Autumn Redoubt’s microclimate ensured an even, constant coolness from the edge of the desert to the high ledge of the capital plateau. A canopy of gold and orange leaves masked a diversity of dire-beasts and natural features as varied as the river delta.

  Rivers were plentiful further north. A depression running west-east midway through the region diverted these waters from greening the desert and pushed them out of church lands. The basin played host to bountiful lakes and cascading waterfalls from the more mountainous northern half.

  Zilara narrowly dodged a jet of pressurized water from their latest foe:

  A quad-formation of snarling heads snapped, joined at the ‘tail’ in a thick and fleshy core. It reminded Calaf of a rat king, albeit three times the size and even more deadly. One of five heads lay smoldering in an autumnal lake.

  “It must have come downstream from the plateau,” Jelena said. She glanced at the dead head. “Fire appears effective. Let’s try more of that.”

  Enkidu took a flying leap into the center of the lake. He landed atop the serpent and sliced with his ancient blade. One, two, three heads flew. Six more took their place.

  “You’re making it stronger!” Zilara protested. “After all the work I did to fry the other one.”

  One of the original heads set sights on Zilara with lizard-like tenacity. It lunged without warning, jutting out like a Battletower explosives lobber.

  Calaf strode into the lake. He cast Flaming Sword of Faith upon his halberd, setting the spear and axe head alight. The serpent head struck against his shield, but the Paladin stood firm. With a mighty swing, he brought the incendiary halberd down on the slender skull of the dire-hydra.

  The hydra’s head and neck apparatus tensed, then shriveled back and died. A second head lay belly-up in the shallow lake. The dire-beast’s hit points fell to 6000/8000.

  “Bet I can get more of ‘em,” Zilara said, prepping another modest-sized fireball.

  As the pair bragged, Enkidu continued to slice away. A circular arc promptly severed all six remaining heads at once.

  “Oh, that’s going to be…” Zilara began. “What, twelve? More for both of us. A lot more.”

  Twelve heads did indeed begin to regenerate on the divisible beast. But the party discovered a new element of dire-hydra anatomy on that day. A fact undiscovered even by the scholars of the Battletower:

  When severed at the head, the slender neck splits into two and rapidly regenerates double the slain head’s number. Severing the serpent at the base of the neck summoned two more heads on the original beast. But the now-individual head yet lived and began to grow an equivalent number of heads equal to its original body from a new core.

  A twelve-headed dire-hydra loomed at them in the lake’s center, yes. It was accompanied by six six-headed dire-hydras rapidly filling the lake.

  “Enkidu, big guy, you’re making it stronger!” Jelena fired a shot at the nearest head. “Get back here.”

  The wild man’s justification was drowned out in a sea of writhing scales and snapping jaws. The lake could no longer be seen amidst all the beasts.

  “About to do something drastic,” Zilara said, voice panicky.

  Calaf withstood a flurry of blows from all the nearest heads. The holy child cowered behind him as she muttered out a spell.

  “Good thing I stole this from that guy with half a face. Duck!” Zilara said.

  Calaf did so, and Zilara chucked the Hellflare into the center of the lake. It landed on a hydra and cooked the beast in its own scales, then kept burning through.

  Steam rose from the lake as the flare sunk. Water rapidly boiled into a cookpot.

  “Back to shore,” Calaf ordered. His feet were already feeling the scalding heat.

  Dire-hydras were aquatic animals. They would not leave the lake even as it boiled.

  “Going to be a big boom in about thirteen seconds!” Zilara said. “Got a timer in my interface. Everyone, take cover.”

  Calaf held his shield at the water’s edge. Jelena ducked behind it while Zilara reinforced it with a barrier spell. Helpful, but insufficient. The Paladin’s defense would be doing the work here.

  When Hellflare II burst, it sprayed scalding water across the wooded valley. Calaf kept the shield angled to block the force of the blast and the boiling rain that came after. Hot steam filled the air, obscuring the party’s vision.

  When it was over, they stood on a dry rocky lakebed.

  “All that from the heat?” Zilara asked.

  A heady, humid haze filled the air. Calaf felt the pressure, faint but firm, within his armor. Water had receded fifteen armspans. The great lake had turned into a smaller pond. Even with their vanquished foes, everything was louder. Four waterfalls from the northern highlands now cascaded onto bare rock. They would fill the basin again given enough time.

  Jagged spines and skulls of many dozen dire-hydra heads snaked through the now-evaporated riverbed. The flare had done its job, frying the serpents and any hapless fish in the alpine lake.

  A figure emerged from the warm mist.

  “These creatures max out at fifteen heads,” said Enkidu. “Each regeneration is a considerable calorie cost. They would have died eventually.”

  “Stick to the plan, buddy,” Jelena said. “You could survive a hundred of these things. We wouldn’t!”

  “It got the job done, didn’t it?” Enkidu asked, stashing his sword.

  Jelena shrugged. “I suppose. What’ve we got?”

