The Apocalypse Grinder (LitRPG Apocalypse, Timeloop)

Chapter 172: Forming a faction


The rainbow blast spell, or vibrancy bomb as the caster called it, unravelled in the air. Ronan hadn't needed to use much mana for his dispel, his understanding of it vastly improved since he inhaled it with his sorcery. As the swirling mana vanished, it revealed the stunned faces of both the caster, Hayes, and Lord Rockmore.

The latter seemed disappointed in his subordinate's failure rather than overly surprised at Ronan's ability to make the spell vanish from existence. This time, Ronan only relished in the man's shock for a few seconds. It was time to end this farce.

He rushed forwards, each stride carrying him over a metre towards his foe. The man realised too late that Ronan was on the move, darting to the side. He withdrew a knife, tossing it from his right to his left hand.

As Ronan took his final step, the man ducked low and stabbed the knife towards the base of his ribcage. It was a decent attempt, but to Ronan the man seemed to be moving in slow motion.

He conjured a dagger of his own, making it slightly curved to better suit his next move. Activating counter-parry, he caught the tip of the knife in the dagger's curve. His body seemed to move of its own accord, guided by the skill. The knife was ripped to one side and the dagger slipped past it. Ronan buried the blade in the mage's throat, then ripped it out.

The man tried to speak but was only able to gurgle blood. He stumbled backwards. Ronan darted in once he realised there would be no counter-attack, stabbing him twice more to finish the job.

Lord Rockmore watched with a cold expression as his top subordinate died before his eyes. Ronan kept half an eye on the fake aristocrat, expecting the sleazy bastard to try a sneak attack while his back was turned. However, the man simply stood still and watched while Hayes bled out.

That was cruel, but it was exactly what Ronan expected of the man. "You really are a cruel piece of work, dude. Aren't leaders supposed to inspire loyalty and confidence in their followers?" He shook his head, allowing the conjured dagger to dissipate.

Rockmore smirked. "Why would I care about a weak idiot who can't tell when he's outmatched and dies without achieving a damn thing. The fool couldn't even destroy this building. Though I suppose the system wouldn't allow such a thing to happen if such an important milestone of the integration is hidden within."

"Wow, it's funny. Your man there said the same exact thing right before I killed him. Makes me wonder what fate you'll be meeting in a few moments," Ronan replied, tilting his head to one side.

"Unlike Hayes, I don't rely on one complicated spell to defeat my foes. That is a fool's gambit. In the end, if you want something done right, you must do it yourself." Rockmore reached to his waist, withdrawing his rapier, arcane needle.

Words exchanged, it was time for the score to be settled. Unfortunately for the pompous fake lord, this would not be a battle between equals, but a one-sided execution.

Rockmore lunged forwards, his rapier crackling with mana as he thrust it at Ronan's heart. It was a well placed strike, not too telegraphed, but Ronan had seen it one too many times before to be caught off guard. No retreating. He stepped into the thrust, using magic money to conjure a shield over his heart as he punched at Rockmore's face.

Not a single credit was spent. As expected, the cowardly fool gave up on the first attack in order to save his skin. However, Ronan was a dozen times faster. Before Rockmore even pulled his rapier all the way back, Ronan stepped inside his sword-arm and unleashed a lightning-fast uppercut.

Two cracks sounded in rapid succession. The first was Rockmore's jaw shattering, the second his spine cracking as his head was flung two-hundred-seventy degrees backwards in an instant. Arcane piercing strike ensured it was an instant kill. No mess, no hassle.

A soft thud behind him caused Ronan to throw himself to one side. One of the lackeys who'd been standing on the sidelines had taken the chance to ambush him, sword thrusting at his back. Sighing at the man's foolishness, Ronan kicked out, catching the fool's wrist and knocking the blade from his grip. Before the man could even realise he'd been disarmed, a conjured dagger was plunged into his brain through his eye, killing him instantly.

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

"Anyone else want to try?" he asked, looking around the last few stragglers who were clinging to the edges of the room.

