Victor of Tucson

Book 8: Chapter 16: - Worthy Fights

It was well into the evening before Victor and Lam returned to Dar’s lake house. Victor hadn’t intended to be out so late, but they’d spent hours at a tailor Tria had recommended. Victor had been focused on buying a single, good shirt that could change its color with a gentle nudge of Energy into a stitched rune pattern, but Lam had spent a lot more time shopping, buying half a dozen garments. Victor would be hard-pressed to describe any of them; he’d gotten his shirt and then waited outside, watching the people of Sojourn while she shopped.

After she was done, they’d stopped by Tria’s shop again so Victor could give her the shirt and his wyrm-scale armor to enchant, which she promised to have ready first thing in the morning. Victor was a little leery about leaving the armor, not because he worried Tria would steal it, but because it bore special meaning to him. It was priceless because Tes had crafted it for him, and she’d literally put her blood into it. He resolved to wake up at dawn and wait outside for Tria’s shop to open in the morning.

Of course, they hadn’t been done even after dropping off Victor’s armor. Lam, brimming with excitement about the upcoming dinner party, had wanted to buy some fancy stationery for their invitations. This led to a lively discussion about how they had no idea how to address or deliver them. When Lam mentioned the problem to Mr. Qwor upon their arrival at the house, the coach driver had the answer. Apparently, Dar’s staff at the lake house was managed by a man named Mr. Ruln, who acted as the household steward. Mr. Qwor said Mr. Ruln would “be happy to see the invitations delivered.”

Walking down the cobbled path from the coach house to the front door, Victor's curiosity was piqued. “I wonder if I’ve met Mr. Ruln. I need to start paying attention to people’s names,” he mused aloud.

“It’s not like they go around introducing themselves,” Lam replied, nodding toward the servant, who was standing ready to open the door for them as they approached. When they reached the stoop, she said, “Excuse me, will you please let Mr. Ruln know that I’d like to speak to him when he has a minute?”

“Of course, ma’am.” He turned to Victor and added, “Sir, your other guests await you in the central parlor.”

“Thanks.” Victor nodded and stepped into the home, leading the way back to the large sitting area that adjoined the outside deck. Darren and Edeya sat together on one of the couches, both reading. Edeya’s nose was buried in a thick, leather-bound tome, and Darren was flipping through one of the crystal guidebook tablets.

Darren didn’t notice them and spoke almost idly as they approached, “Yeah, I’m not finding anything on that dungeon Trin mentioned. Either it’s too exclusive to be in the guidebook, or she was making the whole thing up.”

“Mrs. Woy said there was a lot about Sojourn you won’t find in that guidebook,” Edeya sighed, idly rubbing at something on her chin. She glanced toward Darren, caught sight of Lam and Victor standing there, and leaped to her feet. “You’re back!’

“One of your, um, mentor’s staff. She made us dinner.”

“We missed dinner?” Lam’s voice rose in a near whine. Victor chuckled, shaking his head. Though he felt like he could eat, he wasn’t hungry. How would he feel if he were only level ten with a fraction of the Energy coursing through his body’s cells, though?

“I’m sure they’ll fix you something—” he started to say, but Edeya was already producing plates of steaming food from her storage ring, arranging them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“I saved you plenty.”

Lam grabbed a hot, buttered roll and started eating. Victor chuckled and shook his head. “I’m going to go to my room and eat something else.” Everyone, even Darren, stopped what they were doing and looked at him strangely. He shrugged. “I’ve got a monster’s heart I want to consume, and the damn thing is massive.”

Darren blanched a little and looked at Edeya. “I thought you were teasing me.”

“I told you!”

“Anyway,” Victor groaned, starting for the hallway leading to the bedrooms, “I’m going to write a note to Valla, too. I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so goodnight.”

“Night!” Edeya chirped.

Lam cleared her throat, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and said, “I know you want to retire, Victor, but when can we talk about more spell patterns?”

“Ah, shit.” Victor paused near the hallway. “Tomorrow, when I return from picking up my armor. Promise. Oh!” He fished through his storage ring for the spell pattern he’d purchased for Edeya. “This is for you.” He tossed it to her and winked. “Lam has one for Darren.”

“Thank you!” Edeya cried, snatching the rolled-up parchment from the air.

