Return of the Tower Conqueror

  Spellweaver

Cain didn't wait long to start playing around with his new toy -- after all, considering that even if none of the Skills he created turned out to be useful... it didn't matter. He could either ignore them, or even remove them completely -- an option he just discovered he actually had.

For a moment, he really was like a kid at Christmas, unwrapping the presents beneath the tree and then unboxing them and playing with them for hours on end. There was a childlike glee in his eyes and same innocence in his smile, so much so that only a few would even recognize him as he was now and others would suspect it was a mirage or a trick.

Before digging into the childlike exploration, Cain was careful with the first Skill he created as it would receive a major boost across the board. He mulled and mulled, but was still torn; making it an offensive Skill seemed kind of a waste as he could create as many damaging Skills as he'd like, but such was the case with all other aspects as well.

It dawned on him quickly, however -- an extremely strong controlling Skill. Control Skill that could even be used on bosses; those usually had either insanely large costs or insanely large cooldowns or some combination of both. All bosses usually had means of breaking out of it, but with a second charge of the same skill, it might be possible to cheese some bosses. Once he got the idea, it didn't take him long to coalesce it into the reality.

//Dimensional Prison(C+)

Charges: 2

Cooldown: 1d

Mana Cost: 45% of 'Current Mana'

Use: A targeted enemy is dragged into ether beyond the reality's membrane; four ethereal chains will lock them down and need to be destroyed if the target is to be freed. Each chain needs to be hit by 6 attacks with 'Spatial' property. The Skill otherwise lasts until the target's Health drops below 10%.

C+ Rank -- can tie up a monster up to Level 90; ALL effects are lowered by 75% on 'Distinguished' foes and above.//

Looking through the description, Cain was quite pleased; even if, at the moment, it wasn't spectacular, what actually made him happy was that the Skill was only at rank 'C+' which meant its potential was quite high. Stretching, he quickly put it away and focused back on Spell Creation, itchy to finally start playing with it freely.

First he tried to replicate the core of the 'Spatial Path' -- infinite 'Blinks'. He swiftly made ten identical Skills that did the exact same thing -- teleported him forward 30 feet. After using one... he realized that all others went on cooldown and couldn't be used. Then, he tried basic shuffling -- such as instead of just teleporting forward, he'd also leave a patch of fire behind. Same thing happened, however -- all Skills went on a collective cooldown.

Looking it at, his eye sensed a bit of a loophole within; a bit uncertain, he created two identical Skills, again, just like Blink -- however, one moved him forward 30 feet, and the other... moved him back.

To his surprise, it worked -- when he moved forward, the other Skill didn't go on cooldown and could be used freely. However, there was a catch -- additive Mana costs. Original Skill cost 90 Mana to use, but the second one cost 180 and, Cain imagined, every further one would have increased costs as well.

//Displace--Forward (C)

Use: Displace yourself forward 30 feet, or up to the nearest obstacle. Applies a debuff, 'Displacement', increasing cost of the next 'Displace' Skill by 100% for 8 seconds.

Mana Cost: 90

Cooldown: 8 seconds.//

Cain also tried making the omnidirectional version of it, but, if he used that, all other 'Displace' Skills went on cooldown, making it not worthy. As such, he created 8 variants for 8 directions. In some ways they were quite sub-optimal, but he had confidence in being able to learn how to utilize them best within the actual fights.

That slight bit of experimentation was enough to let him learn a few things -- 'Spell Creation' still worked largely the same as before; he tinkered with Elements in his imagination, procured the effects of what ought to happen, and then the 'system' told him if it's possible. The difference, however, was that he had to be extremely precise now.

Beforehand, as long as he just roughly sketched out a Skill in his mind, it would be created. Now, however, he had to imagine exactly the thirty feet of distance, apply the nature of 'Space' Element to both points and connect them with a tendril of Mana. He actually preferred it this way; this meant that he would have absolute control over every spell he created, down to the tiniest details, and could modify them any way he wished.

As such, he decided to tinker a bit with his initial 'Blink-replacement'; 'Augmenting Skills' was a joke in his past life, as it was perhaps even harder than finding ways to remove Created Skills from the slots. Now, however, Cain didn't care -- he swiftly made over 80 variations of 'Displace', including offensive, defensive, and utility-wise, only to just delete them after.

He kept two of all he created -- one variation created a mirror image of himself at the spot he disappeared from, and the other cloaked him invisible for 2 seconds after the cast. Both shared cooldowns with every other variation of 'Displace', so, if he used either one of them, all other 'Displace' skills would go on cooldown -- similarly to the omnidirectional version.