  Experience bonuses from dire-hydras varied based on the individual heads slain. Calaf received more experience than usual, gaining points for ‘combat’ with each head that smashed against his shield. It would be another three fights of equal intensity before reaching level 66. Such were the high-level doldrums.

  Zilara, however, gained full experience for every single kill.

  Level up. Level up! Level up!

  “Alright,” the holy child declared. “Finally, can set up that teleport ability…”

  The group also acquired a small treasure trove of gold to be donated to their next resupply. Countless crafting items like Charred Hydra Bone could be sold or traded. Calaf carried as much as possible without becoming overencumbered on the uphill route north. As they walked, Zilara examined her new abilities.

  “Heh. Been stocking up on utility spells. Betcha couldn’t tell,” said the holy child.

  “Flare came in handy,” Calaf said offhand.

  The road passed by a river, one of the feeder sources of the lake they’d fought in earlier. There was a noticeable tick upward in the path as the trail ventured towards the high plateau. A sea of fallen leaves blanketed the path. The unique microclimate of Autumn’s Redoubt ensured that a new crop of budding leaves was already blooming in gold and yellows on the trees.

  Onward they walked. Zilara read through her Interface text on her new abilities, only to frown once she reached the end.

  “Aw, the teleport ability is busted. Useful, but impractical outside of maybe three scenarios?”

  “Teleport.” Jelena twiddled her thumbs. “Teleport! If we had someone in the Battletower, we could have them portal us in and out every which way. Save days of travel time.”

  Not quite a spell, per se, Zilara had her eyes on this ability, latent to her 'Custom Class' for awhile. She'd really been anticipating it, adding to the disappointment at tis limitations. Paladin-class latently scaled towards endurance and could provoke foes with ease. Thief-class tended towards Agility, mages and clerics towards spellcraft. And the twin-brand marked of the holy bloodline gained power over space and matter, given high enough levels.

  Zilara sighed. “Mine will only work on other targets until level sixty. So, I can transport other people but not myself.”

  That would curtail any attempt to use this ability in their upcoming heist. Theoretically, they could teleport from the Olde Capital straight into the Demon Lord’s Fall. Save days of dangerous travel. But if Zilara could cross through, they’d have no way out. And there was more…

  “Teleport also requires an anchor point. I can teleport people to a set location. It has a few different requirements. Currently, there’s only… one location.”

  Jelena looked up. “Oh? What location?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Zilara frowned. “It won’t be helpful for this mission. That’s for sure.”

  It was determined that they could try to set another teleport point along their path. If Zilara dinged level 60 while at the path’s end—possible, given the level range of the endgame foes they were likely to encounter—they could have a getaway spell prepped and ready.

  The autumnal forests tapered out into a highland brush. The path rounded a hill, then carried on straight and narrow along a wide plateau. Looking back, the group could make out the desert, the basin, and the tallest tower of Fort Duran far in the distance.

  “Feels like we could see straight to Riverglen,” Calaf said.

  With the world widely known to be a continuous plain, this was a definite possibility, thwarted only by atmospheric haze and the range of mountains and forests in the way.

  Ahead, though, awaited the capital plateau. Key points were visible as far as the eye could see. And in the far distance, roughly in the center of the massive uplifted formation, sat thick walls of humanity’s old capital.

  Calaf took one last look down into the lowlands at his back. His entire life up until now had been spent between Fort Duran and Riverglen.

  He'd come a long way. From Shielder to Paladin in a bit shy of a year lapped most aspirants along the path. A particularly pious Bishop would hit every station, best the four dungeons, and be ready to brave the final pilgrimage to Demon Lord's Fall in a season. Beyond that, Calaf had never heard of such steady leveling.

  In a contemplative mood, Calaf's thoughts turned to Josiah, Pilgrim Aspirant. Not the first man Calaf had killed, having fought through bandits and Bruce in the past. Josiah had wished to be a Paladin as well, only to die defending a relic of the Holy Menu. If he'd known the meaning of the Brands, would he have still forced the fight?

  Calaf glanced at his own Brand, burned into his left forearm, his spear hand. His Strength and Endurance stats were well beyond the realm of mortal men. Even after cutting short his engagement and losing faith in the church, the Menu Brand continued to track his levels. He would not manage half the feats or battles from his travels without the Interface. And yet, the revelations they'd found in the hidden gospels destroyed a last additional reservoir of faith the wayfaring Paladin didn't know he had.

  The Brand itched. Demanding attention. A constant reminder of soul-bound brand-slavery of the Demon King. For what purpose had the ancient beast and its horde of barely-sentient enforcers begun the mass-branding of humans? If the final gospel were in fact held deep in the Grand Cathedral's vaults, they may yet find out...

  “Didja forget something?” Jelena called from up ahead. “We should be able to make it to the capital by nightfall. ‘Kidu says the beasts up here are nasty; those dire-hydras are prey creatures.”

  After reflecting on this milestone, the newly-minted Paladin took a deep breath of the thin plateau air and carried onward. The Olde Capital’s walls grew ever closer.

  "I REJECT MY HUMANITY, CALAF!" - Honest John, sometime in Volume 3 maybe.