For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion-Chapter 29B3 : Mythchaser

B3 Chapter 29: Mythchaser

Marcus was an impressive bard. That, few would dispute. With a single song, he could transform a room full of scowling adventurers on the verge of coming to blows into a site of bawdy merriment usually reserved for festivals and holidays. He could talk his way into any establishment worth visiting, and out of most where he'd overstayed his welcome.

He was a professional. And here, on his home turf? He was absolutely a force to be reckoned with.

Marcus bobbed down the broad avenue, enjoying the warm day and the familiar bustle of city life. He'd never thought he’d walk these streets so freely again—much less while hearing the populace humming his latest songs. It was incredibly nostalgic.

His efforts to spin the tale of Novara's invasion into that of a miraculous and heroic rescue from an age-old enemy had borne fruit—more quickly and dramatically than he ever could have hoped. It certainly helped that anyone could go see the castle for themselves, as well as the massive concentration of forces that had gathered there. Forces that hadn't been used to fortify the wall or defend the city itself. But he suspected that wasn’t the only factor at play. Which was one of the many, many reasons he was taking advantage of the Legion’s current preoccupation with city matters to commandeer a class stone.

Despite his enjoyment of the current situation, Marcus still kept his guard up and his awareness spread about himself. There were still threats about, after all. Though the Legionnaires, elven and human both, had managed to clear the last of the orcs from the city, there still remained other troubles within.

The castle was the most obvious pocket of resistance, isolated as it was. But more active among the populace were the nobility who hadn’t bent the knee and the priests who had declared Rome to be heretics and enemies of their gods.

Marcus passed by one of the noble houses in question as he walked. It was no more than a pile of finely-ground rubble. Even the red “X” he’d inscribed beside their gate had disappeared as the Legion had leveled the place to build other, more “useful” projects. Apparently, the rebellious houses hadn’t counted on the Romans living up to the stories Marcus told—or the complete and utter lack of support from the king. Despite the fact that he’d tried to warn them of both. At least he’d tried.

As for the churches, they had yet to make another overt move against Rome. Well, officially, at least. There had been some skirmishes with Legionnaire patrols that featured suspiciously divine-looking skills wielded by people in plain civilian clothing. Between that and their open hostility toward the Romans, it was clear that they had no intent to get along with the capital’s new leadership. But they certainly tried to seed discontent and thoughts of rebellion among the populace. Seeds that Marcus so far had little problem crushing before they took root. As it turned out, their own decision to prioritize attacking the Legionnaires over the orcs was just as unpopular as one might expect. If it continued he expected the legion to stamp them out soon, once they were done with all their other problems.

Of course, his efforts had been rewarded. And quite handsomely, too.

Information:

Name: Marcus Silvanus D'Angelo

Age: 23

Class: Royal Bard (Rare)

Level: 30

Experience: 902 / 3,000

Stats:

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 40

Constitution: 6

Charisma: 79

Wisdom: 13

Intelligence: 11

Free Points: 1

Titles:

Chronicler of Novara

Dashing Dastard

Traveler of Novara

Harbinger of Rome

Crowd Favorite

Chronicler of Legends

Skills:

[Charm] (Uncommon) - Lvl 42

[Silver Tongue] (Epic) - Lvl 7

[Appraisal] (Uncommon) - Lvl 30

[Sleight of Hand] (Common) - Lvl 42

[Inspirational Song] (Rare) - Lvl 15

[Critical Reception] (Rare) - Lvl 12

[Spellcraft] (Uncommon) - Lvl 4

[Glamor] (Uncommon) - Lvl 48

[Dagger Proficiency] (Common) - Lvl 4

[Running] (Common) - Lvl 34

A flare of pride burned within Marcus’s chest at the sight. He'd had a brief opportunity to check his status when they'd first taken the city, but little time to do more. The sheer number of Legionnaires who needed to assign their skill points and do general maintenance was overwhelming, even considering that the capital had multiple class stones dotted throughout its interior. And, well, he'd been quite busy himself.

His eyes lingered on the first portion of his sheet. Level thirty. An incomprehensible milestone he didn't think he'd reach for another decade at least. And as a non-combat class? It was unheard of.

Of course, he found himself involved in a bit more combat than he would have liked. But given the results? He supposed he couldn't rightfully complain.

