Sarah quickly parsed through her notifications, a familiar weariness settling over her, before rejoining Leo. Another string of mundane victories flashed across the screen.


    Congratulations! You have successfully defeated Goblin (Level 2)


    Congratulations! You have successfully defeated Goblin (Level 3)


    The same monotonous message, repeated ad nauseam. Each goblin’s death was like a tiny pinprick of experience, barely registering in the grand scheme of things. Days she had spent in this dreary cycle, hacking and slashing at the diminutive green creatures, her progress stagnant.


    The only real benefit had been a growing intimacy with her own body – a sharpened sense of her skills, a deeper understanding of her stats. But that had changed, abruptly and violently, just this afternoon.


    Congratulations! You have successfully defeated Cultist (Level 15) - Ivan Alorman


    Congratulations! You have successfully defeated Cultist (Level 11) - Rayan Mor


    A jolt of adrenaline, a flicker of disbelief. Those notifications were different. They carried weight, a sense of consequence.


    You have acquired the skill: Mana Sight


    (Mana Sight)


    - Mana, the life force of the world, threads through all things, living and otherwise. It dwells within every creature, and only those with awakened senses can barely witness to its power.


    She''d witnessed the tendrils of mana coalesce, weaving themselves into the Cultist''s spell. Then, the woven magic, formed from the very fabric of reality had blazed forth. The fiery projectile aimed directly at her. Sarah''s speed had been enough to carry her out of harms way at the last second, but she was still unsure of herself. How would she far against stronger opponent?


    Congratulations! Your class has leveled up


    You have acquired the skill: Summon Undead


    (Summon Undead)


    <strong style="font-style: italic">- Echoes of death answer the caster''s call, drawing forth spectral warriors and skeletal guardians. These undead thralls are bound by a fragile thread of mana, requiring a continuous expenditure equal to their level to maintain their corporeal forms.


    Congratulations! Your class has leveled up


    Congratulations! Your class has leveled up


    Three levels in rapid succession and another skill. It was absurd, unbelievable. Days of goblin grinding yielded nothing, and then, in the span of a single, chaotic minute, she had catapulted forward.


    Yes, she had killed people. Cultists, who had sprung from the treeline with malevolent intent, their eyes burning with fanaticism. They had attacked her; she had defended herself. The weight of taking a life pressed down on her, a cold knot in her stomach. She knew the burden, even if they were the ones who had initiated the violence.


    The third cultist, a young man with wide, terrified eyes, was still alive, probably. She had bound him tightly with his own tattered robe, leaving him trussed and helpless in the meadow. A grim sort of mercy. Maybe some scavenging animal had found him by now. Maybe he had managed to escape. The thought of what might have become of him sent a fresh wave of unease through her.


    A pang of regret, sharp and unexpected, twisted in her gut. If he was dead… Sarah lamented the lost experience points. It was a cold calculation, she knew, but the system was the system. Some goblin, bloated and sluggish from feasting on her would-be prey, would be reaping the rewards of her near-miss.


    The injustice of it stung. With a sigh, she opened her status screen and allocated the unspent attribute points. Fifteen points, all poured into Wisdom. Perhaps it would help her make better decisions in the future. Perhaps it would dull the sharp edges of the guilt that gnawed at her. Perhaps it would just make her better at spotting goblins.


    They left the tower, Sarah feeling a subtle but undeniable surge of power within her. Her level ups having left their mark. It wasn''t a dramatic, world-altering transformation, but a quiet strengthening, like a single, previously dormant muscle flexing with newfound awareness. Her mind sharper than it ever had been.


    Silence hung heavy between them. Leo’s brow was furrowed, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the cobblestones. The revelation of Sarah''s class had clearly shaken him. The easy camaraderie that had blossomed between them now felt brittle, threatened by the shadows that clung to her. He was a guard, sworn to protect the realm from such dark practices, and she… She was the very thing he was meant to stand against. The unspoken question hung in the air: could their budding connection survive this truth?


    Sarah, for her part, was lost in a whirlwind of her own. The weight of her secret, now shared with Leo, felt heavier than ever. She didn''t know what to say, how could she explain everything that had happened to her without sounding crazy?


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Words seemed inadequate, clumsy tools to convey the complex emotions churning within her. So, she remained silent, acutely aware of the distance that had sprung up between them, a chasm carved by unspoken fears and uncertainties.


    Their walk took them through the centre of the city, past bustling vendors and overbearing merchants, until they reached their destination: the "Ale for All" guild. The sounds of brewing usually spilling from its open doors were muted tonight, replaced by an unsettling stillness.


    As they approached, Sarah noticed something was amiss. The usual scattering of patrons loitering outside was absent. Instead, a double line of guards, far more numerous than she’d ever seen outside any guild, even the bank didn''t employ that many, stood rigidly at the base of the building''s wide, stone staircase. Their faces were grim, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. They looked less like welcoming hosts and more like a prepared garrison.


    Leo stopped abruptly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He scanned the line of guards, his eyes narrowing. "This is… unusual," he muttered, his voice low. He clearly hadn''t expected such a reception. The air crackled with tension, a palpable sense of anticipation.


    It was as if the guild was holding its breath, waiting for something – or someone – to arrive. Sarah felt a prickle of unease. This wasn''t just a coincidence. This was a welcome party.


