B3 Chapter 68: Need for Speed

Stories always made a retreating march out to be some dismal affair, a parade of men’s broken spirits and limping ambitions. Yet the reality so rarely lived up to that depiction. The Legion did not always emerge from a battle victorious. They won far more than they lost, and even their losses were usually calculated ones—in Quintus’s experience, at least. But such things had no place in poets’ tales of trial and tribulation. Not unless they were momentary setbacks that preceded an even greater victory.

Quintus found that it was still the case now. He felt no fear or crushing disappointment about the order to retreat. Not when he understood the reasoning. It was a means of positioning themselves more advantageously, of regrouping to better face the pursuing foes. In many ways, it was better than a march to battle. Centurions often found themselves having to handle men steeped in nervous energy or anticipation for the coming fight. Here, between the threat of pursuit and the toll that the campaign had taken, the men hardly had time for pranks or other assorted shenanigans.

True, the loss of brothers in arms did hang over them. Yet that was war. Legionnaires were not so weak as to let themselves be reduced to husks by such a common occurrence. They also made far better time than initially feared, since the garrison at Corwyn Pass had requisitioned a few monsters to “fight” during their journey. It was enough for [Warpath] to speed their march toward the “conflict.”

As Quintus idly scanned his men and the surroundings, he found himself drifting into that familiar trance that often found him while marching. That was, until the Legion exploded in a flash of golden light.

The column paused for a moment, cursing as their vision slowly returned. Quintus let out a sigh. Finally, he’d honestly expected a level up to come sooner than this, considering the sheer number of orcs they’d killed lately. Yet once again, reality so rarely granted such boons at climactic times. Doubtless, this latest level up had been courtesy of some small contubernium ridding a countryside settlement of a pest problem, as another Legionnaire just so happened to check his own status.

Quintus immediately began moving up the column to join Gaius and several other officers. A discussion was already underway, and by the time he arrived, Gaius was ready with new orders.

“We’ll make a detour to the north,” the Legatus explained, pointing toward a jagged rock formation in the distance. “There’s an abandoned orc village there with a class stone at its center. Best to get every man’s stats assigned while we can.”

He couldn’t help but agree. With everything going on, they’d hardly had time for such things. But now, it seemed like a prudent course of action. Especially considering that plenty of men might have skill gains or even evolutions to reap after this campaign.

It didn’t take long for them to reach their destination. They immediately began sending men to touch the stone in an orderly fashion, each one taking only a handful of seconds to assign their stats and check for new skills before moving out of the way. It was a quick and efficient process by necessity. Even if each man only took a minute, the sheer number of Legionnaires would have them lingering for days on end. As it was, the whole process would set them back at least three hours—and that was without the elves taking part.

It was still enough time to justify fortifications. Within minutes, the Legionnaires specializing in such things had set up a perimeter, utilizing the terrain to whip up a quick camp. Those who had already made it through the queue or whose turn wouldn’t come for some time yet took advantage of the reprieve to eat and drink with their comrades. A few even fell asleep on their feet.

Quintus was among the first to touch the stone, given his rank. He barely skimmed over his status as it appeared.

Information:

Name: Quintus Carius Libo

Age: 43 (XLIII)

Class: Legionnaire – Primus Pilus (Legendary)

Level: 7 (VII)

Experience: 578/ 4,200,000 (CCXLVIII/ M̅M̅M̅M̅C̅C̅)

Stats:

Strength: 27 (XXVII)

Dexterity: 23 (XXIII)

Constitution: 24 (XXIV)

Charisma: 18 (XVIII)

Wisdom: 16 (XVI)

Intelligence: 17 (XVII)

Free Points: 4 (IV)

Titles:

Born to Fight

Bonds of Brotherhood

Bane of Cats (IV)

Bane of Spiders (III)

Bane of Ghouls (V)

Boss Slayer (III)

Craftsman (V)

Blood on Your Hands (IV)

Titanslayer

Warforged (I)

Crowd Favorite

Arena Champion (II)

Bane of Orcs (IV)

Hero of Legend

Inventor (II)

Bane of Wolves (I)

Bane of Birds (I)

Bane of Lizards (I)

Proselytizer (I)

Chef (I)

Architect (I)

Skills:

[Swordsmastery] (Rare) - Lvl 20 (Individual)

[Lead from the Front] (Rare) - Lvl 9 (Individual)

[Tear] (Rare) - Lvl 9 (Individual)

[Tactician’s Awareness] (Rare) - Lvl 5 (Individual)

[Sure Footing] (Common) - Lvl 198 (Individual)

[Warpath] (Uncommon) - Lvl 62 (Legion)

[Coordinated Bulwark] (Uncommon) - Lvl 60 (Legion)

[Unity] (Rare) - Lvl 14 (Cohort)

[Rend] (Rare) - Lvl 9 (Century)

[Coordinated Offense] (Rare) - Lvl 8 (Contubernium)

Before anything else, he instantly dropped two points into strength and one each into constitution and dexterity. Then, he navigated to his skills.