Following a bit of testing and flying around the narrow basement that he reappeared in after his awakening, he sat down. There was a big decision he had to make -- what kind of a fighting style would he employ. In reality, he could create dozens of variances as he could just continue to create new Skills, but it was best if he devoted himself to one style. After all, while he could skate by for quite some time on just abusing a perfect set of Skills for that specific situation, at some point, he would hit a wall -- and that wall would be 15th floor.

It took Cain almost 6 years to clear the 15th floor. When he arrived, he was fairly confident, had big dreams of becoming a superstar and living that lifestyle. And then, month after month, year after year... he began realizing just how awful he was. Sighing, he gave up.

There was no need to rush it; he'd still have to go back outside and ramp back up through the first floor. Nobody said he couldn't experiment through it to see what works and what doesn't.

He slowly made his way back to the house, hardly looking forward to it; a day had passed, and, by now, everyone should be awake. His mood dulling with each step taken, he took a deeper look around. The City was the same; droning on an on, buzz and chatter of dozens of people at every corner a cacophony of something otherworldly. It was easy to distinguish the 'people' -- they had that glint in their eyes, the look of wonder and awe.

Even as horrid as the City was, to them... it was a land of the mystical and fantastical. They were living the stories they grew up on, becoming the heroes they looked up to, and seeing the sights they only ever imagined. It was like stepping inside the imagined reality people oft ran to when things got too heavy, but never needing to leave.

More so than the draw of Mana and the influence it had on people's minds, it was this that kept people coming back -- in here, there were hundreds of things to do. On the outside, they were just one of the many Conquerors, and nobody truly cared unless they were the best of the best, as with anything else in life.

Cain stopped in front of the building and looked up; it was silent, in and out, though the active Mana fluctuations led him to believe everyone, or at least almost everyone, was awake.

He felt it again, something that has been distant -- the call, of sorts. At some point during his early years in marriage, whenever things became too heavy, too difficult... he would slip out and go to a bar, easing them. It became easier than facing whatever it was he needed to face. And now... he knew he had to face a broken bunch, and give them hope... somehow.

Sighing, he walked in and went up, entering the 'living room' of sorts and noting that everyone was there. Emma was gently caressing Senna's hair, the latter's head on the former's lap; Jamal was quietly drinking in the corner, his eyes red. Daniel sat bleakly in another, the look in his eyes dreadful. Of all, Kramer and Sigmund looked the best; whether it was just the appearances, though, Cain couldn't say.

His footsteps woke others from their stupors as they looked up, meeting his eyes. Emma frowned and glared at him for a moment before looking away, Senna following her example.

"Where have you been?" Kramer asked curiously, no hidden intent behind the question.

"Lookin' for interested singles in my area." Cain joked as he joined Emma by the window, sitting on the frame. "And, well, avoiding this."

"We've been itching to give it a go," Kramer added. "At the bastard who sent us there."

"... are you sure about that, Cain?" Emma asked with a frown. "Won't it give you problems?"

"Not nearly as much as beating him to death will provide me with satisfaction," Cain replied.

"Let's go, then," Jamal said, stomping on a can of beer. "I've a few swords I don't need and I could stick 'em--"

"Nobody's stickin' nothin' nowhere just yet," Cain quickly interrupted. "First, we'll have a talk."

"..."

"..."

"... a what now?"

"A talk."

"Cain..."

"Dude, seriously?"

"Come on! Why don't you just get counseling while you're at it?!"

"That includes you two as well," Cain looked at Kramer and Sigmund. "So, don't be sittin' there like this has got nothing to do with you."

"Aww man, we drew attention to ourselves," Sigmund sighed. "Now he's gonna ask us to talk feels and shit."

"We don't need to talk," Senna suddenly said, sitting up and turning to face Cain directly, her eyes bleeding red. "What would we say anyway? We're sad? Of course we're sad. But we're also really, really angry. Angry at you. Angry at that bastard in the basement. And, most importantly, angry at ourselves and how weak we are. So, let's skip all that bullshit... and go straight to skinning him."

"... alright," Cain shrugged. "I just can't say no to that face."

"... what face?" Senna asked, her cheeks flushing faintly red.

"One so puffed-up through crying it looks as though you've gained fifty pounds overnight."

"HEY!!!!"

"Alright, pipe down," Emma pulled Senna back. "You know he's just yankin' your chains. Why do you fall for it every single time?"

"'cause she's sixteen and doesn't know any better," Cain chuckled lightly. "Anyway, let's go to the basement then. There's some sodding, flaying, whipping, searing, and such we gotta employ. And we can go ham 'cause, let's face it, none of you guys can kill him. So, don't hold back!"

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