Lam met his eyes and gave him a quick nod. “See you tomorrow, then, Victor. Thank you for everything.” She didn’t wait for a reply, turning to watch as Edeya scrambled to unwind the scroll.

Victor watched them for a moment, then left. He was halfway down the hallway when his excellent Quinametzin ears picked up Darren’s hushed whisper. “Is he angry?”

“No, dummy,” Edeya laughed. “I think he’s probably missing Valla.”

Victor sighed and went into his room, locking the door behind him. Edeya was right on target. He felt like it had been months, not just a bit less than a week, since he’d seen Valla, and he was missing her. He sat on the side of the bed and opened the Farscribe book he shared with her. Nothing had been added since her last short message earlier that morning. He looked over the words again, frowning, wondering if there was something to them other than their face value.

She said all was well, but they were exhausted, and more battles awaited after their rest. That was normal, wasn’t it? They were in a dungeon, after all. She said Lesh was snoring, so things couldn’t be that dire. He shook his head, forcing himself to stop worrying, to stop imagining nightmare scenarios that weren’t at all likely. Instead, he drew a line and wrote a message:

I miss you, Valla. I hate that we aren’t together, and I hope you’ll be home soon. I hate the circumstances that keep us apart, but, on the other hand, this time away makes me appreciate you more. It makes me realize how damn lucky I am. Let's do something together, just the two of us, when you’re back. I’ll be waiting for you.

Victor paused, tapping the pen on his chin while he thought, imagining Dar or the Sojourn city council sending him to complete some quest or task before he got to wrap Valla in his arms again. Grinning fiercely, he added:

If someone tries to stop me from welcoming you home, I’m going to fight them. I don’t care. I really don’t.

I Love you,

Victor

He put the book away, then stood up, moving to a large open section between his door and the foot of his bed. He almost summoned the gargantuopod heart from his storage bag but stopped, thinking things over. What if something crazy happened? What if he started bursting with flames like when he’d eaten the wyrm’s heart? He doubted that would happen, but something might. Did he want to risk Dar’s house? His decision made, he walked into the hallway and, rather than turning right and going back the way he’d come, he walked the other way.

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There was a small library at the end of the hall, just before the big double doors leading to Dar’s suite. He headed that way because the library also opened onto a small deck connected via a wooden walkway to the main one. Victor hoped to make his way down to the lake without being noticed; he didn’t want to explain his actions or risk getting waylaid by a side conversation. A few minutes later, having succeeded in avoiding everyone except for a single member of the house staff tidying the main deck, he padded down the steps to the long, starlit pier.

The lake was placid and beautiful at night, as it usually was. Its dark, deep waters reflected the stars, making Victor feel like he was standing on a wooden platform floating in space. He moved to the very end of the pier and stripped off most of his clothes. The air was a little chilly, but Victor was always warm, and he figured it would be nice to jump into the water when he was done with his task.

He took a deep breath and cast Iron Berserk; there was no way he was going to try to consume the gargantuopod heart without the size boost of the spell. As the power of rage-attuned Energy flooded his body, tinting his vision with crimson, he stood there basking in the furnace of his heart, the cool night air a profound contrast to the heat radiating from his flesh. He reached into the storage pouch hanging from his belt and summoned out the enormous, still-bloody heart. It steamed in the night air, and the hot blood dripping from the great, severed arteries sizzled on the decking, splashing onto his bare toes.

Even standing twenty feet tall, with hands the size of serving platters, the heart was enormous. Eating such a great organ would take time and effort, but Victor’s mouth salivated at the idea. Another reason he wanted to be in his full titanic form was that more than his size changed with the transformation. Instincts that were becoming ordinary for him in his usual state were far more profound in his rage-engorged body; he hungered for the flesh of the organ in his mighty hands. He yearned to bite into it. He wanted to taste that hot blood and chew the tough flesh. He yearned to swallow it and let his body sift through it for the secrets of his fallen foe’s strength.

Grinning madly, he gave in to his instincts and took a massive bite, his great Quinametzin teeth slicing the powerful flesh with ease. After that first coppery, tangy bite, there was no stopping him. He lost himself to the feast, gorging himself, bite after bite. He could feel the Energy buried in the meat of the heart in his stomach, churning and gathering. Despite the size of the organ, despite the need to take bloody bite after bloody bite, he never felt full, never felt like stopping. He couldn’t have if he’d wanted to—the gathering Energy was like the pleasure of a scratched itch, and each bite brought the metaphorical fingernails closer to the perfect spot.