    A knot tightened in Sarah''s stomach. The sheer number of guards flanking the "Ale for All" guild hall confirmed her worst fears. They had been the ones that assaulted her tower. Why else would they fortify the place like this? The last time she''d been here, two guards, more for show than actual security, had lounged about outside. The two that were inside guarding that door though...


    Now, a bristling line of at least a dozen mercenaries, hardened faces grim beneath the flickering torchlight, stood between them and the entrance. Each one radiated an air of practiced menace, their hands resting near the hilts of their swords. They were clearly expecting trouble. Or, more accurately, they were expecting her.


    "Mercenaries," Leo rumbled, his voice a low growl that vibrated in Sarah''s chest. It was as though he’d plucked the thought straight from her mind. He''d noticed the change too. They both knew this wasn''t normal, even for the notoriously dominant "Ale for All." This was a deliberate escalation.


    Sarah risked a glance at Leo. His usually jovial face was set in a hard line, his golden eyes narrowed and glinting in the dim light. She knew what he was capable of. The Guard Captain, despite his jovial nature, had invested every unspent point he had into Strength. He was a force of nature, a walking, talking, roaring powerhouse. And right now, he looked ready to unleash that power.


    The air crackled with anticipation. The mercenaries shifted nervously, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. One of them, a burly man with a square jaw, stepped forward, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "Hold there!" he barked, his voice rough. "State your business!"


    Leo didn''t bother with a response. Instead, he threw back his head and unleashed a roar that echoed through Central Street, a primal sound that spoke of pure, unadulterated power. It was the roar of a lion, deep and resonant, a challenge issued to the world. The mercenaries recoiled, their bravado momentarily forgotten.


    And then, Leo moved.


    He surged forward with an explosive burst of speed that belied his size, a whirlwind of muscle and fury. It was less a charge and more a controlled demolition. He crashed into the line of mercenaries like a battering ram, his massive fists swinging in wide, devastating arcs. The first man he hit was sent flying, his body slamming into the wall of the guild hall with a sickening thud. The others barely had time to react.


    Leo’s movements were a blur. He moved with a surprising agility, weaving through the startled mercenaries, his roars punctuating the sounds of clashing steel and grunts of pain. His fists were like hammers, crushing bone and sending men sprawling. His teeth, sharp and predatory, flashed in the dim light as he snapped at an exposed arm, drawing a scream of agony. Blood sprayed, painting the cobblestones a dark crimson.


    Sarah watched, mesmerized and slightly horrified, as Leo tore through the mercenaries. It was brutal, efficient, and undeniably captivating. She knew she should be horrified, that she should look away, but she couldn''t. There was a primal thrill in witnessing such raw power unleashed, a dark, secret part of her that was… Aroused?


    She would never admit it, of course, but the image of Leo, a whirlwind of righteous fury, was burned into her mind. This was no mere guard captain; this was a force of nature, and she was witnessing him in his element.


    ???????????


    The air crackled with the residue of their argument, the echoes of Eric’s accusations still ringing in Aaron’s ears. "Heretic," the word hung in the air, a brand seared onto their already tarnished family name. Fallen nobles, indeed. Their fascination with the occult, once a whispered secret, was now a scarlet letter, isolating them from the remnants of their former standing.


    It was in this desperate isolation that Aaron had encountered Zeth. Zeth, enigmatic and powerful, belonged to an order steeped in the very occult practices that had damned their family. Only the most gifted were welcomed into their ranks, and Aaron, desperate for acceptance and a chance to reclaim some semblance of power, craved membership. The price? A demonstration of his worth, a feat significant enough to earn him a place within their stratified order.


    Aaron believed he had found the perfect opportunity. He knew how to acquire a powerful class, one that would not only prove his capabilities but also elevate him within the occult world. But everything had spiraled into chaos.


    The Cultists assigned to assist him in the summoning ritual were now corpses, strewn across the desecrated chamber. The ritual itself, meticulously planned and painstakingly prepared, had failed spectacularly three times. The arcane energies he had sought to harness remained stubbornly dormant.


    The survivors of the tower assault, his supposed allies, had scattered like rats, their fear outweighing their loyalty. They would undoubtedly carry tales of his failure to the very figures he had attempted to impress, those whose positions he had so brazenly sought to usurp.


    A bitter laugh escaped Aaron’s lips. He no longer gave a damn. He didn''t care about the elusive component that had thwarted the catalyst''s activation. His brother’s opinion, once a source of constant rivalry, now seemed utterly insignificant. The roar of the monstrous lion outside, tearing through the mercenary band he had hired for protection, was just background noise to his despair. Even the looming presence of the woman and her absurdly oversized cottage, which had become an unwelcome memory, failed to register as anything more than an obstacle.


    A cold resolve settled over him. He would obliterate them all.


    His eyes, burning with a feverish intensity, fell upon one of the fleeing cultists he''d captured. Aaron plunged the deep into the cultist''s heart. As the lifeblood ebbed away, Aaron channeled the dying man''s energy, weaving it into a protective barrier around himself and the remnants of his failed ritual circle.


    He would use his own life force now, twisting and cross-wiring the arcane energies of the circle. He would unleash a cataclysmic blast, a wave of pure destructive power that would engulf Grower and everything within it.


    If he was going to be consumed by the flames of his ambition, he would drag everyone else down with him. The world had rejected him, branded him a heretic. Very well. He would give them a heretic to remember.