall?

Zulan Patra was a tetra-folder, a four-fold mana-user. But Emperor Grandis himself was a hexa-folder, someone with two more mana circuits than the freaking Spear of Fate. Even though either of them could theoretically be killed by enough preparations and the right conditions, there was realistically speaking no way for that to happen.

At all.

Muttering darkly in his heart, Claud plodded down the streets of Licencia, his target being Triple-D. Dodging small groups of chattering men and women on the way, he soon arrived at the familiar bar and headed for the counter.

“Good evening, Claud.” The bartender raised a glass. “Need some alcohol? I don’t think you’re going to get any sleep otherwise.”

“Good evening to you too, master, but I’d rather stay awake than have that piss in my system,” Claud replied. “Give me my apple juice.”

“Stop calling it piss. It’s alcoholic piss,” the bartender replied. “So?”

“So?” Claud repeated. “What do you mean, so?”

“What brings you here?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be quaking in your bed? The Spear of Fate just arrived at Licencia, only to get crushed by Tot somehow. Knowing you, you should be hiding under the blankets and quivering.”

“Yeah, well, once you get too scared, you tend to run out to find people,” Claud replied darkly. “It’s a first for me too, but I suppose fear is as fear does.”

“How philosophical.” The bartender slid a glass of apple juice over. “I wonder what it feels like to look down on an entire city and yell at a wanted man from high up.”

“Just get a Flight artefact,” Claud replied, picking the glass up and downing it in one shot. “And you’ll get to try it for yourself.”

“And get beaten into the ground after that?” The bartender shook his head. “No thanks.”

Claud shrugged, and then prepared to move on to his main goal for coming here. “So, master, what’s the deal with Tot now? How did he injure…”

“Lots of speculations from everyone. You interested?”

“Yeah.”

The bartender raised five fingers, and Claud rolled his eyes. “Really?”

“I’m a Profiteer, remember?”