Limitless The Strongest Revenant

As I continued to watch the video, the implications of the reaper war became apparent. Wraiths and Phantoms would be waiting for invasions constantly on edge. From what I gathered the Invasions would be similar to a covert operation in modern day combat.

You would have an unknown force that would wreak havoc in your domain. Phantoms would be like the mayors for each zone. The Wraiths both their citizens and soldiers. Specters on the other hand would be the ones like adventurer parties in novels that went to slay the dragons.

The clear division of roles allowed for responsibilities to be black and white. Everyone would know what to do and why. In a perfect world, the roles should have been reversed. You would take most of your military might to attack and reserve a few to defend.

But if Lilly and her white uniformed posse were all just Phantoms, I could not even imagine how powerful Specters would be.

Yet that did not explain why they were tasked to venture into the most dangerous places. All with minimal support and only a handful of people.

It made no sense. Why would they make such a risky decision?

"Because no one else is strong enough," I concluded.

With the numerical superiority of the undead, if they used the wraiths as cannon fodder, that would be a quick path to the end of the world.

Forcing the Phantoms to join the Specters probably would work in the short term, but if the zones fell one after another no one would care about how much land the Specters reclaimed.

"And if the undead use lost zones as a staging ground, the likelihood that the surrounding zones would be also fall increases."

I remembered the amount of undead that stormed around during my enlistment. What kind of battle would one wage if you were defending?

Fatigue, supplies, training, fortifications, the problems that would arise from such a situation would be a nightmare to solve.

As I pondered these, my mind started to sink into a negative spiral.

What should I do?

What could I even do?

A loud thud came from the video which called my attention. The video showed Scy mercilessly smacking Grim on the head with an angry glare. The blows were so powerful the poor grim reaper got deformed.

"Ouch! I know I know! Don't rush me you glorified gardening tool!" Grim rebuked in anger.

"Pfft! HAHAHA!" I hollered in laughter.

That image of Grim's skull getting smashed all the way to his stomach was very amusing to see. The comedy allowed me to forget the things I began to worry about unconsciously.

Grim then picked up his face and pushed it back towards his head in a manner only cartoons could do.

"Ehem! Finally. Once a Specter grows and evolves his {fate} for the ninth time, the reaper becomes a Revenant. A Revenant is the single most powerful being in the reaper army.

"They lord as absolute kings because they are the final bastions of Hellsgate. Once in a while, hell sends a massive army in the back lines to create lost zones. These are called floor breaks," Grim said in a serious tone.

The term called forth my memories of the massive undead army that suddenly appeared during the enlistment. Fear, anxiousness and panic crawled up on my spine as I remembered the frightening force.

Dullahans, Liches, Death knights, undead dragons and an organized undead army completely different from the mindless zombies.

Was this what the Assault teams fought against? Even just the memory sent shivers throughout my body. Could I really defeat such monsters with just bullets and grenades?

How could you even stop something like that?!

"Yet not one of the Floor breaks for the past two centuries succeeded. This is why Revenants are respected as kings. All seven Revenants of the battlefronts had single handedly annihilated the floor breaks multiple times. As gods among men, Revenants are the only thing capable of ensuring the continued survival of Hellsgate."

At that point I remembered what happened to the army I was so scared of.

Like a tale from myth, David Thomas came in, threw a halfhearted punch and nuked the entire army out of existence. The surreal demonstration of power would surely remain in my mind till the day I died.

A Revenant— a goal so lofty it seemed like an impossibility. Doubts continued to hammer out the naiveté from my mind.

"Become the strongest reaper? What a load of bullshit!" I roared.

'How could I even dream the strongest reaper if such an army already sent me shivering from fear.'

"GET A GRIP YOU FUCKING COWARD!"

My words slowly awoke something inside me. It was disgust. I got disgusted at myself. I spoke such high aspirations yet cowered the moment danger came forward.

'Close Hellsgate? Fucking imbecile. If seven Revenants were not enough, what could you do?' the voices of doubt in my head began to get louder.

