《New Earth》


 Prologue

    A hooded figure slouched out of a convenience store with a shopping bag, the store¡¯s bright lights spilling out onto an otherwise grey and dreary evening. They stopped, rummaging through the bag, to pull out an energy drink.


    A bus drove past, spraying water onto the curb. He watched it leave. On the back was the advertising for the newest VR console. How long had it been? He wondered as he looked up to the grey clouds. A year? No, more like one and a half. A year and a half since he¡¯d last been in a game. A year and a half since he¡¯d been fired.


    He began walking.


    ¡®Why¡¯ he asked himself, except he didn¡¯t know what he was asking about. Why was he fired? Why did it matter? Why was he living like this? Why live at all? What did this world hold for him anymore? If only he could escape, go to another world... if only.


    Another bus passed by, splashing water onto the curb. He watched the people standing inside and made a decision.


    Then, taking out his phone he purchased a single item.


    Half a year later¡­


    Kade looked at the sleek exterior of the gaming pod, the flawless polished chrome out of place in his messy apartment. His face was reflected back at him. A head with brown eyes and short flat brown hair looked back. It wasn¡¯t a remarkable face, just ordinary, or at least what he considered ordinary. He wasn¡¯t tall, or short. He didn¡¯t have much muscle, but wasn¡¯t skinny either. Worse than ordinary, he was average. His mother used to say that she loved his eyes, but the ones looking back at him now just looked tired.


    He looked around his bedroom. Clothes hid the floor and a dirty sock rested next to a bookshelf full of action figures. The only place in the room that was free was around his VR gaming console, a little nest surrounded by empty chip packets.


    He glanced towards the user manual on his bed, wondering if there was anything he needed to touch up on. He¡¯d skimmed it briefly. Most of it was just the usual warnings for VR games. Things like players not having to go to the toilet in-game and still needing sleep and stuff like that. Since not much changed between different capsules, he hadn¡¯t paid much attention.


    The only thing differing the manual from any other was the front cover. His gaze rested upon it for a moment, the name of the newest VR game printed in an elegant gold font:


    <u>New Earth</u>


    The game and the capsule were supposedly the accumulation of decades of cutting-edge neuroscience and it was the first virtual full dive technology that promised a full replication of all the senses.


    Working on the principle of deep sleep, the technology would allow for longer game time immersion, while offering a time dilation of up to four times. To further increase player game time, the capsule also had an inbuilt nutrition delivery system. A simple set of nutrition pods, which would sustain the immersed player.


    Kade ran a hand through his hair, admiring the capsule. He had pre-ordered it nearly a half a year ago on that overcast day, but due to demand, it had only arrived yesterday. The game had already been online nearly two weeks now, so two months in game. Professional gamers and game companies had had the chance to ordered capsules from a limited stock of 1000 capsules, before they were available to the public. But he wasn¡¯t a professional gamer, at least not anymore.


    Stripping down to his boxers he opened the capsule and lay down, the gel lining embracing him. As he pulled the lid closed, he glanced around his room one last time, his eyes landing on a picture of his late parents. Then the lid closed and everything went black.


    Black, that was it. No sight, no sound, no feeling. Kade had expected to feel claustrophobia at being trapped in the small space of the game capsule, but it took him a moment to realise that he was no longer in the silver pod. His surroundings were vast, there wasn¡¯t any other word for it. Despite not being able to see he could feel the seemingly endless space. He tried raising a hand to look at it, then realised that he couldn¡¯t. Not because it was pitch black, but because he didn¡¯t have one. Trying to look down in panic he realised that it was just as impossible. He completely lacked a body.


    He realised that he probably should have read through the manual a bit better, as he mentally licking his lips. He used his non-existent voice box to call out into the void, ¡°HELLO?¡± The word seemed to stretch on, before finally being lost in the distance. Or maybe he hadn¡¯t actually called out and it was all still in his mind. Either way, there was no reply.


    However, as if his words had triggered something, golden flecks of light began to converge from nothingness, like thousands of fireflies coming together in single purpose. Together they formed into large ostentatious gold writing, spelling out two words:


    <u>New Earth</u>


    Then, black began to fade into grey and finally white, as the writing burst apart like fireworks, shooting stars in an endless void.


    When he checked again, he found himself in a familiar space; a stereotypical white room. It was better known as ¡®The Waiting Room¡¯ by players. VR Game companies called it the character creation room.


    Kade felt something bubbling up that he hadn¡¯t felt in a long time. He knew the feeling. It was excitement. The blank room! This room marked the beginning of every new adventure.


    Kade was excited. Despite having left the professional stage for nearly two years now he felt his gamer¡¯s blood boil. There was nothing more exciting for him than creating a new character. The developers of the game had disclosed very little to the public, simply announcing that the game would be a one of a kind, a new frontier for mankind, hence the name; New Earth.


    He had avoided most of the posted videos by players and had forced himself not to look at the game forums. He wanted to keep everything a surprise. But from what little he did watch, from programmers to vloggers and everybody else with a capsule nobody had posted a video of this room. It was a total mystery.


    The pristine white wall brought up an unwanted memory, of marketing and PR managers speaking to him in game, telling him what choices to make and how to style his character. He shoved it down.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    A polite cough from behind him drew him out of his reverie, causing Kade to whirl around, startled. He had not expected anyone else to be here. Briefly he wondered if he could hold a conversation with another person. It had been far too long since his last conversation, not that he minded.


    As he turned, in some dim part of his mind, he registered that he had a body to turn with.


    ¡°Welcome¡± said a female voice and he saw a secretary staring back at him. ¡°I believe you find this form comfortable¡­ yes?¡±.


    Kade nodded. He¡¯d never been good with the no-nonsense business types. Dressed in a from fitting black business suit and skirt, she certainly looked the part. The glasses on her nose only added to the look. Generally, he avoided those types. They were good for keeping things on track, but that was about it.


    Azrael raised his gaze to look into her eyes. They were blue, framed by a professional blond bob. Just because he hadn¡¯t spoken to anyone in¡­ forever, didn¡¯t mean he didn¡¯t mean he was going do back down.


    The secretary cleared her throat once again to catch his attention, before conjuring a small coffee table and two generic chairs. It seemed she acted as down to business as she looked.


    He sat down and she handed him a touchpad. He looked at it. It was the terms and conditions.


    Frankly, the next few minutes were his least favourite part in starting new games; the terms and conditions. He just wanted to start on his character. With a flick of his finger he scrolled down to the bottom, where he signed. The game companies always had the same things.


    The secretary raised an eyebrow looking at him. He shrugged. Whether he read it or not didn¡¯t change the fact that he had to sign it if he wanted to play.


    Accepting back the touchpad she swiped her hand across the coffee table and a naked holographic figure floated in front of him.


    He froze. It was a perfect model of him. He checked the figure¡¯s left eyebrow, and sure enough there was a small scar, from when he had tripped and fallen as a ten-year-old.


    The secretary began to speak. He hadn¡¯t even been sure that she¡¯d been capable of speech. It was so humanlike that he suspected the secretary was a real person, instead of an AI, but it wouldn¡¯t make sense to hire people for an automated job.


    She answered his silent question.


    ¡°The capsule provides us with a full body scan for better character handling and monitoring of player vitals¡± she stated.


    He looked at her and shivered. It was creepy how she could tell what he was thinking. ¡°Your mind is linked to the device¡± she said ¡°It was in the terms and conditions.¡±


    He could have face palmed. Of course, a device which worked based of his thoughts could read them. It was still creepy though. Actually, so was a lady staring at his naked body, even if he wasn¡¯t in it. He looked back to the avatar himself, or at least his floating avatar and wondered how much he could change.


    ¡°Twenty percent¡±, she stated, and he turned to glare at her. People should mind their own business and she really needed to stop reading his mind. He decided to just ignore her and started to play around with the settings, trying on different looks.


    Once again, he affirmed that his features were the epitome of ordinary. Flat brown hair, brown eyes and skin that was neither tanned, nor pale, always seemingly stuck in between. Then there was his height. He wasn¡¯t tall, or short, just average.


    He returned to fiddling with his avatar, trying to change that. A small bar appeared as he did so, showing him when he was exceeding the 20%.


    In the end he got so annoyed trying to work with the percentages that he asked the secretary to pull his character from his first VR game. His character was pulled up and conformed to the twenty percent limit. He tweaked a few things that didn¡¯t seem to fit.


    In the end he settled with an avatar of a slightly taller height of around one eighty, with tanned skin.


    The tweaking had given his game character a well-defined jaw, making him look extremely intimidating when scowling, but which softened when he smiled. His hair, unchanged, was wavy raven black and tied back (his natural hair was flat as could be, and didn¡¯t look good any other way than short).


    Re-checking his character he sighed, he really wanted to add more muscle to his character, but he had needed to sacrifice that for the little extra height. Glancing at his bar he noticed that it still had 1% left, so he edited his eye colour to gold. Not the metallic sort of gold, but the fiery molten gold of a burning sunset.


    It was an edgy character if he¡¯d ever seen one, but he¡¯d gone through a phase back then. He might have been able to change it more, but the character was as much him as the real him; a trusty partner in all of his games.


    Satisfied, he stepped back to admire his work. He turned to the secretary.


    ¡°Please choose a username name¡± she said bored, without even looking up from her clipboard.


    ¡°As in the name I¡¯ll use in-game?¡±


    ¡°No, the username is strictly for you¡¯re the registration of your account. In game you may choose call yourself whatever you wish.


    ¡°K.Evans¡±


    ¡°Accepted, now please choose a character name¡± she said still bored. He couldn¡¯t really blame her though. To be fair he had spent nearly an hour to design his character (and that was before he¡¯d asked her to call up his old character).


    ¡°Cain¡± he said, before raising his hand forestalling her ¡°No, wait¡±.


    He scratched his head. Cain had been the name he had used previously, during his rise in the gaming world. It meant ¡®trouble¡¯ in old English, something that others claimed he caused, but rather seemed to find him more often than he sought it.


    He wasn¡¯t searching for trouble this time. This was his chance to start over.


    ¡°Azrael¡± he said finally. It seemed fitting. He wasn¡¯t religious, but Azrael was a biblical figure known as the archangel of death. Cain was dead, no more, leaving behind only Azrael. However he would rise from the ashes again like a phoenix. It was time for a new him.


    Accepting his name, the secretary nodded, handing him her clipboard with various bits of information on it. To him it looked almost like a questionnaire. He quickly scanned over the page. He¡¯d learnt his lesson about not reading documents.


    At the top of the page, under the name AZRAEL were a series of questions, while the bottom was covered with a partially completed map. Going back to the top he read the questions.


    The entire thing was only asking for his consent for various in game permissions. These included pain, adult content and explicit violence amongst other things.


    He knew that a few of those things raised a lot of controversy amongst the media and online communities. However, many of the game makers defended themselves that the people who played the games with those settings had consented of their own volition. Other argued that it was better in-game than out. He really didn¡¯t care.


    Lastly, he checked the map at the bottom. Written above it in bold letters were the words


    ¡°Known World¡±.


    He looked over the map. A grid was overlayed over two rings of mountains that encompassed the vast lands on the map. The map showed lakes, forests and mountains with great detail, as if he was looking down from a high altitude. The rest of the map, which Azrael assumed were still undiscovered was hidden in a grey mist. This included everything outside the outer ring and a fair bit between the inner and outer ring of mountains.


    He was impressed. While the map was currently small, comparative to earth, it was still a phenomenal size considering it had only been explored in two months in-game time. For a moment Azrael hesitated in choosing his starting location, before selecting a box in the furthest North-western corner. His reasoning was that most players would have chosen to start somewhere near the center. And if there was one thing Azrael wanted to avoid it was people.


    People couldn¡¯t be trusted, not anymore, not after what had happened to him. That was also one of the reasons why he played games. People always wanted something from you, or hid their true intentions behind pretty words, NPCs didn¡¯t. NPCs issued quests and you either completed it, or you didn¡¯t. You could gain favour, or lose it, but it was black and white. An NPC with high favourability was unlikely to stab you in the back.


    He handed back the clipboard and the secretary gave it a quick glance before looking up at him.


    ¡°Welcome Azrael¡± she said, as Azrael stepped back into the gaming world once again.


    ¡°Starting submersion¡± a robotic voice stated, as he slipped out of consciousness.


    ¡°Commencing neural configurations.¡±


    Briefly Azrael wondered if he should¡¯ve read the terms and conditions more thouroughly, as the world went black for the second time that day.

 Chapter 1

    The sun smiled warmly on Azrael¡¯s face, a warm breeze gently blowing across his skin. After a moment, his eyelids fluttered open to reveal golden irises and he raised a hand to block out the early sun. He smiled and began to rise to his feet, drinking in the new world around him.


    The brilliant midday sun shone down upon snow-capped mountains, their peaks piercing the sky in the west. The sky seemed far too wide and too blue to belong on Earth. He marvelled at the way that the rugged mountain peaks and cliffs became rolling hills and valleys, blanketed in emerald forests, before giving way to a prairie that stretched to the east.


    The complexity of what was presented to him was phenomenal. The ground felt real. Truly, everything seemed real! He revelled in the feel of grass, the smell of the sun on the meadow, the warmth on his face and the sound of wind whispering through the stalks of the prairie. Azrael raised his hands to the sky and gave a loud cry of joy. He felt alive again.


    It was a sense of joy that was short lived though. Trying to take his first step in this new world he immediately misjudged, his in-game avatar being taller than his real self. Azrael tumbled to the ground, grass finding his mouth, nose and eyes.


    He finally realised that he was naked, not a scrap of thread on him. For a moment he lay there, shocked. Then, he began to curse the developers.


    Who built a game without avatar stabilisers? Actually, which sadistic maniac designed a multiplayer game where everyone started off ? As he calmed down, rational thought slowly began to filter through again. Maybe there was something that he was forgetting? What was it?


    ¡°Status¡± he said¡­ nothing.


    ¡°Controls, System, Inventory¡­¡± Still nothing.


    ¡°Oi, secretary lady! You there?¡± he called out into wide grass lands.


    Truthfully, he hadn¡¯t expected a reply, so when she answered straight into his head he jumped from fright.


    ¡°I¡¯m always here¡± she answered, and he could feel her discreetly rolling her eyes at him ¡°I can see and feel everything you do. Since I¡¯m made from your own thoughts, I¡¯m technically living inside of your brain now¡±.


    ¡°Great, just great¡± he grumbled to himself, before addressing her again. ¡°How do I open my menus?¡± he asked.


    ¡°You can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t. There are no menus.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember reading that anywhere!¡± he exclaimed frustrated.


    ¡°It was in the user manual.¡±


    ¡°No it wasn¡¯t! I read it.¡±


    He could feel her sigh ¡°You skimmed it. I¡¯m in your brain, you can¡¯t lie to me.¡±


    ¡°Fine! how do I open my menus?¡± he asked again.


    ¡°I just said you don¡¯t¡± she stressed.


    ¡®Of course, a game that doesn¡¯t have avatar stabilisers forgets to put in menus¡¯ he thought.


    ¡°I can still hear your thoughts¡± said the secretary ¡°I¡¯m in your brain, and they didn¡¯t forget them¡±


    He just ignored the comment.


    ¡°How am I supposed to carry stuff without an inventory?¡± he asked.


    ¡°With a bag¡±


    ¡°What about stats?¡±


    ¡°You practice. If you want to get strong, chop some trees, or if you want to get faster, go run. If you want to be a wizard, go study and if you want to raise your health, let some mobs hit you.¡±


    He sighed. The developers weren¡¯t kidding when they said ¡°a whole new realistic world¡±. It would stop people from minmaxing and he was sure theorycrafters were going to have a fit.


    ¡°What about skills?¡± he asked. ¡°If I want to be a blacksmith, for example, do I just have to go and make a bunch of iron daggers over and over to level up my blacksmithing? Do skills even have levels? Wait, how do skills work if we don¡¯t know which ones we have?¡±


    ¡°So many questions¡± she sighed again ¡°There are stats and skills, but they¡¯re all hidden and managed by the system. Every single player has their own assistant, like me for you, to manage their avatars. If you¡¯re doing things to increase your strength, the system will increase your strength! If you train your speed by running a lot, we¡¯ll make you faster and give you more endurance. If you fight with one-handed weapons all the time, then you''ll gain a skill that increases your ability to fight with one-handed weapons that will rank up whenever you meet the criteria for it. You just won¡¯t know what skills you have, and you won¡¯t know how to increase them. The only way for you to find these things out is by playing and communicating with other players.¡±


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    By now her voice level began to rise a bit ¡°Trust me, you¡¯ll notice the differences as you play. Just do whatever you want. There are skills for everything from walking to fighting, from eating to crafting, and from holding your breath to climbing mountains! It¡¯s just like real life. The more you do something, the better you get at it no matter what it is.¡±


    She took a deep breath at the end of her tirade and he physically felt her leave. It seemed she had said her piece and wanted him to get going.


    Azrael snorted. No player help, no clothes and now no status panel. When he got out of here, he was going to write a serious complaint to the developers. For now, he had a more pressing problem. He really needed to get that walking skill!


    The next few minutes were spent learning how to walk again (and yes, it involved a lot of falling). Azrael was glad that there was nobody around to bear witness and wondered if that was one of the reasons why the first gamers in didn¡¯t post their first few minutes in game (that and being naked). Eventually, after a few more minutes practice, he could jog at a decent pace without falling over. Due to all his unfortunate encounters with the ground Azrael realised that everything was far more realistic than he had originally thought. Instead of phasing through grass, his hands actually interacted with the individual strands of grass, feeling their exact texture. Even getting a mouthful of dirt was as gritty as it was in real life, his teeth crunching on the grains of sand. Once able to move again, he headed towards the mountains.


    It was evening by the time Azrael reached the forest at the base of the foothills. Even though he had kept his rest breaks along the walk short, going had been slow. The deceptively flat prairie had dips and rises hidden under the grass, like rolling waves in an ocean. One minute he would be on top of a ridge and the next shoulder deep in long grass.


    With herds of potentially dangerous bison creatures suddenly appearing in dips, or on ridges, he was forced to make detours around them. Coupled with the abysmally weak body of his avatar he took the better part of the day to reach the forest.


    However, even now the mountains seemed no larger than they had earlier in the day. The only positive was that he was no longer completely naked. During his rest breaks he had taken the chance to weave some of the grasses together into a rough skirt. He felt like a Hawaiian dancer. All that he needed to complete the get-up was a flower necklace, then he would look the part. Truthfully, the skirt was pretty abysmal, but it felt better wearing something. Even if he had to pretend it made a difference.


    The most interesting part of his journey through the prairie happened while he was weaving the grass skirt together. As he had been weaving the strands together, he had felt something ¡®click¡¯ inside of him, like a displaced cog falling back perfectly into position. He had felt his movements become smoother and more natural.


    The only assumption he could make was that he had learnt his first skill; a weaving skill. As much as he would have loved to stay there and experiment, he wanted to reach the forest as soon as possible. Who knew what silent hunters stalked between the grasses at night.


    Azrael arrived at the edge of the forest near sundown. He was hungry, exhausted, and dehydrated. The grassy scents of the plain shifting to the earthier smell of forest. Despite the time it took him to cross the prairie to here, he calculated that barely two hours had passed in the real world.


    He was about to sit down for a rest, when he stopped himself. If he stopped now he knew that he wouldn¡¯t be able to continue. Instead, he let gaming experience take over.


    Inventory? ¨C none,


    items? ¨C grass skirt,


    food? ¨C none,


    water? ¨C none,


    shelter? ¨C none,


    weapons? ¨C none.


    Yep, it was definitely the beginning of a new game. He looked around, picking up a relatively straight branch. Standing upright the branch just came up to chin height and was mostly devoid of any knobs, or smaller branches. It would make for a decent staff.


    With staff in hand, he amended his previous list.


    Weapon? ¨C wooden staff.


    Now what he needed was water, shelter, and food ¨C preferably in that order. Looking back at the plains one last time, Azrael headed into the forest. He held a hand up, checking the suns position, and judged he had a little over an hour of sunlight left.


    Amongst the foliage, the forest was teeming with life. Bushes hugged trees, while flowers and grasses forced their way out from under the leaf littered floor. Small insects hovered in groups in the warm evening air and the ground had been overturned by wildlife in search of food.


    Azrael pressed on, heading roughly north west into the forest, in line somewhere between the plains and the mountains. His reasoning was that if there was melt water it would flow to the lowlands. Also, despite the map on the clipboard being a bit vague in his memory, he clearly remembered that the ocean was in the north. Water flowed downhill; rivers flowed to the ocean.


    Azrael forced himself through the dense undergrowth, amazed at the number of different plants. Their variety and textures were just like in the real world.


    He was so lost in admiring the plants that he tripped over an exposed root, hitting his head on a tree. He fell to the ground, managing to avoid face planting and lay there, listening to the blood rushing through his ears.


    Lying there he waited for it to subside, until he realised that it wasn¡¯t his blood, but something else causing the sound. Scrambling to his feet he picked up his staff and forged onwards towards the sound.


    As he got closer the sound became louder and deeper, until it became veritable thunder. Pushing his way through a thicket of bushes he suddenly found himself in a clearing in front of a massive lake.


    In front of him, nestled at the end of a U shaped valley, was a massive waterfall. Several tonnes of water tore down the towering cliff with unimaginable force, falling hundreds of meters into an equally large lake. A river led out of the other side, meandering east.


    Where waterfall and lake met an impenetrable layer of mist, shimmering with ethereal rainbows, was thrown into the air.


    Reverently he walked to the lake side and knelt, before starting to take large gulps of water. As he did so he observed the view before him.


    The valley itself seemed to represent the end of the world, with the waterfall and mountains baring his way on three sides, and only one exit to the valley facing east. Back the way he had come, on the east side the lake lazily unfurled itself into a river, meandering east out of the valley, before turning north towards the ocean. Azrael sat back, enjoying the scene.


    He dipped his feet into the cold water, letting it sooth his tortured feet, while curious fish came to nibble on his toes. Food, water and best of all, no people. It was paradise and it was his new home.

 Chapter 2

    As darkness began to fall Azrael started walking west, along the lake side. His hope was that he would be able to find a place at the base of the cliff to spend the night at.


    Already in the falling twilight he could hear night prowlers beginning to wake, for their moonlight hunts. Grunts, hoots and howls filtered through the forest and he held his staff tighter.


    Azrael headed west, the sound of the waterfall soon overpowering all else. He wasn¡¯t sure what types of creatures were out , flitting through the night filled forest, but he was sure he would feel safer with a at his back.


    Something seemed to flicker in the shadow to his left, causing him to whirl around. He stood there, tense moments passing, his staff at the ready, but nothing moved.


    Everything was silent, except for the thunder of the waterfall and the pounding of his own heart. He continued onwards, staff raised and at the ready against his invisible enemies, phantoms between the trees, real or imagined. A deadly game of hide and seek.


    Impossibly tense and paranoid, Azrael turned to face a flickering shadow and suddenly backed into something. Barely suppressing a scream, he whirled around to face his unknown opponent. He spun, his staff already coming in for the strike, only to find the solid stone of the cliff face. He stood there blankly, looking for something, but not sure what. He hadn¡¯t planned that far. Then, there, nearly two meters above him he saw it, a ledge.


    In his periphery he thought he saw a shadow move and whirled back around, but there was only trees, darkness and silence.


    Was he worrying too much he wondered? Was he imagining the danger? A slight flicker between two bushes drew his eyes and he thought he saw something glint in the light of the rising moon. Fuelled by adrenaline he hurriedly turned back to the cliff and began to climb.


    Sharp rock ledges cut into his fingers and bare feet and the staff in his hand didn¡¯t make the climbing easier, but he pressed on.


    Just as he was about to reach the ledge, a foothold gave way causing him to slip. In a sudden desperate scrabble to save himself, he dropped his staff. It fell to the ground and he quickly pulled himself up onto the ledge.


    For a moment he sat there, his whole body shaking from the sudden shock and subsequent rush of adrenaline. He looked down to check on his weapon, just as a creature detached itself from the shadows.


    The wolf emerged from the dark trees, its silken black fur moving as if caught in an invisible wind. Azrael watched in abject horror as it stalked towards him, its fur seeming to give it the appearance of a wraith wrapped in shadows. For a moment it stood still, sniffing the air, before turning its gaze upwards, directly at him.


    Azrael moved backwards, wanting to press himself up against the cliff face, to create as much distance between himself and the wolf. He was caught off guard, when instead of solid rock, his back met empty air. Falling backwards, onto his rear, Azrael found himself at the mouth of a small cave. The previously four hands breadths of space of the ledge, suddenly becoming the entrance to a previously unnoticed cave.


    The sound of claws scrabbling against stone brought him back to his situation and after a moment of searching his hands found a small boulder. Moving it to the edge he waited for the wolf to try scaling the cliff again.


    The wolf soon obliged, rushing up towards him, its snapping jaws far too close for comfort, before falling down again as its paws failed to find suitable purchase. As it was on its way down, he pushed the boulder after it.


    The wolf nimbly evaded, barely managing to avoid a lethal blow to the skull. It drew back and began warily circling the base of the cliff, while eyeing him.


    Angry and scared, Azrael found another smaller stone, which he threw at the wolf. It sidestepped the projectile with only minimum effort. Seeing him without a weapon, the wolf launched itself up again, only for him to find and throw another stone.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    This went on throughout the night, an endless game of hunter and hunted. It toyed with him, attacking, then drawing away again. Other times it vanished into the shadows, making him guess whether it was still watching, or had left. Anxiety and doubt ate away at him, until it returned, just as he believed that it had finally left for good.


    It was only in the early hours of dawn when something changed. The wolf appeared from the trees, having been gone for almost an hour. An excruciatingly long hour of fear, anxiety and torment.


    In the meantime, Azrael had found a large stone at the back of the cave and placed it on the edge of the ledge by his feet. The wolf seeing him without a weapon again tried to scramble up. This time he pushed the rock off with his foot, just as the wolf reached the apex of its assault.


    They both tumbled down, the stone following the wolf. It smashed into the left side of its skull, crushing its eye. It howled in pain, as blood began to pour out of its blinded eye.


    Azrael could hear it in its howl, the rage and pain of a proud hunter that had never known defeat. Then the howl ended, along with a deadly promise of vengeance. It turned its one good eye onto him balefully, before vanishing into the forest.


    Azrael watched it leave, but it was only when the first morning birds sang that Azrael realised it had actually left, at least for now. He slumped to the stone floor, as the adrenaline left him. His relieved laughter rang through the cave. He had survived his first night.


    It was mid-morning when Azrael woke. His whole body was stiff from having to sleep on the hard stone of the cave floor. He pushed himself into an upright position and groaned as flashes of yesterday flashed through his memory. The forest, the waterfall, the shadow wolf.


    ¡°Gods¡± he said out loud, as he ran a hand through his mess of hair ¡°they really did mean realistic¡±.


    In terms of terror the wolf was nothing. He¡¯d faced monster hordes and aliens from deep space, but it was still a new situation for him. Other games had safety zones or tutorials for starter players, allowing them to grow and learn, before throwing them into the game. That had meant that he¡¯d been prepared with magic and arcane spells, or space cruisers and ray guns. Sure, he¡¯d been in impossible situations where he¡¯d been vastly outnumbered and outmatched, but he¡¯d been prepared. Here? He had nothing.


    Azrael got up and walked to the edge of the cave, where he looked down. Stones of many sizes littered the ground where he had thrown them, some having smashed after impact, leaving dangerous shards across the battlefield. In one spot, dried drops of blood from the beast¡¯s wound splattered the ground. It truly looked like a mini warzone. Surprisingly, despite all of that, his staff lay undamaged at the cliff base.


    Azrael was about to climb down and retrieve his staff when he realised that he hadn¡¯t actually had a good look at the cave that had saved his life. It was relatively small, barely tall enough to stand in and his hands could almost reach both sides. Its length was nothing special either, barely four or so meters long. It was not somewhere he would have chosen, but it had reliably kept him safe for one night. And it was better than all other non-existent options. His curiosity sated, he scaled down the cliff.


    Once on the ground, he picked up his staff. After his battle with the wolf a simple bit of wood didn¡¯t seem like a very reliable weapon. His weapon was overdue for an upgrade. He looked down at his grass skirt which was falling apart. It seemed his weapon wasn¡¯t the only thing overdue for an overhaul.


    Finding a larger stone shard Azrael started upgrading his staff to a spear.


    He began by carving a notch at the top of his staff to nestle the stone shard into. Searching the edge of the forest he found some form of vine, which he used to tightly bind the stone spearhead into the notch. When the vines dried, they would contract pulling taut and hopefully holding the spearhead in place.


    As he worked, he felt something, some unknown sort of pressure, growing as he worked. However, when he looked up he could see nothing out of the ordinary. Dismissing it he finished by tying off the bindings.


    He held the spear up to examine his work and felt something ¡®click¡¯ again, the unknown pressure disappearing, like a gear falling into place. He looked down at his spear and instinctively knew that if he were to try again he would be able to make a better one. He assumed that was him gaining a skill and was about to call his virtual assistant to check, when he stopped himself.


    He had purposely chosen his starting point to be as far away from people as possible. Unlike other games his assistant was advanced enough to count as such. For better, or for worse, she counted as an intelligent identity, and as such, he resolved to have as little to do with her as possible. Anything that could think meant another problem for him, whether that was humans, NPCs, or AIs.


    Instead, he settled his urge. He would work it out on his own.


    He looked at the spear for a moment, wondering if he should remake it. Any improvement that could be gained from redoing it would be minimal, but even a small advantage would still be an advantage. Sighing, he sat down and redid it, until he was satisfied. Then, he used it to help himself stand up.


    He hefted his spear in one hand, testing its balance. Taking a mock combat stance, he wondered what he could test it on, when his stomach grumbled. His mouth split into a grin. He knew exactly where to start.

 Chapter 3

    Azrael¡¯s spear cut through the crystal-clear waters of the lake, narrowly missing a fish. It darted away in a sudden burst of speed. This was the ninth fish that had managed to avoid his spear so far, the rest simply swimming about, blatantly teasing him. If he didn¡¯t know better he would have suspected illusion magic was at play. There was definitely no way that he was really that bad.


    Wading into the water he retrieved his spear, and another fish lazily swam by taunting him. Raising his spear in anger he aimed and threw, the fish somehow dodging and swimming away. Frustrated, Azrael watched it escape. He could have sworn it had just thrown a smirk at him. The fish was laughing! The fish was laughing at him! Accepting the challenge Azrael retrieved his spear once more, ready to wreck vengeance on all things fishy in this lake.


    Touching the wet spear haft, he experienced a sudden bout of disorientation, as knowledge suddenly flooded into his brain, along with the familiar feeling of something fitting into place. Briefly he wondered if experiences that he gained here would convert into the real world, or if skills were simply the system guiding him.


    A glint of light flashed off a fish¡¯s scales, catching his eye. He broke off his line of thought, readying his next throw.


    This time as he raised the spear he felt something tugging at the edge of his consciousness. He mentally relaxed, letting the system guide him. His movements became sharper and cleaner, like a train moving along tracks.


    Loose shoulders, wide stance, slowly lift the spear up and¡­ throw! The spear entered the water, seemingly too far below the fish, but as he lifted it out of the water, he found the scaly fiend skewered on the point. He raised it to the heavens in a victory pose. None dare mock the mighty hunter!


    From that minute onwards on Azrael spent enacted his promised vengeance upon the local fish population. Five, six¡­ seven fish fell prey to his mighty blade¡­ that was until the bindings of his spearhead fell off. Taking that as his cue that he had claimed his rightful due, he collected the broken spear head and returned to the shore. Here he scaled, gutted and cleaned his fish, using the broken blade of his spear. Wrapping some leaves around the fish he headed off homewards.


    Nearly an hour later Azrael sat inside his cave, his fish skewered over the crackling flames. He¡¯d spent the better part of the time gathering wood, before making the fire, or trying to at least. It had taken him nearly ten minutes to coax the first flames.


    Where was a modern firelighter when you needed one? Or a well-placed magic fireball for that matter. Picking up one of the fish he grumbled, they really made it look too easy in the survival videos he¡¯d watched.


    Holding onto the fish skewer he looked behind him, checking a small wood pile. There was enough wood there to last him through the night¡­ he hoped. On the other side of the cave was a pile of stones. These he had retrieved from the base of the cliff. Light, warmth, and ammo. If the wolf came back, he was going to need it tonight.


    Absentmindedly he bit into the fish, spluttering and spitting the piece out because it was too hot. Blowing on the fish to cool it down, he shook his head amazed. They could even replicate something like that in a game. It was simply amazing.


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    For a while he simply sat there, eating his fish and watching the flames, until the steadily reddening clouds heralded the night.


    Azrael logically knew he couldn¡¯t go on like this. He was fighting for survival by himself with no plan and no proper preparation. Despite shunning people, he missed sharing these first few moments with others. The triumphs over the small things like catching a fish, or lighting a fire, or even just finding a safe place to spend the first night.


    He remembered starting a game with his old guild before he became a pro gamer, where they had struggled to survive on an alien planet, not knowing what was edible, or which creatures shared the planet with them. Or later when he left them after being scouted as a main player for Holy Empire and¡­ his gaze turned cold.


    It was a range of thoughts best left alone. They were done. He held no connection with any of them anymore. He¡¯d abandoned his friends for Holy Empire and he wasn¡¯t in a position to seek Holy Empire out for revenge either. However, if they dared show themselves in this game¡­ A chilling howl cut through the dusk, drawing him out from his line of thoughts. It was a reminder that enemies carried both the skins of men and beasts.


    Picking himself up from his spot by the fire he collected his repaired spear and walked to the cave entrance. From here he kept watch on the forest, until a shadowy figure revealed itself.


    It emerged from the bushes and just stood there, one eye crusted with blood, the other hungry and vengeful. He tried to suppress the excitement welling up from a dark place inside of him, but despite his best efforts a grin crept up onto his face. Tonight their rivalry was going to end, one way or another.


    The wolf seemed to sense his resolve and warily trotted out of the bushes, revealing itself, but never truly leaving the line of trees. He gazed at it and it gazed back, the wolf¡¯s good eye glinting hungrily. Azrael frowned. It irked him that despite their previous encounter the wolf still viewed him as prey; dangerous prey, but prey none the less. A mere beast looked down at him. First the fish, now the wolf. Inside of him Azrael felt something snap. He thought he¡¯d lost his pride ages ago, but apparently not.


    He had faced armies and eldritch horrors. The wolf should be afraid of him, not view him as food! Annoyed Azrael picked up one of the smaller stones and threw it at the beast. The wolf simply slipped back into the safety of the trees, the stone harmlessly bouncing of a tree trunk.


    As the stone hit the ground the wolf trotted out again, giving him a lazy yawn. Azrael hefted a new rock. It seemed someone was begging to be taught a lesson.


    This interplay repeated itself several times. It would emerge, baiting him, just out of reach, taunting him. However, when he threw a stone, it would slip back into the shadowed protection of the trees, only to emerge anew. An endless game of attrition. Him unwilling to go down and it unable to come up. Something had to change.


    Unfortunately, the something that changed was Azrael running out of rocks. For a good minute he stood there denying that realisation. He should have had enough. He should have hit the wolf at least once!


    His opponent likewise seemed to have noted the lack of sailing projectiles and tentatively walked out of the woods. It hesitated for a moment, uncertain, waiting for a trap - another stone, but when none was forth coming, it turned seemed to smile at Azrael. Gloating, it strutted along the edge of his cliff.


    It was in that moment that Azrael¡¯s last bit of patience seemed to burn away. Here he was, cornered by an animal in a damn game. Not a scary one, not a big one, but a wolf. A wolf! A god-damn overgrown mutt! He¡¯d faced powerful undead liches, alien armies and blood cultists and now here he was cowering from an oversized puppy! An. Over. Grown. GOD. DAMN. PUPPY!


    Thinking of Holy Empire earlier had put him in a bad mood and with his vision positively glowing red he launched himself at the wolf, his spear tight in his grasp. It was time blow off some steam and show this literal son of a bitch who was boss.

 Chapter 4

    Azrael landed on top of the wolf, catching it off guard with his suicidal manoeuvre. His spear piercing deeply into the beast¡¯s hide, biting in just behind its left shoulder. It howled in pain, twisting its muscular body to shake him off.


    Caught off guard by its sudden movement, he was sent flying to the ground. In his hand he still grasped the shaft of his spear, the spear head missing, buried deep in the wolf¡¯s shoulder.


    For a moment the whole world spun as his head hit the ground. Rapidly blinking he managed to regain his sight just in time to barely avoid the wolf¡¯s incoming jaws.


    Avoiding another attack, he hastily scrabbled up to retaliated with his spear haft, managing to land a glancing blow across the side of its head.


    It was a victory that was short lived, as he had to jump away when one of its paws came around to swipe at him.


    He swung the spear haft again and it retreated back a step; far enough to be out of range of his stick, but close enough to lunge at him should he drop his guard.


    They circled each other, man and beast; hunted and hunter. Except this time, the wolf had found the wrong prey.


    Azrael observed his opponent as they circled each other. Now that he was down on the ground, it was a lot larger than he had realised. It had looked far smaller from the safety of his cave. Now down here he saw that wolf almost came up to his waist. Blood flowed out of its wounds, covering its left shoulder and he noticed it distinctly favouring its front left leg.


    He was so busy observing it that he failed to notice when it lunged at him, barely managing to get the stick between him and its jaws. Struggling against its strength and weight he missed a claw rushing towards him. It was only in the last second that he noticed the flicker of movement.


    Instinctively he twisted his body, but the claws still raked across his chest, drawing blood. Off balance from his own sudden movement and the extra force from the claw, he toppled backwards. The wolf pressed to its own advantage and forced him down with its weight.


    They were locked in an impasse. Azrael could neither move, nor attack without fear of retaliation and the wolf could neither attack, nor shift, without giving him a chance to launch a counterattack.


    Instead, they pitted themselves against each other in a battle of strength. The wolf pressing down and Azrael pressing up. It was inevitable that someone, or something, had to give.


    As it turned out that ¡®something¡¯ was Azrael¡¯s spear shaft. Unable to stand against the wolf¡¯s weight and jaw strength it burst into a flurry of sharp splinters. Despite the shock from losing his only protection Azrael hoped the wolf got splinters in its mouth.


    In a daze Azrael looked up, each detail in hyper focus and the wolf looked down, its one good eye glaring at him balefully. Almost deliriously he smiled, maybe it did get splinters? He tried to rise, but it pinned him down with a paw and opened its maw, exposing its cavernous mouth and rows of sharp teeth. Yep, definitely splinters.


    A string of saliva dropped down onto his cheek and despite his perilous situation he wrinkled his nose in disgust as its breath rolled over him. It had obviously never heard of oral hygiene.


    Despite his shock, some instinctive and primal part of him still seemed to struggle for survival, straining against its weight, trying to shake it off, but to no avail.


    The wolf ignored his flailing fists, barely even flinching. Then, just as the jaws were about to close around his throat, his hands found something.


    A big rock smashed into the wolf¡¯s skull, sending it staggering off to one side, stunned. Keeping his grip on the rock, he bashed it over and over again letting some dark primeval instinct take over, causing any intelligent thoughts to flee. There was only him and the wolf, and the rock - striking again and again.


