Tyrants of Earth - The Legend of Artigan

“You know what the worst part of this is?”

“Get off of me!”

“The worst part of all of this is that I was prepared for everything. Ancient elves coming out of the woodwork to take back nature? Check. Old constructs that the dwarves dug up? Check. An uprising from nobility against the too powerful King? Check. Hell, I was even ready for a dragon even though they’re not supposed to explicitly show up this early. I’d probably fail to stop it, but I was going to give it the good old college try.”

“Hey guards! Guards! Why aren’t you doing anything?”

“They’re not doing anything because that scary looking diamond ranker over there wants me to keep monologuing. See, that’s good interrogation technique right there. Unlike a bunch of dragonslayers I knew.”

Werrick, the ninth realm adventurer, did not let him go immediately despite knowing his identity. What ended up happening instead was that they put Ryan in chains and left him to experience the wonders of Valmere’s prison facility.

He had been lining up for the cafeteria when a dwarf decided to ignore the aura of fear and try to get a piece of the newbie. If Ryan recalled, the dwarf had called him something along the lines of a ‘pretty boy elf’ and tried to slap his rear.

And now Ryan had his pretty rear sitting on top of the back of the dwarf for all of the prison to see.

“As I was saying. The worst part of all of this is that I couldn’t have prepared for anything in your world. It’s supposed to be the one thing I’m good at, the one place where I’m, you know, truly free. But now, it was all taken away from me by putting me a century ahead.”

“What the fuck are you saying you damned knife-eared long necked bastard. Hey Prentiss, get this lunatic off of me!”

Ryan casually glanced at the dwarf’s friends. Now that he was no longer in such a compromising position, his aura was hitting them in full. They all paled and backed up, not used to someone that was able to exert so much presence while being magically chained up.

“You know, the more that I think about it, the more I don’t think I changed that much. I did what most good adventurers do in the fifth realm. Try to set up some societal standards, give a vague image of what a more advanced civilization might look like. Okay, bringing in a mana cannon from a long lost civilization and introducing visualization techniques might have been pushing it. But it’s not that crazy, right?”

Nobody understood what he was saying. They were probably trying to figure out if someone had placed the elf in the wrong institute.

Ryan just shook his head.

“It has to be the Manager’s doing. I just know it, I know it says it has minimal influence on anything outside of its abode but I just can’t believe it. Minimal doesn’t mean nothing, and a butterfly flapping its wings is still responsible for a tornado a hundred years down the line if it knew it was going to happen. Right?”

Ryan’s captive audience did not understand a single thing he was saying.

“Oh well. You’ll all understand one day.”

Ryan shifted like he was about to get off of the dwarf’s back. Even now, he could tell the dwarf hadn’t truly repented for his crimes, with his hands freed the guy was going for his pocket, likely reaching for a shiv.

You had to give it to the dwarf, intelligence wasn’t his strong suit… Or maybe it was that he couldn’t afford to lose his status like this.

Ryan sighed as he put his ass right back on top of the dwarf’s wrist. Pulled the captive’s head up by the beard—and proceeded to give the biggest wet willy the prison had ever—and likely would ever see.

There was zero chance the dwarf would regain his status amongst his fellow cohorts again.

——

The actual worst part was that they still left him in the prison.

It could only be spite. There wasn’t even anyone in his cell to talk to nor did the guards respond to his taunts other than to activate the silencing enchantments. Ryan rattled his chains.

“This is dragonshit! Prison arcs are supposed to be for the second to fifth Trials! Maybe the ninth Trial if the dragon plots around you!”

According to the system’s timer, four whole hours had gone by since he entered the prison.

An entire enchanted world of adventurers and he was stuck here in his goddamn cell.

He was dying to check out their version of the internet.

“I know you’re watching, Agrinth! I’m sorry, ‘Guildmaster’ Agrinth.”

Ten minutes later.

“Did you know we consider solitary confinement to be cruel and inhumane where I’m from? That’s right, you’re a cruel and inhumane monster for doing this.”