"SHUT UP! They have yet to meet a fucker like me! I am Limitless!"

'If a .45 ACP round was not enough then I would use 7.62 NATO! If that still wasn't enough, then let out the .50 BMGs! Let's see if a death knight could survive a 120mm APFSDS tank round! Undead dragon? Meet anti air autocannons chambered in 20mm armor-piercing discarding sabots! David used a nuke to kill them all.

If that was the case, I just needed to bring my own nukes!'

Right, I would never be able to fit in the mold of the reapers. Without a manifested weapon, all I could do was bring guns from earth. But so what? If America was good at anything it was blowing the absolute shit out of its enemies.

"Then allow me to bring glorious freedom to Hellsgate!"

The video with Grim and Scy continued as I rode the Metro. Unknowingly I stood up and shouted like an idiot in public. The people were staring at me in curiosity and wariness. I nonchalantly sat back down and ignored them. I was already a reaper, why the hell should I care how humans viewed me?

"Such is the tales of the seven Revenants. In the history of Hellsgate this era is called as the Reign of seven kings! This period is the only time each battlefront is guarded by its own Revenant! They are so cool, right Scy? Remember their names and etch their legacy in your hearts!"

A slide show of then began of each Revenant appearing in heroic poses. What was this? A promo video?

"The Invincible hero of North America, David Thomas!

"The Relentless necromancer of South America, Simon Guevarra!

"The Virtuous great knight of Europe, Clive Zanardi!

"The Immortal bastion of Africa, Hannibal Mandela!

"The Peerless warlord of Asia, Li Wu Di!

"The Merciless berserker of Australia, Peter Vujicic!

"The Unbreakable Viking of Antarctica, Erik Odinson!"

I seared their names and appearances into my brain as my blood boiled. These men were the ones who shouldered the fate of the world. And they were the ones I wished to beat.

Whoever made this video knew what he was doing. I cycled through despair, joy and hype all in a span of a few minutes.

"Focus John, you need to walk before you can run," I said to calm myself.

A Revenant was still too far. Becoming a Specter while a bit closer still needed too much prep work. Right now, I was nothing but a Wraith. My only focus was to join the defenses and kill as much as I could. All to earn souls for a blessed mag and to improve my abilities.

I already had plenty of ideas for my zone's fortifications but that would wait. According to {Code} I needed to 5,000 souls to evolve a third time. I didn't know yet how hard it would be to earn such an amount. But if evolving to a Phantom requires me to defend a zone, it might be a better idea to delay that as much as I could.

While I got a ton of answers from this video I still had to many questions. But right now, my focus was to go to the gun range and train wielding my armory of guns in the time I got left.

"He who sweats more in training bleeds less in battle," I murmured.

This nugget of wisdom came from George S. Patton Jr. One of the most respected commanders during the second world war. And I was in the same situation. I return to Hellsgate tomorrow night. Thus, I only had today to get in as much practice as humanly possible.

I eventually got off the metro and took a cab to my destination. Upon arriving, I noticed there were hardly any people. It was, after all 8 am sharp on a Sunday morning. As I walked up to the Phoenix Rod & Gun Club. A familiar face greeted me.

"John! Long time no see, I hardly recognized you boy! You lost a lot of weight, you look great!"

The African American man with black hair and a magnificent beard was named Earl Simmons. He was a friend of my dad from high school and was built like a truck. A native of phoenix he has been a manager of this place for as long as I could remember. He was kind, sharp and didn't stick his nose into other people's business. An overall good person.

"Hi Mr. Simmons. I came here to shoot my guns. Is there anyone using the range yet?"

"Naw boy, you are the first one. I wasn't even done opening up but saw you and rushed out."

I wasn't sure if it was lip service but hearing that Earl came out just to greet me felt nice. In Tempe hardly anyone knew me, but in Phoenix, some people saw me grow up. It felt nostalgic. Like I finally came home. But I didn't come here for such trivial matters. I came here to train and prepare for battle.

"Mr. Simmons, could I rent the entire place for a day? I am willing to pay 10 grand."

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