Chapter 74 – Resistance Training

The next night, Tom snuck out from his bed the moment he thought he wouldn’t be noticed. Barely an hour has passed since the lights had gone into night mode, and he wasn’t certain everyone was asleep. On the other hand, they would have to have been watching carefully to have spotted him, and six-year-olds didn’t do that.

He had been tired all day, and most of him acknowledged that what he was doing was stupid. Ideally, he would be catching up on sleep, but he had an itch. He didn’t want to drop the ball, and the fear of delay meant he had to get his resistance training started. The idea was stupid, but acknowledging that fact hadn’t stopped him from leaving his bed. He was going to start the process today, because he didn’t want to keep delaying; plus, pushing himself like this might have some minor benefits. From his first life in Existentia, he knew there were lots of skills available to both manage and reduce the need for sleep, and it was possible his nighttime activities might help him reacquire some of them.

Once he reached the ground floor, he was surprised to discover that, of the four isolation rooms, one set of the doors was firmly shut. Tom stared at them. That change was like a flashing neon light that said something suspicious is happening here. He almost abandoned his plan to use the isolation rooms immediately, but then he remembered the hidden cupboards.

He narrowed his eyes and focused internally to communicate his intentions. The door wavered, shifted positions, and, as he watched with raised eyebrows, it reverted to the normal open state.

Silently, he snorted. Of course, that was how it worked. The designers of this place had thought of everything. When you shut the door, it created an illusion of it remaining unoccupied by making it look like the door remained open. It was only his abnormal ability that allowed him to pierce the illusion. It showed what was really there, while everyone else walking past would have no idea.

While forcing his title to remain inactive, he tried to move toward the one that he knew was occupied, but his eyes kept drifting to its neighbour. That, he thought, was the one that he should be using. Tom shivered at the subtle compulsion that was in play; with a simple internal wish, he reactivated his ability, and the desire to go elsewhere vanished. He could see the shut door once more.

It was an impressive magical setup, but would do nothing against the assassins. But Tom guessed that wasn’t the point of it. The risk of assassins being physically present in the building was managed separately. This was a protection for what was the more insidious threat to a reincarnator’s identity. Namely, the risk that enemies with clairvoyance abilities would borrow the eyes and senses of normal people and discover reincarnators that way.

These minor illusions were almost certainly a hundred percent effective against all the children and volunteers that wandered the corridors. Tom had no way of confirming it now, but he was sure that everyone who had abilities that let them see through the illusionary defences would have additional protections against being used in an enemy’s scrying spell.

Why the default was to use this rather than just having the doors shut was a mystery, but he suspected it was probably to allow a person in Dimitri’s position to track what was happening in the orphanage better.

Once he was safely locked into his own isolation room, Tom quickly built his makeshift ladder to access the hidden cupboards.

A minute later, he had a vial of pinkish acid in his hot little hands. As per instructions, he measured out two drops into a full beaker of water. The pink, super-concentrated substance landed in the water and dispersed, leaving a colourless transparent liquid that looked innocent.

Tom knew it was anything but that. 

With a mini-shudder, as he thought about exactly what he was about to do, he completed the final preparations. First, he stripped off his clothes to give himself easy access to his body. Then he sat right up next to the healing crystal.

“Let’s do this,” he said.

Touch Heal turned off his nerves, and then he poured the liquid over his legs and left arm. The instant the liquid touched the skin, it started to blacken, and the sharp scent of noxious chemicals assaulted his nose.

Another tweak with Touch Heal switched off the scent of smell and removed the issue.

He sat there quietly and observed the war being waged between the acid and his healing. As a layer of skin was burnt away, new growth replaced it in a tug of war that kept the acid from burning deeply into his body.

His mana dropped precariously, and the acid started to win in spots; without hesitation, he drew healing from the crystal that he was leaning up against. Having seen the specifications of the off-line batteries, he was confident that it would have enough juice for the entire session, so there was no need to devote energy to using it efficiently.

Within a short amount of time, he realised he was bored. Attempting this with the ability to turn off the pain was a massive cheat.

While being very careful not to get acid on the papers, he reviewed the next set of spells he wanted to develop. The current spell he was aiming for was called Lightning Lance. It was tier-three, and it could add a powerful long-range option to his battle abilities. There were over a dozen intermediate steps to obtaining it, but each of the spell forms was an advancement of the Spark spell he had already mastered, so he expected it to go quickly.

While he couldn’t really spare any magic to cast the spell properly, given the circumstances, dedicating a single point to manipulate the raw mana and create the first stepping-stone spell was acceptable. The spell was too weak to be anything but an intermediate step. He glanced at the description and wrinkled his nose. It definitely wasn’t going to contribute to combat effectiveness.

Spell: Lightning Bolt – Tier 1

A short-range offensive spell.

It only had a range of five metres, which was barely longer than the range he had with Spark, and underperformed compared to his pet spell on all the other different power metrics, including density, penetration, max energy invested, and power-to-mana ratio. It was a tier higher for that slight extra range it granted, and for no other reasons. This was not a spell to be happy about, beyond it being a step towards something greater.