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    Eventually he stopped, the overload of adrenaline leaving his system. He sagged and the rock slipped out of his hands, to fall on the ground with a dull thud. Blankly, he looked at the bloodied skull, the blood and the gore splattered across the ground, covering his hands.


    Even in all the carnage, Azrael found his face sporting a tired grin.


    ¡°You need mints¡± he said to the dead corpse with a delirious giggle, before passing out on top of it. To him, at that moment, it was the funniest thing in the world.


    The midday sun shone down on Azrael as he woke, the too bright light lancing through his eyes. Groggily he held up a hand to block out the light, only to find that his hand was covered in dry blood.


    ¡®Blood?¡¯ he wondered. Did he hurt himself? He licked his dry lips, his mouth parched. Water. He needed water.


    He pushed himself up, only to fall face down into something soft. Blankly he lay there. It was silky, like the fur of your favourite dog; not that he¡¯d ever had one. His eyes closed again, his head falling down as he nodded off. No. He pushed himself up again. He needed water.


    It was only when he was standing, looking down at the beaten corpse of the wolf that he remembered what had transpired the previous night. The wolf, the fight, the final moments. He stumbled to a nearby bush and dry heaved. Luckily, he hadn¡¯t had enough to eat in the last day, so there wasn¡¯t anything for him to heave up.


    Leaving the dead wolf where it lay he stumbled through the forest towards the lake, following the sound of the waterfall. The pounding of water mirrored the pounding in his head, constant and far too loud. The trip to the lake was far more exhausting than it had any right to be, but fortunately, he reached the water¡¯s edge without incident.


    As he went in for a sip he slipped, unable to keep his balance, and toppled forward, into the water. Mentally he shrugged, turning to lie on his back. After the battle he had needed a wash anyways.


    In the end he just lay there, half submerged, listening to the roar of the waterfall. The constant pounding of water, it was soothing in its own way. A constant, unstoppable force of nature. By comparison, he was weak. His spear had broken and his fists had been insufficient to even make the beast blink. There was not even anything to make a proper weapon out here in the forest.


    Oh, how he missed having his [Junk Smith] class. It was meant as a joke class in another game, but Azrael had turned out some really broken weapons with that one. Briefly he wondered if he could get a brawler class. They didn¡¯t need weapons. But it was only a passing thought. Azrael was better off without a combat class.


    When he had first started playing VR, both as a hobby and later as a way to make money, he had chosen close combat classes. There was a thrill in throwing yourself into combat, pitting yourself against impossible foes and overcoming the odds.


    However, it was a constant battlefield, fallen enemies and pools of blood (or pixels in a lot of cases). Constantly immersed in an endless struggle to survive to the next battle, the reality between worlds began to blur. The game became reality and reality became a game.


    When he¡¯d immersed himself for countless hours to earn money, he¡¯d done it in the most efficient way possible, through PvP, PvE and PK. Most of his waking hours had become combat. In the end he¡¯d lost himself, as game and reality blurred.


    He¡¯d ended up going overboard when some punks hurt his father. The worst of them ended up in hospital two months, with eight broken bones and two missing teeth. There were no repercussions. It had been declared a case of self-defence.


    After that however Azrael quit the combat classes. He quit combat. The feeling of losing himself was something he didn¡¯t want to experience again. He¡¯d felt so powerless as if watching from the outside, but at the same time it was exhilarating, intoxicating. It was dangerous. Instead, he¡¯d tried to earn money in another way, as a crafter.


    Yeah, he was better off as a crafter, the guy at the back, mooching off others for materials. It wasn¡¯t the same thrill, but he¡¯d managed. In games, for him it was no longer about being the strongest, the fastest, the most famous or even being the wealthiest player.


    Azrael¡¯s new hobby had been crafting, not the most beautiful, or the sharpest, but the most impossible. Azrael took the joke classes, the most useless skills and the most random items to attempt the craziest experiments. There was a new thrill in breaking what people deemed as ¡®impossible¡¯.


    He either sold the items for real cash or traded them for more materials. He made money and could push the limits. It was a win-win.


    The closest he¡¯d ever come to a combat role again was when he was forced to pick the [Mage] class while working for Holy Empire. He still remembered the time he¡¯d annihilated an army of nearly three thousand invading players with a magic spell. The thrill of th¡­ He broke off that line of thought, as it was replaced by another.


    With a sudden burst of energy, he pushed himself out of the water. Magic! That was it. That was the answer!


    With no proper crafting equipment to make weapons, magic was his best bet for survival. And it wasn¡¯t a close combat role, so he wasn¡¯t breaking his own promise.


    Azrael washed off, cleaning off all the dried blood, before preparing to head back to his cave. It was only when he stepped out of the water that he realised he was buck naked, again. Somewhere, he¡¯d lost his skirt.

 Chapter 5

    Arriving back at his cave, Azrael was impatient to try his hand at magic. Unfortunately, some things currently held higher priority. Namely, properly disposing of the dead wolf in front of his cave.


    He looked at the dead beast and found it too much of a waste to simply bury it. He was originally going to bury it respectfully, but¡­ His stomach growled, and he picked up sharp rock shard. It was winner takes all, in a dog-eat-dog world. He smiled at his own bad pun.


    By the time Azrael had finished butchering and dismantling the wolf it was already approaching evening, glowing streaks of orange and gold tinting the once pristine blue sky. He¡¯d managed to skin the beast, its pelt stretched taunt between two trees. It was no clean job by any measure, but he felt proud of the attempt none the less.


    Most importantly he¡¯d managed to cut away most of the edible parts of the beast, before wrapping them in leaves and burying them just outside of his cave. Burying it would keep it cool and the leaves would help keep out contaminants. Burying it held another advantage. It helped conceal the smell of blood. The last thing he needed was the smell attracting more predators.


    Separating a few bones and teeth to keep he dragged the rest waste to a hole he¡¯d dug near the lake and threw in. Then, he buried it. Hopefully it would stay there, decomposing. And on the off chance that something did dig it up, it was away from his cave.


    Now finally finished with task he clambered up into the cave, wincing as his movements stirred his abused muscles. His wounds from the battle had faded to thin scars, due to the accelerated healing of the game, but they still stung as he moved.


    Inside a small fire was going, four small skewers of wolf meat grilling over it. He turned them over. In the time it¡¯d taken to throw the rest of the wolf into the hole, they had charred slightly on one side. He shrugged. A meal was better than no meal.


    Not to get him wrong, he wasn¡¯t the kind of guy to usually eat this sort of thing, however¡­ His stomach grumbled. He was hungry and he¡¯d never tasted mutt before.


    With careful movements Azrael picked up a wolf skewer, careful not to burn his fingers. Lifting it, he almost dropped it when his hands got too close to the coals. Tentatively he took his first bite. It was hot, too hot, forcing him to hold it in his teeth while it cooled, but when it finally did, he bit in.


    He sighed. It was good. Maybe it was just because he was hungry, but it tasted good. The meat was chewy, which was really just a polite way to say it was tough. Despite that, it tasted like chicken, or lean venison, although Azrael really wished he had some salt. Salt was good. So was magic.


    Azrael tapped the suddenly empty skewer against his teeth. He was not sure how to go about it. Making a spear, sure. Building a forge to make swords, harder, but doable. Learning magic with no instructions, nor any clue how to go about it,¡­ a little less doable.


    Usually, games worked through a status system. Kill mobs, get loot, level up. Once you were high enough level you could learn skills, either by asking or getting someone to teach you, or purchasing skills with points. Azrael sighed. Not having a skill board made things so much harder. He picked up his second skewer.


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    What did he know about this world? You could feel the sun, the wind and rain. You could feel cold and heat. It was realistic.


    No. He thought back to when he wove his grass skirt and when he¡¯d made his spear. After gaining a skill he felt the system helping him, not much, but enough to slightly correct him in his tasks. That meant there was something guiding and helping the players. If you made something you gained skills and their related knowledge. He frowned. That wasn¡¯t quite right either. He polished off the second skewer and picked up the third.


    Azrael remembered gaining a skill from throwing the spear. So¡­ the system recognised effort, or action. He¡¯d probably gained a spear skill. What about intent? At that time he¡¯d gained a spear skill, which made him more accurate, instead of a tracking skill, which would have let him keep track of the fish and aim better. Why was that? Was it because the requirements were different? He frowned, and began gnawing on his final skewer. At that time he¡¯d been trying to hit the fish, not keep track of it, so he couldn¡¯t disprove the theory of intent.


    Action, effort and intent. What he did, how much he did it and what he was trying to achieve. He stood up, throwing the last skewer into the fire. The theory seemed as good as any. Now it was time to get to work.


    Azrael stood, stretching his right arm outwards, with his palm facing the cave entrance; Action.


    He tensed his muscles; Effort.


    He shouted out his intent ¡°Fireball.¡±


    Azrael stood, his open palm outstretched and pointing towards the cave entrance.


    He tried again ¡°FIREBALL¡±.


    The cave was dissatisfying quiet, only the sounds of his fire crackling on the floor.


    So far he¡¯d tried various methods, from shouting out the name of a spell to burning leaves in his fire while chanting, in the hopes of summoning an elemental. He wasn¡¯t even sure if elementals existed here. It seemed he was missing something. Maybe it was conviction? His theory of intent hadn¡¯t been disproven. No, he¡¯d really wanted that elemental. Maybe it was visualisation?


    He struck a familiar pose and began chanting ¡°KAAA-ME-HAAA-ME-HAAAAAAA!!!¡±


    He held the finishing pose. Silence, not even the cicadas were chirping. He sighed¡­ it seemed he was in for the hard yards. He sat down by the fire cross legged, prepared for his last resort. If traditional western methods of calling out the spell name didn¡¯t work, then it was time for something else. A good ol¡¯ little bit of cultivation. It was time for meditation.


    Azrael shifted his position. There was a rock digging into his bottom and he¡¯d lost feeling in his left leg.


    He scratched his nose, rubbing an unbearable itch. He wasn¡¯t feeling very enlightened. He¡¯d tried suppressing his thoughts to reach a state of calm, but they kept on bursting out, tumbling over themselves. He wondered how monks managed to do this for hours on end. Maybe they did that hummy thing? He sucked in a new breath and began.


    ¡°Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmmm¡± He breathed again ¡°Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmmm¡±.


    Now this was starting to feel ridiculous. He was glad that nobody else was around to hear him.


    ¡°Ohmm¡­¡± He stopped.


    This wasn¡¯t going to give him magic. He imagined himself gaining an [Ohming] skill. That would just be plain stupid. Everyone! Beware the ¡®Ohming Mage!¡¯


    He pushed himself off the ground and walked to the cave exit. It was well and truly night now. The stars, too big and too bright to belong to earth, shone down on the dark forest.


    He listened to the thundering waterfall, the sound of crashing water drowning out almost everything else. You couldn¡¯t hear it much inside the cave, but out here it was like the beating of a thousand hearts, or the flight of a hundred dragons.


    This little dark corner of the world was his and his alone. He turned back inside, dropping onto a small makeshift bed of leaves and grasses. Afterall, tomorrow was a new day.

 Chapter 6

    The new day dawned and Azrael groaned. He didn¡¯t want to get up. However, unfortunately for him, the sun¡¯s first rays shone straight into his cave from the east, preventing him from falling asleep again.


    Awake, but unwilling to leave his bed he stared at the ceiling. It was blank grey stone, completely unremarkable. He thought about yesterday, his eyes tracing the grooves in the rock. Was he too hasty? Did he really think he was going to get magic just like that? Was he missing something?


    Azrael looked away from the stone and pushed himself up onto his elbow. It was probably a ¡®yes¡¯ to all of those questions. A thought flickered through his mind, important, but barely there. He looked up at the ceiling. Stone¡­


    stone¡­


    stone and magic¡­!!


    A MAGIC STONE!!!


    Azrael slapped his forehead. Of course! He pushed himself out of bed, grabbing his spear and literally hurling himself out of the cave, only to land in an awkward running sprint as his muscles still sore from the fight struggled to catch his weight.


    Yesterday, when he¡¯d been butchering the wolf, he¡¯d been so busy focusing on the fact that he now actually had food that he¡¯d completely forgotten a staple of any fantasy game. Beasts, or magic beasts would often have mana stones, or beast cores. And just like a newbie he¡¯d thrown anything that wasn¡¯t the meat, fur and a few teeth and bones into a hole and buried it.


    He sprinted through the forest, several small branches whipping against his bare legs. A few times he almost stumbled in his haste, but soon he reached the lake. He dropped his spear and hurried to Where he remembered burying it. Please be here¡­Please!


    He scanned the ground, his eyes flicking back and forth, soaking up every small detail, every clue. He found the patch and began digging, pulling up handfuls of dirt, bone and bloody offal. He dug deeper, searching. Here and there were still small scraps, mixed in with the dirt, but soon he reached the bottom of the hole without finding it. However, none of what he¡¯d found was what he was looking for. Azrael despaired.


    Was it not here, buried or lost by his mistake, or was he just wrong and it didn¡¯t exist, clutching at straws in a desperate bid to gain magic? He dropped to the ground at the lake¡¯s edge, about to give up, when he saw it. There, just under a bit of dirt, half buried, was what he was looking for; a small purple crystal, no bigger than his eye. Carefully he stepped in, extracting it from its resting place. He looked at it. It really was tiny, its shape like two rough cones glued together.


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    Azrael sat in his cave, the smell of cooked meat all that was left of a rushed breakfast. In his hand he cradled the mana stone. Yesterday, he realised, he¡¯d been going about it all wrong. He didn¡¯t need to make spells yet, he didn¡¯t need to learn how to control arcane forces. Before all of that he needed to learn to feel mana. And right now, he had a crystallised lump of mana in his hands. That was if his guess was right.


    He settled into a comfortable seated position and closed his eyes. Unlike yesterday he didn¡¯t suppress his thoughts, instead holding the stone and concentrating on his breathing.


    In, out, in, out. He felt his breath flow into his nose, travelling down to fill his lungs.


    In, out, in, out, he felt his heartbeat in his chest.


    In, out, in, out, he felt his blood flowing through his body.


    Further and further he kept sinking deeper into this stillness. It was warm, like soft shadows, or the first memories of a mother¡¯s womb. Azrael felt himself sinking down, free, weightless.


    He wasn¡¯t sure how long he¡¯d been floating, but something changed. In the infinite void there was something else. Azrael¡¯s eyes flashed open, his excitement jolting him out of his mediative state. His heart was beating fast and his hands trembled. There was something there. He was sure of it.


    The sun was setting behind the mountains by the time Azrael stopped. Despite his best efforts he had been unable to enter that same state again.


    His excitement caused all his thoughts to tumble over one another, preventing him from finding inner peace. His stomach grumbled and he set the magic stone aside on a safe little ledge in the cave.


    Licking his dry lips Azrael checked at his fire, but it had long since burnt out, leaving only ashes and a few coals. He turned to check his wood stash. It was barely enough to start the fire, let alone last long enough to cook his dinner with. He groaned as he rose, his body complaining at the unexpected movement after a day of stillness. It seemed he would have to go out to grab a drink and gather more wood.


    Making use of the last few minutes of day light Azrael grabbed his spear and jogged to the lake for a drink. He felt his legs protesting after a day of inactivity. Excluding the accelerated healing, it seemed his avatar was really out of shape¡­ not that he was much better in real life.


    Drinking out of his cupped hands he looked up. The lake was calm, a light wind barely ruffling the surface, as the waterfall thundered down hundreds of meters. He sat back content. This was his, his forest, his lake. He missed not being able to share this with his old guild mates, but¡­ he shook the thought from his head. They were gone now. He¡¯d left them.


    The forest stretched out along the lake¡¯s edge beside him. Maybe he would take some time to explore it tomorrow.


    Rising, he left the shore with a short glance back. Maybe he would even try to explore the far side tomorrow. He didn¡¯t really want to take a break from his magic meditation, but tomorrow he would need to take a break anyway to collect more firewood. Maybe find something else edible and make some basic cutlery and crockery. It would be nice to have a way to store water at the cave, instead of having to walk to the lake every time.


    He looked down. And make some clothes. For some reason it¡¯d slipped his mind, but he¡¯d been buck naked since he lost his grass skirt in the fight. With his priorities planned out he headed back, gathering kindling along the way.

 Chapter 7

    The next morning Azrael rose, just as the sun was rising. He would never wake up this early in real life, but something about the new day managed to wake him at such an ungodly hour.


    Out of bed, he began preparing himself for the day ahead. Not that there was much to prepare. He had no clothes to put on, no toothbrush to brush his teeth with and due to the game, he didn¡¯t even have to go to the toilet. So, all that really meant was eating leftover skewers from last night and grabbing his spear.


    Dropping down to the forest floor he stopped and thought for a moment. Realistically, he could get very lost if he started wandering aimlessly, which meant that his best bet was to follow the lake.


    It was not wholly as exciting as exploring an overgrown forest, but it would provide him with a reliable route, as well as protection from one side. (That was is there were no monsters in the lake, because sometimes you never knew). Az weighed up his options. Go through the forest or go by the lake; Probably getting lost, against possibly getting drowned. He gripped his spear tighter. Lake it was.


    Fortunately, for Azrael he didn¡¯t encounter any monsters in his first twenty minutes, lake or otherwise. Unfortunately, he met the monsters after the first twenty minutes.


    Azrael sprinted for his life, through the forest, cursing. He¡¯d been walking along the shore of the lake, admiring the shimmering rainbows in the mist that the waterfall threw up, when he¡¯d stumbled through a bush. On the other side had been a large boar. A very angry, large boar. A very angry large boar that was still chasing him. He looked back. Yep, still there.


    Jumping over a protruding root Azrael barely managed to dodge a hanging branch.


    ¡®Why¡¯, he wondered did everything want to kill him? Avoiding another tree branch, he jumped over a bush, the top branches coming dangerously close to his exposed privates. It seemed the developers had a lot to answer for.


    Behind him the boar simply charged through the bush, ignoring the inconsequential obstacle that it presented.


    Another bush, another branch, another root. How did cross country runners deal with the monotony he mused?


    Leaves flashed by, trees flashed by, bushes flashed by. Most of the forest seemed to have flashed by when he realised that he was quickly running short on stamina. His spear was still in his hand, but it would probably hold out just as well as a toothpick compared to the muscle mass of the raging boar.


    Squeezing between two trees he continued the sprint to his inevitable demise, when he heard an almighty ¡®THWUMP!¡¯ of the boar crashing into the two trees, unable to halt its momentum.


    Ready to collapse, he watched it shake off the impact and charge after him again. He started sprinting again, a stitch beginning to develop and his legs protesting.


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    Suddenly, he burst into a clearing, a tall stone spire raging into the sky. Other than a few rocky outcrops here and there the clearing was completely devoid of any possible cover.


    Behind him the boar burst out of the clearing and stopped, its sides heaving from the chase. Azrael slowly backed away, watching it. Unflinching, it watched him.


    He gripped his spear tightly in a sweaty palm and sized it up. It looked back, sizing up him.


    Reaching the stone spire with his back he lowered his spear slowly with careful movements, as so not to startle the boar, supporting the back of it with his foot. If the boar charged it would impale itself on his spear and his foot would help resist the force of the charge.


    Unfortunately, unlike a traditional boar spear, his was shorter and without a crosspiece to stop the charge. Without it the boar would continue on. It was a risky manoeuvre at best and if the bo¡­


    The boar charged, rushing straight towards him, causing him to flinch. Its hooves thundered across the clearing, throwing up turf, but he held his ground.


    He heard its breathing and saw sunlight glinting off its tusks. ¡®Gods¡¯ he cursed, there was no way the spear would hold. No, it had to hold. He licked his lips tentatively, that was a lot of muscle heading his way. 10 meters, 5 meters¡­


    4¡­


    3¡­


    2¡­


    He chickened out, dropping the spear and diving to the side. He skidded across the ground as the boar crashed into spire, with what he swore would have been enough force to shake it. Barely thinking he scrambled to his feet and escaped to the only place that offered him a chance of safety. Up.


    Azrael clambered up the rocky spire, finding impossible handholds on his mad scramble up. Loose rocks tumbled down and he nearly fell off a couple of times, but he didn¡¯t stop until he was a good three or so meters up.


    Below him the boar backed away groggily, suffering from sever concussion. It staggered for a moment, before toppling over. When it finally got up again it gave a few curious sniffs around the place, before stumbling off like a drunk. Obviously, it had received more than a little knock to the brain. Only when it had vanished back into the trees did he release a breath he hadn¡¯t realised he¡¯d been holding.


    He stayed there for a minute or two more. Eventually however the adrenaline began to subside and his muscles began shaking from the strain. Conscious that he couldn¡¯t hold on much longer he tried to climb back down, only to fall down the last bit when his fingers gave way.


    He landed roughly and his knee gave way, sending him sprawling to the ground. Instead of getting up he lay there, his chest heaving, his muscles sore and adrenaline still buzzing through his system, like a swarm of sedated bees. Slowly though that subsided as well, leaving him with a stiff and sore body. He raised his fist to the sky in a victory motion, before wincing. Even that hurt.


    Eventually though, he had to get up. He was in no condition to continue his exploration and even if he had been he calculated that in his current condition it would take him the better part of the day just to walk back to the lake.


    But¡­ not before leaving his mark. Grabbing a rock from the ground he etched his name into the base of the spire; A ¨C Z ¨C R ¨C A ¨C E ¨C L. Large enough that any passer-by would see it, not that anybody would ever come here. It was more of a memorial mark.


    When he finished carving in his name, he grabbed his spear and headed back. It wasn¡¯t hard in the navigational sense, he just had to follow the trail of destruction the boar had left during the chase, but it was agony to his body. Branches had scratched his exposed skin, leaves acting like little whips and stones trying to cut into his bare feet. He couldn¡¯t wait to sit by his fire tonight and eat.


    He paused.


    ¡°Shit¡± he swore. He still had to collect wood before nightfall. That was going to hurt.

 Chapter 8

    It hurt! Everything hurt! Azrael groaned, all his muscles protesting as he tried to roll to his side. Last night he¡¯d returned home late, too sore to collect firewood and too tired to do anything else.


    Instead, he¡¯s just fallen into bed, asleep before he¡¯d even hit the leafy mattress. Even now he could find no motivation to go out and collect some wood. Instead, he chose the option that allowed him to move the least.


    Groaning he turned himself until he was seated on his bed, with his back to the wall, and began meditation. Then blocking off the pain he fell back into that void.


    Az wasn¡¯t sure whether it was because his body was instinctively trying to avoid pain, or if the system was providing some help, but he found the transition into the black void far easier than the first time. In the center of the void sat something which Azrael could only call his soul, or at least what the game interpreted his soul to look like.


    It sat there, something similar to gaseous mist swirling over its surface, obscuring its mysterious depths.


    For a long time he did nothing, but watch it, observing its shape. It was round, not perfectly round, the swirling mists distorting it into ovals and spheres. But what made Azrael most curious were five¡­ irregularities on the surface of his soul. The most interesting of them were three nubs, where the mist had crystalised into crystal forms. The other two were just¡­ there. He wasn¡¯t sure how to explain them.


    Despite their mystery he moved to inspect the soul crystals. There was something about them, which spoke to him. Each one was different, different geometric forms building them into what they were.


    The soul mist he saw would swirl through the crystals, highlighting hidden facets and flowing through the whole crystal before flowing back out and returning to the rest of the soul.


    He kicked back, watching the soul, as an idea began to form in his head. He had an inkling as to what those irregularities on his soul were, but first he wanted to test something else. Something that was probably a very, very, very bad Idea, with possibly terrible consequences.


    Gathering his courage he stared at his soul and without giving himself a chance to rethink this plunged his consciousness straight into the depths of his soul mist.


    Azrael was ejected straight out of his soul space the moment he touched the mist. Falling over the edge of the bed he instinctively dry heaved. It felt as if he¡¯d been violated straight to his very core, stripped from any protection that he might have had and exposed to the world.


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    Between the agony of his aching muscles and the sheer revulsion of having his soul feeling violated, he wasn¡¯t sure which one was worse. However, despite his ordeal his whole body was buzzing, as if his whole body had pins and needles, or if someone had injected him with pure caffeine. Lightheaded and woozy he stumbled to the edge of his cave.


    He felt dirty, violated, and he needed to get clean. Climbing down the ledge he nearly slipped off several times and dimly noticed that his entire body was sweating profusely.


    He stumbled through the forest, arms loosely by his side as he tripped over tree roots. Had anything or anyone found him then, he would have been an easy kill.


    Upon reaching the lake he stumbled in and began scrubbing himself. He used sand to scrub his skin clean, until it was raw, but even then he still felt unclean.


    Making his way back Azrael felt a little better. His muscles didn¡¯t ache as much, his head was clearer, and he no longer felt as vulnerable. Even the energy that had run through him after he had been ejected out of his soul space was no longer as bad, having subsided into a gentle buzz near his core.


    Finally, he lay on his bed again, in his cave, safe. He let out a sigh that he hadn¡¯t even realised he¡¯d been holding in. By now everything seemed unreal. The only indication of the entire ordeal being the small core of energy he felt thrumming inside of him, which he had somehow missed.


    Cautiously, he prodded at it mentally, before pulling back. Whatever it was it literally felt like pure, raw, untamed and dangerous energy. It was slightly different to what ever he had felt at the core of his soul, but still very similar.


    It was thrilling! Even that little contact had sent his veins thrumming again as a bit of the energy escaped into his body.


    Waiting for it to abate, he cautiously touched it again. This time trying to grip the power as it flowed into him. It squirmed and writhed, like a creature with a mind of its own. The tighter he gripped it the more it struggled to escape.


    Eventually he lost control, the energy exploding throughout his body. He coughed up a bit of blood and realised that a sheen of sweat covered his body once more.


    Wiping away the blood, he decided (against his better judgement) to try again. Cautiously, he reached out once more, letting the energy flow through him, except this time he tried to direct it, instead of controlling it.


    He led it out towards his right hand, spinning it like one might spin yarn, until he eventually had a small sphere the size of a golf ball in his palm. It sat there, like a bit of warped reality, or the air on a hot summer¡¯s day. Satisfied, he thrust his palm outwards, forcing the ball of energy to fly forward and blast into his fireplace.


    On impact, burnt twigs and charcoal shot in every direction, while a cloud of ash and soot filled the cave.


    Ecstatic, Azrael reached into his core once more and drew forth as much energy as he could, pulling it out and directing it through his hands. If before he had been drawing out a small trickle, he was now pulling on all of his reserves.


    It gathered, floating just off his palm, growing more and more unstable as it did so, but rapidly growing in size until he had something the size of his fist. Then with a final movement he cut off the flow, compressed the energy and shot it at a large boulder outside of his cave.


    The boulder never stood a chance. It exploded due to the sheer force of the projectile, sending shrapnel in every direction.


    Several pieces embedding themselves into nearby trees. For a moment he stood there amazed, before slumping down absolutely drained, but he didn¡¯t care.


    He wore a massive grin on his face as he blacked out. Come hell or high water he had magic.


    <hr>

 Chapter 9

    The next morning Azrael woke feeling as if he had the world¡¯s worst hangover. Between the physical and mental abuse he had put himself through, as well as the absolute draining of his mana reserves there was little surprise in that fact. His body felt like shit and everything hurt. Even his brain hurt. However, had anyone asked him how he felt he would have replied ¡®better than ever¡¯.


    He rolled the wolves¡¯ magic stone between his fingers, prodding it with his new sense. He felt a faint buzz emanating from it, as if it was charged with lightning. Deep in his core he felt a slightly similar buzz, far fainter than it had been yesterday, as he had used it all up, but that wasn¡¯t important. He had magic. Gandalf¡¯s grey socks, he had magic! He had BLEEPING magic! He still didn¡¯t know where it came from, but that didn¡¯t matter at the moment. Now that he had mana, he had a bigger problem to solve.


    Before he could abuse the game he first had to fix it. The developers had missed two important things in any rpg game; clothes and the status system, not necessarily in that order. He grinned like a madman. It was time to build the system. If they wouldn¡¯t give it to him he would simply have to make it himself and he knew exactly how he would go about it.


    Standing tall he looked up to the sky. ¡°Oi! Secretary lady!¡± he called out.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    She was there, right?


    He called again ¡°Secretary lady!¡±


    She still didn¡¯t reply. Azrael slumped a little, unsure. It stood to fact that he should be able to call her. He¡¯d spoken to her earlier.


    What if he called her name? would she respond then? Actually¡­ did she have a name? He chewed his lip thoughtfully. Was he meant to have given her a name? Was she mad at him?


    He began to worry slightly, sweating under his metaphorical collar.


    Should he name her now? Was it too late? He could probably blame the fact that he forgot on the fact that he hadn¡¯t spoken to anyone really in the last two years. He scratched his head. What would be a good name? What name would suit a beautiful secretary?


    He turned to the empty sky again and spoke ¡°I name you..¡±


    The scene suddenly changed and he was back in the meeting room where he had first met her. Except ¡®her¡¯ was suddenly a twelve-year-old girl with blond curls and an almost comically small secretary¡¯s attire, draped over a couch reading a book. The secre¡­ the kid closed the book and turned to him with feigned disinterest. Her eyes were so humanly ablaze with curiosity and anticipation that he froze for a moment.


    He cleared his throat nervously. ¡°Your name¡± he said ¡°is Sera¡±. Even as he said it, he saw her tasting the name on her tongue. The name was an abbreviation for Seraphim, as he decided to stick with the angel theme. He never was the best at naming.


    In hindsight giving a secretary such a cute name could have been disastrous, but for some reason his secretary was now a kid. A really-small-kinda-cute-kid in a too-large secretary suit. She gave off a bit of a little sister vibe. He¡¯d always wanted a little sibling.


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    ¡°Sera¡± He looked up as she spoke her name and smiled. ¡°I like it¡±.


    A sigh left his lips that he hadn¡¯t even realised he¡¯d been holding. He really needed to be on her good side in order for his plan to work. But, there was something that was really starting to itch his curiosity.


    ¡°Why are you a little girl?¡± he asked.


    She looked at him as if he had asked an obvious question. ¡°How long was it since you last spoke to a person?¡± she asked.


    He shrugged ¡°A week, maybe two.¡±


    She shook her head ¡°no, a real conversation, not thanking the guy behind the counter at the general store.¡±


    Her stern gaze, coming from a small girl, coupled with the oversized suit made her really adorable. He felt as if he just wanted to reach in and pinch her cheeks. He noticed her glaring at him ¨C which only made her cuter, but he thought about her question.


    He closed his eyes and sighed. The last conversation would have been what¡­ two years ago? Right after he¡¯d been fire¡­ He shook his head, clearing the thought.


    ¡°Two years¡± he replied.


    She looked at him proudly as if he¡¯d just solved the world¡¯s most complex problem himself, which gave him an equally complex emotion.


    ¡°Exactly¡± she said ¡°Two years. Now, what do you think would have happened if I hadn¡¯t looked all official? My form at the time was best adapted to what you needed.¡±


    Yeah, Ok, he could see that. Two years was a long time. If she hadn¡¯t been so official and expressly told him what to do he wouldn¡¯t have made it half way through the process, before being overwhelmed and retreating out of the game and back into the familiar safety of his room.


    Sera nodded sagely, reading his thoughts, before crossing her legs and adopting a business-like tone, something she seemingly excelled in, despite looking like a twelve-year-old.


    He looked at her, knowing she didn¡¯t have to ask. She could read what he was thinking.


    ¡°I need access to the game code¡± he said finally, however she was already shaking her head before he finished the sentence.


    It wasn¡¯t entirely unexpected, but he though he would try anyway.


    ¡°Are you¡± he asked, formulating the question carefully ¡°allowed to help me in any way shape or form, or allowed to give or help me decode the game code.¡±


    She shook her again. ¡°All assistants have been hardcoded not to provide hints, or any other data about the game, beyond what you know for sure yourself.¡± Despite her statement and the fact that she looked apologetic, he caught onto what she was hinting at.


    He frowned. It looked like he would have to do it the hard way. Not unexpected, but unpleasant. It meant he had a lot of work ahead of him.


    ¡°So,¡± he asked ¡° hypothetically speaking, since you know what I know, would be able to recreate any place I¡¯ve been, for example, a mall or a theme park?¡±


    She nodded, catching on to his plan ¡°That is correct¡±.


    ¡°And you would hypothetically¡± he said ¡°be able to recreate the mechanics of that place, like¡­ maybe the game, in this¡­ space?¡±


    She nodded again a conspiratory smile creeping onto her face ¡°But only places you¡¯ve been¡±.


    They grinned at each other in understanding. She knew exactly what he was thinking and because she was based off his thoughts, he was sure she enjoyed exploiting loopholes just as much as he did.


    She snapped her fingers and the world changed back around him. He was back in the cave, except this time there was a girl reading a book on a sofa. The contrast of a modern sofa in his simple cave really highlighted his lack of furniture and decorations, besides his bed.


    She pointedly ignored him. Despite their connection just then it seemed that she was still mad at him for not giving her a name.


    He mentally shrugged as he slipped into his soul space. If she wasn¡¯t over it later, he would figure something out. Right now he had work to do.


    It was almost ten years since he had done the advanced VR coding course in high school. Due to the cerebral enhanced learning program adopted by schools he knew more than most programmers twenty years ago, but it had been a long time.


    He wondered what would have happened if he¡¯d gone into creating games like he¡¯d dreamed of, instead of playing them, but that was how life goes.


    Finding himself slipping out of his soul space he gave himself a few quick slaps on his cheeks and slipped back in.

 Chapter 10

    Azrael glided past another bit of crystalised soul. It had nearly been a full in-game day since he had started.


    It was slow going, but the best thing that changed due to being in control of this reality was the ability to use a clip board in his soul space. Another plus was the ability to simply copy and paste bits of code from both his memory and also from the crystalised mana of his soul, because that¡¯s exactly what they were. They were code; crystalised information.


    The mist was some form of mana, or other energy and the crystalised bits were simply information. In the simplest terms they acted as energy passing through a circuit board. Each pattern, each relative angle and form was simply a way of writing code in a geometric form.


    It had taken him a while to understand, but once he did all he had to do was write a sub program that translated it for him. It wasn¡¯t cheating per se, but¡­ well it was definitely an unfair advantage. God knows he¡¯d put in the hours during school to deserve it.


    Azrael checked his notes. He thought he had most things roughly figured out, however there was something that threw him off. His soul had two nubs that were unlike the others. These were not crystalised, meaning that in themselves they held no real information, however they were more solid than the rest of the soul mist. Their purpose seemed simply to reinforce a part of the soul, influencing how the mist swirled.


    Interestingly enough, they were approximately a sixth of the circumference of his soul apart. He wasn¡¯t sure exactly what they were meant to do, but was sure he had a rough guess. Except that if he was right, it meant something far more significant and worrying. He jotted down a quick note onto his clip board and stepped out of his soul space.


    Sera had properly transformed his cave. Books lay scattered around a large sofa covered in pillows and stuffed toys, while darts stood impaled on a dartboard on the wall. Sera herself could barely be seen under all stuffed toys.


    ¡°I need to go back check something¡± Azrael said and an arm appeared from underneath all the pillows.


    She snapped her fingers and the books, sofa and dart board vanished as he re-entered the cave in game. Truthfully, he¡¯d already been back in and out three or four times to check certain things, which meant he had eaten and drunk from the lake.


    His food supply was running low, leaving him one, maybe two days¡¯ worth of food left. He really needed to find another food supply, but that was currently an irrelevant problem for another time.


    He hopped down from the cave ledge, used to the drop by now, and walked to the boulder he had destroyed yesterday.


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    No. He stopped and frowned. He¡¯d been working on this so long that he¡¯d already used up an entire day. Which meant that he¡¯d been in game five and a bit days now. A little over one and a half in the real world. Time dilation really was a lovely thing.


    Azrael shook his head clearing it of unnecessary thoughts. He had plenty of time to worry about everything else after he had finished building the system.


    Picking up a medium sized rock, which had shattered from the boulder, he started raising it above his head before lowering it. As stupid as he might have looked, it was time to test a hypothesis.


    The ¡®nubs¡¯ he theorised represented his stats, or at least some visible part of his stats. He didn¡¯t have much proof, however the soul represented the information that made up the game ¡®him¡¯. This meant skills, stats and probably levels.


    If the crystalised bits were skills, holding the information on their level and effect, then it would stand to reason that the uncrystallised nubs could represent a single point of his stats, a theory further supported by their geometric alignment and the lack of other similar soul structures.


    The two stat points that he¡¯d seen in his soul were probably agility and dexterity. He remembered getting incrementally faster after all the running he had done, when the boar had been after him. Similarly, the point in dexterity was representative of all the crafting he had done. His hands had moved more efficient and more fluid and natural ways. It was barely noticeable, but he had still noticed.


    His test now was to see if he could gain a point in strength, which was why he was currently weightlifting a rock.


    Almost half a day later Azrael was back with Sera, frowning at his notes, but it wasn¡¯t because he¡¯d failed. No, he¡¯d gotten his point in strength. It currently sat opposite his stat for dexterity. The spacing meant that there were at least six main stats. The problem was he¡¯d come across two shocking realisations.


    Firstly, he could increase stats without leveling up. This was great in the sense that it meant that he wasn¡¯t reliant on levels for stats, but it also meant that levels and possibly class didn¡¯t guarantee stats, and in that case neither did defeating monsters for experience like in standard rpg games. Not only that, but just like with the skills he wasn¡¯t able confirm any conditions, or perquisites for classes, or leveling.


    And secondly and most profoundly, he¡¯d discovered that he could influence his soul.


    After practicing with his meagre amount of mana in game to try and gain a point in a magic based stat he¡¯d done a quick experiment with the mist in his soul. While it largely resisted him in the actual game he¡¯d managed to partially bypass the problem under the curious eyes of Sera.


    For the briefest of moments, he¡¯d managed to move away the mists of his soul, confirming parts of the inner structure. In game it would have had possibly disastrous consequences, but doing it this way meant that he was able to safely catch a quick glimpse.


    What he¡¯d found was this; inside of his soul each of his stats and skills had five ¡®hidden¡¯ layers, growing out of a soul core. The energy from the core had knocked him out of his soul space, but it had been enough to gather the information he¡¯d needed.


    For skills these five hidden layers prevented you from immediately gaining hundreds of random skills for completing random perquisites and meant that you had to actively be trying to achieve something to gain the skill. Secondly, it meant that all players started off with base stats of 5.


    Snapping shut a notebook containing the cumulation of his notes he exited his soul and got Sera to send him back to his cave. It was time to reap the fruits of his labour.


    <hr>

 Chapter 11

    Back in his cave Azrael watched the dawn of the eighth day. It had been nearly two days in the real world, which was all that his capsule could support him for. That meant that today was the last day he had to finish this, before he logged off.


    Taking up a cross legged pose he settled in. The wolf¡¯s mana stone sat in one of his hands.


    Closing his eyes, he gently extended a tendril of his mana towards the mana stone. To his senses it was a small ball of energy, a tiny star in the void. Gently he touched it, feeling the energy gently tingle through the connection. Its power was incomparable to his core, but what he was doing had a different fundamental reason.


    The power in his core belonged to him, meaning that he had control over it, however both the mana stone and his soul resisted his touch, meaning that if he was going to try and manipulate the mana in his soul, he first wanted to practice on the mana stone. Although mana and his soul mist were slightly different, they were similar enough.