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[You have new skill evolutions available. View available evolutions? WARNING: After viewing, unassigned evolutions will be permanently lost!]

Excitement mixed with the slightest bit of irritation. The acquisition of new skills was always a good thing. At this point, the Legion had more or less gained all of the basic and low-effort ones, so anything new was usually worthy of note. But it may slow him down if he has to decide on replacing one of his preexisting ones. Thankfully, the choice was easier than he’d feared.

Available Skill Evolutions:

[Swordsmastery] (Rare) -> [Sword Saint’s Blade] (Epic)

He frowned momentarily. What in the world was a saint?

Quintus had no time to ponder the matter. It was an evolution and an Epic rarity skill, which meant he’d be a fool not to accept. And so he did.

As he stepped aside for the next man in line, Quintus finally gave himself time to mull over what he’d seen. The list of titles had grown quite a bit since the last time. Evidently, the Legion’s works across the empire were reaping quite a few benefits. He would have to delve into what each of them did more thoroughly when there was more time.

As for his new skill… [Sword Saint’s Blade]. Thinking about it now, he might have heard the term “saint” before. Yet if he was correct, it referred to someone holy or godly. He wasn’t a particularly religious man. Unless it meant to imply he treated his sword as a devout priest might their god?

His frown deepened. It didn’t feel quite right. His hands itched to try it, even despite his attempts to distance himself from System help. It felt like an acknowledgment that his approach was a valuable one indeed. It also made him feel more justified in implementing a swordsmanship test for any man seeking to equip his predecessor. Perhaps he’d do the same for this one.

It occurred to him that something had been conspicuously missing from his skill list—an upgrade for [Sure Footing]. The Common rarity skill was past overdue for an upgrade or replacement of some kind. At this point, Quintus was honestly almost embarrassed at its presence amid so many better options. Even with its high level, the fact that it hadn’t evolved suggested that he hadn’t really made any advancements in understanding or taking advantage of the skill’s true abilities.

Regardless, he didn’t have time to rethink his loadout right now. Nor did he want to risk removing it before another battle. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d grown somewhat reliant on the skill and how effortlessly it made movement—especially in this terrain. But Quintus resolved to fix both of those things as soon as they returned home. He would find a better alternative and discipline himself out of his bad habits both.

He joined Gaius off to the side as additional Legionnaires streamed by. The young man raised an eyebrow. “Anything interesting?”

“A new skill. [Sword Saint’s Blade].” He quickly summarized his thoughts on it, and Gaius nodded.

“It does seem to be an upgrade. Though I think you're right to be skeptical. Perhaps a saint is something else in this world entirely,” he mused. “Regardless. Testing it before having other men pick it up does seem prudent. We're not so desperate that we need to upend our capabilities to grasp at this advantage.”

Gaius clasped his shoulder. “Though congratulations. I haven't seen many Epic skills in the list, even with all our efforts. It seems our Primus Pilus has proven his exceptionality once again.”

Quintus nodded in acknowledgment. “Did you receive any noteworthy new skills?”

He shook his head. “No. Nothing new at all, actually. It seems that I have yet to step out of my predecessor’s long shadow.”

“It's not such a bad thing,” Quintus pointed out. “More and better skills are obviously desirable. But perhaps it shows that Tiberius truly set you up for success. That the old fox is still looking out for you even now.”

“Hmmm.” Gaius nodded, but said nothing. Perhaps that was only to be expected. One as young as him couldn't be without ambition. Still, sometimes it was hard to reconcile the heights that Gaius had grown to with the boy eagerly gripping his wooden sword in his youth.

They continued watching over the lines of Legionnaires, occasionally receiving reports from men who had earned new skills. Such events were uncommon enough now that they warranted special note, especially if the skills in question would be of immediate use. As was the case with the engineers.

Quintus recognized one of the men from the previous battle as he jogged over and saluted. “Legatus, sir! I received a new skill. [Improvised Explosive]. Uncommon rarity.”

Quintus snorted.

How the man had earned the skill wasn’t difficult to guess.

“Hmmm. Could be useful.” Gaius mused. “You kept it equipped?”