The beaker he was using to apply acid ran out.

“Under twenty minutes,” he muttered to himself when he checked the time. That was ten minutes faster than expected.

He shrugged.

It was good news. If he could finish things sooner, that was a bonus, and there were still more efficiencies to be extracted. Maybe he could finish this in four instead of eight hours. His healing capacity hadn’t really been challenged through the process, and the draw per minute on the healing crystal had been far lower than he had forecast at all points. There was definitely some scope to ramp things up. For the next round of acid, Tom decided he would keep the current dilution, but he would apply it to his torso as well as his legs. 

That was going to accelerate matters.

Hours passed, and he increased both the concentration and the area that he was applying it to. He was now splashing it on his back and front. With the ability to suppress his nerves, it was completely painless, and nothing like what had happened with his first venom title, which had been almost a day of continual agony.

Finally, after five hours of practicing Lightning Bolt, but without even attempting to cast it once, there was a ding.

Tom’s disquiet deepened when he checked the time and his acid consumption together. It was far higher than expected. The process he was following was clearly flawed. Each step had gone faster than expected, but he had ended up using seventy percent more acid. Either the relatively high dilution levels had an unknown penalty, or he hadn’t been applying the substance aggressively enough to get the most out of the deadly acid. While he wanted to jump up and confirm that he had got the title, he remained where he was until the sizzling of his skin had reduced to nearly nothing. Only then did he move to check the ritual status screen.

Title: Acid Resistance (I): 1% chance to gain 30 seconds of immunity when exposed to an acid. All acids do 2% less damage. 

Awarded for: Being subjected to topical exposure of sufficient acid to kill you thirty-two times over in a single day and surviving.

He stared at the outcome of over five hours of effort. He had hoped the level one title would be a fifth as powerful as the level five version, but that had proven to be a forlorn hope. Instead of being twenty percent as strong, it was closer to three or four percent. The nature of the protection offered was also different. The venom title granted the chance to gain immunity to a specific venom, while this one offered a chance to be immune to all acids over a brief period.

Overall, he guessed he shouldn’t be disappointed. Even small advantages added up over time. This current title was almost useless, and all he could do was to hope that the presence of thirty-one different types of acids meant that he could upgrade his title as expected.

It was three a.m., so he returned to bed to grab an extra five hours of sleep.

He woke late and found himself lethargic and irritable all day.

The next night, he repeated the process.

Kang elbowed him for the third time in the morning lessons. “I’m awake,” he protested while wiping away the drool that pooled from his mouth. “I’m awake,” he repeated.

The other boy glared at him. “This is ridiculous. Get more sleep.”

Tom wanted to argue, but he knew Kang was right. Him sleeping in class was suspicious, and if there were human spies, he needed to avoid standing out. It felt fundamentally wrong to be even considering the possibility, and he couldn’t comprehend how anyone would actively work against reincarnators, given the stakes, given that the extinction of the entire species was on the line. However, nor could he fully discount the possibility. With so many examples of betrayal during human history, it was easy to imagine someone being turned. A lover abducted, a misguided sense of revenge, or just plain stupidity leading them to believe that helping the enemy eliminate reincarnators was in humanity’s best interest were all motives that could lead to such selfish, degenerate behaviour. It was horrifying that he could imagine so many ways that the unthinkable could happen. But he could envisage it, so it was a definite possibility, and so he had to assume they were there and take things more carefully.

For the next two days, he forced himself to act normally and sleep through the night. With only three days before the contender challenge, he knew he was running out of time.

He fought the orcs in the hope of creating a new skill that could help him in the coming competition, but there were no welcome dings. Spear Mastery and Power Strike both improved by a single level, but these were not the gains he was hoping to make.

The next night, he visited the isolation room. It was as boring as his last session, but he completed it, and, following the ding, brought the new title up.

Title: Acid Resistance (II): 3% chance to gain 35 seconds of immunity when exposed to an acid. All acids do 5% less damage to your skin. 

Awarded for: Being subjected to topical exposure of sufficient acid to kill you thirty-two times over in a single day and surviving on three separate occasions with three different acids.

He sighed in relief at the details that had been recorded. The title had upgraded, as predicted, and had probably tripled in power. With the growth, he could see that, when he upgraded it to level five, it was going to be as strong as his previous venom title. Something like all acid damage reduced by twenty-five percent, and a similar chance to get immunity for a couple of minutes when exposed to an acid source. If that was the end point, it would be a valuable title.

He had also managed to get extra data on how the process worked in terms of the quantities required. With the middle acid, to ensure the session qualified, he had almost emptied the bottle and must have used close to seventy lethal doses, but with the latest acid, he had stopped when he had heard the ding. Instead of the seventy percent extra, he had only required twenty percent more than expected. He had gone for a massive overkill on that second attempt. The fact he had been pouring the acid over his back and covering all of himself simultaneously was probably the reason for the improved efficiency between his latest session and his first. Going forward, he intended to adjust his consumption accordingly.