    For a moment he let his senses rest upon the star that was the mana stone. It was bright and full of energy, but it was also soft and velvety. Gently he wrapped his consciousness around the star and began syphoning the corona of the star. He drew it out like he would a thread, drawing it from a spool. The energy twisted, trying to pull back, to escape his grip, but instead of tightening his control he relaxed, holding it just enough to draw it, guiding it, but allowing it to relax.


    Then, very slowly he directed the thread to his right pointer finger, where the energy coalesced again. Opening his eyes, he raised his right hand and released the small ball of energy. It shot off, striking a tree outside the cave and stripping the bark where it hit. The mana stone broke in his hand, its energy spent. Azrael however had already slipped into his soul space. It was time for the real challenge.


    His soul sat there, the only thing in the dark void and he stared at it in trepidation. Despite his confidence in all his work in the last days he was working completely from memory. All his notebooks and all his calculations were with Sera.


    He couldn¡¯t even switch back and forth between the two realities as when he was logged off, or was not present, his character would subsist in this world, which meant any delay in the process could be disastrous. Calming his nerves, he began.


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    Floating closer to his soul Azrael began shaping the mist into small streams. His aim was to create a new skill, which would grant him a status display. A simple interpreter for the rest of his soul.


    However, due to his lack of access to below the layer of soul mist he wouldn¡¯t be able to build those five sublayers to support the skill. This meant that it wouldn¡¯t be able to grow in the future. He had to get everything perfect on his first try.


    Under his hands the mists began to move in orderly fashion, weaving together into geometric shapes and solidifying. He was essentially building a skill crystal from scratch.


    Back with Sera he¡¯d used the same algorithm that decoded his skills into code to turn his new code into a crystalised form. Now, he was rebuilding that very same form from memory, drawing out the angles and lines with pinpoint precision, He could not afford to fail. If he did the results could potentially destroy all his other skills, or worse yet, his entire soul.


    For the longest time he worked, straining against mental exhaustion, building higher and higher. Time had no meaning here. A streamer slipped from his fingers, unmaking part of his work. He grabbed it, panicking, and brought it back into his control, rebuilding what he had lost.


    As he continued working there was more and more resistance from his soul, which in turn meant that each next layer of crystal was harder and harder to make and consequentially took longer to form, with a higher risk of disaster.


    Suddenly, the soul thread in his hands snapped, overstrained, and recoiled backwards, arcing back to his soul like grounded lightning. He tried to grab it on its way down, but it slipped past his mental fingers.


    He was about to give chase before realising that his skill crystal was in danger of coming apart. He was so close, so close to the end.


    Giving up chase he hurriedly drew another thread of soul mist and finished the crystal. It glowed, flashing, and he could feel the soul mist flooding through it, like water through a parched riverbed.


    Below him the escaped thread fell through the mists to the center of his soul. He watched it with regret. He had been so close!


    All of a sudden, an enormous magical feedback roared up the rogue soul thread. Like a tsunami, it crashed into his skill crystal and he was ejected.


    As the force connected, he felt the entire skill crystal strain from the force, before shifting, unable to contain the power. He watched it break, change and warp, taking on a new form. He watched as his entire work was ruined.


    That was the last he could observe as the energy blasted into him out of his soul space.


    Azrael landed back in his cave and violently coughed up blood, as the force of the recoil travelled through his body. It exploded out of his already weary body. Sweat covered him like a glistening sheen of oil and his muscles screamed at him from inattention.


    For a brief moment, he lay there gasping for breath, as his blood and sweat mixed on the cave floor, before his game capsule forcefully logged him off.


    The last thing he remembered before everything went dark was a small blue screen flickering in the space in front of him.

 Chapter 12

    The lid of the gaming pod hissed open, before sliding to one side. A figure - Kade tumbled out, tripping on the edge of the capsule and sprawling onto the messy floor of his room.


    For a moment he lay there, stunned, the adrenaline still racing through his system. Then, with a deep shuddering breath he pushed himself up.


    He was fine. He breathed out slowly. He was okay.


    That feeling had just experienced been indescribable and terrible, like your heart imploding from the force of a million volts, only somehow worse.


    A little while later Kade exited the bathroom, freshly showered. After the shock had worn off he¡¯d grabbed a change of fresh clothes from his wardrobe and stumbled to the bathroom.


    He¡¯d been in that capsule for two days and felt like he really needed a shower. The water, as he¡¯d hoped, had helped wash away the shock of the experience that he had just been through. It hadn¡¯t helped much in that regard, but he now felt cleaner and calmer, a lot calmer.


    Striding across the floor of his small apartment he switched on his TV on the way over to the kitchen, shoving a frozen pizza into the microwave. He needed something to take his mind off of what had happened.


    Watching the pizza go round and round was a great way. If his mother had seen what and how he was cooking she would have given him an ear full, had she still been around. She would always scold his father for bringing home a packet of hot chips and would instead praise the virtues of fresh vegetables. The memory brought a small smile to his face.


    Grabbing a clean plate from the cupboard he loaded up the pizza and dumped himself down onto the sofa in front of the TV, just as an add break finished. It seemed to be some sort of gaming news station. Since the release of the first full dive VR nearly twenty years ago, such Esport stations had quickly gained popularity.


    ¡°BREAKING NEWS¡± the hostess announced ¡°IN THE POPULAR VR GAME ¡®BLADES OF GODS¡¯ VICE GUILD LEADER QUICKDRAW OF THE THOUSAND BLADES HAS ANNOUNCED THE GUILD¡¯S WISH TO RECHALLENGE THE DUNGEON OF KARTH¡­¡± Kade changed the channel.


    The next channel showed a group of three commentators doing a move-by-move rundown of some guild¡¯s latest raid.


    ¡°What do you think David?¡± asked one commentator.


    His neighbour turned to him ¡°Now, Samson, I think you¡¯re right, that last heal could have been better served healing their thief than their tank, however I would like to take the moment to take the opportunity to say that their priestess Melissa is doing an amazing job at directing her team through all the chaos. Many other guilds would have fallen simply due to the sheer pressure and¡­¡± David winced mid-sentence as the thief was bashed across the room by an ogre¡¯s fist.


    The white-fox-eared thief girl was ignored by most of the team for a moment, before a belated heal arrived.


    ¡°Definitely some inner politics there boys.¡± said the final commentator. ¡°However, Holy Empire has shown an excellent tra¨C¡°


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Kade changed the channel again, but this time his fingers were trembling with anger. He never wanted to hear from them again, especially the guild leader Melissa. If there came a day where he could push her over a cliff he would, without hesitation.


    As to the poor thief, she was probably just a contracted fill-in for the team, just like he¡¯d been. His finger moved to the OFF button of the remote when something caught his interest.


    At a press conference on screen stood one of the most famous men alive. Tiago Child, inventor of the worlds¡¯ five sense full dive VR and developer of ¡®New Earth¡¯


    ¡°The promised moment you¡¯ve all been waiting for.¡± he began, as he opened up his arms to the unseen crowds ¡°Today I¡¯ve called you all here to finally deliver the truth behind ¡®New Earth¡¯. What it is, how it works and how it will look like in the future.¡± He paused for a moment, looking into the camera.


    ¡°As you all know ¡®New Earth¡¯ is the very first true VR game, replicating all of the senses. In this sense it is already unique and one of a kind. What if I told you that ¡®New Earth¡¯ is an autonomous world of its own?¡±


    The crowds of unseen reporters burst out into discussion, calling out questions and otherwise producing absolute chaos. Tiago raised a single hand and the audience fell silent once more.


    ¡°The game ¡®New Earth¡¯ is currently hosted on the world¡¯s second largest single server, the ¡®Abiogenesis server¡¯ formerly belonging to the Joint International Coalition for Sciences. The server has been remodelled from its original purpose. Originally it was used to run simulations on the creation of the universe, from the big bang to the evolution of life on our planet. With the construction of the new world¡¯s largest server, the ¡®Einstein II¡¯, our company was able to purchase and repurpose the server. Currently, the server is running a fully autonomous program from a world seed, without input from any outside influences. All scientists and researchers on our team are only able to observe and analyse data. The server itself is actually operated by a highly advanced AI.¡±


    The forum burst out into discussion at the incredibility of Tiago¡¯s statements. All the news reporters were yelling out their questions, in the hope to get an answer. On stage a man in a suit walked up to Tiago and whispered into his ear, before exiting. Again, Tiago silenced the crowds with his hand, only speaking when the noise level had been reduced to a murmur.


    ¡°Unfortunately¡± he said, folding his hands together with a charismatic smile ¡°I have just been informed that our lovely time is rushing to the end. However, we still have enough time to answer two questions¡±.


    As soon as he said that a man sprung to his feet. ¡°Can the players expect an update, or a new expansion in the future?¡±


    Tiago chuckled. ¡°New Earth¡± he replied ¡°is exactly what the name says. A whole new world, scaled similarly to our own. Exploring an entire world took us as a species several millenia and even now we still have unexplored mysteries. Please remember this new world has inhabitants and plant species, as well as history, lore and customs completely different to those we have on Earth. I believe the players will find that plenty enough.¡± He pointed to another person in the crowd.


    A female voice called out ¡°Mr. Child¡± she said ¡°What stops this AI from deciding that it doesn¡¯t want to just manage the game and begins invading Earth?¡±


    Again, Tiago looked bemused.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry¡± he replied ¡°While the AI is highly advanced, at the moment it is only capable of replicating human interaction, based of experiences that it has with the players. The world itself is run by the original program of the Abiogenesis server.


    The AI is simply there to control the NPC''s AI and make the game more immersive. While we understand the concern, especially after all the movies that we¡¯ve made, we believe that our safeguards are enough of a safety measure. Not only do they keep the AI code contained, they also prevent any form of hacking from the outside. All game capsules are linked on an independent encrypted frequency and any and all information that does exit the game, passes through specialised security servers back at the company. So, for the lack of a better analogy, simply think of the entire thing as a massive VR D&D simulator, with the AI as game master.¡±


    Finished with his speech he gave a short bow to the audience and walked off stage, leaving behind a veritable storm of voices.


    Kade turned off the TV and stretched. Maybe it was time for round two.


    <hr>

 Chapter 13

    Stepping over some old clothes Kade looked at the sleek silver VR gaming capsule. Lovingly, he ran a hand across the surface.


    It was a piece of technological perfection and it was his, since two days ago. Eight days in-game if you counted the time dilation. In the game ¡®New Earth¡¯ that was a doorway to a world of swords and magic.


    He stripped himself down to his boxers, lying down in the memory gel lining. So much had happened in those eight days. He¡¯d made camp in a cave in a forest, he¡¯d fought a life and death battle with a wolf, he¡¯d narrowly avoided being killed by a mad boar and best of all¡­ He grinned, recalling the flicker of blue he¡¯d seen as he logged on, he¡¯d created a gamer¡¯s ultimate weapon ¨C the status display. He logged on.


    Azrael¡¯s eyes flickered open. He was face down on the cave floor. Blood had dried on his avatar¡¯s skin, aftermath of a mistake during the process of creating the status display.


    The shock had forcefully logged him out, but he was back to reap the fruits of his efforts. With a triumphant feeling, he summoned his status and watched as a generic blue screen flickered into existence in front of him.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 50/50


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 50/50


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 6


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 5


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 6


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 6


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 5


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 5


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv. 2), Crafting (Lv. 2), Spear Arts (Lv. 1), Mana Sense (Lv. 3), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 4), Soul Sense (Lv. 3).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael surveyed it, impressed despite having designed it. It was kind of satisfying knowing that he had created something that hadn¡¯t existed in the game previously.


    As for his stats, his base stats were 5 and he¡¯d gained another three over the course of his activities. His health points (HP) and mana (MP) seemed to be tied to endurance and intelligence respectively. He¡¯d tried to add stamina (SP), but there had seemed to be quite a few variables related to that, which made it complicated to calculate.


    He glanced over his skills, but was already familiar with them. Weaving was from making his grass skirt, crafting from making his spears. He¡¯d gained spear arts from spear fishing but was curious as to why he got a combat related art instead of something fishing related.


    His mana skills were from working with magic and the status display, while soul sense seemed to have appeared when he managed to enter his soul space. All in all, it was an average display, but still, it was his.


    About to close the status display his eye caught something flashing in the bottom right-hand corner. It was a notifications button.


    He frowned. He¡¯d never added one in the design. Did the developers add it in? No, they hadn¡¯t put in the display system, so why do anything now? Similarly, in the announcement he¡¯d watched earlier today the owner of the game had declared that they were unable to add new content.


    Notifications hadn¡¯t been part of the information in his soul, it hadn¡¯t existed before. He¡¯d checked.


    Curious he clicked on the button and a flurry of notifications appeared.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For rejecting the world as the Gods have shaped it and seeking the forbidden fruit of knowledge you have gained the title ¡®Sinner¡¯.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For standing against the word of the Gods¡¯ you have gained the title ¡®Heretic¡¯.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®Sinner¡¯


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    All must suffer the consequence of their choices.


    For straying from the path, the power of all Gods affects you twice as strongly as it usually would.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®Heretic¡¯


    To forge your own path is both a blessing and a curse.


    For rejecting the Gods¡¯ power as a mortal, the power of all of gods¡¯ apostles only has half the effect on you.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Immediately looking at the first few notifications he blanched. Was it really that serious a thing to create the system? Would they start a witch hunt for him? Actually, were there churches?


    If there were gods, then there was a probable chance of them existing. Then again, he¡¯d only learnt that gods existed in this game a moment ago. He wondered if they would leave him alone if he told them he was an atheist.


    Running a hand through his hair and sighed, before reading the rest of the notifications.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For creating a unique masterpiece and yet unimagined skill you have gained the title ¡®Master of Status¡¯.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®Master of Status¡¯


    Even a master needs an apprentice.


    As the master of a unique skill you may confer the skill onto any willing individual.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through a new understanding of your soul you have unlocked the unique skill [Status].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Status


    Know yourself.


    Allows you to see information about yourself in a systematic fashion.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For creating a unique masterpiece using unknown knowledge and magic you have gained INT +5.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For using a previously undiscovered rune script you have gained the title ¡®Rune Master¡¯.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®Rune master¡¯


    A single glimpse can offer a thousand insights.


    For mastering one rune script you now have a basic and intuitive knowledge of all lesser runes.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For creating a piece of work using runes you have gained one level in ¡®Enchanter¡¯.


    END +1 DEX +2 INT +1 WIS +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For using an as of yet unknown rune script to create a piece of work ¡®Enchanter¡¯ has upgraded to ¡®Runist¡¯. ¡®Enchanter¡¯ levels will be carried over. You have gained a level in ¡®Runist¡¯.


    END +1 DEX+2 INT+2 WIS+1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to creating something previously unimaginable and interesting you have caught the interests of the Gods.


    You have gained the title ¡®God Watched¡¯.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®God Watched¡¯


    Even the Gods can grow bored.


    Due to doing something previously unseen, interested deities are now watching you.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael scanned the notifications, happy about the stat gains, but the last notification worried him. Knowing that he was being watched was unsettling, especially by supposed deities.


    The entire last notification seemed ominous. Was he now a plaything for them? Some form of entertainment?


    He shrugged. He hadn¡¯t been struck down by divine lightning yet, and there wasn¡¯t anything he could do to change anything, so he figured he should be fine for a while¡­ right?


    Another sigh escaped his lips and he closed his notifications, his gaze resting on his updated status panel.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 70/70


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 130/130


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 6


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 7


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 9


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 6


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 13


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 7


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv. 2), Crafting (Lv. 2), Spear Arts (Lv. 1), Mana Sense (Lv. 3), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 4), Soul Sense (Lv. 3).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael closed his status and stepped out to the edge of his cave. The vast forest of trees was stretched out before him, like a green ocean, framed by the mountains that formed the valley.


    The waterfall thundered, loud and unstoppable, proclaiming its dominance. There was no Holy Empire, no gods and no people. This was his domain, the end of the world. Peaceful, free and uncomplicated.


    A sudden breeze brushed past him, chilling his lower zones, and he had the sudden realisation that unlike back in his apartment, here he had a distinct lack of clothing.


    ¡®Clothing and food¡¯ he thought as his stomach rumbled. There were some disadvantages to not living in a society. At least he had magic.


    A few clouds drifted lazily across the sky.


    He enjoyed the view, drinking in the serenity.


    With that he returned back into the cave. It was just him, the trees, the clouds and the smoke. Smoke?


    He momentarily paused before turning around again and checking the horizon. A plume of smoke was rising from the edge of the forest. Grabbing his spear, he jumped down the forest below.


    A fire in a forest was never a good sign, especially not when he was living in it. Or maybe it was just his curiosity driving him. Either way he was going to find out what it was.

 Chapter 14

    Abandoning the shoreline of the lake, in favour of the more direct route to the smoke, Azrael made his way through the forest.


    This time around however he was more cautious, stopping and circling around wild animals. There were surprisingly more than Azrael had thought compared to his first trip. It might have been because he was a lot quieter this time round.


    Now, as he walked, he saw animals. Here was a boar, while there a wild deer. Once or twice a squirrel scared him, racing out of the bushes and into the trees. Occasionally an animal would lift their head in his direction as he passed, and he would freeze ready run. After a while they ignore him and go back to grazing, letting him pass.


    Eventually the smell of smoke got stronger, and Azrael took more care in his approach. He didn¡¯t know what, or who had started the fire and he wanted to avoid another boar scenario. It was much to his surprise however when he found himself, not at the source of the fire, but at the edge of the forest.


    Before him, the sun illuminated thousands of green and gold stalks of grass, creating a shimmering sea in the breeze. Insects buzzed and it presented an idyllic image of almost perfect harmony.


    Almost perfect, because just before the horizon rose a large plume of grey black smoke, the subtle breeze of the plain fanning hungry flames and driving heat mirages into the air.


    Behind all that were vague silhouettes of some houses, their shapes warped by the heat.


    Azrael stood and watched, curiosity warring with caution, when he saw the houses. On one hand houses meant chances of clothes and tools, on the other it meant humans. Caught in an internal debate he almost missed three figures, as they appeared out of the smoke. It took him a further moment to realise that they were heading in his direction ¨C at a considerable speed.


    Caution momentarily won out and he stepped back into the protection of the forest, watching them from behind a tree.


    Their shapes emerged as they neared him. Two men in rough spun clothes and one of the bison creatures. He pulled himself back further into the shadow of the tree, his fragile image of paradise crumbling by their approach.


    There were people here.


    He watched as the two men ran alongside one of the large bison beasts, weapons in hand. A younger brown-haired youth with a spear and another the other, slightly older, sporting black hair with a sword.


    The sun above glinted off their iron blades, causing him to try and shrink back further into the shadows.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    As he watched they herded the running beast, towards the forest, where the trees would block its escape. It was a clever tactic, but presented Azrael with a large problem. They were heading straight towards him.


    He barely had enough time to properly hide behind the tree before they reached the forest. The bison-creature tried to swerve to the side, realising the ploy too late. Even as it turned to avoid the trees it sealed its fate.


    By turning, it exposed its side to the two hunters. This allowed the spear wielder to impale it in the shoulder, pushing and pinning it between the trees and him. The second hunter moved around, blocking off its escape route and with a practiced slash of his sword cut open its throat.


    The beast bellowed in pain, bucking and trying to escape, even as its life blood ran out and watered the ground at its feet. It staggered forward for a moment, trying to ram the sword wielder with its under-developed horns ¨C an adolescent bull Azrael realised. But its fate was already sealed.


    It staggered to a stop, crying out piteously, as its attempts to escape became weaker and weaker. Eventually it collapsed onto its knees, unable to support its own weight. It sagged, resigned to its own fate and a moment later the last spark of defiance left its eyes.


    The spear wielder held it there a moment longer, before tearing his spear out of the shoulder. The dead bison collapsed to the side, no longer supported by his weight. The swordsman sat down, while the youth took out a knife and started working on their kill. Even to an outsider their relationship seemed strained.


    Azrael took the moment to observe the two. They were both wore clothing, brown pants with a brown shirt. Totally unremarkable, except the swordsman, obviously the senior, had a black armband with a crude depiction of a white sheep. And shoes. They both had a set of beautiful leather shoes. Ok, they were pretty average, but they were still shoes.


    Azrael wiggled his toes, feeling his bruised and scratched feet. He could kill for those shoes. Briefly he contemplated it. Both hunters were exhausted from a hunt and wouldn¡¯t expect an ambush. They had good shoes, clothes and good weapons¡­ weapons made of iron. Sharp and deadly weapons made of iron. And they outnumbered him.


    He figured discretion was the better part of valour in this case, discarding the idea.


    Planning to sneak away, while they were distracted, he was suddenly caught off guard when the youth got up and picked up his spear, before slowly walking towards his tree. He froze, pressing himself into the shadows.


    Did they discover him?


    Had they heard something?


    Thoughts zipped through his mind as the youth walked towards him. Behind him the swordman was nonchalantly cleaning his blade on the grass. It made no sense. Then, the youth propped his spear up against the tree, pulled down his pants and started to pee ¨C onto his foot.


    Azrael¡¯s mind suddenly came to a standstill. The guy was peeing. On his foot. He wasn¡¯t sure which of these revelations was more shocking. That someone still needed to go to the toilet in the game, or the absolute humiliation he was forced to endure. He glared at the youth in anger. If it weren¡¯t for the fact that there were two of them¡­ The youth suddenly glanced up met Azrael¡¯s eyes.


    Alarmed, he gave let out a small cry as he stumbled back. Azrael, already strung tight whipped his spear up in a defensive stance. The swordsman reacted equally as quick, jumping up from his position with a raised blade. The youth too had managed to get his spear again. Except in his haste he held it the wrong way, the spear point pointing away from him.


    Two against one. He¡¯d faced worse odd, just usually better prepared. Maybe today was his lucky day and he would get some new shoes he thought grimly.

 Chapter 15

    Azrael stood, his crude spear pointed towards the two better armed men. Despite their obvious advantage he saw them both hesitate. He could understand their hesitation.


    To them he was an unknown danger, someone who had managed to sneak up on them, appearing out of the blue; possibly the bait for an ambush. And he was naked. Nobody wanted to fight a naked man.


    The tension grew strained, Azrael refusing to leave the safety of the trees and the two men hesitant about approaching the tree line, out of fear of a hidden ambush. It was a stalemate and the tension continued to grow, stretching and pulling ¨C until it snapped.


    The youth couldn¡¯t stand it anymore and suddenly leapt forward, thrusting his spear. Azrael could see the fear in his eyes, daunted by the naked man that had suddenly appeared from the shadows. Azrael hurried to parry, expecting to have to defend himself, when he realised something. The youth he was fighting was an absolute amateur, no more than farm boy given a pointy stick.


    He had thought after seeing the hunt that both were skilled in their weapon use, but it seemed that this one had been given a spear and told exactly what to do. Good for hunting, but practically useless in any other situation.


    Azrael parried the clumsy thrust with a languid movement exuding contempt. He could do this all day. Unfortunately, after the sudden beginning of the fight he¡¯d forgotten to keep an eye on the swordsman. A mistake that came back to bite him, literally.


    The sword flashed in a diagonal arc, cutting deeply into his left shoulder. Its momentum forced him down and Azrael collapsed onto one knee from the sudden pain. The sword drew away, its blade now dripping heavy with his blood.


    Biting his tongue Azrael forced himself out of the way as the blade came whistling down again. It shaved past his head, cutting his hairs, but missing his neck.


    Staggering up to his feet once more he fought against the pain and turned, thrusting his spear through the sudden opening in the swordsman¡¯s stance. The stone edge ripped through the man¡¯s side, just above the hip, drawing out a curse.


    Stepping forward to capitalise on the attack, he never saw the butt of the spear come round against the side of his head. It landed with an almighty thwack, sending his stumbling against the tree.


    Heaving for breath Azrael tried to shake his head as his vision doubled. The movement caused him to stumble again, and he sprawled face first into the ground, the loamy taste of dirt, grass and leaves filling his senses. Above him the two men began closing in, wary of any surprises. Azrael pushed himself up, blindly barrelling into one of the men.


    The youth panicked, raising his spear ¨C too slow. Azrael crashed into him, his weight dragging the boy down with him.


    They fell, a tangled mess of limbs and spears. Azrael¡¯s landing was cushioned by the boy¡¯s body, ending up with only a light concussion. The youth was not so lucky. His head hit the ground with a resounding thud and he was knocked out for the count.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Azrael rolled off him, slightly dazed, his breathing heavy. One down, one to go.


    Waiting for his body to recover, Azrael looked up at the sky. The ground below him was soft and spongey, a perfect forest mattress, while the sun kissed his weary face. He felt like he could just sink in and let go of the pain. No pain, no fighting, just peace, warm and blissful. A shadow fell over him, blocking the warmth, and with slow effort he turned his head to the side.


    He tried to summon mana to his fingertips, but had effort concentrating as his head was still ringing. For a brief moment his mana gathered, before sputtering out as he lost control.


    A pair of brown boots blocked his vision and a boot kicked him, breaking his already limited concentration. Giving up on magic, he struggled to get up. Nobody kicked him. Not now, not ever. And he wanted those boots.


    Using his spear as a walking stick he righted himself, and stood to face the remaining assailant. The swordsman retreated back a few steps, cautiously. But Azrael truly painted a forlorn visage, half covered in dirt and his own blood. Still seeing double Azrael charged ¨C at the wrong double.


    The sword swung down, aiming for his neck, but Azrael managed to move out of the way. He instead received the blade across the length of his back.


    The cool iron traced across his skin, carving a line of fire. He screamed. It hurt ¨C worse than the wolf¡¯s claws. A second stroke of fire was then followed by a third. Azrael felt the pain felt a primal fear for his life, which caused him to throw caution to the wind. He launched himself at the man in bloody abandon.


    Letting the pain wash over his body he dedicated himself to the fight, letting it take over his mind. He advanced in a flurry of strikes and pressing forward, his attacks forcing the swordsman onto the defensive.


    Blue screens began appearing in his vision, notifications blocking his vision and he blinked them away. There was no time for distractions. There was no thinking. There was only him and the fight.


    The swordsman held his own however and even in his mindless abandon Azrael briefly felt frustration. Each strike the two fighters traded earned him a another cut on his body, the pain turning his frustration into boiling anger.


    Unfortunately, he was up against a superior opponent. His opponent was stronger, faster and better equipped. There was nothing he could do but struggled on, fighting for his life.


    Each blow he dealt was more time for his life blood to seep out. Each cut he received was another strike closer to his demise. It was a downward spiral. Even in his pain fuelled madness Azrael realised the inevitable truth. Each subsequent movement was slower, each blow weaker. There was no winning. It was an inevitable outcome. And still he fought on, mindlessly holding on for his dear life.


    By now he was a bloody horror, animated by will and fury alone. A nightmare bathed in blood. Each step he took left a red mark on the once green grass, until the battle ground was slick with his blood. But it wasn¡¯t only his blood that was being spilt.


    His opponent was limping, a lucky blow to the thigh making it painful to place weight on. Other wounds riddled his body, allowing blood to stain his clothes red. Even against a stronger opponent Azrael was taking his due. As rusty as his skills were, they were still enough to mostly bridge the gap between the two players.


    Blow by blow they fought and blow by blow they bled. The sword cut through the spear, its integrity weakened by hundreds of blows, but the destruction of his spear was barely registered. He just kept on fighting, using the broken shaft. A stick against an iron blade.


    Both fighters knew this was the end. They circled each other warily. Azrael threw the stick at the swordsman, diving for his unconscious partner¡¯s spear, but before he could reach it he felt cool iron kiss his neck and everything went black.

 Chapter 16

    Kade opened his eyes to find himself lying down on a sofa opposite of Sera. He closed them again and took a deep shuddering breath.


    Inside of him he could feel various emotions fighting for control. Predominantly anger, shame and worry. Anger at the other person, shame at his loss and how rusty he¡¯d become and worry of what it meant that others now knew he existed.


    He had also felt very close to losing himself in combat again. The thrill, the blood, the fight. It had brought back old memories. And he was mildly scared. He¡¯d tried to leave that him behind.


    He felt his neck, remembering the feeling of iron passing through. He shuddered. There was plenty of fear of dying. He thought he would be okay after all the VR games he¡¯d played, but¡­ it¡¯d never been this real.


    He ran a hand over his face and peeked at Sera from behind his fingers. She was graciously ignoring him, pretending to be fixated on a book.


    Briefly he wondered if he should say anything, but understandably he wasn¡¯t in the mood for small talk. He had too many things to sort out.


    He looked over to Sera and their eyes met. Thankfully, she caught his silent message and his view changed as the lid of the capsule hissed open.


    He stepped out, looking into his messy room. For a brief moment he stared blankly into space before stepping out. He had twenty-four hours before the game would let him log back in. That meant four days in game.


    He dropped onto his bed face first and looked at a picture of him smiling with both his parents. His parents looked back.


    His father stood, smiling broadly from under his bushy moustache as if he was in on a joke that only he knew, and his mother, her smile shy, like sunrays from behind the clouds. He missed them. Both of them.


    What would they have thought? What advice could they have given him?


    He got up and prepared to do something he hadn¡¯t done in far to long. He went for a jog. It was an old habit of his, from back, before he¡¯d started gaming.


    Barely five minutes in and he remembered why he didn¡¯t jog anymore. It was agony. He had a stitch on one side and his legs were burning. To add insult to injury his jogging shoes were now somehow too small in the time he hadn¡¯t worn them.


    The jogging turned to more of a brisk stroll, before slowing down to a walk. But it still did what it was meant to do. It gave him time to think.


    There were several things that needed thinking about.


    Firstly, there were people near him, which ruined his plan of a secluded life in-game.


    Secondly, if the first encounter was anything to go by, they were probably hostile.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    And thirdly he¡¯d broken his own promise. He¡¯d fought another person and come very close to losing himself again.


    Sure, it was in a game and they¡¯d attacked first, but last time had been counted as self-defence too. His breath caught in his lungs for a moment as he remembered the sound of cracking bones, the way the bone had bent and snapped under his fist. There was a reason he¡¯d made that promise with himself. He didn¡¯t want to lose control. That simmering violence¡­ that was not who he wanted to be.


    He knew from experience that it was far too easy to become desensitised from things like that. It starts off small, simply a way to level up in a game and the next thing you know it¡¯s a habit in the real world. Violence wasn¡¯t an answer, at least not always. In games it held no consequences, but if he let that define who he was, then¡­


    He sat down to take a breather on the park bench. Leaning back he looked up at the sky.


    If he wanted to live peacefully in the game then, as he saw it, he had three options before him.


    One, ignore the people, hoping they would leave him alone, or two speak with them, apologise and hope they would leave him alone. Neither of those two were very realistic.


    The first scenario won him a little time. There was a village, which meant people and people need resources, food, water, stone, wood. That meant that eventually they would explore the forest, finally discovering the waterfall and, with it, him. While he could hope for a peaceful coexistence, it was unrealistic.


    As the village grew, so too would the demands for the previously mentioned resources. He would never find peace. So that option was only be delaying the inevitable.


    The second option was also a flop. If they were hostile, they would attack. There were more of them than him and he had injured one of their own. He didn¡¯t even have anything to offer them in return for leaving him alone. Even if they were friendliest, the first scenario would come into play, which left the last option.


    He would have to convince them to stay out of the forest. Since he had nothing to trade that meant a show of force. He would have to go in and confront them.


    Go in, convince them that the forest was off limits and he wasn¡¯t worth the trouble, then leave again before they could call his bluff. Smoke and mirrors. He wouldn¡¯t even need to kill anybody. Just scare them, leave and let the tale grow in each retelling.


    Something flashy and unpredictable. Now there was something he hadn¡¯t done in a while.


    Getting to his feet he slowly headed home, considering how to pull it off. He had a fair bit of experience in similar stunts like these from his earlier gaming career, where he¡¯d needed to convince other players that it was a bad idea to mess with him.


    It usually meant he had an easier time robbing their items, before selling them. Not his proudest moments, but he¡¯d needed the money.


    Which just left the execution of his plan, playing on people¡¯s fears.


    He grinned, his blood coursing from the excitement, or maybe just from the thought of getting revenge. He didn¡¯t like dying.


    Back at home he looked at the clock, only to realise that he still had twenty-three hours left. He groaned and after a refreshing shower got to doing some of the plentiful chores, starting with the kitchen.


    He began cleaning out the fridge, throwing away all the old food, before moving on to the kitchen top. From there he headed into the living room, picking up dirty clothes and placing used bowls and plates in the dish washer. He looked at the clock. Twenty hours left to go.


    Heating up some instant noodles he continued the mindless cleaning spree. Heading into his room he just dumped all the clothes from the floor into the washing machine. He was too lazy to sort through them all. They were probably all dirty anyway.


    Games found their way back into their covers, books back to their rightful positions in the shelf and figurines and such were freed of dust. Even his desk got a quick once over, though most of the stuff just vanished into one of the drawers. He vacuumed, mopped and changed his sheets. He even ironed his one good shirt!


    In the end he collapsed onto the sofa, too tired to even turn on the TV. He looked at the clock. Only nine and a half more hours to go.


    Finding an old alarm clock, he set a timer for nine hours. Never had a day seemed so long!

 Chapter 17

    Kade stood in front of his capsule for the third time, in about just as many days. The pristine chrome surface reflected his resolute face.


    He¡¯d decided on a course of action. After all, yesterday he¡¯d had plenty of time to mull things over.


    Some things, he¡¯d realised, were worth defending. He didn¡¯t want to engage in conflict, but it was only a small moment compared to the potential conflict that could occur. Running away wasn¡¯t resolving his issues, it was avoiding them.


    And he¡¯d changed since that initial incident years ago. He was no longer the same person, angry at the world and the hand he¡¯d been dealt. There were ways other than violence to solve issues.


    Azrael was a new start for him and New Earth was the same, a whole new beginning. It meant he could be who he wanted to be. And he wanted to protect the things that were precious to him. Gods all know he¡¯d lost far too many of those. Azrael ¨C death and rebirth. They¡¯d killed him once, but he would rise like a phoenix.


    Internally he cringed as he stepped into the capsule. That had sounded cheesier than he¡¯d thought. At least Sera hadn¡¯t heard that.


    Inside the game he was surprised to see Sera stand between the usual two sofas like a drill instructor. Her hands rested upon a wooden sword in front of her and a red strip of cloth was tied around her forehead.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± she demanded.


    He looked at her perplexed. ¡°To enter the game?¡±


    ¡°Revenge, soldier¡±


    ¡°Since whe¡­¡±


    ¡°I said ARE YOU READY SOLDIER?¡±


    ¡°Sir! Yes. Sir!¡±


    She glared at him.


    ¡°I mean, Ma¡¯am! Yes. Ma¡¯am!¡±


    ¡°I CAN¡¯T HEAR YOU!¡±


    ¡°MA¡¯AM! YES! MA¡¯AM!¡±


    ¡°Then get a move on!¡±


    She moved up to him and slapped him across his bottom with the flat of the blade, sending him falling into blackness. For a second he was falling, then he was not.


    Azrael opened his eyes to find himself lying on his bed in the cave. He sat up. His cave was almost exactly as he left it, ashes from the fire and a small stack of firewood by the wall. The only indicator of four days passing were the leaves and branches of his bed. Once green, they had dried out, leaving the leaves brown and scratchy against his skin.


    He checked his body. He was naked and his skin as pristine as the day he¡¯d been born. All his wounds were gone and when he checked his mana pool he was glad to see that it was full. He¡¯d sorely ignored this precious resource in his last battle and when he had tried to use it it had been too late. He didn¡¯t have enough experience at using it in pressuring situations yet. It was something that he was hoping to rectify.


    Setting his plan aside for a second he opened up his status, curious at all the notifications he¡¯d ignored during the battle.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For pitting yourself in battle with a spear you have gained a level in [Spear Arts].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Spear Arts] (Lv.1)


    advances to [Spear Arts] (Lv.2).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For pitting yourself in battle with a spear you have gained a level in [Spear Arts]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Spear Arts] (Lv.2)


    advances to [Spear Arts] (Lv.3).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    ... [Spear Arts] (Lv.4).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡­


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡­


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡­


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For pitting yourself in battle with a spear you have gained a level in [Spear Arts].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Spear Arts] (Lv.7)


    advances to [Spear Arts] (Lv.8).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For showing masterful skill in combat you have gained DEX +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    ¡­ you have gained DEX +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    ¡­ DEX +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For pushing your speed to the limit you have gained AGI +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    ¡­ you have gained AGI +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    ¡­ AGI +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    ¡­ For Enduring past your limits you have gained END +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    ¡­ you have gained END +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡­


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For Enduring past your limits you have gained END +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He looked at it in admiration. The stat gains were huge! It seemed the system scaled the rewards in accordance with the danger. It seemed although Exp was no longer a thing for leveling, combat was still rewarded.


    Although he wondered why he hadn¡¯t gained this much when he fought the wolf. Was it a level, or skill difference? Maybe it was fighting better equipped opponents? Or there could be other factors that he wasn¡¯t aware of. Still, it was a lot of gains in a short period of time, though he¡¯d have to look into a way to compact the information. Looking through the notifications like this was too tedious. He continued reading.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    You have Died.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Due to your death you have lost three levels in [Spear Arts].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Spear arts]


    is now (Level 5).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Due to your death you have lost INT -1, AGI -2, DEX -2, END -3.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    His felt a pain deep in his gamer soul as he saw that last one. If he lost that many stats at a low level, how bad would it get if he died at a higher level? He shuddered even thinking about it.


    Seeing that the notifications ended he checked his actual status.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 80/80


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 120/120


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 6


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 8


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 10


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 7


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 12


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 7


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.2), Spear Arts (Lv.5), Mana Sense (Lv.3), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 4), Soul Sense (Lv.3).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He sighed looking at his status. Of everything that he lost nothing hurt as much as losing that point in intelligence. He¡¯d needed that for his plan. Everything hinged on smoke and mirrors. Deception and misdirection. And for that, nothing was as big and showy as magic, especially fire magic.


    Getting comfortable in a seated position Azrael pulled a thread of mana from his core. If he wanted to learn fire magic, he figured he would first have to master a mage¡¯s staple spell ¨C Fire bolt.


    Nothing was as terrifying in a game as watching a dragon blast a huge ball of flaming instant death at you. The ¡®fire bolt¡¯ spell was basically that, except smaller.


    The amount of energy that such a spell could hold was enormous. There was a reason that dragons were known as the creatures most in control of mana.


    Mana was energy and fire was energy. Now he just needed to figure out how to convert it. Spinning the thread into a ball over his hand he began racking his brains.


    There had to be some sort of trick, right?

 Chapter 18

    A little over two hours later Azrael sat by his fire place, a small pyramid of sticks ready for the lighting.


    His original plan had been to try and convert magic energy into thermic energy, while it was in a ball shape. He¡¯d changed tack however, when he realised that his efforts didn¡¯t seem to be leading anywhere.


    All the energy he¡¯d put into carefully drawing out and controlling mana had netted him a different type of award though. Another discovery that he made was that he could get short descriptions for skills, if he focused on them in his status.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Mana Control]


    Even the strongest iron can be as thin as silk.


    Enables the user better control over their mana.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Despite the unique, yet still obvious description, it was actually a pretty useful skill.