“Yes, sir. At least, until we have the resources to create explosives that aren’t improvised.”

“Good. We’ll have your compatriots do the same. Anything that allows us to improve our ammunition throughput is welcome.” Gaius looked up as another engineer approached. “Another new skill?”

“Yes, sir.” The man confirmed, frowning. “It’s called [Firearms]. I kept it equipped, but… I’ll admit, I’m a bit hesitant to activate it.”

Quintus looked at the man for a long moment. “Legionnaire.”

“Yes, Primus?”

“What do you believe that skill does?”

“Well…” The man shifted. “I can only assume it does what it says. Though I’m not certain how I earned it. I haven’t made a habit of setting myself aflame.”

One of the other engineers smacked his fellow in the back of the head. “You fucking idiot.”

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? You’re the one who thinks ‘firearms’ means your arms get set on fire! It’s clearly referring to ‘arms’ as in armaments—your sword and shield.”

“Hmm? Ah, of course! Wait, does that mean I should take a fire resistance skill?”

“Unless you really do want to burn your arms. Why would you even want such a thing anyway? Bright flames will only blind you during a fight in the darkness, and the heat will weaken your sword. Not to mention cauterize the enemy’s wounds for them.”

“I would imagine there is more to the skill than that. Watch.”

The engineer in question frowned, drawing his sword and focusing on it intently. Nothing happened. Quintus rubbed a hand down his face tiredly. “If you’re going to test such a thing, at least ensure that there is water nearby.”

The man’s face reddened with embarrassment. Even professional soldiers were prone to acts of blatant stupidity. Especially when magic was involved, it seemed.

Gaius wore an expression of barely concealed amusement. “[Firearms]... I believe I’ve heard the term from the locals. I believe it may refer to a different kind of armament altogether. Keep it equipped for now. I will look into it. In the meantime, get back in line to equip that [Improvised Explosive] skill and test it with your contubernium. You are excused from your regular duties, and I will give you further guidance soon.”

The men saluted before jogging off. Quintus watched them go. At least their efforts had earned some benefit in the end. Still, he was interested to see how those benefits would manifest.

“Watch over the class stone,” Gaius told Quintus. “If you need me, I’ll be in the command tent. I’ll need to speak with the men in the capital to learn about these firearms.”

The Legatus gestured to one of his aides that specialized in long-range communications. Then, he turned to leave. Quintus watched over his post dutifully, recording a few other standouts as the hours passed. The men who specialized in digging fortifications and shaping the earth had received an evolution to their own skills as well, one that required them to make another pass through and equip it.

There were also a fair number of Legionnaires who had been responsible for the repair and maintenance of everyone’s equipment during this campaign. While they earned no new skills or evolutions, Quintus did ensure that most of them replaced their repair skills with more combat-focused ones. Those who had become standout specialists in the area were able to keep developing the skills, but the others? They would be far better served with more immediately applicable skills.

The whole debacle took a little over the three hours that Quintus had expected. The elves followed afterward with similar speed. They had gained a few levels over the course of this campaign, bringing them up to level four. The rapid rate of growth was honestly a bit impressive. Though it did make him wonder if their growth was partially to blame for the Legion’s slower than anticipated leveling as of late. Though he was no expert in System mechanics, so who could say?

Either way, the elves appeared quite enthusiastic about their gains. Between the massive influx of stats and the variety of skills, they were beginning to rethink their strategies to better optimize for group tactics. He heard more than one group theorycrafting about more optimal combinations as though they were some sort of philosophers.

The men began to break camp as the last cohort lined up. As soon as the last man’s palm left the stone, they’d be formed up and ready to move again. They had already wasted enough time as it was, and Quintus was eager to get a move on. The orcs should still be several hours behind, even with the detour, at minimum, so—

A thunderous blast ripped through the air. Men ducked their heads reflexively, reaching for weapons and shields in preparation for an attack as tiny rock shards peppered the ground. Quintus himself instinctively triggered [Tactician’s Awareness] to identify the source of the incoming attack. But to his surprise, he sensed nothing. No threat, no enemy forces, nothing.

He was just considering whether the enemy had employed stealth when he saw the smoke trailing upward. He turned to find that one of the nearby mountains now boasted a blackened crater along its craggy surface. And there, far above it, he spotted a small group of sheepish-looking Legionnaires ducking behind a large boulder.

“Take over here,” he growled to one of his centurions, already marching toward the group. “I will deal with them.”

[Warpath] activated, speeding his steps toward the engineers. Because he did indeed have violence on the mind.