Even when he swallowed the last morsel, he lifted his hands and licked the bloody remnants from his palms and wrists. As he did so, he felt the ball of Energy in his gut begin to expand like a slow-motion explosion. It spread through his body, a wave of ecstasy that ignited the dense, potent molecules that made up his Quinametzin anatomy. A tiny voice in his mind wondered at that; if he hadn’t been so thoroughly Quinametzin, if he’d failed to advance his titanic race so far, would the heart have affected him differently? Would it have burned his flesh rather than refined it?

The tiny voice was banished as the wave of Energy reached his mind and all thoughts were blown from his consciousness. Victor arched his back, and while the pulsing Energy of his mighty, vanquished foe coursed through him, he roared his triumph to the stars.

#

Lam was licking sticky honey from her fingers, and a member of the kitchen staff was taking away dirty plates when Darren looked up from his tablet and pointed to the windows facing the deck and the lake beyond. “Is it getting brighter out there?”

Lam stood and turned, looking over the back of the couch to where he’d pointed. Sure enough, a bright glow was starting to illuminate the darkness, and it seemed to be coming from the lake. She looked at Edeya, who’d stood to look with her. “You don’t think anyone would attack Dar’s home, do you?”

“I hope not! That’s definitely Energy, though!” Edeya spun toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “We should get Victor.”

The servant, Mrs. Woy, Lam had learned, cleared her throat and said, “Nothing to be alarmed about. Lord Dar warned the staff to stay inside; he and his student are working on something by the lake.”

“Dar’s here?” Lam asked, noting the brightness was still growing. It almost looked like a false sunrise.

“Yes, Lord Dar arrived at dinner time but has been in his quarters. His warning came just moments ago. At his bidding, I was just about to advise you all to stay inside.”

Lam nodded to the woman and then walked around the couch to press her forehead against the glass. That’s when the ground trembled, and a roar shook the night, rattling the glass and vibrating the curios in their cabinets.

“What the hell?” Darren cried, scrambling off the couch and ducking down with a wide stance as though an earthquake were imminent.

“Is that?” Edeya asked with wide eyes, her voice hushed.

“Victor.” Lam nodded. The roar was deep and animalistic, like something from the mouth of a great monster, but it had a certain familiar note that brought back memories of battlefields back on Fanwath. She’d seen and heard Victor roar into the night in triumph too many times not to recognize his voice, even though it was louder and deeper than ever.

“That’s Victor?” Darren hissed. He hurried closer to the two of them and then, surprising them both, nodded. “I’m not surprised, I suppose. I heard him screaming like that when he destroyed my war machines in First Landing. Well, not quite like that, but he was further away . . .” As his words trailed off, so did the roaring, and the light began to dim. “What was he yelling about? Is he angry? Is he battling something?”

In the sudden stillness and absence of light, Lam shook her head, chuckling. “No, that sounded more like victory to me. He must have liked the heart.”

#

When Victor came back to himself, he was floating on his back in the lake, a good fifty yards from the pier. He was immediately aware of two things—one, he had some System messages clouding his vision, and two, he felt amazing. Grinning, wanting to laugh at his circumstances, he quickly read through the notifications:

***Congratulations! You have advanced your Quinametzin Bloodline: Epic 2.***

***Congratulations! You have earned a new Feat: Behemoth’s Regeneration.***

***Behemoth’s Regeneration: You have gained the uncanny resilience of a behemoth. Given enough time, your flesh will recover from even the most grievous wounds. This ability will complement and magnify similar benefits gained from other sources.***

Victor, for once, was stupefied, unable to say anything, even “huh” or “cool.” He just stretched out on his back, floating in the cool water, staring up at the stars and smiling in wonder. He knew all about regeneration; his berserking abilities granted it to him, at least a limited form of rapid healing. This felt different, however. It sounded like he could regenerate all the time now, and it might extend beyond rapid healing. It might be genuine regeneration—like, he might be able to grow back limbs.

A tiny part of him, some remnant from his old, human-boy self that grew up in Tucson, was freaked out. It felt like he was moving further and further away from that seed of himself. He wasn’t just a human with “titan blood” anymore. He was entirely Quinametzin. He’d accepted that. Now, though, he’d absorbed some part of that giant, pinché monster from the dungeon. Was he straying away from his bloodline? Was he less Quinametzin now?