    With the skill aiding him he could notice a slight difference in mana consumption between now and before. Or rather, it wasn¡¯t so much less consumption as less loss. Because his control was better he was losing less mana, which meant that he didn¡¯t need to use as much for the same result.


    In the brief time he¡¯d had the skill it had already levelled up to level six, officially placing it as his highest-ranking skill. And even at such a low level the assistance was phenomenal.


    If [Mana Manipulation] allowed him to draw out larger amounts of power and mould it into different shapes, then [Mana Control] was how accurate, or how tightly he could keep the mana together. It allowed him to gather mana tighter and move it with more control. Hence the name. The two were like the  skills of a [General], and his mana was made up of little soldiers. [Mana Manipulation] was all the different and more complex tactics he could get his soldiers to do, while [Mana Control] was how well he ordered them and kept them in order.


    Despite the new magical growth, his current experiment now was more of a mundane approach, back to the basics. Instead of changing mana into fire he was trying to use mana to try and start a friction fire. His reasoning was that if a mana bullet could cause a boulder to explode from impact, then in theory, due to the kinetic force it delivered, in some way it should be able to cause friction.


    Except instead of wood on wood he was planning to grind mana on mana, thus trying to create enough friction to ignite the wood.


    Drawing out a small thread from his already diminished mana pool, he gathered it into a clump over his hand. Now came the hard part.


    Trying to maintain a steady stream of mana from his core through the first thread he began carefully working on drawing out a second.


    As his concentration split, he felt his control waver, small puffs of mana escaping where the thread bucked against his control and threatened to unravel.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Forced to release the second thread to calm the first he began rethinking his idea. Did he really need a second mana clump to rub against? Couldn¡¯t he find another way to create friction?


    Mentally grasping the mana clump in his hand, he felt his control skill ticking up as he slowly began changing the internal flow. Two halves of the mana sphere began rotating in different directions, like a grind stone. It was a bit like rubbing your belly and tapping your head. Seemingly impossible when you began, but soon becoming far easier.


    Curious he closed his eyes and used [Mana Sense] to focus on what was happening in front of him.


    Both halves of his rotating sphere ground together against each other, like a grindstone. Trapped between the two were small wisps of escaping mana. As the two halves exerted pressure this mana started to become agitated, rubbing against itself, until it were bouncing around like superheated gas. Reluctant to let it escape he clamped down on it, forcing it closer together.


    All of a sudden there was a large explosion that sent Azrael tumbling backwards.


    Dust rained down from the roof and for a moment all he could hear was a faint ringing from his ear. The whole world was muted, from the waterfall to the flocks of birds taking flight from the treetops in the distance.


    He propped himself up as he looked at what once had been his fireplace. Truthfully, it looked like someone had chucked a grenade into his cave. Sticks had been blasted in every direction, shattered into splinters, while ash and dust hung in the air and made it hard to breath.


    He gave his status a quick check.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    HP 68/80


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    MP 40/120


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    His health had taken a hit, while his mana sat pretty low too, from the experimentation.


    Two notifications popped up.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For improving your control over mana you have gained a level in [Mana Control]


    [Mana Control] (Lv.6) has advanced to [Mana Control] (Lv.7).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For improving your manipulation of mana you have gained a level in [Mana Manipulation]


    [Mana Manipulation] (Lv.4) has advanced to [Mana Manipulation] (Lv.5).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He smiled. At least he was doing something right.


    No. He was close. He could feel it. The way his mana had reacted had been exactly like an explosive. Too much energy in too small a space.


    All he had to do was isolate that energy.


    Carefully drawing out a little of what mana he had left, he tried to replicate the agitated mana, except this time he applied pressure with his own mental control.


    It was like getting soldiers in full heavy plate armour to dance. They resisted, before eventually caving in to his commands.


    Slowly his mana started reacting, becoming more and more agitated and gaining force as it tried to rip itself apart. It took all the willpower he had in order to keep it together, but even then he had to constantly replenish the amount of mana that did escape between the gaps of his mental concentration.


    Azrael glanced at his mana reserves, watching them shrink at a perilous rate. Barely thirty seconds had elapsed since he had started, and he was down to around twenty mana. He squinted, trying to protect his eyes from the ever-growing heat. A drop of sweat rolled down past his eyes. Although, whether that was from of the sheer amount of concentration he was forced to show, or due to the rising temperature in the room, he didn¡¯t know. Behind his eyes he felt his head start pounding.


    A flash of light and his fist sized clump of mana burst into flames. Heat rolled off it in waves, curling his eyebrows and evaporating his sweat. Relief rolled through Azrael as he started at the crude sun in his hand. He started laughing. He¡¯d done it, he¡¯d really man¡­


    The ball of fire guttered out, as his mana reserves hit rock bottom.


    Azrael slumped to the floor, out cold, his mana depleted.

 Chapter 19

    A rhythmic pounding in his head brought Azrael out of the blissful realms of nothingness. Bleary eyed he sat up and groaned, as the movement caused the pounding to intensify.


    He felt like he had the world¡¯s worst hangover. Beyond that, his entire neck was stiff as he¡¯d fallen unconscious in an awkward position.


    Surveying the destroyed scene, he felt like he was looking at the impact zone of a meteor. Radiating out from him were wood splinters, blasted out like shrapnel from the first explosion. Closer to him small bits of wood were charred, while the leaves had been completely reduced to ashes.


    Highly anxious he opened his notifications tab and scrolled through the latest of his notifications. He remembered a flicker of fire near the end, but it was too brief before the blackness hit him. As the blue screens appeared he mentally crossed his fingers.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For dedicating time to learning something new you have gained INT +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For showing insight into one of the truths of this world you have gained WIS +2.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For improving your control over mana you have gained a level in [Mana Control]


    [Mana Control] (Lv.7) has advanced to [Mana Control] (Lv.8).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For improving your manipulation of mana you have gained three levels in [Mana Manipulation] [Mana Manipulation] (Lv.5) has advanced to [Mana Manipulation] (Lv.8).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For improving your perception of mana you have gained two levels in [Mana Sense]


    [Mana Sense] (Lv.3) has advanced to [Mana Sense] (Lv.5).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He was more than happy with those gains, but he flicked through in search of the real notification that he was looking for. He let out a breath he hadn¡¯t even realised that he was holding when he saw the next ones.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through a new understanding of mana you have unlocked the unique skill [Elemental Mana].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


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


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Elemental Mana]


    You may grant your mana an elemental affinity.


    Current Affinities: [Fire].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For successfully harnessing one of the underlying arcane truths you have gained a level in ¡®Sorcerer¡¯ INT+1 WIS+3 END+1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He looked at the stat gain for the last one appreciatively. During his experimentation he¡¯d come to realise that wisdom was an indicator of how much MP he could regenerate in an hour. A big tank was useless if you couldn¡¯t fill it fast enough.


    Switching to his updated status he smiled. This was how games were meant to go.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.2), Sorcerer (Lv.1)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 90/90


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 140/140


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 6


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 9


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 10


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 7


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 14


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 12


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.2), Spear Arts (Lv.5), Mana Sense (Lv.5), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 8), Soul Sense (Lv.3), Mana Control (Lv.8).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Everything was slowly ticking up. Except his strength. That kind of bothered him, but from looking at his stats he was heading more of a mage route.


    Although he wasn¡¯t sure where dexterity fit in. Smoother hand movements? He hadn¡¯t really used any so far. Maybe it was for shaping the mana? He shrugged. He had what he needed. He could worry about these things later. Now, it was time to implement his plan.


    An hour later and he was seriously regretting his plan. He was currently sitting in the wedge of a tree, at the edge of a forest. Through the leaves he caught brief glimpses of figures trying to herd those bison creatures. Although from up close he noticed that a few of the larger ones resembled buffalo more than bison.


    Behind them was the wooden palisade around the village. At least he assumed it was a village and not a large holding pen. Shifting position, he tugged the wolf hide on his back.


    He was currently wearing the entire thing as a cloak, with its head on his own and the front paws tied around his neck. For a moment he admired the midnight hue of the fur, before shifting it again. It was itchy.


    Back in the village one of the palisade gates briefly swung open, allowing for a change in guard. There were no guard towers, just two men holding watch in front of the gate.


    Through the open gate he saw a small main road with wooden structures either side. That ruled out the holding pen. The gate swung closed again and he settled back in.


    He¡¯d planned to approach the village at dusk, hoping the uncertain twilight would add to his mystique, while the darkening skies created the perfect canvas for him to showcase his new fire magic.


    He looked up at the sun. He had a little time for a nap, surely?


    Time seemed to fly and the hour soon arrived, prompting Azrael to jump down from his perch. Twilight had fallen and they¡¯d lit a small brazier by the gates. He straightened his midnight cloak and strode out of the forest with a regal air of confidence. He pulled the skull of the wolf lower, over his brow, hiding his face in shadow.


    It was show time!


    ***


    Niel was on watch, dutifully minding the gates. The crackling of the brazier lulled him.


    He¡¯d been stuck here for the past three hours. His feet were sore and he couldn¡¯t wait for the changing of guard. Truth was he¡¯d rather have been out rounding up the bison creatures ¨C Bullas as the locals called them.


    As the newest member to the group, he¡¯d been placed in front of the gates. To guard the gates. Not like anybody would purposely come out here, to the end of the world. He shifted his sore legs a bit, wondering what he would do once off guard duty. Some Bulla stew and then maybe log off to have a shower in real life. He scratched his leg through the simple rough-spun clothing he was wearing. This village had none of the conveniences of modern life.


    Valek, his partner, gave a sudden cry of alarm and Niel straightened from where he was resting against the village wall. In the failing light of dusk a silhouette emerged from the forest, heading their way. Unlike the usual wolves that occasionally stalked the plains this creature walked on two legs.


    As it drew closer more details began to reveal themselves. In the light of the brazier the silhouette took on the visage of a naked man-beast.


    This beast was covered from head to toe in strange and terrifying symbols, drawn on it in blood. On its shoulders sat a cloak of shadows, which swayed threateningly as it walked. Its head was that of a wolf, its dead eyes gazing at them unblinkingly. Niel readied his spear as Valek drew his sword. Neither of them dared to look away.


    The creature slowly opened its mouth and spoke.

 Chapter 20

    Azrael smiled under the shadows of his cloak, as he approached the village gates with slow unhurried steps. He resisted the urge to scratch some drying blood from his skin. It was one of his lesser thought-out plans, but what was done was done. He just needed to roll with it.


    On his way here he¡¯d found a half-eaten bison, leftover from some beasts¡¯ hunt. Inspired, he¡¯d used its blood to draw markings on his body. It was a decision he was still coming to regret.


    The dried bison blood was just as itchy as the cloak, except it covered his entire skin. Once again supressing the urge to scratch it, he looked at the two men. From the way they were shaking in their boots it seemed that it was worthwhile sacrifice.


    He stopped just outside of the fire light and let the two squirm for a moment, before speaking in his lowest possible voice.


    ¡°Men have walked the hallowed grounds, have strayed upon the forest bounds. Know your sins and mend your ways, else suffer ¨C till your ending days.¡±


    He sent a bit of mana into the brazier, igniting it and letting it flare up as he spoke. It brought the slightly glistening blood on his skin into stark relief, while deepening the shadows he hid behind. Unconsciously, the men gulped.


    To his credit the swordsman took a step in his direction and pointed his sword at Azrael.


    ¡°Be gone spirit, we have no quarrel with you.¡± He said with a steady voice, the perfect image of a confident guard. The shaking of the sword ruined the effect a bit, but Azrael gave him a mark for trying. Actually¡­ Azrael squinted a bit taking a step towards the man for a better look. The quivering blade was only a hand¡¯s breadth away from his chest. The black hair on this guy was familiar. It was the same sword bastard that had killed him! Azrael grinned. It was time for some payback.


    ***


    Beneath his collar Valek was sweating profusely. It was guard duty like any other, when this figure appeared. Cloaked in shadow it had walked towards them with a fearless confidence, as if it owned the whole world. Even the fire recognised the danger this figure presented, flaring in warning at its spoken words. Now, it was barely a hands breath away from the tip of his sword, looking at him and grinning. A sudden lunge and he could end it all, except he found himself frozen by fear.


    The creature stood there, fearlessly, as if knowing that he couldn¡¯t move, its pristine teeth glowing in the firelight, while the rest of its face lay obscured under a wolf¡¯s head.


    ¡°Sinner!¡± The voice suddenly spat, causing Valek to flinch. ¡°You have watered the trees with blood of the innocent.¡±


    Valek¡¯s mind went into overdrive, trying to recall when he¡¯d been near the forest was when he¡¯d¡­ the exhibitionist. He¡¯d killed that naked exhibitionist, when he¡¯d been forced on a hunt with one of the village boys.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Most of the guild stationed here were out on exploration, leaving them shorthanded in the village. This in turn had meant that he¡¯d had to take on the task. He¡¯d chased after an adolescent bull, which had bolted when they¡¯d branded it.


    It had escaped, but not before managing to set one of the houses on fire. In the end they trapped it, subduing it by the forest, only to be assaulted by that exhibitionist.


    He shuddered when he recalled the fight. It had been a hard, bloody battle. Now it seemed he¡¯d angered a spirit of the forest. He really was unlucky, wasn¡¯t he?


    ***


    Azrael took pleasure in watching the man squirm. It seemed he did remember. Not that it changed anything.


    It was time for act two.


    Drawing out threads of his mana he let it roll to the earth, before guiding it forward, just under the gate. It took all of his concentration to keep it together. Each meter further from him exponentially increased the mental strain.


    The gate had been at the edge of his range, forcing him to step closer. Scared that the swordsman would recover from fear any moment and stab him, he quickly converted the whole thing to fire mana.


    The gate blew off its crude hinges, flying into the sky, before landing on the ground in an explosion of timber. Ash and flames rained down, while mangled bits of wood lay scattered on the ground, charred. The air was filled with the smell of smoke.


    He strode forward, ignoring the two incapacitated guards. The guard with the spear had his leg impaled by a large piece of wood, while the other had vanished beneath the broken remains of the gate.


    It was a bit of a bloody beginning, but he made an exception this time. This was all so he could avoid killing in the future. Checking his mana, he slowly he began walking through the open gate. He should have enough to pull this off. Afterall, he only needed to do one more demonstration of strength before leaving.


    The exploding gate drew in everyone¡¯s attention. A whole group of men staggered out of one of the buildings. Two of the four staggered a bit more than the others, while the third openly clutched a bottle. Two more emerged from another building and began shouting orders. They were obviously of higher ranking than the drinkers. All of them wore a black armband with a white sheep insignia.


    Seemingly unworried Azrael continued striding down the main street, using mana to leave flaming footprints. The footprints themselves served no practical purpose, but they didn¡¯t know that, and he liked the theatrical flair. He stopped before the group. Silence stretched out into the night.


    Above them night had fallen, giving rise to a silver full moon. Its ghastly light lent strength to the shadows, while illuminating the scene below.


    Their commander stepped forward.


    ¡°Identify yourself!¡±


    Azrael didn¡¯t react, instead silently watching the group. Satisfied that they wouldn¡¯t be moving until they were certain on who, or what he was, he began channelling his mana.


    ¡°Who are you and what do you want?¡±


    Azrael continued ignoring him, while pushing out more mana. Things would quickly escalate from here, but before¡­


    ¡°You are currently trespassing on claimed land. If you do not identify yourself, we will be forced to escort you off these premises¡±


    Aaaand there it was. Internally Azrael began to smile. This guy almost made it too easy.


    ¡°Men have walked the hallowed grounds, have strayed upon the forest bounds. Know your sins and mend your ways, else suffer ¨C till your ending days.¡±


    ¡°This is your final warning.¡±


    If Azrael hadn¡¯t been so busy concentrating on controlling mana he might have smiled.


    ¡°Men have walked the hallowed grounds, have strayed upon the forest bounds. Know your sins and mend your ways, else suffer ¨C till your ending days.¡±


    The commander raised his hand. ¡°Free Sheep ATTACK!¡±


    It took all of Azrael¡¯s willpower not to laugh at that one and he almost lost control of his mana construct. Luckily, he managed to quickly get it under control and not a moment too soon. As the four men charged, he ignited his mana.


    A wall of flames roared into being, covering the main street. For moment the defenders hesitated, before jumping through. The battle had begun.

 Chapter 21

    Nords, the guild leader and commander of the Free Sheep guild, watched his men dive through the roaring flames.


    He and his guild, The Free Sheep, had taken over this village nearly a month ago. It wasn¡¯t the easiest place to be, or the best way to live, but in their case they didn¡¯t have a choice. They were a contracted guild.


    When they signed, they knew that it wouldn¡¯t all be fun and games, but the job paid. It was just that the whole god-damn game was too god-damn realistic. At the beginning they¡¯d been given the bare minimum by their employers, before being sent out here to herd Bullas. If he¡¯d have known that it would be like this he would have asked for more. He shook his head. He¡¯d already signed the contract.


    Originally, the villagers had resisted against the player¡¯s occupation, but their demeanour quickly changed after one of his men recklessly made an example of one of them ¨C an elderly woman. Not the best way to solve things, but the villagers no longer protested openly. Well, most of them. He rubbed his wrist where one of the children had bitten him. It seemed that she¡¯d been close to the deceased.


    On the other hand, he¡¯d improved the village. There were now more houses for living and a brand-new palisade ringing around the village. He¡¯d even managed to organise things enough that he could send off a group on an expedition into the forest in search of resources. All in all, things had been going well, until a few days ago.


    It had started when a rampaging bull set fire to part of the village. Then, one of his men came home looking like he¡¯d been through a blender. A few nights later wolves had gotten into the holding pens and slaughtered half of the Bullas herd set for transportation. He pinched the bridge of his nose. And now this. Most of the guild was on the expedition into the forest and apparently something had a problem with that.


    Hearing cries of confusion coming from his men Nords strode forward through the already diminishing flames. He expected to see his men standing over a cooling corpse. Instead, they were standing around the spot where the figure had been. The burnt footprints ending in the middle of the street.


    Nords scanned the shadows of the main street before pointing to the side streets. ¡°Search the village!¡±


    ***


    Azrael slipped into a side alley, before ducking around a corner. Behind him the blazing wall of fire hid his escape. He heard cries of confusion, before a voice cut through them all.


    ¡°Search the village!¡±


    He¡¯d intended to walk in, leave a cryptic warning and then vanish into metaphorical smoke. What he hadn¡¯t considered was the distance back to the gate. He¡¯d had to slip into a side alley, or the men would have been on him before he even made it halfway to the gate.


    Briefly he considered escaping over the village wall, but quickly discarded the idea. With how bright the moon was tonight, they¡¯d probably spot him before he managed to get over. Footsteps rushed towards him and he vaulted through an open window to avoid them, landing silently within.


    It was dark inside, the contrast between the moonlit streets and the shadowy interior forcing him to pause for a moment, until his eyes adjusted. It was a simple hut, made of wood. The interior was mostly empty, just a table, two chairs, a bed and a pair of eyes fearfully watching him from behind the quilt.


    The door burst open as a guard kicked it open, searching for the intruder. But Azrael had already left, gone like a wraith, leaving only the guard and the fearful villager in their bed.


    Slipping through the village Azrael hoped to make it out through the broken gate, but found it manned by two men. It meant less people searching for him, but also meant he was trapped within. It seemed he¡¯d have to wait out the manhunt.


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


    He smiled grimly. It was a game of cat and mouse.


    Turning away from the gate Azrael ghosted through the village, avoiding the searching men. He stealthily moved from house to house, using windows as doors and roofs as walkways.


    As he passed through the village, he was often forced to slip into houses, to avoid detection on the streets. Then, when they entered a house he was gone again ¨C a phantom, a shadow. Most of the buildings were empty, their interiors tidy, but unoccupied. It was almost as if there were meant to be more people living here, but they¡¯d all left.


    In some of the houses he encountered the local villagers. From within the shadowed darkness of the building their eyes followed him warily, fearfully. Their gaunt fingers fearfully clutching blankets, makeshift weapons and oft times each other. The lack of light veiled their features, making them all look the same, generic bits of code.


    He kept on moving and the night seemed to be filled with only three entities; The hunters, the shadow and the fearful masses.


    Once, upon entering a building, he found himself face to face with a knife. The lad from a week ago pointed the quivering tip towards him. Behind him, his mother, a matronly woman held a small stool. He held up his arms in a placating gesture before leaving the way he came. There seemed to be little love between the villagers and the invading players, but it wouldn¡¯t help if they raised the alarm.


    He smiled as he left. That act of defiance had taken him by complete surprise. Most of the villagers had simply cowered. In a way it was refreshing, though probably the wrong time to appreciate it.


    Slipping into an empty home, he stopped to catch his breath. Soon this farce would end. When the men failed to find him, it would make it seem as if he¡¯d disappeared into thin smoke. A spirit appearing in flames and disappearing again like smoke on the breeze. A fireside story to keep them out of the forest.


    Scanning the building his breath invariably caught, as he nearly jumped out of his skin. Two eyes glared at him from what he¡¯d deemed as an otherwise empty building.


    A young girl was sitting against the wall of the house. She was barely 13, her brown hair cut to shoulder length. Unconsciously he took a step back. Her eyes were filled with bright and burning unbridled hatred. Where the other villagers looked at him with fear, caution and hopelessness she glared at him, as if he would fall down dead if she did so.


    For a minute neither of them moved, their gazes locked, before a shout from outside seemed to break the spell. Only now did he notice that her hands and feet were bound together. In the dim moonlight that filtered through a crack in the door he saw scratches and bruises. Evidence of a fight, and judging from the position she was in, one she¡¯d obviously lost.


    It rubbed him in all the wrong ways. For people, anybody, to do this was wrong. Even if they were strings of code in a game, the point still stood. It was wrong. From what he¡¯d seen the villagers were living in fear. Terrified of the players.


    And to the players the villagers were only code, free labour in a game.


    Keeping an eye on the girl he peeked out the door. Unknowingly he¡¯d rounded through the village ending up at the other end of the main street.


    The street stood empty, only the occasional man with a torch crossing to the other side. Even the guards at the gate seemed to have been drawn into the ever-growing desperation to find him. It was a straight run to the exit.


    He could escape.


    Behind him he could feel the girl¡¯s gaze bore into him; full of anger, defiance and hatred. Both at the men who did this to her and at herself for being too weak to change anything. He knew that weakness all too well. That helplessness of being outnumbered and overpowered. This girl here had tried to rebel and failed. Now she had to face the consequences. Sure, it rubbed him in all the wrong ways, but it was not his problem. He could just leave.


    Or so he tried to tell himself.


    Turning back, he found the sharpest item and slit through her bindings, wary as they unravelled. The girl let a flash of emotion pass across her face, before it became an unreadable mask. She rubbed her wrists, keeping her eyes on him and the object he¡¯d used to free her.


    Making sure that she wouldn¡¯t attack him, he dropped the item and stepped out of the house, closing the door behind him, blocking out her gaze. He felt anger beginning to boil beneath his skin. Her eyes were the eyes he saw when he looked into the mirror. The eyes of someone utterly betrayed by the world.


    Maybe he did it because he felt bad for the girl. Maybe he did it because it reminded him too much of himself but he strode out onto the street and fired a fireball straight into the sky.


    <hr>


    A picture slowly began to form. A village living far from others, a simple village life. Then, invaders, men with iron blades and combat skill. Suppression, followed by oppression. To the players the NPCs were simply strings of code, AI. Free labour. The villagers had been used and abused, but were powerless to fight against the players. This girl here had tried to rebel, only to fail and face the consequences. It rubbed him in all the wrong ways. He sighed, it wasn¡¯t his problem.

 Chapter 22

    Nords was in his house, a rough map of the village laid out on his table. A cup of crude alcohol lay beside it, on the table, untouched. He glanced at it briefly and considered downing the whole thing. It took all of his mental strength not to. He needed to be thinking clearly for this.


    Returning his attention back to the map he pinched the bridge of his nose. They¡¯d been searching for almost twenty minutes by now, but whatever creature it was that had decided to invade the village, it was gone.


    Either it had escaped, or was hiding somewhere they couldn¡¯t find it. There¡¯d been more than a few whispers of the supernatural from his men. Their moral was taking a hit too, as they saw danger in every shadow.


    Right now, he was regretting sending out his men on that expedition. The more rational men of his guild were off leading that expedition. Even just the bolstering of their number would have been much appreciated.


    There was limited space to hide in the small village, but with over half his men gone, he just didn¡¯t have the numbers to perform a proper sweep. The spirit/creature, whatever it was, was probably long gone by now.


    There were eight players in this village, including himself. One was dead, crushed by the gate, another wounded, his leg impaled. With himself organising the whole thing that left three men searching, five once he pulled the two men off the gate.


    His eyes wandered back over to the alcohol. He was wondering whether to call of the whole search when he heard the whoosh of flames from outside. He charged out his door to see the last remnants of a fireball dissipate into the night sky. Directly below it stood a figure, cloaked in blood and shadows.


    ***


    Azrael watched the last of the flames fade against the night sky.


    The evening air was chilly against his skin, as if trying to cool his anger. He let it sink in, cooling the emotions that were roiling around him, leaving behind a cool sort of calm rage.


    Around him the cries of players rung out, as they converged onto the main street. From within one of the houses their commander appeared, pointing and yelling commands. Azrael blocked it out, not hearing a word. Now was not the time to be distracted.


    Pointing his finger at the gathering men he called upon his mana. It slowly coalesced at his fingertip, shimmering silver in the moonlight. With a single thought he ignited it, flames springing into existence and snapping hungrily in the night air, eager to be unleashed.


    For a brief moment the flames danced there, before the fireball flew straight towards the men. It exploded upon impact, sending two to the ground as they tried to douse the flames on their clothes. The battle had begun.


    The remaining men had jumped to the side as the fire ball flew forwards, avoiding it. They now began to charge. Azrael just stood calmly, observing.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Too slow. The spell was too slow. It still took him a handful of seconds. Seconds too long. Seconds wasted. He¡¯d already ascertained how fatal that could be in his last fight.


    He readjusted his aim, sending another ball of fire towards their commander. The flames splashed against the outer walls of the house, as the man dove out of the way and onto the dusty street. He rose unharmed.


    The house was not so lucky, as the fire latched onto the dry wooden wall.


    By now the charging men had nearly reached him, and Azrael began moving, racing through the backstreets of the village. Despite everything he managed to try and keep his emotions in check, calming his mind.


    It was odd though. Everything seemed to be moving slower than he thought it should. Flames moved in slow motion, while the men seemed to be moving through molasses.


    It gave him time. Each move was calculated and measured, in absolute calm. It was as if he was simply watching from behind a screen, executing commands. He was still lost in anger, but logic took over emotion. Here, he was in control, just¡­ detached.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through staying rational during an intense situation you have gained the skill [Calm Mind].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Calm Mind]


    While emotions rage, the mind is calm.


    You are more likely to keep a calm mind in intense situations.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He ignored the notification as he ran through the village.


    As he moved, he threw off fire balls to the left and right, targeting all the empty houses. One fire ball. Too slow. A second fire ball. Too slow.


    He tried to force his mana out, sacrificing fine control for brute force. As he did so, he felt his imaginary threads of mana starting to unravel, as he forced them through his body.


    He grimaced as he noticed wisps of his mana escaping his grasp. These simply drifting off and ignited in the air around him.


    He fired again. Still too slow.


    Behind him men watched the demonic intruder set blaze to their village. Each wave of its hands condemning another house to the flames. The air around the figure shimmered with heat like a ghostly veil separating it from the mortal world and around it flames spontaneously popped in and out of existence. The burning buildings only added to the hellish scene.


    Azrael tried reining in the mana before it escaped, spinning it together tightly, reining it in with [Mana Control] and in general just trying to eke out every advantage he could get.


    And slowly his fireballs changed.


    While casting them seven seconds turned to six, while six became five. His bullets also became smaller, tighter, more compact. The flames were no longer burning a hellish red, instead becoming golden orange, like miniature suns.


    Slipping through another alley Azrael noticed one of the men behind him suddenly gaining ground.


    Instinctively, he charged another fire ball, compressing it and shaping it like a bullet. In his hurry he forgot to ignite it and it shot forward unlit. All this happened in less than a second.


    The bullet pierced a man through his eye and he fell down screaming.


    Messages popped up, but he only had time to glance at one of them before he was forced to dodge a knife thrown at his head.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through your dedication to magical combat, you have gained the skill [Mana Bullet].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <hr>

 Chapter 23

    Azrael saw a flash of silver fly towards him and threw himself forward.


    The sharp blade of a knife flew by, embedding itself in the wall where his head had been a moment before. It sat there quivering, buried halfway down the blade and he swore he could see his own hairs drifting downwards where the blade had passed. He gulped. A second later and that would have been his head.


    Behind him his pursuers filtered out of the alley and spread around him in a threatening half circle. He realised that he had ended up on the main street once more. Behind him were three armed men. Two spears and a swordsman. On the other side the commander and the knife thrower. Both had a sword on their hip. He licked his lips nervously and glanced at his MP.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    MP: 35/140


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    It was a foreboding situation. This was not how he envisaged it happening. His plan had a lot less fire and fighting. He¡¯d miscalculated the nature of players.


    With enemies on two sides, he saw only three options before him:


    1: Run for the exit. He had a chance of escape, but it would also expose his back to the knife thrower, leaving him defenceless.


    2: Go for the knife thrower. The problem here was that he would simply be giving the man a chance to aim for him. Furthermore, the knife thrower was protected by the captain himself and it stood to reason that that the captain had more skill than his men.


    3: Go for the men. While higher in number they were still hampered by the alley and were likely to get in each other¡¯s way. Additionally, he could use them as meat shields, protecting him from the knife thrower¡¯s line of sight.


    So, Azrael did the only logical thing he could do. He ran towards the three men behind him.


    The knife thrower, reacted first, getting ready to spring into action, but Azrael had already planned ahead, firing a [Fire bullet] in his direction. It was off target, but that didn¡¯t matter.


    In the dark village the flames were blinding, stopping the man from throwing, or else risk friendly fire.


    The three pursuers that he turned on were less prepared. Seeing him charge they panicked, fumbling into action. The two spears caught each other, preventing the sword user from attacking.


    Azrael made use of the momentary chaos and managed to disarm one of the men, taking control of his spear. With a well-placed kick the disarmed man flew backwards, landing in the alley. His head hit the ground with an ominous snapping sound.


    This unfortunately gave the remaining two space to organise themselves and a moment later Azrael was forced to block a sword blade with the spear haft. Intending to press to his advantage he was instead forced to jump to the side to avoid an incoming spear thrust.


    Even now time was running out as the two players he¡¯d left in the street were running towards the fight.


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    Sidestepping an overhead strike from the sword he parried the incoming spear and stepped in, pushing the fight into the alley. In the narrow alley the man had nowhere to go and Azrael thrust the spear tip up through the man¡¯s throat. He left it lodged in there and instead opted to wrench the man¡¯s own spear out his grasp.


    As the man sunk down Azrael spun in place and jammed the spear butt into the swordman¡¯s chest, before reversing his grip and slashing it across the man¡¯s body. The swordsman collapsed with a cry of surprise, joining the others on the ground. Their deaths were brutal and efficient, reminiscent of his earlier years of gaming.


    Back then he¡¯d needed cash quickly. The fastest way to earn that in most VR games was PvP. His combat style was an embodiment of those times. Back then he¡¯d even come to enjoy it. It had become an art.


    Azrael blocked off those thoughts. He¡¯d left that behind. Wiping sweat off his forehead he looked at the carnage, his breathing laboured and his blood buzzing with adrenaline.


    Blood pooled in the alley and he found it becoming harder and harder to concentrate and keep a [Calm Mind]. Blue screens flashed before the red blood and he waved them away, instead trying to take a deep breath and calm his racing heart.


    Just from the sight of blood he felt that old savage madness, that thrill of the fight, bubbling up from the depths of his soul, threatening to take control. It prowled at the edge of his consciousness like a wild beast, searching for a way to escape, but he supressed the urge. It wasn¡¯t who he was anymore.


    Humanity, rationality, logical¡­ The captain rounded the corner, distracting him from his calming thoughts. Azrael acted on old instincts and the beast leapt free.


    The spear was moving towards the captain before either he or Azrael consciously realised what had happened. Trying to deflect it with his blade the captain managed to move it away from his heart, and it instead lodged itself in his left shoulder.


    Azrael tried to rein in the beast, forcing it back down into the depths of his soul. The captain in the meantime took advantage of this momentary lapse of movement and with a stroke of his blade he cut through the spear stuck in his shoulder, pulling away. This left Azrael with a length of wood and the captain with the spear head in his shoulder.


    With a grimace the captain wretched it out and threw it to the ground. Droplet of blood spattered through the air and slowly began dying the man¡¯s shirt red. The captain attacked.


    Fending off an onslaught of moves Azrael felt the man¡¯s overwhelming force bearing down on him. He¡¯d been right. This man was a level above his men. For every stroke that landed on the spear haft another drew blood. The man was meticulous. Thrust, cut, swipe, cut, block, cut. Every move he made forced Azrael into a fighting retreat.


    Suddenly, with his back to the wall Azrael found that he¡¯d been played by the man. The wall prevented him from retreating further. Narrowly avoiding a sword thrust he jumped the side, only realising too late that he¡¯d fallen into the man¡¯s true trap.


    A knife flew through the air, taking him in the left shoulder, almost identical to the captain¡¯s own wound.


    Azrael dropped the spear shaft and wrenched the blade out with his right hand, before being forced to deflect another one flying towards him. He¡¯d been played. Well and truly.


    Standing on the main street, twenty paces from him was the knife thrower.


    The captain stood in the alleyway, his sword raised. After seeing what had happened to his men, he¡¯d realised the downside to fighting Azrael in a confined space. Instead, he¡¯d manoeuvred Azrael back into the main street, allowing the knife thrower clear sight.


    It was a seemingly inescapable situation. If he went for the captain the knife thrower would go for him, but if he tried to close the distance to the knife thrower, he would expose his back to the captain¡¯s sword. Each resulted in his death.


    A feeling of foreboding welled up for the first time that evening. He didn¡¯t want to die. He hadn¡¯t wanted to kill either. This was simply meant to be a warning. From inside the beast, the old him, laughed at his naivety. He ignored it, instead trying to think through his options.


    Every way that he could think of would lead to his eventual demise. Each one different and just as painful.


    Every way that was, except one. This one was a different sort of death. The kind that even the game couldn¡¯t bring him back from.


    Closing his eyes he breathed in deeply, before letting out a shuddering breath. From deep within the beast let out a howl, primal and triumphant.


    He let himself sink into the darkness that was once him, shutting off all conscious thought and let it take control.

 Chapter 24

    Azrael¡¯s body leapt into action, like an unholy creature finally free of its chains.


    Without heed for his own wellbeing, he accelerated beyond what his limits should have been. His muscles screamed in protest at the sudden acceleration, as he tried to eke out every little advantage. Blood squirted out of his wounds, filling the air with the scent of iron. And his body practically flew at the captain, but he wasn¡¯t his prey.


    An incoming dagger joined him in the air, aiming for his vitals. He caught it in mid-air, spinning, rotating and launching it back at the knife thrower. A moment later it was followed by the blade he¡¯d pulled out of his shoulder. Two messengers of death, one clean silver, one drenched red. He didn¡¯t even look as the blades returned to their sender, instead continuing his rotation and catching the blade of the captain¡¯s sword in his left hand.


    He half screamed; half roared as the blade cut deeply into his palm. The captain¡¯s eyes widened in shock, only to widen even further as Azrael¡¯s hand clasped him around his mouth. Both struggled and both knew that inevitably the captain, with his superior strength, would win, but Azrael only needed a few seconds.


    The captain¡¯s head imploded, in a shower of gore and golden flames, as he pumped all his mana into a fireball that detonated from the inside.


    The captain¡¯s lifeless body flopped to the ground, allowing Azrael to look at the devastated village. It truly was a hellish scene. Houses were burning with hungry flames, filling the air with the smell of ashes and smoke. The knife thrower lay impaled by his own knifes, one in the throat and another in his chest. The captain lay beside his dead men, who were drenched in pools of their own blood. And from the shadows frightened villagers peeped out of their homes, their eyes lit up by the burning houses of their own village,


    And amidst all that he stood, a lone survivor, blood drenched and shadow cloaked, a hunter, a murder. His mana was almost drained, his health was low,


    The beast in him looked at the scene satisfied and left. It had won, he had survived. The forest was safe.


    For a long moment he stood there, drained, before he walked over to the three soldiers he¡¯d killed in the alley. With an apathetic movement he drew the spear from the man¡¯s throat and leant his weight on it. He used the spear as a walking stick and began the trudge home, back to his cave. Once there he logged off.


    The capsule door hissed open, but he just lay there and stared at the blank ceiling. For how long he wouldn¡¯t have been able to tell you, but slowly he got out of his capsule.


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    He moved in auto pilot. Refill the little of the nutrition capsules he¡¯d used. Everything happened without him consciously taking it in.


    He went for a shower. He dried off. He got dressed. He threw a pizza in the microwave. He went to the sofa. He ate. Nothing registered.


    He didn¡¯t even taste the food as he bit in. Seated, he picked up the remote and the TV flickered on, before he turned it off. This all somehow felt wrong, too normal.


    All of a sudden, his small apartment felt stifling. Heavy, oppressive, too small.


    He grabbed his wallet and left the building. There was no plan, no destination, only out, away, and the next thing he knew he was in the mountains behind the neighbouring city.


    He followed a mountain path up through the green trees, sunlight dappling the trodden path and illuminating the small blooms that strived for the light. A breeze whispered through the leaves, sending them dancing and in a moment of dreamlike clarity he took it all in.


    In some ways it was more enchanting than the most magical forest. A simplicity of the natural world. There was a tranquillity in the air. It was everything he wasn¡¯t; peaceful and calm.


    Up and up the path went, winding around the mountain, until he reached the top. Here, there was a small clearing and the wind grew slightly stronger, as the trees no longer protected him.


    It was a green glade, wind ruffled and in the centre was an outcrop of boulders, broken, yet still proudly stretching for the sky.


    He clambered up, seating himself on the tallest one and looked out into the distance. Amidst the green fields, the city sat far below, glass-clad skyscrapers turning golden in the setting sun. Cars flashed by busily, travelling on roads that crisscrossing the lands below, but up here it was silent, the wind washing away the sounds of the busy world below.


    Up here there were no cars, no people. It was as if he was the only person in the world. And he cried.


    Enveloped by nature he let his tears fall, first one drop, then another. His fear, his anger, his guilt, was washed away in an absolution of salty tears.


    Time stretched on and when he came to the wind had turned chilly, yet the sun still smiled at him from the horizon. For the first time in many years he watched a sunset. He¡¯d forgotten the beauty that such a small moment could hold. And he smiled contently. There were many things he¡¯d realised that he¡¯d forgotten.


    The shadows drew longer, creeping across the lands below and he watched the sun set. Even when the world below was dyed in the first shades of night, the sun touched his face, caressing his cheeks, before finally slipping beyond the horizon. He stayed a moment longer before heading back down the mountain.


    He caught a train back home, watching the world flash by as it travelled. Cars drove, people walked, and streetlights shone upon empty streets.


    Back at his apartment he opened the front door and switched on the lights, before taking off his shoes.


    ¡°I¡¯m home¡± he sighed. Nobody answered back. The house was silent.