The levels of his performance-related skills were growing quite satisfyingly. Both [Silver Tongue] and [Critical Reception] in particular had seen a lot of use lately, a fact reflected in the leaps and bounds they’d made. He’d also earned the coveted Chronicler of Legends title, which only further confirmed that his work with the Legion was truly making a mark on history. He certainly wouldn’t complain about the 20% effective charisma boost it gave, either.

But it got even better when he switched over to check his skills. He had evolutions.

Available Skill Evolutions:

[Charm] (Uncommon) -> [Magnetic Presence] (Rare)

He had an evolution for [Charm]. [Charm], one of the most foundational skills for any charisma-based build worth its salt. It would be no exaggeration to say that it was a skill that accompanied most of the greats into their graves. And he was getting a better version of it—before even leveling it to fifty, no less.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Despite being a rare skill, [Magnetic Presence] was actually one that Marcus had heard of before. One of the [Royal Bard]s of old was said to have obtained it, though details on how were scarce. People were usually hesitant to share the capabilities of their skills, much less how to get them.

Regardless, the story went that people found themselves drawn to the man and his performances from afar, often without even knowing why. Some even said that such an effect was merely a result of the skill’s passive nature, that it could be activated to draw attention so intensely that it put even taunt skills to shame. All of this was practically impossible to verify, given the subtle nature of such skills and the suite of other performance-related abilities usually employed by bards and entertainers. But if true, then it may well prove to be a strict upgrade with added flexibility. Needless to say, he accepted it.

[Glamor] (Uncommon) -> [Illusory Domain] (Rare)

His second evolution came as a bit less of a surprise. Not that he'd truly expected it, of course, but Marcus did feel as though he'd been pushing the skill a bit more than the others—especially during the encounter with House Aridus. He hadn't even known that [Glamour] could manage such large-scale effects.

Well, evidently it wasn't supposed to. But based on the name, this new skill would specialize in it. He could only imagine the kind of theatrical displays that he'd be able to conjure using more complicated illusions.

[Running] (Common) -> [Mythchaser] (Rare)

Marcus had to do a double take. A mere common skill evolving to a rare one? And one he’d only picked up recently, no less? It was absurd. And the name…

He frowned inwardly. This was no skill he'd ever heard of, either in stories or otherwise. But he has to admit that it was a tantalizing one. Its name spoke of a grand calling that he couldn't help but be attracted to. Who was he, if not a pursuer of myths and legends?

Hopefully it would allow him to better keep up with the Legion on the march. Perhaps it would keep him from looking and feeling as though he'd plunged into a rather disgusting ocean after such exertions.

Nearly weeping at what his life had come to, Marcus swapped the last skill for [Running]. Some part of him had secretly hoped for an upgrade to [Inspirational Song] or [Critical Reception]. Unfortunately, skills proved much more difficult to evolve as they increased in rarity. Perhaps even thinking such a thing was greedy of him. He would just have to be satisfied with the three evolutions he had been offered, as well as all the skill levels in each.

With that done, Marcus took the opportunity to slot a few other skills he'd picked up in one of the freshly evolved skills’ slots. He might as well take advantage to keep the things, even if he had absolutely zero intention of ever using [Tumbling] or [Heretical Influence].

Last but not least, he eyed his [Dagger Proficiency] skill. It had seen next to no use as of late, and for good reason. What fights he'd managed to find himself in simply required more firepower than the skill—and his meager abilities with it—allowed. At this point, if he found himself using his dagger, Marcus was fairly certain that he'd already be dead to rights.

He checked through the rest of his skills to find something more useful. It didn't take long before he found a candidate: [Diplomacy]. Something that, in hindsight, he probably should have picked up ages ago.

Not having a single weapon skill was a bit of a risk, but not the end of the world. He would just have to rely on his spells a bit more than before. Something he'd already been doing anyway.

[Congratulations! You have assigned the skill [Diplomacy] (Uncommon) - Lvl 0.]

After finishing his business, Marcus went on his merry way with a newfound spring in his step—both from the bit of dexterity he’d gained and excitement at his new capabilities. He was eager to try them out. And what better venue than The Gilded Lily? Bernard would certainly never say no to the extra business, and he needed to ask the man about the church of Arashim’s recent movements. He thought he’d seen a familiar face stopping by one of the remaining noble houses in his wanderings, and he wanted to minimize the amount of blatantly suicidal plots where he could.

