Spirit hovered before him, her translucent form steady as she gestured toward the interface. “These are the available Skills you can choose. Pick Meditation first.”

  Angar swiped through the glowing list with a calloused thumb, his eyes scanning names like Acrobatics, Adoration, Athletics, and Armor. He scrolled further, paused at Meditation, and tapped it. “Done,” he replied.

  “Now pick Close Combat.”

  “Done.”

  “Now Close Weapons.”

  Angar navigated to the option and selected it. “Done,” he said. “Selecting Close Weapons brought up a new list.”

  “Good,” Spirit replied, drifting closer with a nod. “Select Blunt, then Hammers after.”

  He followed her instructions, his thick fingers moving with cautious precision. “Done. There’s a new list that looks to be different types of hammers.”

  “Those are for specialized weapon training,” Spirit explained. “You could specialize with a weapon like the maul you were using earlier, but there are much better options like power hammers, so it’d be a waste of a precious Skill Point. We’re planning as best we can for the present while trying not to screw your possible future.”

  She paused before saying, “That’s it for now. You had 8 Skill Points and you’re down to 3. We’ll hold onto those in case…well, we’ll deal with that if it comes up. If we find decent armor that fits you, we’ll train Armor.”

  Angar grunted. If Spirit was the same size as when he first met her, then he was much taller now and doubted any armor they found would fit him. “What do these Skills do?” he asked.

  “Each one you picked gave you 100 hours of Tier-level System training in dilated time.”

  If that was true, he hadn’t noticed. “Understood.”

  “Okay. Glory Points next,” Spirit continued, waving a hand. “You had 597 – an insane haul, trust me. You can’t understand what a great amount that is, but this situation and throwing that zero-point-energy waste containment sphere into a volcano got you some great Glorious Achievements, all world firsts, and a lot more points than usual.

  “I purchased a Class Option for 90, three Ability Option for 210, and two Ability Upgrades for 75, leaving you with 247 Glory Points. We need 30 to sanctify your maul, so 217 when all’s said and done. You’ll earn some more, but we want at least 210 in reserve in case you survive and ascend to Tier 2 one day.”

  Her tone grew wistful. “I’d love to get a few more Upgrades for Ground Current such as Enduring 2, but the max distance is fine for now. Reavers and undead don’t have range attacks. We can’t spend more until you earn more.”

  She clapped her hands soundlessly, refocusing. “And that covers that. Okay, start meditating to fill your Energy Points and Charges. What Theosis…”

  Angar was hoping she’d pause so he wouldn’t have to interrupt, but it didn’t seem she would, so he did. “Sorry, Spirit, but I lost my hammer in the explosion. Is this maul something you’ll supply me with? Is it a hammer? And what did you call the holy relic? Containment for what?”

  Spirit’s form flickered. “A maul is a big hammer with a long haft used with both hands. And, no, I can’t supply a weapon. I know where yours landed. It’s damaged but sanctifying it will solve that problem. You’ve trained with this type of weapon your whole life, so I assume you want to continue using one. It’s the only serviceable weapon around anyway. And there’s no time to explain the holy relic.”

  Angar grunted. As he knew things to be, there were big and small hammers, heavy and light hammers, no mauls, but he liked this new word. And he was very glad he’d retrieve his own hammer. It was a very mighty and expensive weapon, but that wasn’t why. It was a gift from his father.

  Thinking of the man, Angar hoped his father made it to Qitakai, along with all the other warriors of Mecia, and the Great Lord sung their praises.

  Since Spirit had said the Great Lord and his new God were one and the same, he hoped that meant Qitakai and this Heaven were the same too, and he’d get to join his father and brothers there one day. He didn’t know them well, but he wished to.

  He didn’t know all the rules for attaining this Heaven. From what he’d gathered, they weren’t so different than ascending to Qitakai. From the messages Theosis had shown him, he doubted his mother was there.

  He now regretted not telling his mother that he loved her, how much he appreciated all the effort she put into making him strong, all the love she had given him, and all the sacrifices she had made for him. Until today, she’d been a good woman and a great mother.

  That she threw it all away, committed those atrocities, and was responsible for this invasion of Hellspawn broke his heart.

  “Okay,” said Spirit. “Now, you meditate. What Theosis said was true, but there’s more to it. You have something called a core in your belly and you cycle the energy of it through channels throughout your body as you pray fervently or clear your mind of all thoughts. Doing this makes it go a lot faster.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  As Spirit spoke those terms, Angar realized he already knew them. Besides the core in his belly, he knew there were two others – one in his chest, and one in his head. He knew there was a balance of dualities, what organs were strengthened by cycling energy through which channels, and a lot more besides.

  Looks like those Skill Points really do work, he thought. “Will you be able to stand guard as I meditate?”

  Spirit waved a dismissive hand. “That won’t be necessary. There are no reavers anywhere near us and the area is free of wildlife.”

  “Thank you,” Angar replied. He eased onto his knees with a wince, the ash and dirt crunching beneath him, and bowed his head to pray to his new God which was the same as his old one.

  Focusing inward, he cycled the energy from his belly’s core, guiding it through his body’s channels. His lightning-scarred arm throbbed, refusing to bend right, so he adjusted as best he could, jaw tight with effort.