    Making his way to his room he briefly looked at the silver pod, before slipping into bed.


    But back on the mountain the wind blew, the leaves whispered, the stars shone down from above.


    He closed his eyes and breathed out. His heart was calm.

 Chapter 25

    The next morning Azrael woke up and went for a jog. Yes, a jog. It was an admittedly short jog, barely ten minutes before he reached his limit, but a jog none the less.


    Last night on the mountain he¡¯d looked down on the city and realised something.


    The world didn¡¯t care.


    As profoundly simple as that was, it had struck him somewhere deep.


    Up until that moment he¡¯d secretly been hoping for some help, divine guidance, maybe even a kind smile. But everyone was too wrapped up in their own little lives. Climbing that mountain had been hard, yes, but at the end he was able to peacefully watch the sunset, while people tried to fulfill their busy little lives. He was one of them. One of those people that just went about their day, looking up at the people who made it.


    In high school he¡¯d put in the effort to be the best at his class, so he could fulfill his dream job.


    He¡¯d put in endless hours and sleepless nights to learn maths, coding and whatever else he needed to become a VR programmer. But people didn¡¯t care about his efforts. They simply labelled him a ¡®genius¡¯, because they couldn¡¯t accept that he¡¯d started on the same level as them.


    Later, when he was sixteen he¡¯d been hit by a vehicle and been in a coma for a year. To support his medical costs his parents had worked overtime, taking several jobs at once. But nobody cared.


    And even then, that money hadn¡¯t been enough and they¡¯d been forced to borrow more from loan sharks.


    His coma lasted a year and when he emerged, his family was in debt and his father fell ill from over exertion.


    From there everything went downhill, but nobody cared.


    He¡¯d been forced to quit school, entering what he knew best, to earn money ¨C gaming. And nobody cared.


    His mother¡¯s health also started to deteriorate as she continued to work, in order to help pay off his father¡¯s medical fees and the phenomenal debt.


    With both the medical fees increasing, as well as pressure from the loan sharks to repay the ever-increasing debt and interest, things became tough. Not even selling their family home alleviated the pressure for long.


    Four years after the beginning of his coma Kade was scouted by a massive VR gaming guild ¡®Holy Empire¡¯. They presented him with a contract. There was no way he could decline. He needed that money. And they abused that, but he needed that money.


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    Even then¡­


    It wasn¡¯t enough.


    Half a year later his father was badly injured due to an assault by some hired muscle from the loan sharks. They had arrived, demanding their money. They hadn¡¯t been able to pay as much as they demanded, so they decided to teach his father some ¡®manners¡¯.


    Azrael returned the favour, sending them to hospital. Unfortunately his father never recovered from the injuries and passed away soon after. But nobody cared. Not the government, not the authorities, no-one.


    Then, after his father¡¯s death, his mother drew into herself and he was left with a mentally ill mother and a large amount of debt.


    Two years later, he¡¯d just managed to pay off the debt when his mother committed suicide by his father¡¯s grave. And just like that, he was alone.


    In his loss he turned the only thing he had left. Gaming. Ten, sixteen, twenty hours a day he buried himself in another world, another reality. The game became his life.


    A small scandal later and he was fired from ¡®Holy Empire¡¯. Framed and fired he left the gaming world, shamed.


    He sold the cheap apartment they¡¯d bought and changed house, moving to the next city and buying a smaller apartment. With that money. That was two years ago and he¡¯d been there ever since.


    It was the truth of the world.


    Nobody cared.


    The only way to get up the mountain called ¡®Life¡¯ was through your own effort. It wasn¡¯t easy, it wasn¡¯t straight, it wasn¡¯t pretty, and it required persistence. There was no guaranteed sunset, only a whispered promise.


    In life, if you wanted something you had to make it yourself, and you had to be strong enough to do it yourself.


    If you wanted control, you needed power. It was as simple as that.


    If the world didn¡¯t care about him, he just had to become strong enough not to care about the world.


    That, he realised, was what bothered him so much when he fought in-game. It wasn¡¯t the killing, it was the lack of control. The fact that he wasn¡¯t strong enough to control the situation. That he wasn¡¯t even strong enough to control himself. He lost control to that primal part inside of him.


    He needed to become stronger.


    He needed to be stronger.


    He firmed his resolve and had a quick shower, before entering the game.


    His cave was silent, save for the muted roaring of waterfall outside. His wounds were mostly healed after his time out of the game. Although, his entire left arm was still very stiff and sore. It looked like he wouldn¡¯t be able to use if for a day or two yet. Still, even six days to heal was a lot faster that the required few months or so in real life. Nobody wanted to play with a damaged character, so it made sense from a designer¡¯s point of view, but he was curious about how they justified it. They¡¯d kept everything else realistic so far.


    Checking his health and mana he was glad to find that both were topped up to full, although that raised an interesting point about the fact that while he was still ¡®wounded¡¯ his HP showed as full.


    It meant that HP wasn¡¯t exactly representative of his actual physical condition. He moved around his cave as he mused. Maybe they were on separate bars, where one was his hit points and the other¡­ physical durability? Although what seemed more likely was that his health would fill up, before the rest was used to heal him. What would that be? Overhealth? He realised that he was getting side-tracked. Living alone for two years did that to a guy.


    He stretched and wandered over to the cave entrance, looking over the forest. There had to be something there that could make him stronger. He was so caught up in that thought that he failed to notice the dozen or so villagers camping at the bottom of his cave. As he stood there, lost in his musings the village chief threw himself down to the ground, prostrating, followed by the rest of the village.


    ¡°Please¡± He cried ¡°Please, oh mighty Lord of the forest, grant us protection¡±


    Azrael finally noticed them.


    ¡°What?¡±

 Chapter 26

    Azrael stood, stunned by the small congregation of villagers that had suddenly thrown themselves before him. Each of their heads were touching the ground and none of them dared look up.


    He gulped and slowly backed away. A few minutes later, when the boldest of them dared look up he was gone.


    ***


    A cry of surprise and despair rang out from one of his fellow villagers, causing the village chief to look up, fearing the worst. Despite having heard the mighty Lord¡¯s warning, when he had visited the village, they had intruded into the forest.


    No, the village chief corrected himself, he had led the villagers here. It was their only hope to escape the clutches of the invaders, those men who called themselves ¡®players¡¯.


    If the mighty Lord wished to punish them for intruding upon the sacred forest that he protected, then it was only right that he should smite them for their transgressions. But it was a chance that had to be taken.


    Still, it was a surprise to the village chief when the Lord did not smite them, but instead simply vanished.


    Seeing this the village chief let out a sigh of relief. He didn¡¯t worry that the Lord had vanished, he was not one to try and fathom the thoughts of higher beings. Though it seemed the Lord was as magnanimous as he was powerful. There could be no other explanation, for he had destroyed the village for a far smaller transgression.


    The day passed and the shadows began lengthening. Many of the villagers rose from their prostrated positions and made fires, whispering in low voices, but the village chief dared not rise. If he wished to plead the Lord for sanctuary, then he knew he had to show his sincerity. Staying in this position was a small price to pay for the safety of the other villagers.


    Finally, a figure appeared from within the cave above them. The voices of the villagers faded away. They were in the presence of the Lord.


    ***


    Azrael looked down at the silent villagers. The way they behaved was full of fear, respect and awe. It was as if they were looking at a divine messenger, or else a child of hell.


    He looked down upon them, as if he owned the place, however he was feeling a lot less confident than he let on. It took all he had not to run back into the cave. There were people. His foot twitched. People.


    Originally, when he¡¯d seen them, he¡¯d quickly retreated back into his cave, while they threw themselves to the forest floor. He¡¯d hoped that they would leave, but they¡¯d stayed there for hours, before a few of them could no longer bear to keep the position. Only the old guy, that seemed to be their leader, had stayed on his hands and knees the whole day. The others didn¡¯t leave without him.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Optimally, he would have just ignored them. He had no obligation to talk to them and would have just walked past them. The problem with that was that they blocked the only exit of his cave, and from the way they were building fires, they didn¡¯t seem to be planning on leaving anytime soon.


    This meant he had to deal with them ¨C soon. All he had to do was convince them that they had to leave, which meant that once more he had to briefly don the persona of the forest spirit.


    Azrael stood impassively, looking down on them, before speaking.


    ¡°Who is it that dares walk the forest ways?¡±


    He cringed at the line. It was the best he could come up with under pressure. The old man at their head spoke, not daring to look up.


    ¡°W-W-We do, oh m-mighty lord.¡±


    ¡°You are not welcome here¡±


    ¡°I a-ask for forgiveness, we merely seek¡­¡±


    ¡°Whatever it is that you seek, you will not find it here.¡±


    The old man froze, emotions warring on his wizened face. Azrael pressed to his advantage. He didn¡¯t want them anywhere near him and he didn¡¯t want to have to clean up their corpses when they were inevitably killed by wild beasts in the forest.


    ¡°This forest is not a place for the weak. You are all weak. You will all die.¡±


    Thoughts and emotions past across the old man¡¯s face. Azrael saw the man fighting an internal battle and lose. Slowly the old guy rose, his white hair falling limply to the sides of his head. A few villagers moved to help him, but he waved them away. The old man¡¯s face was filled with both resignation and resolution. He bowed towards Azrael, before straightening.


    ¡°Forgive us for our trespassing¡± he said, his voice controlled ¡°We will leave, though, I humbly ask that you show us a place to build our new village¡±


    Azrael looked at the man. That was it? Was it really that easy? He pointed out, towards the plains, back the way they had come. The further the better.


    The old man bowed again, before leading the villagers back into the trees. Packing up and dousing the fires the villagers slowly filtered through the trees. A few began to raise their voices in protest , but the man cut them off.


    When they were finally gone Azrael slumped to the floor of his cave. That had been too stressful. But they were gone. He logged out. He needed to recharge his social battery. Anime-binge or movie-marathon, he debated. Oh, the choices!


    ***


    The village chief led the rest of the villagers back the way they had come. There were a few protests, but the Lord had spoken. This was his forest, and his word was final. The village chief would brook no argument.


    The village chief though back to the Lord¡¯s words, searching for their meaning.


    ¡°Whatever it is that you seek, you will not find it here.¡±


    ¡°This forest is not a place for the weak. You are all weak. You will all die.¡±


    Watching a bird snap up a careless insect the words suddenly gained clarity. They were like that bug, small, weak, helpless. They had come seeking shelter in the Lord¡¯s power, but the Lord would not shelter them, for they were weak. Because they were weak, they would not survive. Such was the law of the forest. If they wished to live here, they would have to abide by the rules of the forest, the rules of the Lord. They would have to protect themselves. They would have to become strong.


    They had reached a clearing as he had that revelation and he turned to share the Lord¡¯s meaning with the rest of the villagers.


    In the shade of a great pillar he was about to share their Lord¡¯s teaching, when, in a twist of fate, the hand of divine guidance decided to make its move then.


    There under the shade of the stone spire in the clearing, carved proud and strong, were a collection of symbols; A-Z-R-A-E-L.


    Though the village chief didn¡¯t know what they meant, he knew in the deepest part of his being that this was the spot.


    He pointed to the spire. ¡°We will build our new village here!¡±

 Chapter 27

    Kade stepped out of the capsule, barely three hours since he¡¯d entered it. Sure, he¡¯d made the great statement of not caring about the world, but¡­ people! How could people deal with other people? He shook his head in amazement. It was a mystery.


    Stepping out of the capsule he went and browsed a shelf of (definitely not pirated) anime and famous movies. It was a tossup between the two and he couldn¡¯t decide, so he just grabbed a handful of both. He¡¯d decide later.


    Scrounging the cupboards, he extricated everything that he would need to make popcorn. You couldn¡¯t have a movie marathon without popcorn. You just couldn¡¯t.


    Throwing the popcorn into a large pot he went and browsed through the disks he¡¯d grabbed. There were a few more recent ones from rising movie companies, mixed in with older ones from the last generation, like the Marvel series. He sighed. It really wasn¡¯t easy to pick.


    In the end he found himself seated in front of the screen, watching an old western, with a bowl of popcorn on either side. Yes, it was very outdated, the acting was bad and the sound effects were plain awful, but it was a movie he¡¯d often watched with his father.


    The story was about seven outlaws, who, for different reasons, ended up in this little village in the middle of nowhere. All of them are on the run, but end up befriending each other.


    The story ended with the outlaws making a final stand to defend the village, as well as all the villagers they barely knew. They all tragically perish, but the village survives.


    The few times his mother watched, she would always clutch his father¡¯s hand, as the outlaws bravely and tragically met their ends. He lifted a hand to his eye and found it damp. He thought he¡¯d stopped missing them by now, but it seemed he¡¯d just locked it away. He wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about that.


    Eventually the movie finished, and he turned the TV off. He wasn¡¯t in the mood for the other action films he¡¯d lined up. Stuffing the last handful of popcorn into his mouth he looked at the ceiling and wondered what to do next.


    When he couldn¡¯t think of anything, he gave up.


    He wasn¡¯t really in the mood for anything. He wasn¡¯t hungry. He wasn¡¯t tired. He didn¡¯t even want to go back in the game. So, he did what had become his default in the last few days. He went out.


    Outside the streets were alive, with people rushing back home from work. He turned back immediately. Too many people.


    Since he didn¡¯t own a car, people meant crowded buses, crowded trains and crowded streets. It just wasn¡¯t his day it seemed. With a sigh he returned home, throwing the dishes in the wash and entering the capsule.


    At least in the game there wouldn¡¯t be people. He¡¯d warned the players and he¡¯d sent the villagers away. The forest was people free once more.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Giving Sera a brief nod he entered the game.


    ***


    Cairn, the village chief, surveyed the beginnings of the new village with a satisfied air. The dozen or so villagers with him were already making good progress on the beginnings of the village. The iron tools they¡¯d plundered from the invading players made the work so much easier.


    The village layout was very simple. He¡¯d designated a central square around the stone pillar, making it the focal point of the village. The towering spire was a reminder of their position. It showed that they were under the Lord¡¯s power, but also that they should strive for greater heights.


    To one side of the square were the houses, simple wooden abodes, while on the other side they planned to clear some area for small farms. The cleared wood would then be used in the continued construction of the houses.


    The villagers worked diligently as he kept an oversight of the proceedings. Every now and then he caught one of the villagers staring at the stone pillar in silent awe and reverence. He¡¯d explained the Lord¡¯s guidance to the others.


    The pillar was the representation of strength that the Lord expected of them. The villagers had accepted the Lord¡¯s decree and accepted his word with all their heart. Already, it had become a place of worship, with villagers placing offerings at the base.


    Such was the way of the forest, like the bees gives a bear honey, the weak give to the strong. All was as it was meant to be.


    A cry rang out from the one of the villagers and he turned to see what the commotion was.


    The Lord walked out of the forest, draped in his cloak of shadows. All the villagers got down on one knee.


    ***


    Azrael stood in what could be called the beginnings of a village, his hands full of offerings. Nothing was going as expected today. Azrael tried to figure out what was going on, but the village chief before him kept on interrupting by bowing and going on about teachings and strength and other things Azrael didn¡¯t quite understand.


    Originally, when he¡¯d logged back on, he¡¯d heard sounds from his cave and had come to explore. He had not expected what he¡¯d found.


    The villagers that he¡¯d sent away had started building a village right in the middle of his forest! Already the beginnings of structures were appearing. With the intention of sending them out the forest, he¡¯d walked into the clearing and been surprised when all of them immediately felt to their knees and began bowing to him.


    The chief had taken that chance to bestow upon Azrael ¡®offerings¡¯. Clothes, shoes, dried meat, a necklace, an iron spear. It was a motley mix.


    He looked at the clothes, then down at his still naked and blood caked body. The only reason they were here was because of him and he had technically burnt down their village. He would lie if he said he didn¡¯t feel a little guilty about that.


    The iron spear looked pretty nice, the spear tip glinting cruelly in the sun. He¡¯d lost his in the fight and these villagers hadn¡¯t actually done anything wrong, really.


    He looked at the boots. He looked at his scratched and dirty feet. He looked at the boots, then at his feet again. He sighed.


    It seemed they could stay. They were pretty close to his cave, although¡­ he¡¯d been meaning to move to the other side of the lake anyways.


    After the villagers had arrived at his cave, he¡¯d realised that it was a great defensive position, but terrible in every other regard.


    There was nothing stopping anyone from waltzing through the forest and arriving at his cave. The cliff effectively trapped him in as well. Being protected on three sides also meant that he was trapped on three side. He intended to move to the other side of the lake shore.


    To get to the other side people would have to pass through the forest, then cross either the lake, or the river feeding out of it. The mountains that formed the valley also offered protection from the back, but still potentially allowed him to escape to higher ground should anyone make it that far.


    Azrael accepted the offerings. Today was just not his day.


    At least he got boots.

 Chapter 28

    Back at his cave Azrael tried on his new clothes.


    He¡¯d swung by the lake on the way back and washed off all of the dried blood that still stuck remained on his skin. Most of it had already flaked off, but some parts required a bit more scrubbing. Some of it had also managed to get into his hair, which had been bit harder to get out, but he¡¯d managed.


    Now, finally dressed in proper clothes, he felt like a new man. The wolf hide was on his bed, discarded. He was now fully dressed in rough clothing, with spear in hand and with boots!


    Azrael exited his cave with a spring in his step. He felt great! He was freshly washed, clothed and fed and he had boots! Most people thought of forests with soft springy ground, but nobody bothered mentioning all the small rocks, twigs and branches that would constantly stab into your bare feet.


    With half a day still left before him, there was no better way to feel as he set off in search of a new place to live.


    The place he found was almost exactly how he imagined it to be. On the other side of the like he¡¯d stumbled upon a small idyllic clearing. It was perfect in almost every way possible.


    The only problem, that he could find, was that on the other side of the lake, almost completely opposite was where he was, the village was being built.


    Luckily his clearing was hidden maybe thirty meters from the shoreline, but it still rankled him. Even across the water he could still faintly hear the crashing of falling trees.


    What made the site ideal, from a defensive point of view, was that this was a natural choke point. One of the valley¡¯s mountains¡¯ ridges came down, to nearly meet the clearing, on the opposite side from the lake. That meant that if he wanted, he could start a small farm if he wished and anyone that wished to approach it would have to pass by his house, as the other three sides were protected by the mountains, the cliff and the lake. Once the village stopped felling trees it would be perfect.


    Satisfied he returned to his cave for the night and the next day he started to move his belongings to the new sight and start on the construction. By  ¡®moving and construction¡¯ he meant carrying his wolf skin over to the site and procrastinating about what he actually wanted to build.


    After having burnt down a village, he wanted to build his house out of stone, because he¡¯d seen how easily wooden houses could be destroyed. Considering that he could manifest fire at will and lived in a forest, stone seemed like a better option.


    After much mulling around he decided on a simple floor plan with two rooms. A main living space with kitchen, along with a smaller side room for sleeping. A simple home for a simple life.


    Using fallen branches, he began marking out the corners for the general floor plan that he wanted. After several different iterations he finally managed to settle on one. The larger main room was on the east side of the building, while a smaller bedroom was tucked in on the westside. Satisfied, he began the next crucial step. He had to learn a new magic!


    Out in the forest he didn¡¯t have the tools he needed to build a house. Chisels, hammers, planks, nails. He had none of that. Instead, he figured that if he could create fire using mana, shouldn¡¯t he be able to make stone? If he could make bricks of of magic he would be able to save so much time!


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Mana was energy and wasn¡¯t matter just energy in a different form? E=mc something or rather. Maybe he just had that wrong.


    Taking a seat he took up a lotus position, ready to ponder on the nature of earth, or rocks, or¡­ whatever. He closed his eyes.


    And screamed in frustration. It¡¯d been nearly an hour since he sat down, and he had gotten nowhere.


    Sure, fire had been easy, but fire go boom, it burn! You could visualise those. The only things he had for earth were solidarity and stability. How do you depict solidarity and stability?


    Despite being as frustrated as he was, he realised that he was getting nowhere and decided to take a break. Either he would find some inspiration, or he would be able to alleviate some stress. At this point it didn¡¯t really matter. He was just going mad from sitting around.


    Leaving the clearing he stormed out of the clearing, deciding to explore further towards the waterfall.


    He kicked a tree. Trees, trees, trees! There was nothing here! It was all monotone, nothing exciting. Oh, the boredom. He wasn¡¯t even sure why he was here if it was this boring. What happened to dramatic battles and magic creatures? Where were the dragons? The gryphons? Hell, he¡¯d even take an overgrown spider! Even a slime would have been a welcome addition at this point.


    Despite all this, all these creatures seemed to elude him. Either they didn¡¯t exist, which he highly doubted, or they just weren¡¯t here. The only thing of interest that he found he discovered on his way back. It was a small cave. Well, overhang.


    It wasn¡¯t anything overly interesting, but it was an unexpected discovery amongst the monotonous trees.


    Hidden about a hundred meters from his clearing, the little cave was hidden behind two bushes. He sighed, and took a break in the ¡®cave¡¯. Squeezing between the bushes he leant back against the cool stone.


    He was so bored that, for a moment, he imagined he was an adventurer lost in the woods, or a pirate stranded on a wooded island, the little cave his only shelter. ¡®Or a monk¡¯ he thought with some irony.


    Taking up the lotus position he began his ¡®meditation¡¯ once more. This time he drew forth his mana, feeling it flow through him.


    Guiding it to one of his palms he let it ignite, becoming fire. For a moment he watched it burn, happily dancing in his palm. He chucked it at the cave wall, watching it splash against the stone and gutter out. The short-lived flames never even stood a chance.


    Azrael frowned and summoned another wisp of mana. Then, he began to try the opposite of what he had just done. Instead of speeding up the mana flow and agitating it he decided to calm it down. If fire was energy, short lived and lively, then earth was solid, ancient and steadfast.


    Azrael pictured the mountains, ancient and tall, he pictured the boulder he¡¯d sat upon to watch the sunset, calm and proud. Finally, he pictured a small stone. He held that image in his mind.


    Azrael slowed the mana down, before grabbing small bits and putting them in an ordered structure. It was a bit like trying to put Lego block together. Except these Lego pieces were made out of magnets that repelled each other.


    The entire mana construct was only staying together by force of his will. As he pushed down the mana resisted, trying to shake free of its stationary bonds. It took all of his concentration to keep it from flying apart.


    Each new bit of mana that he placed in the structure reacted and connected with the bits beside it. A few times the ¡®structure¡¯ cracked as he lost concentration, forcing him to concentrate on fixing it before continuing, or else start over.


    Eventually though, he had it. In his palm, no larger than his pinkie, hovered a sliver of stone, suspended by his mana. He celebrated as a blue box appeared in his vision.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through a new understanding of mana you have progressed the unique skill [Elemental Mana].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Elemental Mana]


    There is a truth even nature obeys.


    ¨C You may grant your mana an elemental affinity.


    Current Affinities: [Fire], [Earth].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Smiling at his success, he realised that he hadn¡¯t checked his status since the battle in the village. There had to have been some sort of change during the battle. He¡¯d seen enough blue windows.


    He fired the miniature stone into the bushes and excitedly opened his notifications.


    <hr>

 Chapter 29

    Opening up his notifications Azrael watched as many little blue screens popped up in his vision. He scrolled through the extensive list, giving a few no more than a glance, while visually picking out the interesting ones.


    Most of them were in regard to increasing proficiency with his mana skills, such [Mana Sense], [Mana Control] and [Mana Manipulation]. A few were for his [Spear Arts], while a fair few were for an increase in status. Mostly Intelligence and Endurance, but there were a few points allocated across the board.


    He picked out the ones that interested him, dismissing the others.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through a new understanding of mana you have unlocked the unique skill [Elemental Mana].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Elemental Mana]


    There is a truth even nature obeys.


    ¨C You may grant your mana an elemental affinity.


    Current Affinities: [Fire].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Well, he¡¯d seen that one before, but it was the next one that interested him.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Due to no elemental affinity all elemental spells will be fused with [Elemental Mana].


    As your understanding of the elements grows, so too will the utility of the unique skill


    [Elemental Mana].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    There were several implications to that message. They were both good and bad at the same time. One of them being elemental affinities.


    He had no clue what they were, but the notification told him that whatever it was he didn¡¯t have it. Another thing was that he wouldn¡¯t be gaining skill proficiency from elemental spells, which was unfortunate, although it potentially meant a greater flexibility in terms of spell casting.


    The notification had also said ¡°all elemental spells¡±, meaning that there were more than just his two. He would have to experiment with that later.


    Was it just water and air that he was missing, or did things like plant and metal count too? What about lava and ice, or were they a fusion? He slapped his cheek slightly. He had to stay on track.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through the application of intimidation and theatrics you have gained the skill [Dramatic Flair].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Dramatic Flair]


    You have chosen the world as your stage.


    All actions you do have a small chance of gaining a [Dramatic Flair].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to your prowess in staying silent and hidden you have gained the skill [Stealth].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Stealth]


    Your passing is like a shadow.


    Enables the user to hide smell, sound and signs of passing. Also makes the user harder to spot, especially in shadowed, or dark areas.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through staying rational during an intense situation you have gained the skill [Calm Mind].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Calm Mind]


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The heart is a blazing fire, the mind a still pond.


    Helps keep the mind calm in intense situations.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For being accepted as their ruler by the people of the land you have gained a level in ¡®Lord¡¯


    WIS+3, END+2, STR+2.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to being acknowledged as the lord of the End forest you have gained the title


    ¡®Lord of the End Forest¡¯.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For being acknowledged as a lord, you have gained the skill:


    [Lord¡¯s Domain]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to your title ¡®Master of Status¡¯ you have gained the unique skill [Lord¡¯s Insight].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Lord¡¯s Domain]


    The lord makes the people, as the people make the lord.


    This skill provides you with a passive, low level awareness of your domain.


    Current Additional benefits:


    <u>New Beginnings</u>: All citizens of your domain temporarily gain an increase to village building related skills.


    <u>Gratitude:</u> The moral of your citizens will temporarily not decrease.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Lord¡¯s Insight]


    Know others, as you know yourself.


    You may gain insight into other beings.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael was not sure how to feel about becoming a ¡®lord¡¯. Was he now responsible for the people? Why him? All he¡¯d done was point them in a direction and¡­ oh. That might have done it.


    He¡¯d accepted their offerings. The system had probably counted that as taking tax or something. Could he give it back? He looked at his boots. Did he want to?


    He ripped his gaze away from his boots and focused on the gentle buzzing at the back of his mind that was [Lord¡¯s Domain].


    In a sudden disorientating moment, he felt the whole forest in his mind. It wasn¡¯t a clear picture, more of a feeling than an image. He zeroed in on where the new village was. They seemed fine. They were all happily working away and it didn¡¯t seem like they needed him to do anything. A feeling of diligence, effort and security washed over him, through the skill.


    Even as he ¡®watched¡¯ he could feel the villagers move to the village chief¡¯s orders. He shrugged. He could let them be. He¡¯d accept the free level and status points that being a lord gave him. It was not like he had to do anything.


    [Lord¡¯s Insight] though was interesting. Azrael was now slowly beginning to see a synergy between different parts of his status, such as between skills, or skills and titles.


    He was starting to see the strengths of a specialised build, over a more generalised jack-of-all-trades. If you had matching passives, along with the classes and active skills he was sure that people could show some terrifyingly impressive power.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through a new understanding of mana you have progressed the unique skill [Elemental Mana].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Elemental Mana]


    There is a truth even nature obeys.


    You may grant your mana an elemental affinity.


    Current Affinities: [Fire], [Earth].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Due to no elemental affinity all elemental spells will be fused with [Elemental Mana].


    As your understanding of the elements grows, so too will the utility of the unique skill


    [Elemental Mana].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Although he was worried about not having an ¡®elemental affinity¡¯, he was very pleased to have what seemed to be a growth type unique skill.


    He wasn¡¯t sure what the difference between a normal skill and a unique skill was, or what the difficulty of getting one was. But he had two. He would have to ask Sera about that.


    Actually, now that he thought about it he hadn¡¯t really talked to her all that much really. He promised to himself that he would the next time he saw her.


    If he was meant to become a ¡®lord¡¯, then he probably had to start getting used to talking to people. And who better to start with than Sera, who was based off his own consciousness? It was basically like talking to himself.


    It wasn¡¯t that he wanted to be a lord, but it was better to be prepared. Having firmed his resolve, he put it aside for the moment and opened his [Status].


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.2), Sorcerer (Lv.2), Lord (Lv.1)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 110/110


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 155/170


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 10


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 11


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 12


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 12


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 17


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 13


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.2), Spear Arts (Lv.11), Mana Sense (Lv.9), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 13), Soul Sense (Lv.3), Mana Control (Lv.12), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 2), Stealth (Lv. 8), Calm Mind (Lv. 6) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 1), Lord¡¯s Insight (Lv. n/a).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael was left speechless. Each of his stats was over 10, while INT sat at 17!!! That meant that he was two times stronger, two times faster, two times more durable and had over three times the mana pool he had when he had started! He¡¯d doubled his status in less than a fortnight in game! Even his [Sorcerer] class had gained another level.


    He leant back against the cave wall. If this was how much he¡¯d improved, how strong were serious hardcore players if they¡¯d joined at the beginning of the game? What about the beta testers with their extra knowledge?


    If he wanted to be strong enough to protect his little corner of the world, then maybe he had to start taking this more seriously. And you know what people did when they got serious? They made lists.


    Azrael logged out to make a list.

 Chapter 30

    As tempting as it was to jump straight into the real world and start making a list, he had something to do first.


    Exiting the game world, he found himself in what had once been a room with two couches. However, now, it was a room with two couches and a whole lot of books.


    Literally, the whole room was covered in books. Manga really, but the point was that it was messy. Piles were scattered around the place, leaning hazardously, while the floor was hidden under a carpet of bound pages.


    He waded towards the largest mountain of books. And there, lying in nestled in a nest of books was Sera, in her child form, her face pressed between the pages.


    She didn¡¯t look up, but whether that was because she was purposely ignoring him, or because she was just that deeply engrossed in the story he didn¡¯t know. Briefly, he wondered if he should just leave. It wasn¡¯t like he had to speak with her. He sighed.


    He knew it wasn¡¯t suddenly going to get any easier to talk to people. Carefully he cleared away a patch of books, revealing the sofa beneath. Nervous, he sat down and waited.


    And waited.


    And waited some more. Sera was still ignoring him.


    Bored, he began tracing random patterns onto the soles of her outstretched bare feet. Sera didn¡¯t seem to react, simply ignoring him, and kept on reading.


    Eventually though her foot twitched, changing positions, and he absentmindedly followed it. This happened a few times, before he noticed that it wasn¡¯t just her foot that was moving, but her entire body that was also shaking.


    He continued with a new intensity and a few moments later a small giggle escaped her lips. He watched her hands fly up to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter, but it was no use.


    Her fa?ade slipped and she squirmed uncontrollably on the sofa, as her laughter burst forth. He stopped when he saw her gasping for breath. If he didn¡¯t know that she was an AI, he would have been worried that she would pass out from the lack of oxygen.


    Sera wiped the tears out of her eyes and turned to him. With an adorable pout she turned to him and crossed her arms with a glare.


    ¡°Baka onii-chan¡± she pouted.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Deep down Azrael felt something twinge in his heart. He wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about that statement. It was¡­ conflicting.


    ¡°Baka onii-chan left me all alone!¡±


    He placed a hand over his heart. He¡¯d never had a younger sister, so he wasn¡¯t sure how to deal with it. It wasn¡¯t a bad feeling, but¡­ he wasn¡¯t sure he could handle it. He held up a hand.


    ¡°Please stop¡± he said ¡°I¡¯m not sure I can...¡±


    Her eyes became huge puppy eyes, moistened with tears.


    ¡°Big bwava, weft me all awone¡±


    He flopped backwards, away from her, covering his eyes with his hand.


    ¡°Stop, just please stop.¡± He groaned.


    She let out tinkling laugh.


    ¡°Sorry, you¡¯re just so easy to tease.¡±


    He looked at her and her innocent smile. Since she was practically made up from his own consciousness, he couldn¡¯t hate her. It was like hating himself for teasing himself in his own mind. It just didn¡¯t work that way.


    ¡°So, what did you come here for?¡± she asked. ¡°You normally just walk by.¡±


    There was no judgment in her voice, only honest curiosity, but all of a sudden, the nervousness returned. What did people talk about when they met? Uh¡­


    ¡°Nice weather today.¡±


    She looked around the white room, books piled up on the floor. He mentally slapped himself.


    ¡°Uh¡­ I mean¡­ H-How¡¯s your day been?¡±


    This time she turned to him. A faint smile was tugging at the edges of her lips. Belatedly he remembered that since she was technically part of him, she could read his mind. He threw a book at her as her smile grew to a smug smirk. She was teasing him again!


    ¡°Baka¡±


    In the end the situation devolved into them throwing the sofa pillows at each other. For some reason Sera managed to dodge almost all of his, while striking him with unerring accuracy. It was almost¡­ as if she could tell what he was thinking. When they finally collapsed to the floor exhausted, he looked over at where Sera was lying beside him. Truthfully, that hadn¡¯t been so bad.


    During the pillow fight Azrael had been so distracted that he¡¯d forgotten about his social anxiety and had even asked Sera about a few things he¡¯d been curious about.


    As it turned out Players didn¡¯t get unlimited lives. Except for rare exceptions all players got three lives maximum. Lives would replenish over time, up to a maximum total of three. Sera hadn¡¯t specified how long this ¡®recharge¡¯ period was, but had given him a bit more information regarding the other ¡®special¡¯ circumstances.


    Aside from the passive ¡®recharge¡¯ players could actively try and get ¡®bonus lives¡¯, through feats that were impressive enough for the system to recognise. These could be feats of death-defying combat, feats of arcane magics, or others such as the crafting and creation of unparalleled pieces. She also hinted that there might be other ways, but wouldn¡¯t clarify.


    As it turned out Azrael currently had three lives. He¡¯d had four at one point, having gained an extra life for the crafting of the ¡®Status System¡¯. He had lost that bonus life to the spear man, leaving him back on three. Bonus lives would be used up before the rechargeable ones.


    When you respawned, you would respawn at the closest place where you had last slept and felt safe. Or at least as close to that spot as practical.


    While on a roll, he¡¯d tried addressing things like the Gods, or mana and magic, seeing if she could help him there. But it seemed that she could only share things with him that he had either learnt, or were explained on the official site, or instruction manual.


    With nothing left to ask about, he logged out.

 Chapter 31

    Kade walked to his desk, having to scrummage around a bit, before finding and pulling out a blank sheet of paper and pen.


    Thoughtfully, he scribbled a few things down onto the beginnings of his list, before heading to the shower. While that capsule kept him clean, rested and fed there was something special about having a shower to clean off.


    Later, dressed and back at his desk he looked down at the quick list he had made.


    What I want to be:


    <ul>


    <li>Strong</li>


    </ul>


    What I need to do:


    <ul>


    <li>Build my house</li>


    <li>Unlock more magic</li>


    </ul>


    Things I need to be careful about:


    <ul>


    <li>People</li>


    </ul>


    Other:


    <ul>


    <li>Food</li>


    </ul>


    It was a rough summary of what he could remember. He picked up the pen and wrote down something before crossing it out.


    What did he want to be? What were his aims? So far he¡¯d winged it, but he¡¯d already realised that it wasn¡¯t enough. There was a massive difference between invading an unprepared village and having to protect his forest from serious players.


    He had no doubts that they would come. His forest was at the edges of the known world, meaning that a) people had already explored this far out and b) other players would eventually come, exploring the outer reaches of the known world. It was not a matter of if, but when.


    He needed to become strong enough to fend them off when the time came. That meant he needed to specialise. He¡¯d already realised the immense potential of synergistic skills. If someone pursued a specialised path, then they were going to become more powerful in their field. With the absence of levels and level suppression it was more than possible for synergistic skills to make up that stat gap. That meant that passives were key. He wrote that down under ¡®Other¡¯ ¨C Passives.


    So, what made him different from other players? Actually, he wasn¡¯t overly sure. In terms of titles and unique skills he had [Status], [Elemental Mana], {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched} and {Lord of the End Forest}.


    [Status] was definitely unique to him. It had been proven by the notifications, including {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status} and {God Watched}.


    He grabbed another sheet of paper. What advantage did this bring him?


    He could see his status. Why did that matter?


    He could see when and how he levelled. He wrote that down on his original list ¨C Leveling. He thought about his other titles. {Sinner} and {Heretic} didn¡¯t seem to matter much at the moment, so he dismissed them.


    {Master of Status} didn¡¯t benefit him. It allowed him to grant other¡¯s status, but at the moment there were no other players. Not that he wanted anything to do with them. Idly, he wondered if he could grant the NPCs [Status].


    {Rune Master} was a title, who¡¯s effects he hadn¡¯t used yet, but it confused him. Originally, when he¡¯d entered the game, he¡¯d assumed that he¡¯d need to use runes in order to use magic, but that had been disproven. The sudden appearance of runes left him baffled. If you didn¡¯t need them to use magic, what then?


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    He scratched that down onto his main list ¨C Test runes. That left {God Watched} and {Lord of the End Forest}. Neither helped him in terms of combat. So far none of his ¡®God¡¯ related titles had done anything. No divine lightning, no angels, or reaper coming to claim his soul.


    {Lord of the End Forest} itself hadn¡¯t done anything really besides giving him an overview of the forest. The skills it had given him, [Lord¡¯s Domain] and [Lord¡¯s Insight] were more utility than combat. But assuming the forest he was in was the ¡®End forest¡¯, then that meant that they were unique to him. He sighed and added them to the growing list. Test Lord skills.


    He looked at the list so far.


    What I want to be:


    <ul>


    <li>Strong</li>


    <li> Not care about other people</li>


    </ul>


    What I need to do:


    <ul>


    <li>Build my house</li>


    <li>Unlock more magic</li>


    </ul>


    Things I need to be careful about:


    <ul>


    <li>People</li>


    </ul>


    Other:


    <ul>


    <li>Food</li>


    <li>Passives</li>


    <li>Leveling</li>


    <li>Test runes</li>


    <li>Test Lord skills</li>


    </ul>


    He read it through, relatively satisfied.


    Intending to take a short break, he went to the fridge, before realising that it was empty. He checked his cupboards, finding them similarly devoid of snacks. Sighing, he slipped into his shoes and left for the closest convenience store.


    Oblivious to his surroundings, he kept on thinking about his list.


    His three greatest strengths so far had seemed to be [Status], his magic and his position as ¡®Lord¡¯. [Status] gave him a chance at power leveling, while magic gave him a form of attack. His ¡®Lord¡¯ skill [Lord¡¯s Domain], from the description seemed to give him an oversight of his domain, the forest.


    Of all of his classes his ¡®Lord¡¯ class was an outlier. It was the only class he hadn¡¯t earned through an achievement, or skill, but it had still given him status points. He wondered whether the ¡®Lord¡¯ class was completely dependent on the villagers, or whether he could level it some other way. He ran a hand through his hair. It seemed he would have to visit the village.


    Somebody jolted into Kade as they walked by, knocking him out of his thoughts and he found himself in the convenience store, a shopping bag already half filled with stuff. It seemed he¡¯d been running on autopilot. Checking the bag, he found his usual assortments of frozen food, two-minute noodles, chips, muesli bars and energy drinks.