Thirty minutes later…

“You know there’s a world out there waiting for me to come back right? There are people counting on me right now and every single minute you waste increases the odds that an entire city gets wiped out. That’s right, that could be completely on you. Oh great Hero Agrinth.”

——

In a room deep in the headquarters of the Adventurer’s Guild. A dark figure with cracked horns atop his head was sipping away at a hot caffeinated drink.

The diamond ranker, Werrick, eyed the projection. Artigan had absolutely guessed that they were watching him from afar.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth? About the city?”

“Possible, but unlikely. If it truly was serious he would not be acting like this. Besides… I have been waiting nearly a century for this. A city or two can burn.”

Werrick eyed his teacher warily. He’d never heard of the Guildmaster talking like this, ever.

——

One hour later…

“My net worth, my net worth for a tablet with an internet connection.”

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It was the worst punishment you could give to someone from Ryan’s generation. Peace and quiet, or rather, boredom. There wasn’t even any paper or pen that he could make plans with. No tablet, no connection to the realmnet. He had seen things that resembled tablets that the guards were holding on his way here. Fetters had listened intently while Ryan talked about his phone and how it worked. There definitely was an internet here.

And it was out of reach.

Sure, he was acting dramatic because he knew Agrinth was watching him. But the more he acted like it the more actual frustration started bubbling up.

After a couple more minutes Ryan finally settled in and sat on the bed.

In a rare moment, Ryan tried to sit down to meditate. He activated his skill.

[Conceptual Meditation]

Unlike some of his other skills, it was not restricted whatsoever by the enchantments or the chains on his wrists.

He was also realizing something else.

He’d never really uses the skill without [Class Change] active.

When he was put in prison, all of his class crystals had been stripped from him including the class crystals.

Before this, there hadn’t been an opportunity to just not have a class on top of it. He had always been either the [Veilpiercer Assassin] and more recently, the [Adventurer’s Guide].

Now, he was just the conceptual metamorph.

Yet there was no class around him, at least nothing that was identifiable. His soul simply operated on the wavelength of [The Rogue Adventurer]. His left arm had the concepts of sabotaging the arcane and his right arm had scattered concepts of a tyrant drawing power from the fear of everyone.

But there was no layer that surrounded him. That sort of infinite tinted lens that the Trial classes would bring.

As far as Ryan could tell, [Conceptual Metamorph] did not exist.

What the hell is going on?

It had to have existed. He had far too many instances of being pushed into realizations about concepts for it to not exist.

Ryan focused and pushed the skill. He had no idea how to use unity with the [Conceptual Metamorph] class but he didn’t really need to. He knew where exactly a Trial class was supposed to be located and focused on that location.

At the very edges of his aura there was the slightest, slightest wobble.

Then it was gone.

Formless and vague, refusing to be identified. As if being identified was anathema. Even by itself.

When Gamielle tried to throw her spell to observe concepts his class had slipped away. Even back in the Manager’s Abode, the class orb refused to be named until he asked.

Why are you so shy, Conceptual Metamorph?

Because it’s not finished.

Suddenly, as if responding to the words, the outline of the class became clearer. As if knowing the words of the class itself helped him identify it.

The class and skill led him forward.

Through the outer layer of the Trial class.

In that infinitesimal space between his aura and the rest of the world, what Ryan had been trying to identify was just a camouflage shell. Like a cocoon hiding what was happening within.

Multiple colours, a kaleidoscope of concepts were flowing within. An assassin there, someone who could pierce through veils there, someone who sabotaged plans took up another huge chunk of space. And then even above that was a guide, trying to help others get on the right path. An adventurer

But most of all, the thing that tinted the entirety of it—was the Tyrant.

Everything had streaks of red embedded within.

I want to win. Not just survive.

And Ryan pulled back.

The [Conceptual Metamorph] was watching, learning and taking his true thoughts into account. Hiding it from the rest of the world while it was creating something completely new. He understood the Manager’s concern then.

The amount of space there was to fill up was simply far too much. Not only that, the class was only taking high quality concepts that he wanted out of a class. To fill up the Quasi-Legendary class… A lifetime might not be enough.

But it was the path he took.