Chapter 60

I gave the old sailor my best offer and let him mull it over. I could tell he’d already accepted it before I’d even finished the sentence. Could see it in his eyes. Hungry. Already working out how best to use me, what I was worth to him.

That was fine. I was doing the same thing.

We changed course immediately. There was some disgruntlement from the crew. Well, a lot of disgruntlement, but I promised them I would make sure that Cyrus paid them. Cyrus had smiled greedily. Then I told Cyrus I was serious. The smile faded after that.

I didn’t know how long it would take to reach our destination, the site where the first of the Bronze relics lay, but I left it to the helmsman and his crew.

The sea was calm, windless. The sails had been retracted, and the crew was left to row across the Mediterranean. I had to admit, it was beautiful. Not that the Stone Epoch wasn’t beautiful in a primal, savage way, but this was…different. The breeze. The sea salt air.

I took it all in, sitting at the very front of the ship, as I opened up my HUD and went into my technology tree. For whatever was next, I needed to be kitted out. I was certainly not going into the next battle dressed in a white tunic. My AC had dropped from its mouth-watering 23 down to 0. I needed armour, and weapons too.

It was all there, in the next technology tier. Copper armour, sword, spear. And an ash bow. I smiled. I had almost come to think of the bow as my signature weapon. My charioteer class gave me proficiency in bow too. I would have to make that a priority. The Bronze Epoch heals too, salves. Would need plenty of those.

I needed copper and ash wood. Copper, I thought. In the Stone Epoch, all I needed to do for materials was farm the land, nothing more out of reach than the horn of a deer. Copper, though…where would I find that? I blinked, remembering that this was the Doomsday Trials, before clicking on copper.

[Copper – The first metal manipulated by civilisation. One of the most commonly traded resources across the Adriatic. May be traded for, or mined from copper deposits.]

Okay, so I needed to find copper deposits. I’d need to craft a pickaxe, though thankfully I could see that I’d unlocked that too. That only required ash wood, even though it was made of copper itself. I suppose that made sense, chicken and egg type situation, the system throwing me a bone.

The winds had picked up a little. I could hear the crew debating whether to open the sails, as some of the other crew complained their arms were stiff and water was low.

I went into the crafting menu. I could craft the ash bow, but in order to craft copper armour and weapons I needed a smithing table. Reading the tooltip, these could be found in any forge, or apparently later on I could craft my own forge.

Made sense, though I would definitely miss being able to farm and craft everything I needed without once leaving the savage lands. Ah, good times. I tagged what I needed, the copper and ash, so that it appeared in the top right of my HUD.

I already had a few copper ingots and ash wood, miscellaneous loot from those Ugarit defenders I’d so unceremoniously looted, I supposed. I stretched, getting to my feet, and closing my menu, when a new notification appeared.

My heart hammered. The party function. I mentally clicked on it. Invitation. My eyes darkened. Could’ve been a trap. Psych out. I didn’t care, though. I clicked immediately. The seas disappeared, the salt air, Cyrus’s complaints about the speed and the wind, and I was back. Back in the Stone Epoch.

Well, at least a simulation, a version of it. It was evening in this place, jungle in the distance. A primitive campfire burning, and standing before it, Ironclad.

I didn’t hesitate. I launched at him, my fists moving faster than me, but they hit treacle, halting in place before they came within an inch of my enemy. Ironclad grimaced. ‘I thought you were the tactical one.’

I took a step back, my eyes darting. Couldn’t touch him. Not here. Here? I’d seen it before of course. Unable to harm avatars. A non-PvP zone. I straightened up, giving up my fighting stance. ‘Come to give up?’ I said. ‘Tell me you’ll come peacefully? Forget it. You’re dead, Ironclad. No more beast fury cheats.’

‘You’re the cheater,’ he said. His words were scornful. ‘You knew you could never beat me. Calling in those metal gods. No warrior, nothing. Kaleo-‘

‘Fuck, I don’t want to hear it!’ I snapped, thrusting my finger at him. ‘There’s only so many times I can hear how he never loved you, how you destroy everything and everyone for that. At a certain point, get over it.’

His features were impassive. The flickering flames of the primitive campfire reflected in them. ‘He built this place,’ said Ironclad, finally, gesturing to the facsimile around us. ‘Hacked the party function. Created this zone.’

I looked at him. He stared back, silently as slowly I understood.

‘You’ve been here before.’ He said nothing, but I knew I was right. ‘This isn’t your first time in the Bronze Epoch.’

He smiled. ‘Now you understand. You’re all alone here. No allies. No one is coming to save you.’

‘I don’t need saving, especially not from you.’

‘When I kill you, it’ll be slow. Painful, in ways you cannot yet imagine,’ said Ironclad. He spoke passionlessly. Functional. It wasn’t a warning. It was a promise. ‘And everyone you’ve ever loved. Everyone you’ll ever love.’

‘Ironclad, thick as a plank. Least favourite child of a man with one son.’ His eyes twitched, and I smiled with a deep, devilish satisfaction.

‘You saw my quest log didn’t you? Thought it was an oversight?’ Now it was his turn to smile, as mine was wiped away. ‘You’re the fool. I let you see it. Wanted you to know exactly what I was doing. That you had no chance of winning.’ He glanced at me, as though appraising. ‘Let me guess, raider? Your little tricks won’t work here.’

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

He thought I was a raider. I pretended to falter, and he smiled in satisfaction.

‘No games. No talking.’ We glared at one another. ‘When I see you, I kill you.’

‘Promises, promises,’ muttered Ironclad, as the Stone Epoch began to fade away. ‘You’re out of your depth. And you’re no match for me.’

We’ll see, I thought as the salt air came back, filling my nostrils. The sails were up, and Cyrus was beside me. He looked a little concerned.

‘Are you…okay?’ he said. ‘Sea air not agreeing with you, Reaver? I’ve been meaning to ask. Reaver. Bit of an odd name, isn’t it?’

‘So I keep hearing,’ I said, Ironclad’s eyes still emblazoned on my vision.

‘Hmm,’ said Cyrus, stroking his oiled beard. ‘Well, we’ll arrive soon. Thought you’d want to know.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing. You do realise we’re sailing towards the Drenched, don’t you?’

I wasn’t listening. Fuck. I hated how Ironclad got under my skin, though I knew I’d gotten under his. Why had he invited me into that party chat? Just to piss me off? Maybe it hadn’t been tactical at all. Maybe he had no idea what he was doing.

I was certainly starting to feel that way.

‘Well, demi-god, I shall defer to you. Who was your father by the way? I’d imagine-‘ I glared at him. ‘Right, right. Another time, perhaps, though thought I’d ask. I’m sure your father would bless us, carrying his son, if only we knew who to pray to…’