    He looked at them for a moment, before returning them all to their respective aisles. He just didn¡¯t feel like it at the moment. Instead, he packed more fresh fruit and vegetables into his shopping bag than he¡¯d eaten in the last year.


    After having visited the mountain at sunset and thinking things through, he¡¯d realised that this wasn¡¯t who he wanted to be anymore. He wasn¡¯t going to give up on life anymore. Mentally he added Jogging to ¡®Other¡¯.


    With new purpose and a bag full of paid shopping, Kade stepped into his apartment. He¡¯d almost forgotten the feeling of being motivated. He¡¯d been living his way of life for far too long.


    Staying at home, gaming, eating snacks, reading and collecting minifigures was only an acceptable lifestyle in one case and that was manga. Isekai manga to be exact, but he had no intention of meeting a truck. No siree, not for him.


    With a little extra spring in his step, he turned on the radio and pulled out a chopping board. It was time to cook.


    Moving in time to a catchy tune Kade whipped out a frying pan, dribbling it with oil, before dancing around the kitchen with a knife. Maybe not a good practice, but hey, nobody was around to tell him off.


    Onions, garlic and ham all got diced, before being thrown into the hot oil. The onions brought tears to his eyes, but they were tears of joy. It felt so good to cook again. People tended to forget the pleasure of the simplest things. Funny that.


    Sliced mushrooms, diced capsicum and grated carrot also found their way into the pan, mixing in with the now gold-brown onions and crispy ham. He breathed in deeply. So good.


    Finally, he cracked two eggs into the pan, mixing them in with the vegetables and finally adding salt and pepper with a flair. He let it cook, chopping up some spring onions while he waited.


    Flipping the omelette onto a plate he threw on a handful of spring onions and looked at the dish. An omelette had never looked so good. He threw the pan into the sink and grabbed a fork.


    It was time for dinner.

 Chapter 32

    Azrael entered his avatar¡¯s body, still huddled in the small cave by his base. He stepped out, glancing at the sun that was high in the sky, as he stretched out his cramped muscles.


    Before entering the game, he¡¯d revised his little checklist, getting Sera to make a copy of it in the waiting room. Now he had access to it, even while in game. Bet the developers hadn¡¯t thought of him using it like that. He smiled. It was a small victory, but a victory none the less.


    After stretching out a particularly bad cramp, he picked up his spear from where it lay by the cave side. He¡¯d debated a lot about what his first course of action would be. In the end, despite his reluctance, he¡¯d decided he needed to speak with the villagers.


    They were important to leveling up his ¡®Lord¡¯ class, which meant that he couldn¡¯t get rid of them. Instead, he decided to use them. It meant that they were going to stay around for a little longer.


    However, if they stayed here he needed to set some rules! His forest, his rules. Not that he was going to abuse that. He just figured that if he had them do things like gather food, or other things that he didn¡¯t have time to deal with, then he would make use of that. Otherwise, they should stay as far away as possible.


    Just then a piercing scream rang out, carrying across the water. A brief moment later it was followed by the howl of a wolf.


    Azrael¡¯s head whipped around in the direction of the village and he started sprinting. Hopefully, the wolves didn¡¯t eat too many of his villagers. He still needed some to be a lord.


    ***


    Village chief Cairn rushed out of his newly built house the moment the scream shattered the lazy afternoon peace.


    Outside was in a state of chaos. Villagers ran through the village square in panic. Pandemonium reigned.


    Some people were running to their newly built shelters for protection, while others ran towards the commotion, seeking to protect the village. In their hands were pilfered iron weapons.


    From just beyond the tree line, he saw a group of three black wolves emerging. A small pack by any account, but more than the villagers could handle. They were herders and keepers, not fighters.


    Previously hidden in the shadows these predators had emerged, alarming one of the villagers working in the newly established fields. Even as he watched they approached, slinking closer.


    Cairn retrieved an iron sword from behind his door with a shaking hand. Their lord had commanded that they become stronger. If this was a challenge that he had set them, then Cairn would meet it.


    With a final glance at the stone pillar in their village center he charged into battle.


    ***


    Azrael arrived at the village at record pace, watching a group of men try to fend off three shadow wolves. Already two were suffering from grievous injury, while a third lay on the ground, heavily bleeding. Only two more remained standing.


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    The wolves themselves were in little better shape. All three of them had wounds across their bodies, bleeding red on black, while two of them were limping. Only their pack leader seemed in better condition.


    For a moment Azrael considered just watching how the fight would turn out. If the villagers wanted to survive in the forest, then fending off wild animals would be a norm. He¡¯d even warned them, when they¡¯d visited his cave.


    The pack leader lunged at one of the group and Azrael watched as the man struck out with his spear. Azrael cringed as the man thrust with his eyes closed, while stepping back. It seemed that it had been a miracle that they had survived so long.


    Reluctantly he stepped out of the forest, charging a [Mana Bullet], before converting it to earth. It took a little longer than it took him to charge fire, but the wolves hadn¡¯t noticed him yet, allowing him the little extra time.


    Then, with an easy motion, he sent off the [Earth Bullet], letting it strike the lead wolf in the back of its skull. It crumpled from the concussive force. He barely had enough time to charge a [Fire Bullet] before the remaining two wolves were on him. The flames detonated in one wolf¡¯s gullet, while the other charged to engage his spear.


    With both wolves still moving towards him Azrael jumped back, letting the force of the wolf driving into his spear carry him further back. With a sharp tug he yanked the spear out of the creature¡¯s flesh, leaving a large gaping wound.


    He then lashed out with the butt of the spear, using it like a staff, striking the poor wolf across the side. It stumbled, fell and crashed into its comrade. They went down in a pile of yelps and fur.


    Taking the opportunity to strike, he plunged the spear deep into the first¡¯s eye, piercing through its brain, before charging another [Earth Bullet]. The projectile followed a similar path to the spear, destroying the second wolf¡¯s skull.


    He poked both wolves with his foot, to make sure that they were dead, before pulling out his spear. He grimaced at the blood and brain matter that clung to the weapon. Deciding he didn¡¯t want to carry it he stabbed it into the earth and turned to the villagers.


    The group of fallen warriors had finished off the concussed wolf, with the village chief separating its head from the body with his sword. He dismissed a few messages of skill gains for [Mana Bullet] and [Spear Arts], before surveying the rest of the village.


    During the fight the rest of the villagers had slowly trickled out of hiding and were now nervously watching from the opposite side of the main square.


    The fact that he recognised it as a main square was in itself already incredible, considering this had been a forest clearing not too long ago. As the villagers hesitantly began approaching, to tend to the wounded men, Azrael took the chance to look around the village.


    Already a few basic wooden houses had sprung up on one side of the main square, which had previously been the clearing. The clearing itself was largely untouched, with the villagers instead focusing on the forest.


    The trees had been cut down to make the houses, while the cleared land showed the beginnings of some fields. Two of the bison creatures were tied to one of the outer trees and placidly chewed on the forest green.


    The whole village was surprisingly well developed for such a short time, but he had a suspicion as to why.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Lord¡¯s Domain]


    The people are a Lord¡¯s power.


    This skill provides you with a passive, low level awareness of your domain.


    Current Additional benefits:


    <u>New Beginnings:</u> All citizens of your domain temporarily gain an increase to village building related skills.


    <u>Gratitude:</u> The moral of your citizens will temporarily not decrease.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Sudden movement right in front of him caused him to dismiss the screen and take a cautionary step backwards. He relaxed when he realised that it was just the village chief bowing down to him. He sighed to himself. What was up with all the bowing?


    It was only when the rest of the villagers began following suit that he spoke up irritated.


    ¡°Stop it¡± he said and the villagers jumped up like their lives depended on it. He mentally pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to the village chief.


    Azrael placed a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder and led him to the nearest house.


    ¡°You and I are going to have a chat¡±.

 Chapter 33

    Azrael half dragged half marched the village chief towards the closest hut, ignoring the stunned faces of the other villagers. They could deal with it. It wasn¡¯t like he was the one who was making it hard to have a conversation.


    Arriving at the house he pushed the door open with his foot and seated the village chief on the closest surface, before turning to him.


    It irritated Azrael that they had built here, despite his warning that they weren¡¯t prepared for the dangers of the forest. And despite building here and despite his warning, they had prepared ¨C nothing. Absolutely. Nothing.


    It irritated him that he needed to use these people and it irritated him that people could be so¡­ so¡­ clueless. So helpless, careless, and unprepared.


    Azrael began speaking and the village chief shrank back, away from him, trying to press himself through the wall behind him.


    ¡°Why¡± Azrael asked ¡°In all the god forsaken places you could choose did you build your village here? I warned you of the dangers. I warned you that you and the rest of them weren¡¯t prepared and yet you still built here. You could have gone back to the other village, or gone back to your plains, but no. You chose here.¡±


    He watched the village chief cower on the bed, seemingly shrinking back even further, in fear. Azrael felt something snap inside of him. The head of the village was¡­ pathetic. That was the only word Azrael could think of.


    If it weren¡¯t for the fact that he needed them to level, he would have just left them, letting them fend for themselves. They would try and they would die. His fingers twitched and fire flickered around his hand as his mana reacted to his emotions. Turning on his heels he made up his mind and walked out the door.


    ¡°All right, listen up!¡± he shouted to the milling villagers ¡°Here¡¯s how it¡¯s going to work¡±.


    He paused to see that he had them all, before continuing


    ¡°You¡¯re all weak. Each and every one of you. None of you are going to survive. Everything in this forest is stronger than you. Bears, boars, wolves, Everything! Your men are wounded and you cower in your homes. You will die.¡±


    The villagers were silent, hanging their heads. It seemed that they did have some shame for how pathetic they were. He took the moment to observe them. In the group in front of him there were thirteen villagers. Four women, five men and three children. Two girls and one boy. All of them hung their heads, except one. One of the girls, the one he¡¯d found tied up, glared at him. He ignored her.


    The village chief emerged from inside the building, looking shaken. He joined the rest of the villagers, as Azrael began speaking again. He let out a breath and continued, this time in a gentler tone.


    ¡°All of you chose me as your lord, which means that if you die it¡¯s my problem. I don¡¯t like problems. So, here¡¯s how it will go. I will train you to protect yourself and for the first while I will hunt for you. I will do this until you are strong enough to do this by yourself.¡±


    The villagers all looked at him with incredulous faces. A small glimmer appeared in their eyes, replacing the burning shame they had felt earlier. Maybe they saw him as a new hope, a saviour, a saint, a hero. He intended to quash that. He didn¡¯t need gratitude. They could hate him all they wanted, but if they wished to challenge him, then the consequences were on them. They¡¯d already seen what he could do to a village.


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    ¡°In return you will work for me. You will serve me. If I need help, you will help me. If I need food, you will feed me. My will will be your will. This forest is mine, this village is mine. What is yours is mine. My word and will are absolute. There will be no argument.¡±


    He surveyed them silently. Their gazes were doubtful, fearful. The little glimmer in their eyes flickering like a candle in the wind. He felt like a tyrant, but he didn¡¯t run a charity.


    ¡°I will give you a choice. Stay here, serve me, become strong. Or leave now, leave this forest and I will forget you.¡±


    Azrael made sure that his voice brooked no argument. This was not a negotiation, or a discussion. This was a choice.


    He saw them all hesitate, fearful and hopeful at the same time, but nobody wanted to be the first to make a move, to disturb the fragile silence.


    Then, slowly, the village chief bowed his head. A second elderly man he hadn¡¯t seen in the fight followed his example, before the rest of the villagers all bowed their head in silence. The matron, her son, the wounded men and even the little girl who had been tied up and was hiding at the back glaring at him, all bowed their heads along with the others.


    He nodded to himself. This was how he¡¯d expected it to go. They had fled from tyranny in their last village and had started a new village here. There was sure to be some anger at their own weakness. He understood that all too well. They were pathetic, but he¡¯d just offered them what nobody had ever offered him. A way to grow past that weakness.


    But just because he was willing to help them didn¡¯t mean he was going to put up with any of their problems. He was using them. This was an exchange. Nothing more. They weren¡¯t his problem. He just needed them to not die. He didn¡¯t need them fighting between each other or bringing their problems to him. He also didn¡¯t want to deal with whatever problems they had in the future. If they wished to leave, then that was okay, but what he did not need was them using him to get stronger, only to try and betray him. This was a one-time thing. He would give them strength and they would supply him with things in exchange. What they did after that didn¡¯t bother him.


    ¡°From now on there will be three rules. Don¡¯t betray me. Don¡¯t betray each other. And don¡¯t bother me unless it¡¯s important. Anyone that breaks these rules will be punished.¡±


    He looked at them ¡°Dismissed.¡±


    Azrael watched as they all hesitantly rose and dispersed to their houses. Several new notifications popped up in their wake.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through successfully commanding the people you have gained the skill [Leadership].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Leadership]


    Your men are your sword, their valour your shield.


    Your commands are more likely to be executed properly. Orders which are followed are more likely to yield greater results.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Lord¡¯s Domain]


    The people are a lord¡¯s power.


    This skill provides you with a passive, low level awareness of your domain.


    Current Additional benefits:


    <u>New Beginnings:</u> All citizens of your domain temporarily gain an increase to village building related skills.


    <u>Gratitude:</u> The moral of your citizens will temporarily not decrease.


    <u>Respect:</u> All decrees that you issue will yield greater results.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For successfully issuing your first decree to the people of the land you have gained a level in ¡®Lord¡¯


    WIS+3, END+2, STR+2.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Swiping them away satisfied he turned to head back to his own home. It seemed that his choice was correct. Already he had gained seven new stats.


    Retrieving his spear he was about to pass the tree line when he had a terrible realisation. He hadn¡¯t actually gotten round to building his house yet. He walked back and grabbed the leaving village chief by the shoulder once more.


    ¡°I need a house.¡±

 Chapter 34

    The next morning Azrael emerged from the village chief¡¯s house, greeting the dawn with the rest of the villagers. He felt a lot more relaxed than yesterday. It was funny how much a proper bed could help. Even if said bed was just a simple straw mattress. It sure beat sleeping on the floor.


    Azrael stretched and looked over the village square, admiring how the first light played with the treetops. In real life he would never wake up this early, but here in-game there was something special about it. Something different.


    Despite the early hour, many villagers were up an about. As they passed where he stood they bowed on their way to work and he nodded back to them. Last night  he¡¯d had a bit of a conversation with Sera and she¡¯d suggested that he try to be a bit nicer to the villagers. This had led him to formally introduce himself to everyone. He hadn¡¯t wanted to, but Sera had managed to persuade him.


    The rest of the villagers introducing themselves in turn, with mixed reactions. Some were eager to speak with their [Lord], while others behaved cordial, but reserved and slightly wary. After his introductions they seemed more friendly, no, maybe just less tense. Instead of a dangerous beast then now looked at him as a dangerous human. A small improvement, but an improvement none the less.


    Honestly, meeting all the villagers had been overwhelming, and by the second or third name he had known that he¡¯d have no hope in remembering any of their names.


    Luckily, he¡¯d found another exploit, if you could call it that. A very adorable-book-loving exploit to be exact. Since Sera knew everything he knew, he¡¯d made a mental list and she could supply him with the required names when the time came.


    A call from behind announced the arrival of the village chief Corn. ¡®Cairn¡¯ Sera supplied him. Right, right. He was glad that he had her. Then again, that was kinda the point of AI assistants.


    Azrael greeted the village chief Cairn, who nodded back. After his announcement and introductions last night, he¡¯d spent the remainder of the evening in the village chief¡¯s house talking about the management of the village and his expectations. Sera had helped him again, by supplying him with more than a few of his lines. Azrael wasn¡¯t sure he would have managed it without her.


    Luckily, Cairn had excused himself after ten or so minutes, obviously uncomfortable at being alone with him. The village chief had insisted that he use his house during his stay, as it was the largest in the village. Azrael had no complaints.


    The village chief handed Azrael a bowl, which Azrael accepted, before standing next to him. Azrael looked at it with cursory interest. Some sort of porridge with berries. They ate in silence.


    ***


    Cairn handed the Lord his breakfast. It was a simple fare, but there was nothing else. The rolled grains were what little they¡¯d scavenged from the village stores, while the berries were found in the forest the day prior. He¡¯d tested them personally. It would not do to feed their Lord poisoned fare.


    Watching the Lord, no, Lord Azrael take his second bite he relaxed. He¡¯d feared that their Lord would reject the meal. It was not worthy of such a great man.


    Last night he¡¯d failed his Lord. Lord Azrael had commanded that he and the villagers find strength, but instead they¡¯d been so focused on building a new village that they had failed the Lord¡¯s first challenge.


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    All of the men had been injured and he¡¯d only been spared by his Lord¡¯s grace. While the Lord was busy watching some villagers approach, Cairn bowed his head in gratefulness. He would not fail again.


    ***


    Azrael watched a group of five bandaged men and one woman approached him with spears. The woman surprised him. Not because he had anything against women, it was just since all the men had fought the wolves, he¡¯d assumed that the village stuck to a more ¡®traditional¡¯ view of roles.


    Seeing how she stuck close to one of the wounded he realised why she hadn¡¯t been in the fight. These two were partners. She¡¯d been looking after their two children during the fight.


    Azrael realised that he¡¯d been staring at them long enough and led them to an unploughed field he¡¯d ¡®reserved¡¯ as a training field the night prior. He got them all to line up facing him. Six faces. The spear boy, the father, the mother, two men whose names he couldn¡¯t remember (now Villager A and Villager B) and an older guy who hung out with the chief quite often. Maybe a drinking buddy?


    As he looked at the group gathered in front of him, it dawned on him what he¡¯d actually agreed to do. HE¡¯D AGREED TO TEACH STRANGERS!!!. That meant talking to them! He had no idea how to teach and what if¡­


    He drew on the [Calm Mind] skill, as he felt an irrational panic rising up.


    Slowly he felt himself calm down, the emotion settling, averting the crisis. He let out a breath. He¡¯d agreed to teach them, and that meant that he would teach them. After all, a man was only as good as his word.


    Straightening his shoulders and raising his head Azrael activated [Lord¡¯s Insight], focusing on the youngest in the group, the spear boy.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Name: Nolan


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Class: Villager (Lv. 4), Spearman (Lv.1)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Hoping for a comparison he turned his gaze onto the oldest in the group, the chief¡¯s friend.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Name: Hugh


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Class: Villager (Lv. 8), Carpenter (Lv.4), Advisor (Lv.2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Scanning the rest of the group he found that all of them had the [Villager] class, with levels ranging from 4-7. Other than Nolan and Hugh, nobody else had a second class except Villager B, who had [Herder].


    Azrael got the all to line up, performing basic thrust techniques, but was puzzled. He¡¯d expected them to be bad, but not this bad. None of them moved with grace, speed or strength befitting their levels. All of them were of a higher level than him, except for Nolan, who also had a total of five levels. In theory all of them should be able to beat him in a fight with raw stats, except that he was sure that he could probably beat all of them in a fight ¨C at the same time. Was it a class thing? Like [Spearman] against [Herder]?


    Briefly correcting Villager A¡¯s footwork, he glanced over at Nolan and Villager B. Despite their different classes Villager B would win. No question. It seemed that cumulative class levels did matter, despite class types. Overall, the higher levelled [Villager]¡¯s seemed to have more stamina, including Hugh. Despite his seemingly old age he was maybe the least exhausted after all the exercise. Which left Stats. If levels meant stats, then more levels meant more stats. The fact that he was stronger than them meant he probably had more stats.


    Thinking back to when he levelled, he realised that the status points he¡¯d gained had been inconsistent. [Enchanter] had given him 5, while its subsequent upgrade [Runist] had given him 6. The [Sorcerer] class had also given him an additional 5 stats, while [Lord] had given him 7.


    Using these to base his hypothesis on, it was very likely that classes were tiered. Whether this meant rarity or difficulty to acquire he didn¡¯t know. What he did know that it meant was that if [Villager] was a considered a ¡®base¡¯ class, then he was gaining more stats per level than a normal villager. 5-7 for every 3-4 a villager might earn per level.


    Seeing the father trying to help instruct his wife Azrael turned his attention to them. She was gripping the spear too far forward. Not that her husband was much better. He was just trying to brute force everything.


    With a sigh he walked over. Hopefully, they would get tired of this soon and give up. Or better yet, become strong enough to not need him. Moving over to help them, he briefly watched somebody else and supressed another sigh. They were going to need a lot of help.

 Chapter 35

    Over the next few weeks Azrael continued to build upon these spear movements, creating and entire training regime. A few weeks was not enough to turn anyone into warriors, but it would allow for the villagers to hunt and defend themselves. He had to give it to them though, they were tenacious. Rarely did anybody complain and never directly, just a few muttered grumblings.


    Even when he added in a few other exercises to ¡®build some personality¡¯ these grumbles never became more than a low mutter. Each one of the six was dedicating themselves to improving their combat power. This meant that he could condense more training into less time.


    One of his added exercises included getting the villagers to jog through the forest carrying their spears and a sack full of quarried stone bricks. The stone bricks themselves came a quarry he¡¯d sanctioned downstream.


    The training was not without greater purpose though. While in the forest he pointed out signs of animals, plants and other things. Even the bricks had a purpose beyond tormenting them. These were the bricks he was using to build his house.


    Originally, he¡¯d intended to use earth mana to create the bricks but had soon discovered that even creating three regular sized stone bricks drained him of most of his mana. It seemed that the laws of conservation still held some meaning in this world. This left him with more mundane options. Luckily, he had slave labo¡­ willing workers. Luckily, he had free and willing workers to slog his building materials through the forest.


    The way he saw it, it was an exchange. Every minute he spent training them was a minute he couldn¡¯t work on his house. So, he used them. Of course, he phrased it differently. He told them that carrying rocks while running was for speed and endurance, cutting trees to make timber was for strength and precision. One of the only things he¡¯d learned from politicians was, it was all about the wording. He also gained a few points in both strength and endurance while participating, so it wasn¡¯t as if he was lying to them completely about the training part.


    From there, most of his days took on a predictable routine. Wake up near dawn, eat bland food that was offered to him, then meet his troops at their training grounds and drill spear moves into them. Overtime he progressed from simple movements to sequences and finally mock battles with wooden poles. The training would typically end before lunch time, with a cross-country ¡®jog¡¯ carrying stone bricks to the building site.


    After dropping off the stone bricks and dismissing the spear squad he spent the afternoons hunting (mostly deer, fish, or hare). He used the hunting time to get away from the village and villagers. Having people ready to jump at his every wish was almost as annoying as having to do it himself. Hunting was rather dull, but he relished the silence.


    His evenings were spent working on his house, using the rocks that they had transported during the day. Many of the villagers came and pestered him into allowing them to help, despite his protests. While it meant more time that he had to endure being around people, it also meant that by the end of the third week since he began, he had most of the walls standing. By the end of the fourth he was finishing the roof and was adding in the final touches. Here Hugh offered his services and Azrael begrudgingly agreed. Someone needed to make the furniture and it wasn¡¯t going to be him.


    After living in an uncaring world, the sudden pushiness of the villagers to help was a shock. For a short while he unconsciously found himself being grateful for their help, until he realised that they were only doing this because they wanted his strength and protection, not because they considered him one of them. People sucked up to the powerful. It was a way of the world.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Instead of pushing them away, he made use of them. If they were going to use him, then he would use them more. Everyday, along with a delivered lunch he had a few villagers come up to him, trying to suck up to him by spouting about his virtues, his graciousness and his strength. He put them to work. Afterall, actions spoke louder than words. Also, their words were annoying.


    By the time Azrael finally moved out of Cairn¡¯s house and into his own, the leaves of the forest were beginning to turn brown and the days began to grow shorter. A few early autumn showers swept over the land, making him feel like he had wasted time to explore more of the forest. Still, in a way, he felt that it had been time well spent. Other than managing to go for regular (if short) jogs in the real world he¡¯d also made a lot of progress in game.


    True, he hadn¡¯t gained anymore levels, but in the last month his skills had skyrocketed. [Spear Arts], [Stealth] and all of his mana related skills had increased. Though he noticed that it was getting harder and harder to gain a new level for a skill. Either that was because he¡¯d picked all the low fruit, or each increasing skill level required increasing experience. One morning late into the month of training he¡¯d also gained a new title.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Teacher]


    A seed will always remember the tree that it came from.


    All students under your care have increased skill acquisition, for the skill that you are teaching.


    (Requirement: Be at least 5 levels higher in the skill being taught)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    [Lord¡¯s Domain] had also changed in the past weeks to reflect the status of the village. <u>New Beginnings</u> and <u>Gratitude</u> had worn off, instead being replaced by a new ¡®buff¡¯.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Lord¡¯s Domain]


    The people are a lord¡¯s power.


    This skill provides you with a passive, low level awareness of your domain.


    Current Additional benefits:


    <u>Respect:</u> All decrees that you issue will yield greater results.


    <u>Combat Training:</u> All citizens gain a boost in acquiring combat related classes and skills


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Due to both the title and the skill, coupled with his morning training meant that all of his ¡®students¡¯ had gained the class [Spearman] and levelled it up. With that his deal with the chief was done. He¡¯d trained the troops. He¡¯d given them the chance to protect themselves and what came next was up to them. He needed them to level his [Lord] class, but if they were eager to die, then that was on them. They could protect themselves and they were no longer his problem. He was getting them out of his hair.


    Upon moving into his new home, he¡¯d cut off all contact to the village, commanding them that no one (he¡¯d clearly emphasised that point) was to cross over to his side of the shore. He still intended to visit every now and then, when he went hunting, though not for want of contact.


    During his stay in the village, he¡¯d discovered that it was so much easier to leave the dissecting of the animals to the villagers. All he had to do was kill it and bring it to the villagers. They would then dissect it and it would be delivered ready cut to his door. Of course, he made sure that they kept some as payment. He didn¡¯t want them thinking that he owed them for the service.


    Well, he¡¯d have to walk the distance there, now that he¡¯d moved out, but it was a minor inconvenience.


    Pushing open the door to his new home Azrael marvelled at the sight. He¡¯d taken inspiration from more modern designs. While the walls were made of a light grey, almost white stone, the wooden floors polished up into an amber gold. He wasn¡¯t sure how Hugh had managed to make them gleam like that, without sandpaper or oils, but he appreciated the perfectly polished finish. Was it a [Carpenter] class bonus?


    He ran his hand appreciatively along the wooden kitchen benchtop that ran along the right side of the room, before crossing over to the left. Here a wooden table adjourned a shuttered window that looked out towards the lake. Further in, set in the eastern wall, another door led to a single small bedroom. It was idyllic. It was perfect. It was his.

 Chapter 36

    It was the day after their Lord moved out of the village when Cairn walked out of his own house. Standing at the porch of his house he watched the six spearmen (and woman) going through a series of techniques and sequences that their Lord, in his profound wisdom and magnanimity, had gifted them. Each one earnestly dedicated themselves to the form, their Lord¡¯s training drilled deep into their bones over the last month.


    Lord Azrael had honoured them with his presence and his teachings, staying in their village during the duration of the training, despite his evident reluctance. Cairn had often seen him looking at the forest wistfully and vanishing into the forest during his own time, returning only to sleep and train the spearmen (and woman) to much success.


    During the last month the villagers¡¯ wounds from their encounter with the wolves had healed (both figuratively and literally) and the spear squad threw themselves into mastering the spear with everything that they had. The other villagers too dedicated themselves to their respective tasks with renewed zeal.


    Lord Azrael had imparted in them the importance of strength, dedication and training, as well as deep insight into training in their everyday life. Every task became a part of something greater. Even something mundane, such as building the Lord¡¯s house became a way to hone one¡¯s strength. One that all of them whole heartedly participated in.


    Even some of the non-combatants aided the Lord in its construction, when they weren¡¯t tilling the new fields, or caring for a herd of milking bullas that they had captured from the plains. Nobody wanted to suffer from their own weakness again.


    The Lord had deemed his task finished though and had retreated to his own completed abode. Cairn understood it as a way of showing the villagers that they had to rely on themselves.


    With the Lord moving into his own residence, he moved out of Cairn¡¯s.  Perhaps it should not be so, but Cairn was just glad that he had his house back. He was honoured that the Lord had stayed in his humble home, but was glad to have it back. He did not begrudge his Lord the stay in his house, nor his stay in the village, but despite his reverence for his Lord he was still glad to be able to live in his own home once more. It was difficult to describe and created a conflicting emotion in his heart.


    Lodging with Hugh had been enjoyable. After all they had been inseparable friends for years, but an old man such as him enjoyed his privacy.


    Thinking of the Lord and his house Cairn turned his thoughts to the building¡¯s design. Cairn had visited the Lord¡¯s new house several times during its construction and been intrigued in its design.


    Built out of stone and wood the building consisted of two separate rooms, with even the internal designs being unusual. As far as he knew most villages were built of wood, due to its abundance, while stone was saved for forts, cities and castles. Cairn had only visited a city twice in his life. Once as a child and again before he became village chief.


    The closest of these was nearly a month by foot, but the scale of them still awed him in his memories. It humbled him that Lord Azrael had chosen their village over such a city to lord over.


    Walking out to the stone stele in the village square he bowed his head deeply towards it, out of gratefulness and respect for their Lord. Their Lord had given them much. A new home, a new village and a new life. Cairn would see to it that he honoured the debt and repaid it. He would ensure that their village became worthy of their Lord.


    As he rose from his bow the spear group finished their training and waved to him as they set off on a hunt. Every day they would set out and return, some days more successful than other. Though the Lord still brought them game, it wasn¡¯t enough to smoke for the winter months. The hunters made sure that they would survive. Afterall, only the strong survived.


    Cairn raised a hand in recognition and watched them wander off. It was also a good chance for them to practice with their newfound strength. The lord would not find them lacking again.


    With a sigh he gazed out to the other lake shore, where their Lord resided. He rubbed an aching joint. If only he were ten, no fifteen years younger. Then he too could join them in protecting their Lord¡¯s sanctuary.


    Their Lord had commanded that nobody was to approach the other lake shore, and should any others try, be that villager or stranger, they were to stop them. It was clear that there was something there that their Lord valued. It pained him that he would be unable to join in with an active effort. Running a village, especially one starting up again had its own set of problems. He would contribute by supporting the villagers, so that they in turn would be able to help the Lord.


    With a sigh Cairn headed back towards his house. It only made sense for their Lord to raise them in strength if he had something to guard there. He simply hoped that they would be strong enough when the time came and not disappoint their Lord.


    ***


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    Azrael woke in his own bed, throwing off the covers and stretching. Outside the birds were chirping and dappled sunlight traced lazy patterns on his floor, as it streamed through his bedroom window.


    He got dressed with a new spring in his step, before waltzing into the main living quarters. Humming a jaunty tune he threw open all the shutters, feeling very much alive.


    Breathing in the fresh forest air, he enjoyed the way the breeze passed him by to explore his house. Outside the sun had already been up for a few hours, but he didn¡¯t care. For the first time in a month, he didn¡¯t have any responsibilities. Leaving the shutters open he moved to the kitchen built into the wooden benchtop, lighting up a little woodfired stove, with a [Fire Bullet]. Contained in a stone box, the fire heated a stone plate above, effectively becoming a primitive stove. Genius! Well, it was a little slow to heat, but he didn¡¯t really mind. He was in no hurry.


    The entire stove, box and plate, was made of a single piece of stone and made possible with his newest skill [Stone Shaping].


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Stone Shaping]


    Even the eternal, the infinite and the unbreakable are subject to change.


    Through the power of your mana you may change the form of stone.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The skill he¡¯d gained at the quarry a few days ago, while experimenting if he could split stone along a precise line. Flooding the stone with his mana he¡¯d tried to force the two halves apart, like magnets, along a precise line. His idea had worked ¨C to a degree. The result had been this skill. While it didn¡¯t have the stone-splitting qualities he¡¯d tried to achieve it the skill required him to completely saturate a stone with his mana, before he could begin to mould it into shape. The larger the stone the more mana he needed. The denser the stone the more mana he needed. And the more complex the shape the more time, energy and mana he needed. At his low level it was a very limited skill, but allowed him to create small simple things. Interestingly enough though, the skill was not absorbed into [Elemental Mana], leading him to believe that only skills that directly used mana to create elements, such as [Fire Bullet], got absorbed into his unique skill.


    Walking outside he filled a stone kettle with water from a barrel outside, beside his door. The kettle one example of his new skill. The cups, plates and bowls in his cupboard were another. Making these items had levelled it up quickly, along with his [Crafting] skill. It seemed that using skills didn¡¯t interfere with the leveling of others. It built upon the idea of skill synergy, but that was an interesting though for another time.


    Preparing a simple mix of oats, nuts and forest berries he added hot water to it, to create a warm porridge. He really wished he had honey, but with autumn slowly beginning to claim the forest, the bees seemed to have gone into hiding.


    Slipping into the chair by his table, he looked out of the window towards the lake. Such places of natural tranquillity were rare in the world these days, where even after the global warming crisis and immigration due to rising sea levels many people only thought about profit. Though the international reforms had done much in the way of alleviating the crisis, spots like these, completely untouched by the hand of man, no longer existed. How people could destroy something like this was a mystery to him.


    Blowing onto a spoonful of porridge he opened his status. Lately he¡¯d been getting this nagging itch at the back of his mind, like he was missing something. He couldn¡¯t pin it down, so he pushed that feeling away, instead concentrating on his other problem. He had free time. No obligations, no responsibilities, no problems. So, with free time to spare, he decided to test something today.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.2), Sorcerer (Lv.2), Lord (Lv.2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 140/140


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 170/170


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 15


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 14


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 14


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 14


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 17


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 14


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.9), Spear Arts (Lv.17), Mana Sense (Lv.14), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 22), Soul Sense (Lv.3), Mana Control (Lv.19), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 2), Stealth (Lv. 8), Calm Mind (Lv. 6) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 1), Lord¡¯s Insight (Lv. n/a), Leadership (Lv.6) Stone shaping (Lv.7).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Focusing on his title {Rune Master} he gently touched it with his consciousness. He could feel something within him and approached it hesitantly. The previous excruciating pain from the sudden influx of information was still etched into his memory. Though, instead of the pain that he was expecting, he felt that he was slipping into a whole new space; a library of stars, where each star was a different rune.


    Each one radiated power, forming a complex web that he knew might take him years, or even tens of years to truly understand. Reaching out with his consciousness he gently reached out to the closest rune.


    A tingle ran through him as the knowledge of the rune came to him, as if it had always been there, simply waiting for him to remember.


    As understanding flooded into him he began to flit around from one rune to the next, like a child on Christmas. First one, then the next and then another. With each new rune he felt new ideas bubble up from within him. He laughed with a forgotten childish excitement, his breakfast forgotten.

 Chapter 37

    A few hours later Azrael sat at the table, his head in his hands. Not only did his head hurt from the amount of information he¡¯d accessed, but his experiment wasn¡¯t working as he¡¯d expected it to.


    Raising his head from his hands, he looked down at the small stone tablet on the table before him. On its surface a rune lay clearly defined. Scattered on the desk around him were dozens of such small stone tablets, each with a different rune on them.


    Using [Stone Shaping] he¡¯d shaped some stones from outside into smooth stone plates, before engraving them with different runes. All of these newly carved runeplates however lay there inert, no different from any other common stone.


    It seemed that while {Rune Master} gave him knowledge of all the lesser runes and their correct forms it didn¡¯t give him information on how to use them. Dipping into what he¡¯d dubbed the ¡®rune library¡¯ he double and triple checked the rune, making sure that all of the lines were perfect. They were. He¡¯d already tripled checked before that triple check before and yet the stone plates still sat there, mocking him.


    For the life of him, he couldn¡¯t think of what might be missing. Was it was something about the process? [Stone Shaping] hadn¡¯t interfered with levelling [Crafting], so he didn¡¯t really be a reason for it to change anything. He formed a spare stone into a stylus. Maybe if he engraved it by hand? It never hurt to check.


    Picking up another stone he flattened it into a square plate and was about to carve the basic rune for ¡®light¡¯, when he paused. Azrael looked out the window. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but some instinct compelled him to.


    Outside, light filtered through leaves, illuminated greens, golds and oranges to create a stunning show in the light autumn breeze. The dancing leaves threw gentle dappled shadows onto the forest floor below. Everything was peaceful, yet something felt off. Something had changed.


    It was while he was observing the soft shadows in the silence when he realised. It was too peaceful. Other than the wind through the trees, the usually lively forest had gone silent. The birds, so happily singing away a minute ago, were nowhere to be heard. Even the insects seemed to hold their breath. The itch at the back of his mind grew to a tingling, urging him to¡­ He ignored it.


    ¡°Sera? What¡¯s going on?¡± he asked as he put the stylus and stone plate down. In the past month he¡¯d become a lot more comfortable speaking with her, as she would always be there for him, reminding him of the villager¡¯s names, or other things he¡¯d asked her to remember.


    She was never invasive, taking a step back as so not to intrude on his privacy, but always there when he needed her. This time however she didn¡¯t answer him, as if she too were holding her breath for what was coming.


    Azrael slowly started to stand, trying to bury the sense of rising foreboding. Then, in the stillness he finally heard it. He froze, still half seated.


    Silent at first, but growing stronger, it was like a slow drumbeat. It was slow and deep, resonating the very air he breathed and sending a tremor through the earth, like a giant¡¯s footsteps. Each stroke tore the air, like suppressed thunder. The sheer noise drowned out the waterfall and caused his house to shake.


    Freeing himself of whatever force held him captive, Azrael ran out of his small cottage and looked up, as a giant shadow blocked out the sun. Majestic and fearsome the red dragon dominated the skies. Almost 50 or more meters in length, the sun glinted off its rubine red scales.


    It was the largest creature Azrael had ever seen and yet it still carried itself with a fantastical grace.


    Azrael gasped as he collapsed to his knees. The sheer overbearing pressure that the red dragon exuded stole the breath from his lungs. Fear paralysed him and its aura forced him down.


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    He knew now why there wasn¡¯t anything more dangerous in this forest. Anything stronger or smarter than an average animal had long since fled before the might of the dragon. If its presence alone was enough to incapacitate him, then he¡¯d hate for it to turn its attention on him. Nothing in the forest dared challenge the might of the dragon. Everything that lived in this forest survived purely because they were simply too insignificant for it to pay attention to them.


    Azrael watched the dragon swooped down, briefly alighting on the plains beyond the forest¡¯s edge, before taking off again, a Bulla in each front claw. It flew back towards the mountains it had come from, back to the west, its prey bleating in its claws.


    For a long time after the dragon¡¯s departure the forest stayed quiet, before the bravest of insects began chirping again. Like a breaking dam sound returned, the dragon forgotten. Azrael however stayed laying on the ground where he had collapsed for a good while longer. For some reason the forest no longer felt as safe as he had believed it to be. It was funny how a dragon could do that.


    Turning his head, he looked at his house, where small stones had been shaken loose from the walls. He then looked at the sky where the dragon had vanished. As he did so the tingle at the back of his head returned again. This time he recognised it for what it was; The urge for adventure, for glory, for the thrill. It compelled him to follow the dragon.


    The old him would have chased after it, searching for its lair and hunted it.


    For the glory, the thrill, the adventure. That was the old him. The new him had a home, a place to look after and at the moment it was in need of repairs. He would leave the dragon the wannabe heroes and dragon slayers.