Receiving no response other than wide-eyed stares or shakes of the head, Ronan walked over to the tree and sat down. Lord Rockmore had been dealt with and it was time to check his rewards. More than that, he was interested to see if he could form a faction.

You have killed [Human Fighter Lv.19-34]x22, [Human Rogue Lv.17-29]x16…

To his surprise, Ronan did gain another level from killing Rockmore, Hayes, and a large quantity of the former's lackeys. It put him at level 97, just 3 away from the big hundred. He was interested to find out what happened when he reached that milestone, and there was a solid chance of achieving it during this iteration unless something unexpected killed him before he could get some more experience.

The real gain from killing so many of his fellow humans was in credits and random loot. He couldn't even equip half of it, with various rings, necklaces, and pieces of armour sharing the same body parts. He put on ten rings, then tried an eleventh, only to find out it didn't add the bonus stats it was supposed to add. He supposed it was only fair.

I wonder if a race that naturally has more than ten fingers can wear more than ten rings for the bonuses? That would be a neat racial advantage, he mused. He had also acquired far more trash weapons than he'd spent during the fight, making it rather profitable.

A few of them even had elite shards, meaning he was in a great position to cultivate some more before the rest of this region's pillars were claimed. With how long it was taking, Ronan was losing hope that he might just be able to wait it out at the top of the tower.

Let's try and make a faction. That should be a good way to kill time, I suppose. I have all these scared people hanging around, so I should put them to good use. With that thought in mind, he reached out a hand and placed it against the rough bark of the tree. Leaning on the connection he shared with the pillar, Ronan shared his desire, and was greeted with a system prompt.

[Pillar]

Sector: 45692

Owner: Ronan Steele

Tier: N

Faction: None

[Faction]

[Production]

[Tax]

[Construction]

There were far more options than he'd been expecting. Not because he hadn't known all the functions existed—the pillar had already told him that before—but because Ronan didn't realise they would be literal options to control via the pillar. He was too used to the old world. People built things over a period of time. Not the invisible, overpowered hand of the system.

Still, he was curious and excited to test them all out at some point. A few of them wouldn't see use in the near future, but the idea of taxing people was hilarious. Taking credits from people in the sector would help increase his multiplier.

For now though, Ronan only cared about one of the options. He opened the faction sub-menu and was immediately assaulted by a warning chime.

You are not a member of a faction!

You have claimed a pillar and possess a sufficient rank, would you like to create a faction?

He did want to create a faction, so he let the system know as much, leading to another prompt appearing. This one had a lot more detail and made him pause for thought.

Please input the following details for your faction:

Name

Alignment [Conquest, Protection, Exploration, Knowledge, Destruction, Chaos]

Member Limitations

As for the name, it was easy for him to decide. He felt it might be a little on the nose—dangerous even—but if not for them, he wouldn't still be here today.

Chronos.

The alignment was trickier. It wasn't as though Ronan only had one goal in this world. He wanted to conquer his home planet, if only to ensure it was safe for his species and all those who would be their allies.

He also wished to protect those he cared about, defending them from any potential threats.

Who wouldn't want to explore this marvellous new world; to learn everything they could about it?

Certainly, he wasn't a cruel man, but he wished to destroy the chains of the system. It might mean losing access to its power, for some, but if that also meant living in peace, able to grow as they were before the integration, it was a reasonable price to pay.

The only alignment he felt he could truly strike off the board was chaos. That was something he rarely indulged in.

For member limitations, Ronan wasn't sure what they even entailed. He didn't have many in mind. I suppose only people I want in the faction should be able to join, and they shouldn't be able to cause damage to the sector on purpose, or hurt others for enjoyment. Those seem basic, though, but nothing is enforced in this world anymore.

He would have made a quicker decision if he knew that this was something he could change every iteration, but there was every chance his heritage would make it permanent. He didn't want to regret the decision if that ended up happening.

I'm torn between conquest and knowledge…

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