It was probably a lost cause. But who knows? Even if the church of Arashim and its allies seemed fixated on making problems, maybe he’d even be able to convince some of the other churches to break away. Especially with his newfound capabilities.

But as the saying went, everything that rose into the air must also fall back to the earth. As he navigated through the sprawling labyrinth of streets—ones that the Legion had not yet rebuilt and improved—a note of disquiet began to ring discordant beneath his otherwise harmonious joviality. He felt as though he were being watched.

Marcus continued on as though he hadn’t noticed. However, he flared [Critical Reception] to get a feel for the moods of the individuals around him. Most were as he expected. Satisfied, bored, stressed over work and these uncertain times… But there were a few that didn’t fit at all. From them, he felt only malice.

There were five of them, and even a discreet glance around didn’t allow him to detect the figures visually. But they were there, of that he was certain. And they were closing in.

As subtly as he could manage, Marcus adjusted his route to take him away from the five spots of ill intent. They followed, continuing to close in. There was no doubt about it now. That malice was meant for him. And despite trying to lose them, it seemed that his knowledge of these streets was no longer quite as impressive as it once was. He found himself gradually herded away from the crowds and groups of patrolling Legionnaires and into a dead-end alley.

Once it became clear that there was no getting out of this, Marcus turned to face his pursuers. The five figures blocked the path before him, their clothing dark and nondescript enough to blend in with a crowd of common folk. Yet they were anything but.

[Cutpurse] (Lvl 21)

[Puppeteer] (Lvl 17)

[Executioner] (Lvl 22)

[Bounty Hunter] (Lvl 20)

[Poacher] (Lvl 19)

If their demeanors and the slimy grins written plain across their faces hadn’t made it clear, their classes did. These were not particularly savory types. And while he might have hoped that he was simply being robbed by a band of suspiciously high-leveled ruffians, the presence of the [Executioner] made it abundantly obvious that wasn’t the case. He in particular was ugly enough to make Marcus wonder if there were some orc in his lineage.

“Friends, friends!” Marcus spread his arms wide in a gesture of openness and clear invitation. “I assure you, there is no need for such skulking around. Come, let us talk. I'm certain I can make it worth your while—”

The [Executioner]—who appeared to be the one in charge—glanced toward the spiderlike figure of the [Puppeteer]. Before Marcus could say more, the man clapped a hand over his own mouth.

Marcus’s words suddenly cut off. His lips continued to move, but no sound came out.

The [Executioner] grinned wordlessly, an ugly expression on the hulking figure’s lumpy face. Marcus's heart sank. They had clearly come prepared. And while he couldn’t be certain exactly who had sent them, he had a couple of pretty damn good ideas.

Seeing that talking his way out of this wasn't an option, Marcus shifted tactics. This wasn't exactly the kind of environment he'd hoped to test his new skills in. But it seemed like he had no other choice.

The world around him seemed to ripple as he activated [Illusory Domain]. Marcus had to keep his eyes from going wide. He could feel the skill’s power, feel the potential he wielded. He could turn the entire area around him into a fantasyland of impossible sights and sounds with a mere thought.

Of course, he didn't need that right now. He needed something a bit more believable.

He began to conjure a ball of lightning in his hands, sending flashes of crackling electricity through the alley. It swelled to an incredible size that made his attackers stop in their tracks. Turning to the [Puppeteer], he loosed the ball of energy toward the spindly man.

The projectile rocketed forth, sending the man and his companions diving away from fright. At the same time, Marcus willed his body to turn invisible as he sprinted after the ball, shielding his eyes as it exploded in a flash of blinding light—a harmless one. He slipped between the figures before they could react and kept on running.

Even that had taken quite a bit of stamina out of him. It seemed that [Illusory Domain] wasn't exactly a cheap skill to use. But it had gotten the job done.

Shouts arose behind him as the figures realized they'd been played. Praying that this skill lived up to its name, he activated [Mythchaser]. His feet began to fly as though they had a mind of their own. He accelerated, racing through the streets and away from his attackers even as they gave chase.

Reaching out, he could feel the tenuous threads that connected him to Legionnaires around the city. But he also felt something else. The skill was tugging him in a particular direction, deeper into the city. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Not willing to question it at the moment, he sprinted that way. It was close enough to a group of Legionnaires that he wouldn't be picky. He just hoped that whatever it was leading him towards would help him get out of this mess.