    ¡°What a hassle¡± he said with a weary sigh.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± Sera asked.


    He snorted derisively. Now she bothered replying.


    ¡°A dragon sure puts a dampener on my peaceful slow life, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Then why are you smiling?¡±


    Azrael shrugged with a begrudging grin ¡°Well, it¡¯s still a dragon.¡±


    With the same grin still plastered on his face he rose and began to use [Stone Shaping] to fix his house. Using the skill he reattached the fallen stones back into his wall and shored up the entire building. He used the task to take his mind off the dragon, or the fact that he was effectively sharing his backyard with it.


    With extreme patience, he started to carefully melded all the walls together into one single solid piece. After all, if the dragon was a regular occurrence it wouldn¡¯t do for his house to collapse with every passing. Resigned to the grind, he began the arduous task. But hey, at least he was gaining levels in [Stone Shaping].


    Once his house was fixed and his mana pool empty for the second time, Azrael headed inside to clean up. His mood had been dampened a lot since waking up this morning. It had even been such a good morning too!


    He looked at the stone walls from the inside. At least they¡¯d been strengthened now. As one block they were now a lot stronger than they had been individually. A bit like how a forest could weather a storm, while a lone tree would bend and snap.


    In a way felt thankful that the dragon had inadvertently pointed out such a flaw in his building. This was a world where magical beasts roamed. Mana was like magic steroids. Even lizards got supersized into fire-breathing hegemons. Living in a world of magic meant that everything needed to be stronger and more durable. Maybe he could find a way to strengthen and enhance the house. He smiled at the thought. A dragon proof house. Now there was a worthy challenge.


    A sudden realisation struck him as his thoughts turned to another subject. He moved over to his desk and his thoughts shot off on a complete tangent. He rushed over the last little bit to the table and picked up one of the blank stone plates. He was an idiot!


    Grabbing a small thread of mana from his recovering mana pool he flooded the plate with is mana, before imprinting his will upon it using [Stone Shaping]. The rune for ¡®light¡¯ slowly began to emerge, as if an invisible stamp was pushing down on clay. Completed, he channelled a little of his remaining mana into the rune. The problem he¡¯d realised hadn¡¯t been about how he¡¯d made them, but how he used them!


    Threading the mana through the rune he suddenly had to squint as a bright light exploded from the rune, bathing the interior of his house. It dimmed as the mana ran out, only lasting as long as his mana flowed through the rune. Pushing more mana into the rune he tried to see how bright he could get it to shine.


    The light from the rune intensified, reaching blinding levels, before the stone plate suddenly fractured. Small shards burst out across the room, while the rest of the stone crumbled to dust in his hands. With the rune broken the light vanished. He smiled. It seemed that stone had a natural capacitance for mana.


    Eagerly he looked at the rest of the stone plates on his desk, old ideas reignited. It seemed that it was time for some more experimentation. A dragon proof house suddenly seemed a lot more feasible to build!

 Chapter 38

    The next morning Azrael went straight back to work.


    His experimentation with runes so far had borne fruit. Although, the amount of broken stones on his floor might have testified otherwise.


    It had been a long night last night, his renewed excitement getting the better of him. This morning he¡¯d woken up as early as he¡¯d gone to bed late, leaving him a little deprived of sleep. It wasn¡¯t a new feeling for him.


    He¡¯d even ignored his need for breakfast in favour of the runes. Absentmindedly, he drew a rune in the stone dust with his finger and gathered his thoughts, recalling everything that he¡¯d discovered so far.


    Stone it seemed did indeed have a natural capacitance for mana, up to specific threshold. The mana in the rune would slowly degrade the stone over time, like water slowly dripping and eroding a rock over time. At normal mana levels this was ok, the degradation happening very slowly. However, if you were to forcefully increase the amount of mana circulating it would be the equivalent of turning on a hose. The more mana, the greater the pressure, the greater the force, the greater the erosion. Eventually at the highest level it would turn into a hydro-pressure cutter. The stone would be eroded in a single instant, turned to dust and the water would no longer be restrained. The point before this he¡¯d called the mana threshold.


    It was a simple principle really. Normal mana levels would allow a rune to be sustained almost indefinitely. Exceed this threshold and the stone fractured, or crumbled to dust, as the amount of mana exceeded the amount that it could withstand. It was like overfilling something, such as a balloon ¨C you could force it to hold more than it normally might, but too much and it broke.


    Although the larger the stone, the more the stone could withstand. A larger stone, the more to erode. A larger balloon, the more water it could hold.


    Capacitance scaled with size and mass, but just enlarging something was an ineffective solution. Irrespective size, stone also had a natural limit to how much mana it could transmit.


    Stone¡¯s natural capacitance and conductivity were pretty abysmal. Briefly, Azrael wondered whether metals were better mana conductors and whether magical ores such as mithril and orchalium existed in this world. If so, would they have the best capacitance and conductivity?


    Wondering whether it was possible to increase a material¡¯s strength and thereby forcefully increase its mana resistance, Azrael grabbed a nearby runeplate.


    With one hand he slowly began channelling mana through the rune. Despite not being a ¡®light¡¯ rune the rune began to glow gently. He ignored it and grabbed the other side of the plate with his other hand, drawing out another thread of mana. The mental power he needed to do this was¡­ a lot. It was like trying to walk two dogs on separate leashes, except that they were excited mastiffs. Both of them wanted to go somewhere else and he had to forcefully restrain and guide them, unless he wanted to be ripped apart.


    Channelling the second stream he guided the mana into the runeplate and used it to coat the stone with mana, before slowly forcing it in. It was not unlike [Stone Shaping], except instead of pouring in water he was pouring in liquid concrete. One mana stream activated the rune, pushing light out, while the other tried to supress the used mana, forcing it to the center of the rune. To use his previous analogy the first stream of mana was water rushing through a channel, while the second was pouring cement to shore up the banks. Too little cement and the banks would be torn away. Too much and it would constrict the flow. In short, it was a precarious balancing act.


    Finding the middle ground, he slowly began raising the mana levels towards the stone¡¯s mana threshold.


    The mana from the rune accelerated with the increasing mana levels, pushing outward and threatening to shatter the stone. He forced his second mana stream deeper into the stone, to counteract this force.


    By now what had once been a small glow from the rune was a blindingly bright light and he was relying more on his sense of mana then actual visual sight to continue his experiment.


    His first mana stream suddenly halted at the threshold, the second stream not allowing it to exceed what it could sustain. He gritted his teeth and began pouring in all of his reserves into the stone. He felt the two mana streams warring for the threshold, threatening to tear the stone apart. The threshold seemingly bend for a moment, becoming plastic, before he burst through to the other side.


    In the same moment the light from the rune became excruciatingly bright, forcing him to operate truly blind. At the same time as he felt the resistance give way a new skill clicked in place. Two skills actually.


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    <tbody>


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    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For using mana to force a material past its natural limit you have gained the skill [Reinforcement].


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


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For sensing the mana around you without your usual senses you have gained the skill [Mana Sense].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Reinforcement]


    Even the lowliest twig may cut the mightiest sword.


    Using mana you may reinforce something beyond its natural limit using mana.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Mana Sense]


    Those who see with eyes alone are truly blind.


    You may now sense the mana in the world around you.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He read through the notifications and could immediately feel the difference. Through [Mana Sense] he could actually feel the mana in the air around him. It was still invisible, but it was like a tingle in the air, the faintest vibrato of violin. And it wasn¡¯t just in the air. It was everywhere!


    He could feel the residue of his own mana in the walls of his house and interspersed in the shattered stone dust on his desk. Eager to test out his other new skill he picked up the previous discarded stone stylus and used [Reinforcement] on it. With [Mana Sense] he could even feel his mana fill the stylus once it had left his body. Up until this point it had been guess work, where he simply tried to force in as much of his mana as he could until no more fit in. Now, he could feel the exact amount needed.


    Fully reinforced he drew the stylus over a stone plate. It cut through like a knife through soft butter.


    An image of a dragon-slaying blade appeared before his eyes. Enchanted, made of powerful metals and imbued with various runes and [Reinforcement]. He pushed the image away. Old habits die hard.


    Realising, that he was still supplying the stylus with mana he shut it off. Immediately his progress halted, and the stylus once again plain stone scratching against stone. [Reinforcement], it seemed, required a constant supply of mana to function. Curious he tried to channel [Reinforcement] into the tip of the stylus, isolating it to only the point. The stylus once again carved through like it was butter. Selective reinforcement, it seemed, was an option.


    He turned the stylus around and applied [Reinforcement] to the blunt end, scratching against the stone. Unlike the other pointy end, this didn''t cut through. He frowned. Reinforcing something shouldn''t make it stronger, just less prone to breaking, but somehow when he applied it to the pointy end it became... oh. An idea blossommed in his head. Maybe he was taking [Reinforcement] too literal. Maybe, it didn''t make something stronger and more durable, but enhanced aspects of what ever he used it on. He was reinforcing key aspects of the stylus, such as its ability to cut and the stone''s natural durability.


    Briefly, he wondered what would happen if he applied [Reinforcement] to his house, but then dismissed the idea. [Reinforcement] was an active skill that required constant channeling.. The amount of mana he would need to use [Reinforcement] on his house would be¡­ massive, and the effects would be questionable.


    Runes were still his main go to for the plan. If he could enchant his house to withstand a dragon¡¯s blow, then he would. This meant a magic shield of sorts. Azrael was hesitant about enchanting his house. What if he overloaded the runes? His house would potentially shatter, crack or collapse. It was better to build a secondary protection, such as a magic dome, like a forcefield around his property. If worst came to worst and the runes didn¡¯t stop the whole blow, then he could always try to use [Reinforcement] on the building.


    Truth be told all this was probably overkill, the dragon was unlikely to ever attack his house. But then again, if somebody else was sharing their backyard with a big-bad-meat-eating-fire-breathing-fifty-meter-red-dragon, then he was sure that they would probably want some sort of insurance that they weren¡¯t going to wake up one morning with their house burning down and their bed on fire. On the off chance that it did attack he would at least like more of a warning then waking up next to Sera and being told that he¡¯d just died in the night.


    Actually, that raised another point. Since a dragon was an overgrown magical fire-breathing lizard, then he should probably add in a sort of mana protection or maybe mana repulsion to the shield along with the physical protection. That just raised more thoughts. How was he going to get in and out of the shield? Would it be on all the time, or would he have a sort of switch inside? What if he was gone and the dragon came while he was gone? Actually, better question, how was he planning to power it? Afterall, the amount of mana he would need to keep the thing operational was¡­ big. Scratch that. It was several times his mana pool.


    Grabbing the largest stone on his desk, he used [Stone Shaping] to turn it into a large tablet, before grabbing the stylus again and casting [Reinforcement] on it. He began writing out his list of considerations.


    Eventually he was forced to stop, when his stomach growled. He put the stylus down. Looking at his uneaten breakfast from yesterday he realised that he hadn¡¯t eaten in over 24 hours.


    Rising Azrael pushed his chair back and stretched out the cramps from his legs. Getting up he went to fetch some water from the barrel outside his door. Maybe plumbing was another thing he could add. If a dragon trapped him in here, then plumbing to draw water from the lake was a must. He mentally added that onto his to-do-list. Nothing, not even a dragon was going to get in the way of him living a peaceful life.


    With a smile on his face, he grabbed the kettle and opened the door.


    He shut the door just as quickly as he had opened it, before slowly opening it again and peeking out.


    Sleeping on his doorstep was a little girl and not just any little girl. It was the girl he¡¯d found bound in the village.


    Seeing her motionless, he carefully opened the door again and stepped over her, quickly drawing water from the barrel, before vanishing back into his cottage. He hoped she wasn¡¯t dead, but it wasn¡¯t his problem. It annoyed him though that she was there. He¡¯d told the villagers specifically that no-one was meant to intrude on this side of the lake.


    Setting the kettle to boil he hoped that she would leave soon. Actually, if she was dead, then she wouldn¡¯t move. Distracting himself from the possibility of having a dead girl on his doorstep he began the mentally plan his magic barrier.

 Chapter 39

    Unfortunately for Azrael the girl was there the next day, as well as the day after that. For whatever little consolation it was worth, she was not dead.


    Right the next morning, after he¡¯d first discovered her, he¡¯d gone out to gather some rocks for more drawing tablets. She¡¯d stared at him the entire time, her eyes silently following him and very much alive. It was awkward and more than a little unsettling.


    It was on the evening on the second day he had a terrible thought. What if she was an offering left by the villagers? What did they think he was, a god demanding virgin sacrifice, a vengeful beast, a bloodthirsty demon, an overlord slaver???


    Unsure how to handle the situation he decided to ignore her, hoping that either she, or the other villagers got the message and that she would leave.


    However, it seemed that she and the villagers were denser than he¡¯d given them credit for. In the mornings when he left and she was awake, she would trail behind him quietly, like a ghost. Whether that was when he was gathering more water from the lake, or when he was measuring the circumference for his planned protective circle. And she never seemed to leave. Whether he was making breakfast, or just leaving the rune library, she was always there. On the third day the irritation at her constant presence had become greater than his dislike for human contact and he¡¯d gone to the village chief to resolve the issue. After a lot of bowing and scraping he promised to resolve the situation. She¡¯d been gone for all of half a day, before she snuck back to take her vigil on his doorstep.


    He took to leaving early in the morning, before she woke, to do his work. One morning on his way out, he left her one of his spare blankets. The days were getting colder, as winter drew nearer and he didn¡¯t want to go through the hassle of burying her should she freeze to death.


    He even ignored some of the female villagers who brought her meals in the evenings. They never came close to his cottage, stopping just at the edge of the tree line, beyond the circle of stone he was preparing for his barrier. He just hoped that she would tire of this soon and return back to the village.


    However, one day became two, two became three, three became a week and one day mid-autumn, while working on a rune structure to draw mana from the surrounding environment, he finally had enough.


    Slamming his door open he grabbed the startled girl by the back of her shirt and practically carried her all the way back to the village, like a scolded kitten. The villagers quickly gathered when he arrived and he dropped her before the gathered village, confronting the village chief.


    ¡°What. Is. This. About?¡±


    The chief almost went as pale as his whitening hair, but Azrael didn¡¯t care. Day in and DAY OUT. THIS GIRL HAD BEEN SITTING IN FRONT OF HIS DOOR. NOT A WORD, NOT A SOUND! JUST WATCHING HIM WITH NO EXPLANATION. SHE¡¯D BEEN THERE FROM DAWN TILL DUSK AND DAWN AGAIN FOR WEEKS! HER VERY PRESENCE CONSTANTLY GRATED ON HIS NERVES AND MADE IT HARD TO THINK.


    He asked the chief again ¡°What is this about?¡±


    The chief seemed ready to faint by now and it was one of the women that had brought the girl food that answered. She curtsied low, her face cast down.


    ¡°F-Forgive m-me my Lord. This weak and unworthy one speaks. T-The young one, Alena, wishes to ask for your strength. She is an orphan, taken care of by the village, her caretaker was killed by the invaders. She wishes to grow strong for revenge. She is mute. She meant no disrespect, she¡­¡±


    The woman¡¯s word¡¯s choked off as she became aware of Azrael¡¯s gaze.


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    Why, he wondered, did people try to make his life so hard? He¡¯d literally told them not to bother him. It was one of the only three orders he¡¯d given them! What was so hard about that? And hadn¡¯t he expressly said that no-one was to come to his lake shore? Why couldn¡¯t they listen??


    He let out a slow suffering sigh, letting a lot of his irritation and anger drain away. He¡¯d tried to be nice, he¡¯d tried to be kind, but for some reason he wasn¡¯t getting through. Was it really that hard to listen to his requests?!?! He¡¯d only given them, what, four? Maybe it was a different world view. In a world of magic, where you could die any day, the native inhabitants would grasp at any straw they could to survive. If they could only accept the law of power, then he would be the dragon. Powerful, untouchable, dangerous.


    He straightened himself, cooling his gaze and let a crown of golden flames explode into being over his head. Shadows danced on his face, and the earth seemed to shake as he fed his mana into it, frightening the villagers. If they wanted power, then he would show them power. In the background he felt [Dramatic Flair] activate, multiplying the theatrics affects. He channelled everything he had into a powerful and regal persona.


    He turned his hardened gaze onto the cowering girl on the ground, before beginning to speak. Not as Azrael, but as their Lord.


    ¡°Do you Alena¡± He asked, his gaze focused unwaveringly on her ¡°daughter of the village, swear upon your true name to tie your fate to mine. To devote yourself to my cause and to serve me and only me, loyally and unfailingly. To give your life to me, until the day death should part you from this world.¡±


    Silence filled the village and he saw some villagers pale. Internally he smiled at his act. In a moment the girl would break into tears, intimidated by his acting and return to the villagers. She would be too frightened of him to hang around his house and the problem would be solved.


    It took the words a few moments to sink in and register, and he heard more than one of the adults gasp from shock of what he¡¯d said. He knew exactly why, it was practically a slave contract. There was no way any sane person would accept those terms. Already the villagers were trying to talk the girl out of it. The person in question, just sat on their knees, their head bowed as if under a heavy weight. He could see it slowly crushing her.


    ¡°Alena..¡± the village chief began, but he never got any further. The girl just nodded in acceptance and immediately Azrael felt his whole soul stretch out, reaching out, spanning the space between them. It touched something.


    A silent gong rung out from between him and the girl and his soul snapped back into place. He stared at her in shock. Something, he knew, had irrevocably changed. Deep in his soul he felt link between them, tying her life and her fate to his. The next notification to show up only further reinforced this new reality.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Oath of Eternal Servitude]


    There are deeper ways to be bound then by blood.


    You have fulfilled an [Oath of Eternal Servitude] with the individual ¡®Alena¡¯.


    Alena¡¯s life and fate are now irrevocably and intrinsically linked to your own.


    [This oath cannot be broken]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to the nature of your oath and the influence of {God Watched}, the God of Death has taken an interest in you and presided over this oath. You have gained the title {Oath Maker)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    {Oath Maker}


    A word alone can be the rise and fall of nations.


    All oaths that you make are now witnessed by the God of Death.


    Oaths that you make can no longer be broken, or absolved.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    ¡°¡­¡±


    It was divine retribution. He knew it! Those gods had just been waiting for a moment to screw him over! What had he ever done to deserve this?


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to experiencing unusual circumstances in regard to your soul you have gained five levels in [Soul Sense].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    That last notification felt like a bit of a consolation prize.

 Chapter 40

    The next morning Azrael woke up exhausted. After the fiasco yesterday he¡¯d spent the next hour or so trying to explain what had happened to the village chief. That had been one hour more social contact than he appreciated. At least he got the girl out of his hair.


    After accepting the oath Alena had collapsed, unconscious. The villagers had readily agreed when he told them to look after her. From the way they were looking at him you¡¯d think that he¡¯d murdered someone. Although from the number of blankets that they covered and carried the unconscious Alena with, you probably wouldn¡¯t have noticed the difference if it wasn¡¯t for the lack of blood.


    He shrugged, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. From the way they had looked at him it was safe to assume that they wouldn¡¯t let the girl near him anytime soon. So, in the end it had all worked out all right. He¡¯d gotten rid of the problem. Even if it hadn¡¯t worked out like he expected it to.


    He shuddered as he got dressed. No more staring, no more silent stalking. Even the prospect of more oats couldn¡¯t dampen his mood. Grabbing the kettle he opened the door¡­ and tripped over a familiar blanket. He groaned. It was back.


    Wiping the stone dust from his desk he pushed it all to the ground, sending a billow of white-grey dust into the air. He ignored it and faced the mute girl sitting in his chair. She was back.


    He couldn¡¯t believe it. Why? Why did the adults in the village let her come back? He couldn¡¯t understand what could have possibly crossed their minds when they let her come back here. Was she so much of a burden in the village that they just wanted to get rid of her, by sending her in to slavery? They¡¯d all heard what he¡¯d said! It was a slave contract!!! He was a guy and she was a girl, a female slave. Living under the same roof!


    He pinched the bridge of his nose. He wondered what had happened to common sense. It didn¡¯t seem to be so common anymore.  Then again, why did they always try to foist their problems onto him? What did he do to deserve it?


    He glared suspiciously at the sky. Was this some kind of twisted divine joke?


    He couldn¡¯t do much about the gods, but he briefly he considered setting the villager¡¯s houses on fire to get the point through that he didn¡¯t want to be bothered, but he dismissed it just as quickly. They hadn¡¯t done anything to warrant something that extreme¡­ yet.


    Throughout his internal debate Alena just sat there, her eyes faced unwaveringly on him. He saw her fingers occasionally twitch, as if she wanted to run away, but despite that her eyes stayed fixed unerringly on him. It was unnerving. He got up, just to be able to move away from her gaze, when his eyes fell on his broom. He took it and pressed the broom into her hand. Gods! Anything to get her to stop looking at him. He pointed to the thick layer of dust on the floor.


    ¡°Sweep that.¡±


    Without looking he walked out of the room, leaving her in his house. He needed space and a certain someone didn¡¯t seem to be planning to leave his house anytime soon. Giving her a task ensured that she at least wouldn¡¯t follow him. It was also revenge. The dust was so fine that with every sweep some of it would fly into the air, before settling back on the clean floor. Maybe it was a bit vindicative, but at that moment it seemed justified. Very justified. He didn¡¯t care if it was childish. She could leave it and run back to the village for all he cared.


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    He wondered if he could just command her to stay in the village. She was his slave afterall. She would have to obey.


    He almost turned around right there and then to issue the command when he stopped. If the villagers were desperate enough to rid themselves of her by offering her as a tribute and a slave and he rejected her, the wouldn¡¯t it mean that she had failed. With no kin and no craft to contribute to the village with would they kick her out, leaving her to fend for herself? The image of Alena huddled in a tree hollow, cowering and shivering, as beasts hunted her down burrowed its way into his mind.


    He decided to hold off that decision for the moment. Maybe the walk would help clarify things for him. He continued on.


    Eventually Azrael found himself in front of the little alcove a hundred meters from his cave. With a little [Stone Shaping] he made it big enough to actually fit inside. Hidden inside he settled into a comfortable position and let his breathing go. Deeply exhaling he let himself sink into his soul space.


    Floating in his soul void he looked down on his soul. It was alien and at the same time so familiar. It was him, or at least the game¡¯s representation of him.


    It had expanded since he¡¯d last been here, growing in size and complexity. Once a little ball with a few lumps had become a complex web of skill crystals and status points. Overall, his soul seemed¡­stronger? Denser? It was hard to describe. The soul itself had no weight, but it seemed to be more there, as if its existence had become more defined.


    Even the soul mists swirling through the crystals seemed to have a new presence, no longer faint enough to be blown away by the lightest breeze, but a deep swirling fog.


    His classes also seemed to affect the soul in strange ways, as the mist that filtered through them gained a new flavour, or was it a tint? It was hard to explain. The normal senses didn¡¯t really apply in the soul, making things different to conceptualise. Again, it was one of those things that only seemed to make sense if you saw it for yourself. But the mist had definitely gained a quality of something unique, something him.


    Even as he watched the neutral mist flowed through the classes, moving through the crystal fractals that they were made up of, before once again being carried out and joining the rest of the swirling mists that made up his soul. In a way it was like dyeing white mist through stain glass windows, except that the mist carried those particular colours even after they passed through the light.


    This class-tinted mist then mingled and carried through his soul and through the skill crystals, infusing his whole being. It was like they were slowly changing and defining who he was. It didn¡¯t actually seem to affect anything as far as he could see, but was definitely something to keep an eye on.


    The other thing that caught his attention more than anything else was a single streamer of soul mist that was being pulled off and stretched into the void. Watching it trail off into the unknown he followed it back into his soul and realised that it actually pierced beneath the mist to where he knew a hidden core lay below. Overcome by curiosity he reached out and touched it.


    Immediately emotions not his own flooded through him. Fear, hope, nervousness, uncertainty. He took his hand off the soul string and felt the link break off. It wasn¡¯t gone, just mute, like a radio just waiting for you to tune back in. Testing this connection, he realised that he could actually feel Alena¡¯s general location.


    Concentrating on that connection he placed her to be¡­ maybe¡­ ten meters away!


    His eyes flashed open as he was knocked out of his soul space and almost jumped out of his skin. Alena was indeed crouched barely ten meters away from him, her eyes staring at his seated form. He pushed down many of the emotions that were welling up.


    Rising, Azrael stepped out of the alcove and walked back to the cottage. Through the link he could feel her following him. When they got back it seemed that the two of them were going to be having a very serious conversation.


    Somewhere in the background he swore he could hear Sera laughing.

 Chapter 41

    ¡°Now listen here¡± Azrael said.


    Alena watched him from where she was currently perched, precariously on the edge of the chair. The floor was appreciatively clean, but didn¡¯t stop him from asking the real question.


    ¡°What do you want!?!?¡±


    She just looked at him. That unwavering stare was really starting to get under his skin. It was as if she believed that as soon as she took her eyes off him he would be gone.


    ¡°You waltz up to my doorstep. You sleep in front of my house. And now you¡¯re in my home! What do you want?!?!?!¡±


    The girl brought her thumb up to her lip and chewed it. Now she was really getting on his nerves!


    She brought the hand down from her mouth and pointed a single finger to her bicep, before pointing to his spear in the corner.


    He frowned ¡°Uh¡­ Muscle, spear, arm¡­ uh¡­ fight?¡± It seemed charades was a life skill he was lacking. He felt his mind flounder around for clues, before latching onto something one of the village women had said before the oath.


    ¡°Strength, revenge. You want to get strong for revenge¡±.


    Alena nodded.


    Mentally Azrael built a picture. Alena had probably never left the village, meaning that who, or whatever she wanted to get revenge on was near their old village. That meant either a beast, or one of the invading players. He was more likely to be on the latter. The villagers had been terrified of him when he¡¯d first seen them. That meant something extreme had probably happened for them to feel that way. It was highly likely that the occupying players had killed someone.


    ¡°Was it a beast?¡± She shook her head. ¡°One of the men that attacked the village?¡±


    She nodded confirming his suspicions. The only question now was, how to tell her that players were technically immortal. Or¡­ actually¡­


    ¡°Sera, what happens if a player is killed and they have no more life token?¡±


    He could feel her smiling in the back of his head. He wasn¡¯t sure whether it was because she was glad he asked, or if she was imagining what would happen to the poor player. Considering that she was basically a made from his own consciousness, it could be either.


    ¡°Then they would no longer be able to revive and would be forced to make a new character and start over.¡±


    Azrael turned to Alena with a smile similar to Sera¡¯s.


    ¡°How about this. I help you get revenge, and then you get out of my hair? Go back to the village, go on an adventure, I don¡¯t care.¡± He held out his hand. ¡°Deal?¡±


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    She grabbed his hand without hesitation, and they shook on it.


    ***


    Nords looked up as one of his men sneezed. ¡°Valek, pay attention.¡±


    The man looked apologetic. ¡°Sorry Boss. Someone¡¯s bad mouthing me.¡±


    Nords just sighed. The whole group that had been here the night the village had burnt down had suddenly become a whole lot more suspicious. He¡¯d managed to convince them that it wasn¡¯t a spirit that attacked them, but a pyromancer. The appearance of a dragon recently hadn¡¯t helped either.


    The thing had practically swooped down from the mountains, grabbed two Bullas and vanished. It hadn¡¯t touched them. But it had reinforced his men¡¯s fear of the fantastical and supernatural.


    Noticing his men watching him he returned to addressing the group around the table. ¡°Regarding the fortifications, I want them to be made of stone. We saw what that pyromancer managed to do to the old village. My guess is that that massive dragon also has a flame attack of sorts.¡± One of his men raised a hand. ¡°Rico?¡±


    ¡°What if the spir¡­ pyromancer and the dragon are working together?¡±


    Nords shook his head. ¡°I doubt it. Whatever is being protected in the forest likely has no relation to the dragon, however with the forest barred to us we risk running out of basic resources we need, such as wood. I¡¯ve already sent Milo as a messenger to the capital. We¡¯re going to need a geomancer and supplies. Hopefully the information of a dragon is worth something. In the meantime, I want everyone to group up. No-one leaves the village without at least three people. Dismissed.¡±


    Watching them trickle out he felt someone tap on his shoulder. It was Jaret, his second in command and the leader of the returned expedition. Nords nodded and called out to Leiev, the knife thrower in his guild. Together the three of them sat back down at the table.


    ¡°They still fear him, don¡¯t they¡± Jaret asked.


    Nords nodded ¡°You would too if you¡¯d been here. Came from nowhere, vanished into nowhere and killed the entire village while he was at it. Myself included. The way he moved was uncanny, although sometimes it was almost as if he was two people. One was like smoke, silent, dangerous and a hell of a pyromaniac. Give him a blade and it was like a switch had been flicked. It was like staring down a field boss.¡±


    ¡°Well, you know what they say. Rankers tend to be pretty crazy.¡±


    Nords looked at Jaret in surprise ¡°You think he¡¯s a ranker?¡±


    Jaret shrugged ¡°Might be. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised. I know that the Lightning Witch and Blood Baron took over a city further South.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but out here? Rankers tend to run around clearing crazy quests or fighting each other. Our village doesn¡¯t have anything much of value and he didn¡¯t take anything either. I don¡¯t think so. This guy acted like he had something to protect.¡±


    ¡°Might be a field boss or even a hidden boss, like you said, then. Any other game and I might have doubted that, but here? The NPC AI is on another level. Those villagers acted just like real humans!¡±


    Nords grimaced ¡°Too bad they vanished after the village burnt down.¡±


    Jaret shrugged before turning to the silent knife thrower. ¡°What about you Leiev? Think you could take that guy down in one-on-one?¡±


    ¡°No¡±


    ¡°No? You¡¯re probably the best in PvP in our guild and you can¡¯t take down a single guy?¡±


    Leiev shook his head ¡°That guy was strong, not strong strong, just skilled. Every move he made was planned. Either he¡¯s got a hidden boss with an amazing AI running things for him, or he¡¯s a godly player.¡± Leiev paused, considering. ¡°The skills were not the best, simple, not flashy, but the amount of precision, ruthlessnes and combat awareness he showed aren¡¯t something you see in normal players. The amount of hours you would need to get that¡­¡± he shook his head.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Lieve turned to Jaret ¡°I never told you how I died, did I¡±


    ¡°No¡±


    ¡°I died to my own throwing knives. The guy caught them mid-air, while attacking Nords and returned them in the same heartbeat, before catching Nords'' Sword in his bare hands.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Nords looked at the two men silently sitting at the table. All the men in the village had died that evening, but Leiev¡¯s pride had taken a big hit. Looking out the window of one of the villagers¡¯ old homes he prayed that Milo would deliver his message to Holy Empire quickly.

 Chapter 42

    The next morning Azrael woke up with a spear point near his face.


    ¡°WOAH!! Watch where you¡¯re pointing that thing!¡±


    He pushed it away and Alena at least had the decency to look embarrassed. He sat up in his bed, raking his hand through his messy bed hair in an attempt to neaten it. He pushed the girl off of his bed, she landed on the ground with a plonk. Seemingly unfazed she raised the spear towards him and looked at him expectantly.


    ¡°NO! Now get out, so I can get dressed!¡±


    She left his room and he quickly closed the door behind her. He would need Hugh to install a lock or bolt.


    Of course, Sera decided to use that moment to tease him.


    ¡°Such a grump Onii-chan¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a grump!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m not your onii-chan!¡±


    With a certain AI secretary giggling into his ear he got dressed. When he emerged, Alena once again presented him with a spear. Should he just command her to stay in the village? It was such a hassle. He could just command the villagers not to throw her out. She¡¯d sworn an oath to obey his commands, all he¡­


    Sera stopped him ¡°You promised her. You promised to help her take revenge.¡±


    He sighed and turned to Alena. Taking the spear from her hand he leant it against the wall. Seeing that he intended to leave it there she went to grab it again. He caught her wrist, stopping her.


    ¡°Breakfast first.¡±


    She hesitated briefly before moving to fetch water with the kettle. In the meantime, he went and sat down at the table. One of the conditions that he¡¯d set yesterday had been that for the duration of her stay Alena had to do all the chores that he gave her. That meant sweeping, cleaning, cooking, fetching water and whatever else he could think of.


    After discovering that she couldn¡¯t cook well he¡¯d taken over dinner and made a simple meal with Boar meat and wild greens, while showing her where everything was in the kitchen. Gods, he wished he had salt. He¡¯d probably have to write a cookbook for the girl, to avoid food poisoning.


    ¡°Actually, how does that work. You know, language and all that?¡± he asked Sera.


    ¡°Due to players of different nationalities all playing on one world server, the system has implemented something called the ¡®common tongue¡¯. Basically, all player languages and writing get translated into a single language used by the rest of the players and NPCs. This means that there are still languages that can be learnt in-game, but it allows for a lot more player diversity and interaction¡±.


    ¡°Huh, handy¡±


    Absentmindedly he accepted a plate of porridge from Alena, before noticing that she hadn¡¯t given herself any berries. He scooped up half of his and dumped them on her plate. Instead of a grateful response she started picking them out and pushing them to the edge of her plate.


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    ¡°Don¡¯t like them?¡± he asked. She shook her head.


    He sighed. It was really hard to communicate with this girl. Sure, she got her point across, but it was tiring. The last time he¡¯d had to deal with a mute or deaf player he¡¯d¡­ He turned to her.


    ¡°How would you like to speak?¡±


    She looked at him uncomprehendingly.


    ¡°Well, not speak, but communicate. If you want I can¡­ scratch that. I¡¯m teaching you finger talk. It¡¯s a pain talking to you like this. From now on I¡¯m going to teach you how to speak.¡±


    She shook her head and pointed at the spear in the corner. This girl!


    ¡°New deal. I¡¯ll only teach you how to get stronger, if you learn how to speak.¡±


    She opened her mouth as if to say something, but of course she couldn¡¯t. Azrael 1, Alena 0. Did getting him to teach her count? Fine, 1-1.


    After breakfast, he made good on his promise.


    ¡°Copy after me. My¡­ name¡­ is¡­¡± What he was teaching her was a variation of hand code, or finger talk. Although it was most commonly referred to by gamers as ¡®Thief¡¯s code¡¯.


    Originally designed by a mute VR gamer nearly a decade ago, it was an adaption on international sign language, which over time had changed and incorporated a lot more gaming terms, becoming what it was today.


    Its name came from the player base it was mostly used by ¨C Thieves. The hand code was commonly used by thieves and other players during stealth missions, where silent communication was a must.


    Sure, he was a bit rusty, not having used it in a few years, but he still remembered enough to teach this girl, and even as he was teaching little bits of it came back, piece by piece.


    ¡°Your turn now¡±


    She frowned as she signed ¡°my-name-A-L-E-N-A. How-are-you?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Good enough¡± It was a bit slow, but nothing practice couldn¡¯t fix. ¡°I want you practice that and whatever else that I teach you every morning.¡±


    That should keep her from waking him so early in the mornings. He piled together their empty plates and placed them to his sink by the stove, he would get her to do those later.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go¡± he said, walking out the door. She followed him eagerly, bringing the spear along.


    ¡°Go put that in your room¡± he said. She looked at him uncertainly. ¡°You won¡¯t need that today.¡±


    She turned and left, carrying the spear to a little outhouse he¡¯d constructed alongside his house using [Stone Shaping]. It wasn¡¯t the prettiest, but it would do. He¡¯d felt that it would be too strange to have a girl living under his roof, especially after living alone for so long.


    As for her claiming the spear, he didn¡¯t mind. It turned out that the villagers were still giving him stuff. Some mornings the offerings simply appeared outside of his stone ring, delivered in the early morning hours. The spear was one of those things. Food, such as oats, smoked meat, potatoes, a leather bucket and other random items were amongst the offerings. Though he didn¡¯t like that people trespassed on his side of the lake, it made his life more convenient, so he let it slip.


    Seeing Alena return (without the spear) he got her first training ready. Overall, there wasn¡¯t too much he could do. She was a 12 year old. She was short, had no muscle to speak of and had probably never handled anything more dangerous that a hoe or kitchen knife.


    The only thing she had going for her at the moment was her smaller size and surprisingly quiet footsteps. Maybe it was apt that she was learning thief¡¯s code, because he was imagining a sort of rogue build for her. The spear was too big for her anyways.


    Using [Stone Shaping] he made two stone daggers. Since he didn¡¯t have any metal ones this would have to do for the moment. The weapons had weight and the stone could hold a passably sharp edge.


    Testing their weight, he made a few small adjustments to the weight distribution, before handing one to Alena. Using the other to demonstrate he threw it at a nearby tree. It struck true with a solid thunk. A few autumn leaves fluttered to the ground.


    ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re going to be able to do soon.¡±


    ¡°I-good¡± she signed.


    He laughed at her attempt ¡°Not yet you¡¯re not. But you will learn¡±


    Retrieving the dagger from the tree he demonstrated how to throw it, holding the blade and letting it rotate while in flight. He got her to practice throwing it, aiming at the ground. His knife sunk into the soft ground, while hers landed and skittered across the ground.


    He let her practice that, while he went and continued work on his dragon defence circle. Magic forcefield barrier? He sighed, while Alena went to work massacring the ground. He needed a catchier name.

 Chapter 43

    The next few days were surprisingly peaceful. Despite the fact that he had another person living with him, Azrael enjoyed the feeling of waking up to a freshly swept and cleaned house every morning, with breakfast already on the table. He did not, however, enjoy the way in which he was woken, which usually Alena poking him until he got up.


    As a countermeasure to protect his sleep ins he instructed her to spend one hour every morning practicing her knife throwing and another hour meditating. In the end he usually woke up while Alena was knife throwing, so he joined her for the meditation until breakfast. He felt bad eating breakfast without her.


    His rune circle was also coming along well. Running tests on multiple stone plates he had managed to build functioning rune structures for physical reflection and magical absorption. While he was still working on the means to power the whole formation, the magic absorption should theoretically absorb mana from a spell to integrate it into the barrier¡¯s mana structure. This meant that theoretically, the more mana was thrown at it, the stronger the barrier would become. Theoretically.


    The afternoons were spent devising new training for Alena and some light sparring. He even got a new skill, which progressed quickly due to muscle memory and the frequent sparring.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Dagger Arts]


    Even the smallest blade can fell the mightiest king.


    Your proficiency with all small blades increases with the skill level.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Alena was also gaining proficiency at an astounding rate, although that may have been something to do with the benefits of [Lord¡¯s Domain]. His title [Teacher] had also kicked in after a few days, showing that he had surpassed Alena in [Dagger Arts] by at least five levels.


    The day came however when Alena decided that she wanted to move to the next stage of the training.


    ¡°Fight-strong-now. I-fight.¡± she signed.


    He sighed, it had barely been what ¨C a week since she had started? Her Thief code had improved a lot, but her dagger skills were nowhere near ready for an actual fight. He would have to show her how vast the world was.


    Looking out into the autumn forest he pictured various scenarios, before coming to a conclusion.


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    ¡°Follow me¡± he said ¡°But stay quiet.¡±


    Slipping into [Stealth] he began to walk, making sure that Alena could still see and follow him. In his head he was quietly humming a tune.


    ¡° ~ We¡¯re going on a boar hunt.


    We¡¯re going to catch a big one ~ ¡±


    At least he hoped it was a boar. A wolf might be too dangerous for Alena to be around with her current skills and a deer would be too big for her. He shrugged. It would be a good learning experience either way.