  Bit by bit, a trickle of warmth swelled in his core. Time blurred past, lost in the rhythm of breath and prayer. He didn’t need the System to tell him when his Energy Points and Charge were replenished – he could feel it.

  Rising stiffly, he rolled his shoulders, testing his injuries. Meditation was supposed to speed up healing a little. His body felt a little less racked with pain, but not by much. He looked at his exploded finger, and it was still red, massively swollen, and packed with yellow fungus.

  He had expected the regeneration to work faster, but it seemed a lot less powerful than he had hoped.

  Still, he now had a magical gift that’d heal all his injuries over time. Regardless of the speed, he wouldn't take it for granted, and he'd always appreciate these incredible powers he now possessed.

  Spirit shimmered into view beside him, her form a touch more solid, her voice brisk. “Okay, that took longer than it should’ve to restore just 6 Energy Points and 1 Charge, but with those injuries, you can’t position your limbs properly. You'll improve with time and practice. Let's go get your maul. Follow me. I’ll be moving quickly, so keep up.”

  She darted ahead, floating effortlessly over the ravaged terrain, the fallen trees, shattered branches, and ash heaps were no obstacle to her. The same was untrue for him.

  He was trying to run, but was forced to do something like a jog, more of a determined trudge. He wasn’t jogging well at all, but, even still, he was moving through the devastated forest at a much faster pace than his pre-Crusader jog.

  He wasn’t close to being winded, breathing as easily as if he were walking. His slow pace wasn’t a question of endurance. It was a question of getting his battered body to comply. And his body didn’t want to.

  All he could do was suck it up and trudge along in his awkward jog, doing his best to keep up.

  In the distance, the sky had calmed. There were no more lightning storms, and the skysparks burst as they usually did. He avoided glancing at Mecia’s ruins as the once great city and its surrounding kingdom were reduced to smoldering scars. Pillars of smoke spiraled upward, thick and relentless.

  The Ulimuns, once a towering range, were rubble. Just nubs of stone marked where they exploded in eruption.

  Off in the distance, a black, smoking sheen coated the ground, split with cracks glowing orange beneath. Cooling lava, he figured, its heat a dull shimmer in the air.

  They reached the lava’s edge, and Spirit glided over it, calling back. “Most of this is safe to walk on now. Stay on the black or dark brown parts, avoid any areas that look soft or spongy, parts with a lot of cracks, and areas emitting steam or gas. Be smart about it and don’t take risks.”

  Angar hesitated, then pressed a bare foot onto the dark crust. It held, warm but not scorching. He stepped fully onto it, testing its strength, and trailed her cautiously, eyes darting for hazards.

  Minutes later, they crested an incline, and a spared hilltop came into view. Broken tree stumps dotted it, some charred, others near the center untouched by flame.

  Spirit led him there, halting near an unburnt stump. Beside it lay his hammer, now called a maul. The haft, made of mighty gigan wood, was splintered. The head, made of hard and durable chert, was cracked.

  In his old world, that meant this weapon was done. In his new world, he guessed not.

  Spirit said, “Open the System, tap the Glory Store tab, and buy Sanctify: Weapon. Be careful to select weapon and not the other sanctify options.”

  Angar swiped at the interface. He purchased it for 30 points, an instinct telling him he needed blessed oil, and if none were available, he could use blood. He scratched off a scab from his thunder-struck arm, causing blood to well up. He smeared it across the maul, coating the haft and head in crimson.

  Another instinct surged, urging him to grip the weapon.

  He wrapped both hands around it and sank to his knees, ash puffing around him. Words rose unbidden, roaring from his chest as he thrust the maul skyward. “By the Three’s Divine wrath, I beseech thee to sanctify this mighty weapon, that I may smite the vile spawn of Hell, and slaughter them in righteous fury, as I wage Holy War in your name!”

  He didn’t know what to expect but seeing what he did was an amazing sight to behold. The maul twisted in his grasp, wood knitting together, chert fusing seamless and whole. The blood vanished, and a dim light radiated from the head. He stared, awestruck, as the transformation settled.

  A System message flared before his eyes.

  A Glorious Achievement!

  By your own virtuous hand, your plea was heard by the Three, thus sanctifying this weapon, anointing it with the blessed might of the righteous.

  In the name of the Holy Trinity, this being the first bestowal of this sacred triumph on this world, you shall twice receive laurels of renown for this honor.

  Glory Points bestowed: 1 x 2

  For God and Empire!

  With that message, Angar learned a little about Glorious Achievements. He was glad they were no longer hidden from him, but disappointed it only granted 1 Glory Point, even if that was doubled.

  He flicked to the Items section in his Annals, frowning. “It’s not showing in my Items.”

  Spirit drifted closer as she said, “Only certain items do, like ones requiring your Energy or providing effects. Weapons sanctified in this way are much more effective against Hellspawn, are much more durable, but provide no other effect to you.”

  “Understood,” he grunted, hefting the maul. Its weight was almost insignificant to him now.

  “Okay,” said Spirit. “Now that you’re armed, ready to keep your oath and earn your pay?”

  Angar’s brows shot up, a grin tugging at his cracked lips. “I get paid for this? I love being a Crusader.”

  Spirit giggled. “I meant, are you ready to wage Holy War?”

  He squared his shoulders, the maul steady in his grip. “I’m Mecian, the son of King Baraga. I’m always ready to war.”

  “Good, because you’re about to do a lot of it. Follow.”