That couldn’t be, could it? Hadn’t the heart also boosted his Quinametzin bloodline? After all, the whole reason he could steal the gargantuopod’s ability was because he was Quinametzin. His further thoughts were interrupted by a deep, rumbling voice.

“Something troubling you, lad?” Dar asked.

Victor straightened, switching from a back float to water-treading, and turned toward the pier. Dar sat there, his bulky, dark form like a hulking shadow with blazing eyes. “Hello, sir. I didn’t realize you were here.”

“A dozen creatures like the one you ripped that heart from could have approached unnoticed during the din you stirred up.” He chuckled and moved away from his original question, letting Victor off the hook at least momentarily. “I’ve been eager to watch you go through that process. My eyes see much; would you like to hear my thoughts?”

Victor nodded, knowing the man could see him clearly despite the dark. Even so, he added words to the gesture, “I would.”

“Your bloodline is incredibly potent. You know this, of course, but I don’t think you quite understand the scope. The ability to gain strength from your foes—that ritual you just completed—is something I’ve never seen before, not on that scale. I saw your body harness the Energy of that gargantuopod. You ripped it apart on a cellular level, subsuming some essential part of it—some piece of its bloodline. More than that, a piece of the creature’s spirit lingered in that dead heart! How that’s possible, I’m not sure. It must have something to do with you taking it from the corpse; it must be part of the ritual whether you realize it or not.”

“Ritual?” Victor frowned. “I don’t do any kind of ritual—”

“Hah! Says the man who rips the hot hearts from his foes and eats them bloody and raw. It’s a ritual whether you label it so or not.” Dar waved a hand in the air. “That’s not important, in any case. I could do the same thing but wouldn’t gain what you do. All I’d get is a raw, rather under-seasoned meal. Well? What did you gain? Shall I guess?”

“I don’t mind telling you—”

“Some advancement to your bloodline? Some Energy for your Core? Or something more? That was quite a flare of Energy that tore through your body.”

“My bloodline advanced, and maybe my Core got some Energy, but it didn’t advance. I, uh, gained a new feat, though.”

Dar leaned forward, and his eyes flared brighter. “Is that common? What feat?”

“It’s not all that common, though I have gained something unique from most of the more powerful hearts I’ve eaten.”

“And this one?”

Victor tried to shrug, which was not a natural movement while treading water, and said, “I gained regeneration.” The Spirit Master grew quiet and leaned back, staring at the stars.

“Dead gods, lad. This changes things. Such an ability . . .” He let his voice trail off, and Victor floated for a few moments while Dar stared at the stars. “There are those who would do terrible, terrible things to gain that ability. We must keep the nature of your ability a secret. It would be one thing if all you gained from a heart was some Energy—a bit of a cheat on cultivation. Absorbing aspects of other bloodlines, though—wars have been fought for less.”

Victor stared at the man who was meant to be his mentor and couldn’t help the dark thoughts that nibbled at his mind. Could he trust him? Was he, even now, trying to plot a way to steal Victor’s bloodline? If the Warlord of Coloss knew a way to do so, surely the great powers of Sojourn knew of methods. Dar chuckled, a deep grating sound like wet stones sliding against each other. “Relax, Victor. I take my role as your mentor very seriously. It weighs on me. Knowing your secret, protecting it and you, will do much for my karmic balance sheet.”

“I’d feel better if you, you know, wanted to.”

“Hah! Of course I do! Fear not, lad. Having a desire to build karma in my favor only helps me tune out the dark whispers everyone hears occasionally. My waking mind is set on teaching you, fostering your spirit, and building you into a true conqueror.”

“Conqueror?”

Dar leaned forward and growled, his voice carrying sharply over the still water, “Of course! Did you not come to me with such desires? I recall tales of a warlord who needed slaying, an undead world that needed to feel the fire of your wrath, and a certain history of righting injustices. Do those things no longer appeal to the rage burning in your heart?”

Victor felt chills on his spine and a growl building in his chest as he answered, through a throat thick with emotion, “Yes!”

“Good. It’s clear to me that your ancestors were a potent people, and I’m not surprised they moved beyond this realm. You should be proud to carry their bloodline, proud to remind this universe of who they were. If hearts can advance your power so, then you should claim more. We need to pick some worthy fights for you.”

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