Milf harem of Serpent King

He didn’t know that name.

He had never heard that name in either of his lives, in any book or conversation or guild record or late-night discussion or dream.

Raikarndel.

It sat in the notification with the specific weight of something that was not new information, but remembered information, and the system delivered it with a gravity that was entirely different from any tone it had used with him before.

His body moved without him telling it to.

He felt himself shift from horizontal to vertical while still floating above the cauldron, the tendrils of orange light that had been holding him in a spread-armed position adjusting, straining, the cauldron pulling harder in the mechanical response of a device that was losing its grip on a thing it had been extracting and was attempting to compensate — and then his body was vertical and upright and floating and his eyes were open.

The purple light coming out of them was not something he could see directly, but he could feel it, the way you could feel heat coming off your own skin without being able to see it.

It came from somewhere behind his eyes and it came outward and it was not the orange of the cauldron and it was not any color that had a comfortable place in the existing taxonomy of abilities that the people in this valley rest stop were familiar with.

It was the color of something that had been in the dark for a very long time and was remembering what light felt like.

The cauldron, below him, made a sound like the world’s largest piece of iron deciding it had opinions about the ground, and then it pressed itself downward — not fell, but pressed, with the deliberate, total force of something that had encountered a stronger will than its own and was being overridden — and the ground under it cracked in a starburst pattern and then the shockwave erupted.

It went in every direction, and it went all at once.

The eastern fighters nearest to the cauldron went first, lifted off their feet, and were thrown several meters away with the complete, unambiguous efficiency of a force that was not interested in proportionality.

They hit the ground and the stone wall and each other and the general landscape of the rest stop with a series of impacts that the rest stop’s peaceful history had absolutely not prepared it for, and they stayed where they landed because getting up after that required a brief conversation with consciousness that not all of them were currently in a position to have.

The wave spread outward and the fighters further away fared marginally better in that they were thrown rather than launched, staggering backward, losing formation, the carefully coordinated eastern force dissolving into individuals trying to maintain their footing in a world that had just stopped cooperating with that goal.

Maudlina moved faster than anyone in the rest stop had seen her move yet.

She brought her hands together and the barrier went up around her men with snapping urgency, and the barrier caught it — held it, the sorceress’s talent pressing back against the eruption with the straining, luminous effort of something working at its limit — and her men staggered but stayed standing, crowded inside the protection she’d thrown up, and Maudlina herself stood at the center of it with her jaw set and her eyes bright and the specific expression of a woman who was working very hard and was absolutely not going to let that show more than it already did.

Bearfang took the shockwave directly.

He was a practical man and he had been in the middle of an engagement with Ankerita and he hadn’t had time to construct a defense and so he took it, the full force of it, and it sent him backward eight meters across the grass and he hit the stone wall with an impact that said several things loudly about the relationship between human bodies and solid stone and none of them were pleasant, and he slid down it and sat at its base and looked across the rest stop at the boy floating above the ruined cauldron with his purple-lit eyes open and the dark veins fading slowly from his skin, fading because whatever the cauldron had been pulling out was no longer being pulled, was returning, and the returning of it was changing things.

Ankerita had caught herself on one knee, one hand flat on the ground, the blue of her talent having flared outward automatically in the moment of the shockwave’s arrival and absorbed enough of it to leave her present and functional and staring at Jake with the wide, still, completely focused expression of a woman who had prepared herself for several possible outcomes of this afternoon and was now observing an outcome that had been on her list but had been in the column labeled unlikely.

The pressure in the rest stop was immense.

It came off Jake the way heat came off a forge — not directed, not weaponized, simply present, the natural emanation of something that was operating at a capacity it had not previously operated at, and every person in the valley felt it pressing against them with the patient, total certainty of a thing that was not trying to intimidate anyone and was accomplishing it anyway.

Eskar, behind the stone wall, had dropped his crossbow.

He was looking at Jake with his mouth open and the expression of a man who had known a young person for four years and had understood that young person to be, broadly, a pleasant and somewhat lazy individual with a mysterious mark on his shoulder and an inexplicable talent for making his aunt worry and was now in the process of revising that understanding so completely that the revision required his entire attention.

The system had more to say.

[ CLASS UPDATED ]

[ CURRENT CLASS: II ]

[ TALENT RANK: I ]

[ BLOODLINE ABILITIES UNLOCKING — BLOOD SHADOW SYSTEM FULL INTEGRATION COMMENCING ]

Jake read every notification as it arrived and understood approximately half of what it was telling him and felt, in the parts he didn’t fully understand yet, the shape of things that were going to need to be understood soon.

Class II?

He had gone from Class V to Class II in the span of however long it had taken the cauldron to do what it had done to him, and the system was telling him that this was not an external change, the bloodline that had been sitting dormant finally cracking open and being acknowledged.

Raikarndel.

He turned the name over in his mind while he floated above the ruined cauldron in the late afternoon light of the valley, with the purple fading from his eyes and the dark veins fading from his skin and the pressure radiating off him in waves that were gradually, slowly beginning to ease as the system finished its reboot and settled into its new configuration.

He looked down at the rest stop.

He looked at the eastern fighters scattered and regrouping at the perimeter.

He looked at Maudlina’s barrier, still up, glowing faintly at its edges with the effort of holding. He looked at Ankerita on one knee, meeting his gaze with those wide, still eyes that were doing something complicated in a face that was otherwise extremely controlled.

He looked at Bearfang sitting at the base of the stone wall with blood on his temple and an expression that had, for the first time since Jake had seen it, absolutely no plan in it.

He looked at Eskar, crossbow on the ground, mouth open, looking like a man who owed someone an extremely comprehensive apology and was only just beginning to understand the full scope of what "comprehensive" was going to need to mean.

Jake lowered himself to the ground.

with the slow, deliberate intentionality of something that had learned in the last few minutes that it could do this, that the floating was not something being done to him anymore but something he was doing, and that the distinction mattered.

His feet touched the grass.

The pressure in the rest stop didn’t disappear, but it settled, the way a large animal settled when it sat down — still present, still undeniable, but no longer active in the same way.

Jake stood on the ground in the ruins of his shirt with the cauldron pressed into the cracked earth behind him and looked at the people around him.

He hurt everywhere.

He was exhausted in a way that went deeper than muscles and bones, exhausted in whatever the place was that the cauldron had been reaching into, and that place was going to need time to recover from what had just happened to it, and Jake already knew with certainty that time was not something the current situation was going to offer him in quantity.

But he was standing.