He left to sleep. Then, with the deadline coming, he slept through the night without attempting extra-curricular activities. The following night, the internal alarm clock he had set went off an hour before the contender challenge was due to start.

Giving himself an hour meant he could sneak down to the armoury via the metal door and then back to the isolation room. Dressed in full armour and a real spear in his hands, he waited patiently for the countdown to finish.

He spent the last five seconds in the contender’s system room, just in case that was required. Three…

Two…

One…

The world shivered and, briefly, all he could see was blackness.

When the disorientating sensation faded, Tom found himself in a far larger room. The ceiling was stretching twenty metres high above him and the walls were more than forty metres away. It reminded him of a throne room created for a species bigger than humans, with lots of polished marble and elaborate flourishes in the stonework. He was wearing a basic set of clothes that felt like they had zero defensive value and the weapon and armour he had gone to the trouble of sourcing had not come through with him.

He wasn’t surprised.  

Then there was another shift in reality, and he was no longer alone. He and everyone else were arranged symmetrically around a massive circle that must have had a diameter of over forty metres. He had a dedicated space that was a couple of adult body lengths across. The symmetry let him know instantly that thirty-two people were here, and, while he was tiny compared to the assigned area, some of the other contenders filled their space completely. They were just that bulky.  

His new body possessed no skills that he could use to accurately assess others, apart from his ability to sense fate and a general ability to weigh the power of his opponents. He utilised both in tandem to get a feel for those assembled. Around half had a fate level of between ten and twenty, which, if their physical attributes matched their fate, would place that group at rank one. However, the other half all had higher levels.

He studied his closest neighbour.

It was a hulking, turtle-like canine with a fate pool of twenty-three. That was far less than Tom’s own, but he was human, and fate was humanity’s main attribute, especially with their new trait. It made sense that his was so much higher. However, for the turtle-dog, Tom was certain that the rest of its attributes were at similar levels. It certainly looked like it was at least rank three or four rather than his own value of zero, and, beyond that, it had a natural armour that would also aid it in a fight.  

He was pretty sure he would be unable to beat it.

Next to it was what looked like a large pot plant. It had little fate, but all of its branches were moving independently, and, once more, he felt overwhelming power radiating from it.

Tom quickly looked away to the next in line and relaxed slightly. This one which had what Tom was starting to suspect was the most common body plan of sapient species: four legs with two arms, it, unlike the first two, did not radiate the oppressive power. It was something that he could beat.

It was a squat creature that would outweigh his body by at least of factor of two, even if, on tippy toes, it would only come up to his waist. The person was thick, and, as it shifted from one side of its space to the other, it moved almost too fast for Tom to follow its motion. It was clearly speed-based and had a skill analogous to Quick Step, but, despite those enormous advantages, it was weaker than the first two creatures he had checked.

He gulped. If this contest required duels, he might very well be outclassed.

The next monster in line was a dull ball of light, and had almost as much fate as Tom did, but, once more, felt weak. Some of the monsters, Tom decided, could be beaten, even if others were beyond him.

“Welcome to all contenders,” a smooth voice said. “You are the thirty-two best prospects for your age in all of Existentia. You should all be proud of qualifying. For reaching this place, you are guaranteed a great title. You have won, and there is no need to chase the sun and get burned.”

The speaker appeared in the centre of their circle. Tom saw a human female, which meant everyone else saw their own species. Despite that, she was not speaking directly to him rather she was turning slowly on the spot and making eye contact with all.

“I’m sure you’re all confused about what’s happening, and I’m going to be honest with you. There are three open slots available. Most of you aren’t good enough to qualify.” Tom froze. Had she been looking at him when she had said that? “Most of you should take the title you have received and not put your lives at risk. But there are some…” She paused and glanced around the room. This time, she definitely did not look at him. Her eyes went instead to the pot plant, a wyvern-like creature, and someone that looked somewhat like a goblin, but with tentacles in place of arms. “There are some of you who may feel you have no choice but to give your all, but I implore that you do not. If you die, you will only accelerate the deaths of your species.”

What the fuck? Tom thought as he tried to understand what she was saying.

“And some of you will push beyond the point you should stop.” This time, he was one of the people she focused on. “You are all contenders, and the top three will enter the Divine Champions’ Trial. No one needs to die, but I am required to share the truth. Historically, less than two-thirds of the contenders have left here alive, and it’s not because we force battles to the death. Everyone has the option to compete with a GOD’s shield. No one needs to die! When you exit, you’ll get a title. If you join the Divine Champion’s Trial, you may end up with riches that exceed that of everyone in your civilisation. At least, for those who are successful. For everyone else, seeking glory comes with risk. Before I go into the details of that risk, I want you to understand who your fellow contenders are and what’s motivating them. First,” she turned to face Tom. “We have a human amongst us. He is a member of a current competitor species.”

A huge upwelling of noise greeted that statement.