    ***


    Alena followed Lord Azrael, her master, through the forest. Despite warnings from the village chief and other villagers not to get involved with him she had still decided to accept the oath. She knew it was dangerous, no oath made on one¡¯s true name was to be taken lightly, but she wanted revenge.


    The men had invaded their village and slain Martha, the old lady that had fed and clothed her in the place of her parents. The sight of Martha, falling lifeless to the ground, still haunted her dreams. She often woke up in tears. Feeling fear, shame, guilt, anger.


    She was willing to give her life for revenge. Accepting an oath on her true name was nothing compared to that.


    She looked at the Lord, his figure seeming to blend into the surroundings. Her eyes slipped past him as if he didn¡¯t exist, despite her knowing exactly where he was. She touched the oath bond between them, feeling him. His side radiated power, dominating the link. She followed him through that.


    He was different from the villagers. She could feel it. All the villagers could. The village chief called it the ¡®divine spark¡¯, a gift from the gods to their chosen. The other men that called themselves ¡®players¡¯ had it too. Why were they chosen? Why, when they had killed Martha?


    Nearly bumping in her Lord and master she found herself crouched behind a bush.


    His fingers flashed ¡°Stay here. Watch.¡±


    She nodded and he vanished once more. Through the oath-link she felt him move away from her. Feeling him circle around, she finally noticed the boar that was snuffling around between two trees. It was big, bulging with muscles and used two big tusks to rip up the ground. She fingered her two daggers, suddenly feeling a lot less confident.


    The Lord shimmered into existence, seemingly appearing out of a tree. Before the boar even had a chance to notice him he had already plunged a dagger into its hide, using it to hold on, while he slit it¡¯s back legs. It tried to buck him off, but to no avail. Flickering for a moment he appeared on the boar¡¯s other side, slitting its other hind leg. The beast tried to gore him with its tusks, but couldn¡¯t turn its head far enough. A moment later both of its front legs gave way as they too were cut.


    The boar fell to the ground, debilitated. Her Lord called her over.


    ¡°Kill it.¡±


    She drew her daggers and hesitated. The once proud boar that exuded danger lay there, sad and weakened, unable to do anything as its life drained away. She balked as she watched it struggling. She felt sorry for it.


    ¡°Kill it¡± he repeated.


    Her Lord, her master had commanded her, yet she could not do it. Unlike the other men it had never done anything against her. The way the boar¡¯s beady eyes seemed to look into hers. It was in pain. Her hands shook.


    The Lord slit through its neck, putting it out of its misery. It stilled.


    Nervously, she touched the link between them, expecting disappointment. Instead, she felt a deep sense of understanding. Tears welled up in her eyes and she fell to the ground sobbing. She didn¡¯t know why. It might have been because she had failed to follow his command and take the next step, to take a life, or it might have been exactly because she had witnessed the ending of an innocent creature.


    Despite all that her Lord and master just stood by her silently, his presence both like a strong shield and a warm blanket. Strong, reliable, calming.

 Chapter 44

    Azrael sat at his desk, tapping a stone rune plate with the stylus. The events of today had surprised him.


    Alena had pestered him to let her fight something. He gave in. It was the outcome however that was unexpected. He¡¯d intended to capture a boar, and let her have the final hit, so that she could get use to the fact that she would be taking a life. Sure, he¡¯d expected hesitation from the girl, but ultimately, he¡¯d thought that she would do it. Afterall, they lived in a medieval world. The way of the hunt was a way of life.


    Instead, the hunt had ended with her apathetic mask breaking and her crying her heart out. He understood the hesitation. He used to be like that. It was just that from the way that she acted it was sometimes hard to remember that she was barely over 13 or so years of age.


    Instead of teaching her how to dissect the creature like he¡¯d originally intended he¡¯d cancelled lessons for the day and decided to give her the next day off as well.


    Dipping into the rune library quickly, he corrected a part of the rune structure before him, linking a ¡®mana¡¯ to a ¡®transference¡¯ rune. It was a new prototype for an ambient mana accumulator.


    The idea was that it would draw in mana from the surroundings to feed the rest of the rune structure. The problem was that it still needed mana to help draw in mana. Feeding it with a bit of his own mana he felt the rune structure begin to draw in the mana from the room, due to [Mana Sense].


    A moment later the ¡®light¡¯ rune that he¡¯d linked to the rune structure lit up. He cut off his mana and watched as the rune structure continued to draw in the ambient mana. Eventually though it flickered and guttered out. He put the plate back on the table.


    In theory if he could place enough mana accumulators throughout his structure it could sustain itself longer, maybe indefinitely, so long as nothing overly serious happened. Either that, or if the ambient mana level was higher; both were possibilities.


    What he was lacking though were proper materials. Stone was only so good for rune carving. Organic materials, such as wood he¡¯d found were even worse in terms of mana transference and capacitance, although they didn¡¯t deteriorate as fast as stone did.


    The deterioration problem of stone could temporarily be solved with enough mass, at least for the foreseeable future. In the end the biggest problem of the whole thing was transference and capacitance.


    With a stationary barrier that was always ¡®on¡¯ transference wasn¡¯t really an issue. He didn¡¯t need to suddenly channel a large amount of mana in a short amount of time. It was the capacitance that gave him the largest headache.


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    All the accumulated ambient mana that was drawn in was immediately charged into the general mana flow of the rune structures, as there was no way to store it. Anything that wasn¡¯t used was simply lost and wasted, dispersing back into the ambient mana. It would eventually be reabsorbed into the rune structure, but at a mana cost, only for it to be lost again. It was a waste of energy and efficiency. If only he could find a material that could store or generate more mana on its own, like a¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    HE WAS SUCH AN IDIOT!!!


    Azrael rushed outside, running to the edge of the clearing, where the boar was bleeding out. Grabbing a stone off the ground he quickly used stone shaping to turn it into a blade, before casting [Reinforcement] on it. Getting his hands bloody he managed to dig out a small purple crystal ¨C a mana stone.


    Wiping his hands on the nearby grass he rushed back inside, altering the rune structure he¡¯d just used.


    Embedding the mana stone into the plate itself, he reformed the structure around it. Then, tracing the rune path with his mana he felt the entire thing activate. Light spilled forth and this time stayed on. He fist bumped the sky. There was no feeling like success.


    The ambient mana that was gathered was rerouted into the mana stone, where it was simultaneously used to power the ¡®light¡¯ rune and to gather more mana. Anything not used was stored until it was needed. Stone being stone meant that there was still mana being lost due to the material, but the efficiency had greatly improved. It wouldn¡¯t last indefinitely, but certainly a long time, which was OK. The mana that he needed to power a ¡®light¡¯ rune was relatively low. If he one day managed to find a material with better capacitance, he could theoretically build a magical perpetual motion machine.


    Leaning back on his chair, Azrael tipped onto the back legs and marvelled at his work. He¡¯d effectively created a working magic lamp. His only complaint was that in order for it to start working he needed to trace out the path with his mana first, before it activated. While that was fine for a small rune structure like his lamp, he was worried that he wouldn¡¯t have enough to finish tracing something larger, like his barrier, before he ran out of mana.


    Maybe there was something that he could use instead. Magic wire? He¡¯d probably need metal for that. It stood to reason that the purer something was the better it conducted mana. Actually, that raised an interesting thought. How did metals compare to stone in terms of mana and enchanting? So far it had all been speculation on his part.


    He added that onto his to-do-list, along with getting more mana crystals. The villagers probably had plenty from all the beasts he¡¯d hunted and let them dissect. He balked at the thought of having to go to the village. Maybe he could send Alena tomorrow. It would probably be good for her to spend a day in the village again.


    He frowned as he had another thought. What if the villagers didn¡¯t give her the mana crystals, because she was just a little girl? He¡¯d probably have to go into the village in the morning and pick them up. He sighed. It was a good trade off though. Since Alena was going to be in the village for her day off, if he got the crystals, it would be a whole day with no training. Just him and his project. That sounded like a good plan.


    Removing the mana crystal from the plate he formed a small jar with [Stone Shaping] in which to keep it in. Placing the tablet atop of the rest of his experiments he took one last look at them before washing his bloody hands and turning in to bed. He was going get those mana stones and finish the stone circle tomorrow.

 Chapter 45

    Turning up at the village with Alena, Azrael was met with a mixed reception. Everyone greeted him respectfully, with deep bows and reverent voices, but a few of the ladies threw him a few furtive distrustful looks, before whirling Alena away into one of the nearby houses.


    Seeing her vanish, he asked the chief for the mana stones. He took them all, even the ones that the spear group had hunted. Surprisingly, it seemed that the chief was actually aware of mana and mana stones, although nobody in the village could use it. He¡¯d have to come back another day to quiz the chief on everything that he knew about mana.


    A little while later and Azrael returned home with over thirty small mana stones. Checking that the stone ring around his property was one solid piece he got out his stone tablets and began to carve in the rune sequences.


    The entire design was actually made up of four different rune structures, repeated in a circular pattern. The first, outer layer, was the most important one, the mana accumulator. This part was responsible for gathering ambient mana from the surroundings, drawing it in and then storing it in the mana crystals to be used later, or be used in maintaining the formation.


    Using 32 mana stones he placed them spread equally apart from each other. This meant that there was a mana stone at each cardinal point, intercardinal point and then another in each space between those. Considering the diminutive size of each stone it meant he didn¡¯t actually have much in terms of battery space, but it would hopefully be enough to make sure that the accumulator structure kept going.


    Moving in towards the house, to the second ring, was the magic absorption barrier. This was created with the purpose of absorbing as much mana from a magic attack as it could and transferring it into the barrier itself. While this would temporarily strengthen the barrier. However, without the required mana supply and a storage space sufficiently large enough to store all of this converted , it would gradually be forced to give up most of that accumulated power over time, returning to base level functions.


    The third layer was a physical barrier. It had the sole purpose of stopping physical force. Essentially it was a massive barrier created from the principle of [Reinforcement]. The only problem was that, just like [Reinforcement], the more force was placed on it, the more mana it would need to consume. It was sufficient to stop humans and wild animals, but it definitely wouldn¡¯t stop a dragon. Unless, it was supercharged by either the first or second ring. It was a flaw to be fixed when he had better materials.


    The fourth and last ring he¡¯d added was more of a convenience than anything really. Having no defensive function, the final barrier simply stopped ambient mana from seeping out of the barrier. He¡¯d added it to stop the ambient mana accumulators in the first ring from absorbing the mana near his house.


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    During his earlier experiments he¡¯d felt a subconscious sense of discomfort when he¡¯d drained all the ambient mana from his house to power a ¡®light¡¯ rune. The fourth ring was just to stop that from happening. Essentially it sealed ambient mana in the dome. It allowed ambient mana in, but not out.


    Finishing the rune script for the final circle he frowned. He¡¯d split the rune structures into four, so that he could activate them one at a time and be able to replenish his mana in the meantime, but looking at the length of the script he was really worried. There was no way he had enough mana in the tank to complete even a single ring.


    Pausing midway was equally as impossible, because as soon as the supply stopped the mana flow would stagnate and disperse. Briefly he considered redesigning it with multiple smaller barriers, but gave up on that soon after. The structural integrity of the barrier primarily came for its circular domed shape. Break it into pieces and it would be no better than a card house ¨C full of holes and prone to fall at the slightest breeze. If only he could build an accumulator for himself.


    Actually¡­ sometimes his own genius amazed him. He thought back to one of the very first thoughts he¡¯d had when he¡¯d entered the game. Back then he¡¯d tried to gain magic through meditation, similar to what cultivators did to accumulate ¡®ki¡¯ in cultivation novels and manga.


    After discovering his own mana core and gaining [Soul Sense] he¡¯d let it fall to the wayside. It seemed that the holy texts really did have some wisdom. He was a man of culture after all.


    Finding a spot under a tree he settled in, letting himself sink into the leaf carpet. This time, unlike last time, he did not sink into himself, but instead let his thoughts drift away on the cool autumn breeze. He simply closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.


    Breath in, breath out.


    Inhale, exhale.


    Thoughts ceased to matter. Time lost its relevance. He heard the wind rustle through the leaves and birds chirp to each other, in their search for food. A squirrel whipped down a tree, scurrying past him in its search for nuts to store for the coming winter. He heard all that and let it pass him by.


    Turning inwards, he could hear his blood rushing through his head, his heartbeat, strong and regular. He felt his muscles ache from where he¡¯d crouched all day and his arms and back relax, no longer needed. His lungs too moved in a slow steady rhythm.


    Breath in, breath out.


    Inhale, exhale.


    And with the air came mana. Each breath brought mana flooding in, filling his lungs and each breath let it out again, to join the rest once again in the air. Azrael let all else fall to the side, simply focusing on his breathing. Each breath became deeper, each breath became longer, and each breath brought in more mana. It filled him, revitalising him and he felt his blood carry it along with the oxygen.


    Inhaling once more, he guided that mana to his core, before breathing out again.


    Inhale, exhale.


    Breath in, breath out.


    By now he felt alive and awake, like never before. Without even having to open his eyes he knew that he¡¯d succeeded.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Meditation]


    Everything is connected. Know thyself and know the world.


    While meditating you gain increased recovery in mana, stamina and health.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>

 Chapter 46

    The next day Azrael felt that he¡¯d perhaps celebrated too early. Having [Meditation] and putting it into practice were two completely different things.


    To use [Meditation] he needed to be seated, but to activate the runes around the circle he had to move around the ring. The problem was that as soon as he moved, while trying to concentrate on [Meditation], he would quickly lose control of his breathing.


    Alena had also returned from the village, laden with gifts from the ladies. It seemed that they did care for her after all. With Alena back, it meant that training began again as well. Taking what had happened two days ago into consideration, Azrael decided to change the training up a little, moving things away from direct combat.


    Sparring was now only every second day, while the previously allocated time was replaced with other activities, such as trap making and hide and seek.


    For trap making Azrael took Alena into the forest and taught her how to make various traps and snares, nothing too fancy, although it did add a larger variety of game to their diet.


    As for hide and seek, it was exactly that. Azrael would enter [Stealth] and hide, while Alena would seek. While she seemed to be surprisingly quick at finding his general location, she still had trouble with actually finding him.


    Then, when she eventually did find him, they would swap roles, with her hiding and him seeking. While it was stealth and tracking training for her, he used it as time to practice [Meditation] while moving and standing.


    Alena still fulfilled her other roles, such as cleaning the house, washing the dishes, making breakfast and keeping the water barrel topped up. Azrael cooked the dinner meals. Alena still tended to burn the food quite often.


    Morning meditation and dagger practice was still a regular occurrence, while he¡¯d also fashioned a pair of proper throwing knifes for her. She added those to her morning routine as well.


    In time the dragon came again, swooping down low towards the plains and returning to the sky once more with a Bulla in each claw. A week later Azrael attempted to activate the first ring. He sent Alena to the village for the day, not wanting to be distracted. She complained in Thief code, but he closed his eyes, ending the argument before it even began. He only opened them again when he was sure that she had left.


    Then, starting from the closest mana stone from his front door he began to walk around the stone circle, counter clockwise, guiding his mana through the runes of the first ring. Letting his mana flow he calmed his breathing and slipped into [Meditation].


    From there it was simply a matter of process; breath in, draw the mana, breath out, trace the rune. Everything went alright until he got nearly a third around his house. In all of his planning he¡¯d forgotten that the further his mana got from him, the harder it was to control. For every level he gained in [Mana Control] it meant another meter further from his body that he could control. However, even now he was pushing that range.


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    Without anything to keep it attached the mana at the beginning of the trail was slowly beginning to unravel, dissipating into the air. Distracted, he almost lost control of his mana and briefly slipped out of [Meditation].


    Forced to deal with the situation he sent a powerful surge of mana down the line, containing almost half of his remaining reserves. Dropping back into [Meditation] he felt the regeneration speed of his mana pool increase somewhat, but not enough to make up for that sudden blast. Nervousness began to well up, only to be quashed as he drew upon [Calm Mind]. He returned to the task.


    The second oversight that he had made actually aided him this time. With each mana stone he passed the task became easier, as each activated accumulator formation activated and began to absorb mana from the surrounding and pouring it into the rune structure. Although his own mana pool was getting precariously low, he was basically surfing a wave of mana now and only had to guide it through the forms.


    He passed another mana stone. Five more left to go. He checked, he had enough mana. Four mana stones left, still doing OK, but he was precariously low. Three, he nervously eyed his MP on his status. Two, his mana guttered briefly, running on fumes. He pushed, drawing in all the mana he could from his surrounds. A task made harder by the very accumulators he was trying to complete. One; just the last bit!


    He connected the two ends and the mana wave he¡¯d been riding continued on, cycling through the rune structure.


    Azrael could practically feel the mana in the very environment being sucked into the 32 accumulators placed around the first ring. He tried to cut off the mana from his core, but it was ripped along by the mana wave. The headache that he¡¯d suppressed as he worked suddenly returned full force as he watched his MP drop.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    MP: 1/170


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    ¡°¡­¡±


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    MP: 0/170


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    As the last bit drained away everything went black.


    ***


    Alena sat in the village, the women of the village fussing over her. She was annoyed that her Master had sent her away for the day. The constant attention from the ladies didn¡¯t help her mood either. She had grown accustomed to the peacefulness of the forest.


    The ladies continued their fussing, constantly asking her whether the Lord had done anything bad to her, while at the same time trying to feed her, saying that the Lord probably didn¡¯t feed her properly. They were wrong on both accounts. He hadn¡¯t done anything bad and his cooking was sometimes better than theirs. It was a shame that none of them could understand finger talk. Thief code as her master called it. Which puzzled her, because she wasn¡¯t a thief and he definitely wasn¡¯t.


    Shaking her head to a plate of food being pushed in her direction she touched the soul-oath-link that she had with her master. She felt his great excitement. There was also a lot of concentration and a little worry mixed in. Which puzzled her again. Why did he have to worry? Wasn¡¯t he strong? Did the strong have to worry?


    All of a sudden, his excitement spiked, before suddenly dropping away and being replaced by strong worry. Someone called her name and she snapped back to reality. The women were all smiling at her patiently and the question was repeated. The connection to her Master went blank.


    Alena sprang to her feet, forcing her whole concentration onto the link. Nothing. She pushed past the ladies and sprinted out of the door.


    Appearing in the cool evening air, she fingered her daggers. She just hoped that she wasn¡¯t too late.

 Chapter 47

    Azrael woke up in his own bed. His entire head was pounding. His body was similarly sore. Blearily, he looked at the ceiling, trying to recall what had happened. The fact that he couldn¡¯t remember how he¡¯d gotten to his own bed was almost as bad as the headache. Had there been a party and he¡¯d drunk too much? Did he burn down the tavern? He shook his head. Nope, wrong game.


    Glancing around the room his eyes fell on Alena. She was fast asleep by his bedside, her head and arms resting on his bed. He looked around his room. Something else was different. It took him a moment to realise what it was. There was no mana. His room was devoid of even the faintest trace of mana. [Mana Sense] couldn¡¯t pick up anything. He opened his [Status], ignoring the mass of notifications.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.3), Sorcerer (Lv.2), Lord (Lv.2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 150/150


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 190/190


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 15


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 15


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 16


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 14


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 19


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 16


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}, {Teacher}, {Oath Maker}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.11), Spear Arts (Lv.17), Mana Sense (Lv.17), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 24), Soul Sense (Lv.8), Mana Control (Lv.24), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 2), Stealth (Lv. 11), Calm Mind (Lv. 9) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 1), Lord¡¯s Insight (Lv. n/a), Leadership (Lv.6), Stone shaping (Lv.23), Reinforcement (Lv.6), Dagger Arts (Lv.11), Meditation (Lv.13).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


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    His mana was completely full, which alleviated his worry a bit. And it seemed that he¡¯d gained another level in [Runist] for completing the accumulator rune array. The accompanying stats were a nice addition too. Looking at the rest of his skills he was extremely happy at his progress. Meditation¡¯s level had increased a lot, but then again, he had used it a lot, so it was only fair. Carefully, as so not to disturb Alena, he slipped out from under the blanket and out of the house.


    Outside the accumulator array was happily absorbing all the ambient mana but was powering nothing. He also had a suspicion that his headache had something to do with a lack of mana in the surrounds; a problem he was going to rectify now. Drawing on his own mana he reached out the first ring and linked it straight to the fourth. He was hoping to do them all today but decided to fix the problem with the ambient mana first. The pounding headache was not pleasant.


    Rerouting some of the power from the first ring he led it all round, barely having to use even a quarter of his own mana pool. The effect of the completed fourth ring was instantaneous. It was like stepping out of a vacuum and into proper air. While very little ambient mana actually made it through the accumulator array to the house a fair bit of mana was still getting lost due to stone¡¯s terrible transference and mana capacitance and ending up trapped in the dome as ambient mana. This meant that he was effectively creating a mana greenhouse effect and it was slowly restoring the mana levels to normal. He breathed in deeply. He it felt like he could breathe normally again.


    After all those weeks of planning and emboldened by the lack of fainting during the powering of the fourth ring, Azrael was eager to complete the barrier. Stepping forward to power the second ring he was about to begin, when he realised something. There was actually no way to enter and exit the barrier once it was activated.


    Gazing over the rune work he grudgingly accepted that he didn¡¯t have anywhere near the skills to make a magic key system for his barrier, yet. Changing the rune script for the part of the circle closest to his door he added another line of runes to the circle, that simply acted as mana channels, so that mana continued flowing in a circle, but had no effect within the designated area. Within the area the magical and physical barriers would not take effect unless he manually changed the flow back to the original sequence. If he did that he would once again have a complete barrier. It was a bit like a magic door. The first and fourth ring however stayed untouched. Marking the entrance to the magic barrier with two raised stones, he completed the second and third rings. Left with under a quarter of his recovered mana he looked at he completed project satisfied.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For completing a great runic piece you have gained a level in ¡®Runist¡¯.


    END +1 DEX+2 INT+2 WIS+1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He smiled. A trembling in the soul-link informed him that Alena was awake and he turned to find her standing at in the door way, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.


    ¡°How long was I asleep?¡± He asked.


    She held up four fingers.


    ¡°Four hours?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Days¡± she signed.


    He gulped. Last time he¡¯d completely emptied his mana pool he¡¯d been out for a few hours. This time it had been for days. Was it related to mana pool size, or did ambient mana play a role in the recovery? He opened his status to see if he could find a clue.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.4), Sorcerer (Lv.2), Lord (Lv.2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 160/160


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 45/210


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 15


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 16


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 18


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 14


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 21


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 18


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}, {Teacher}, {Oath Maker}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.11), Spear Arts (Lv.17), Mana Sense (Lv.17), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 24), Soul Sense (Lv.8), Mana Control (Lv.24), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 2), Stealth (Lv. 11), Calm Mind (Lv. 9) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 1), Lord¡¯s Insight (Lv. n/a), Leadership (Lv.6), Stone shaping (Lv.23), Reinforcement (Lv.6), Dagger Arts (Lv.11), Meditation (Lv.13).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    His stomach rumbled and he closed it, finding nothing. He walked towards the house.


    ¡°Breakfast?¡± he asked.

 Chapter 48

    With his major project finished Azrael suddenly found himself with a lot more time on his hands. Lacking a focus he found incessant itch at the back of his mind returning, urging him to do something! He drowned it out, by keeping busy with his daily routine.


    Training with Alena continued on as usual and life in general was pretty good. While Alena had yet to kill something her overall progress was good. Her Thief code was taking leaps and bounds, but it was in [Dagger Arts] and [Stealth], where she showed the most proficiency, while her [Trap Making] was also to be feared. Quite often they either had to let the creatures go, or gift them to the villagers, because she simply caught so much. Sometimes, even he had to be careful not to get caught in one of her traps or snares, but he didn¡¯t mind. It was basically a free anti-intruder system.


    The two of them still spent the mornings and afternoons together, first for meditation, then breakfast. And again later for sparring, or hide and seek. These days she was becoming harder and harder to find, so he incorporated some light sparring into the game itself. It turned into an ambush game, with mock weapons. Considering that he didn¡¯t have to talk and she couldn¡¯t, he almost found those afternoons enjoyable.


    Free time was dedicated to some smaller beauty projects for his house.


    His house now had a small, neat pathway leading from the front door to the entrance of the barrier. The two raised stones that had originally marked the entrance to the barrier had been shaped into simple stone lanterns.


    Investing a mana stone into each of them he¡¯d engraved each with a ¡®light¡¯ rune, before adding a rudimentary manual switch. There was no real purpose, but he thought it was a nice addition, should he ever feel like it.


    That wasn¡¯t the only rune he¡¯d added around his house. Linking parts of his house to the accumulator array he¡¯d pretty much modernised his house. Due to the ever-colder nights he¡¯d added ¡®heating¡¯ and ¡®cooling runes¡¯ to the walls, while modernising his stove top to work with a ¡®heat¡¯ rune. He¡¯d even managed to add more ¡®light¡¯ runes to the rest of building, extending the day. These conveniences were powered by a simple switch and mana stone, so that even Alena could use them.


    Since mana was lost as it travelled down the stone lines to his house, he¡¯d experimented with some mana stones to see whether he could fuse or shape them into a better mana conductor.


    Pouring mana into one of the mana stones he¡¯d tried to replicate [Stone Shaping]. Unfortunately, the mana stones seemed to resist his influence, not allowing him to find a metaphorical grip with his mana. Instead, he¡¯d gained a different skill, called [Mana Transfer].


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Mana Transfer]


    Few give, while many take.


    You are able to transfer mana into other beings, magical constructs, structures, spells and rituals.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    It wasn¡¯t the result he¡¯d been trying to achieve and even with further experimentation the mana stones refused to be influenced. He was forced to watch as the additional injected mana leaked out and became trapped in the magic dome.


    Another convenience he¡¯d installed was a warm shower out the back of his house. It used runes to pump and heat water from the lake. He linked the plumbing to the kitchen sink as well, so that Alena didn¡¯t have to fetch water from the lake every morning.


    While the sink had been a planned project, the shower had been a spontaneous decision. He¡¯d built it after waking up one particularly chilly morning to a feeling of shock via the soul link. Rushing outside he¡¯d found Alena returning to her room, wet and shivering. When he asked her where she¡¯d been, she¡¯d pointed to the lake.


    ¡°I-wash-me. I-clean¡± She¡¯d signed.


    He found out that she¡¯d been regularly washing herself in the lake to keep clean. Azrael built the shower the next day, commanding her to wash there from now on. As an apology for this oversight he made a simple hand torch for her, imbuing it with a mana stone. The first time she turned it on and off, her jaw had nearly dropped to the ground. It had been hilarious.


    Sure, he¡¯d added all these runes to the house, as well as made a massive, practically invisible, barrier (you could sometimes see it shimmering in the sunlight), but she¡¯d always accepted that as a part of him casting magic, like the [Fire Bullet] he used to use to light the morning fire, or [Stone Shaping] to fix a broken plate. With the hand torch being operated by her it was a completely different experience. She¡¯d been in complete control of when the light turned on and when it turned off.


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    Through the soul link he knew exactly what she was feeling, He remembered the feeling from when he¡¯d gained magic. For her however it was many times greater.


    For him this was a fantasy game, where gaining magic was a matter of course. She¡¯d lived her entire life never even dreaming that she could one day use magic. And here she was with a stone cylinder making light appear and disappear almost at will. It was like a child discovering gravity for the first time, and that if it dropped something it would fall down. For the rest of the evening, she would not stop starring at it, while turning it on and off.


    Despite all of these indulgences, most of the mana stones continued to be invested into the accumulator array as additional batteries. He wanted the thing to be as secure as possible. More batteries meant more mana, which meant less chance of failure. Of course, he kept a few spares in his room for other things, such as projects.


    He was working on one such project right now. Emboldened by his success with the barrier and in dire need of something to distract him from that nagging urge to do something, he decided to see if he could push the limits of what he could do with rune structures.


    Curious about Alena¡¯s stats and skills, he was trying to make an external status system. He knew the principles from creating the status system and was trying to recreate something similar to read the soul structure.


    Due to the success of linking the rings to create a ¡®single¡¯ barrier he was now using multiple layers of runes to code his new experiment. In truth the barrier was still four separate spells. He hadn¡¯t actually found a way to merge them into one, but each ring complemented the next, effectively creating a ¡®single¡¯ barrier. He used the same principle for his current project.


    This caused his project to look like a big cube, or a square stone cake with many layers. Each square plate was built upon the other, the information compiling and building upon the information of the previous plate, even if they weren¡¯t able to work as one. In a way it was like a magic Rube Goldberg Machine, where one action led to the next, except that this one actually had a purpose.


    He¡¯d already been in and out of Sera¡¯s room several times during the process, but the problem was he was trying to use the runes to show the information of the soul. In the simplest explanation possible, he was creating a program that read and displayed soul information. Not impossible, just hard. Really hard. Especially since he didn¡¯t have a translator to translate soul into Common.


    Fixing a rune, he slipped the plate he was working on back into the cube and used [Lord¡¯s Insight] on Alena, before calling her over.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Name: Alena


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Class: Villager (Lv. 2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    ¡°Put you hand on here¡± he said.


    She placed her hand on the top of the box and a familiar blue screen appeared as a holograph above her hand.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Alena


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Villager (Lv.2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 60/60


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 49/50


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 6


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 6


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 4


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 5


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 5


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 4


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    !%#*@(*&@ ?<>#*(&*@


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Dagger Arts (Lv.6), Meditation (Lv.2), @#!*)!*^@^ (Lv.#), Stealth (Lv. 6), #(@^!)#%^ (Lv.%).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He sighed as he saw the corrupted title and skill. He could fix most of the errors as it was information or a skill that he had, but her only title and her third skill were obviously ones that he hadn¡¯t acquired. Nodding that she could take her hand off, he watched the blue screen flicker and disappear.


    He let out a defeated sigh and pulled out the plate he¡¯d just been working on. The fact that Alena no longer acted like a little kid at Christmas every time she saw the blue screen appear was a good indicator on how long he¡¯d been working on it and how many time¡¯s he¡¯d gotten her to test it. At least the status screen was no longer yellow. He shivered. A status screen should never be allowed to be yellow, not even in his nightmares.


    Interestingly enough, it seemed that villagers started out with a base stat of 4, while the [Villager] class gave out 3 stat points; 1 to Strength, 1 to Endurance and one to a random stat. Considering that [Villager] was usually the base class, if he put it into tiers, then [Villager] with 3 stat points would be first tier, a class with 4 stat points would be a second tier, [Sorcerer] and [Enchanter] with 5 points would be third tier, [Runist] with 6 was fourth tier and his Lord class with 7 stat points would be fifth tier.


    He currently he had third, fourth and fifth tier classes. With a single level in each of his classes, plus his higher starting bonus, he would have a total of 15 stat points more than a [Villager] with the same amount of levels. He let that sink in. No wonder the villagers seemed so weak. He had the same amount of strength as a Lv.11 [Villager].


    Shaking his head in disbelief he picked up his stylus and began his work again.

 Chapter 49

    The first snow came before Azrael managed to find a solution to the issue, and the dragon had flown overhead once more.


    It was a late autumn morning when the snow finally came. Frosty mornings were no longer uncommon and the water barrel outside sometimes had a layer of ice on top. A few cold and heavy rain showers had brought grey clouds for days, but no matter how cold it got it had never snowed. Hail was probably the closest they¡¯d gotten.


    But this morning there had been snow. Out to fetch water Alena had been the first to notice it, dragging him out from the warmth of the building.


    Soft white snowflakes were drifting down from the grey clouds above. The air was chilly and his breath left white vapor in the air. Breathing out he felt a lot like a dragon, except with white clouds of vapor, instead of fire. He smiled as Alena danced around in excitement.


    She pointed to the snow and signed ¡°What¡¯s it called?¡±


    He showed he correct sign. ¡°Snow¡±


    ¡°Snow. Snow. SNOW!¡± Her fingers flashed in excitement as she tried out the new word. Honestly, it was a little adorable.


    Azrael let her bounce around. With a quick [Fire Bullet] he melted the ice layer on the water barrel and filled the kettle, before heading back into the warmth of the house. On really cold mornings the water froze in the pipes from the lake, meaning that they had to manually fetch water from outside. The water would thaw before breakfast was over, so it wasn¡¯t a massive inconvenience.


    Setting the kettle to boil Azrael made breakfast, letting Alena frolic a bit more. He frowned when he noticed that they were running low on oats. He¡¯d have to drop by the village today.


    Alena finally came in, smelling food. Her hair and eyelashes were frosted with a fine coating of rapidly melting snowflakes.


    The snow kept on falling over breakfast and soon the forest floor was covered in a thin blanket of white snow. It seemed today was going to be another day to rug up inside. Snow was nice and all, but he wasn¡¯t overly fond of the cold.


    Letting Alena stack the plates, he took out the status cube he was building. Later Alena would go out to check her traps. He would wait for her to return, before going to the village. In the meantime, he really wanted to solve the problem of the corrupted text. He wasn¡¯t doing it altruistically though. He wanted to finish it in order to check the villagers¡¯ skills and see if he could learn any. And to satisfy his curiosity. Mainly his curiosity.


    A good while later, Azrael threw his stylus at the wall in boredom. It snapped like a piece of chalk, falling to the ground in two. WHY WAS IT SO HARD???.


    He had a title which literally told him that he was the {Master of Status}. Why then, was it failing? If he had a title like ¡®Lord of Thunder¡¯, or ¡®Lightning¡¯s Master¡¯, then shouldn¡¯t he expect to be able to completely command it? Why was it that in manga and manhua that if the protagonist gained some divine heavenly nine cycles lightning Dao root they gained absolute control and imperviousness to lightning? Or when they got a skill passed on to them they could use it right away? Why couldn¡¯t that work for him?


    He looked over his status cube. Still built up of multiple stone plates, it had mana stones connecting each layer, storing and transmitting mana between the separate rune structures. It even had an inbuilt mana accumulator to pick up most of the activation cost! Why then? The rune code should be perfect!


    He¡¯d tested each part multiple times in Sera¡¯s realm and it had worked. Why now? It was an exact copy of the code. All it had to do was transmit information from the soul to the box through physical contact. One plate was to receive it, one plate was to decode it. One plate was to change it to something recognisable and another to assemble the information. The final three were for formatting, display and mana regulation. So why?


    He looked at the box. Why did he need it? He knew that it worked in Sera¡¯s realm, which meant that it should work in the game. Despite the fact that it didn¡¯t, he¡¯d effectively satisfied his curiosity. It worked.


    Stolen story; please report.


    He didn¡¯t even need it really. He had the special ability from his title {Master of Status}. It allowed him to bestow the unique skill [Status] onto others.


    He turned to Alena, who was adjusting the heat runes.


    ¡°Come here for a moment¡± he called to her. She came over ready to place her hand on the status cube again, but he stopped her by grabbing her hand instead.


    Focusing on {Master of Status} he willed the active affect onto her. Through the soul link he felt her nervousness, which slowly began to change into apprehension. He felt the skill activate, latching on to her. Her soul trembled and he felt something resonate across their link. He tried following the link as far as he could and he swore that he could almost feel the skill growing, taking root in her soul. It was a bizarre occurrence, the soul mist simultaneously falling down, while at the same time rising up and crystalising into a familiar crystal lattice.


    Briefly he noticed that she seemed to lack a similar core to her soul, like he had, but didn¡¯t focus on that, as several notifications popped up at the same time.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have successfully conferred the skill [Status] onto the individual ¡®Alena¡¯


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For gaining a new insight into another¡¯s soul you have gained three levels in [Soul Sense].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to having a soul-connection with the individual ¡®Alena¡¯ you are able to see their status.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Alena


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Villager (Lv.2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 60/60


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 50/50


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 6


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 6


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 4


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 5


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 5


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 4


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Azrael¡¯s Oathbound}


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique Skills:


    [Status]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Dagger Arts (Lv.6), Meditation (Lv.2), Trap Making (Lv.8), Stealth (Lv. 6), Housework (Lv.5).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Well, he could see her [Status] now. Honestly, after everything that had led to this point it was very¡­ anticlimactic.


    Alena herself was staring into space before her, turning her head slightly, no doubt gawking at the blue screen only visible to her. Her title {Azrael¡¯s Oathbound} was¡­ worrying? He felt it should be worrying, but he wasn¡¯t sure why.


    Maybe the fact that the [Status] screen thought it important enough to include. Up until now he was still working with the idea that, after Alena got her revenge, he would be able to get rid of her. The fact that it the title appeared in the blue box that showed everything that made ¡®her¡¯, was¡­ sobering.


    As to her skills, he¡¯d expected [Trap Making], but not [Housework], although it did make sense.


    It was [Soul Sense] that baffled him. He hadn¡¯t really learnt anything¡­ had he? The only thing was¡­ Azrael facepalmed. The connection. The problem with the status cube was the connection.


    One strand up to the skill crystal, one strand down to the core. The soul mist was in between, flowing through both. His creation lacked a connection big enough to transfer the information from the soul to the box.


    He was ¡®limiting the flow between them¡¯. He¡¯d assumed that it was a problem with the information delivered, and in a way it was. In his soul realm however, he had worked straight with the runes, forgoing the actual physical box. Mana flowed through his box like soul mist did through his soul.


    Grabbing a spare stone plate, he began reshaping it over the top of the cube and embedding mana stones where the person¡¯s palm would rest. Stone was a terrible conductor of mana. By limiting the flow of power he¡¯d been limiting the effective output of the whole design, a bit like a torch without enough battery. It had everything it needed to shine brightly, but was lacking that little bit of power.


    Calling Alena over to test it he was ecstatic when her status displayed properly.


    He was interrupted mid celebration when there was a knock from outside the door.

 Chapter 50

    Azrael and Alena turned to each other, before looking at the door. There was a moment of silence, where he heard two hushed voices speaking, before the knock sounded again, this time a little louder.


    Alena walked to the door slowly, opening it. Azrael got ready to fire a [Magic Bullet] at the intruders brave enough to approach his house. He applauded them for their willingness to die, although next time he hoped that they would not come to him for assisted suicide. Then again, if he killed them, there would probably be no next time.


    In the end it turned out to be Villager A


    ¡°Albert¡± Sera supplied


    and his brother Villager B


    ¡°Bernard¡±


    He let the [Mana Bullet] dissipate. As it turned out they had come on the orders of the village chief, to bring him to the village. They were too nervous to get any more information out of, despite his numerous attempts. They might have been more comfortable speaking to Alena, except that she couldn¡¯t exactly ask them any questions. Letting out a long- suffering sigh Azrael picked up the status cube and followed them. He was going to visit the village anyway, but thought he could give it a bit more time.


    Trudging through the forest he got Alena to carry the cube, while he blasted a few deeper snow drifts with a [Fire Bullet]. The furtive and fearful glances that the brothers gave each other lightened his mood and he decided to push it further by slipping into [Stealth]. Sensing his intent the ever mischievous Alena copied him and the next moment the two brothers found themselves all alone in the forest.


    Albert realised first, after they passed through deeper patch of snow, without Azrael torching it. His cry of alarm prompted Bernard to turn as well and the two of them shared a fearful look.


    Across from him Azrael saw Alena¡¯s fingers make the sign for laughter. It wasn¡¯t necessary for her to make the sign, as he could feel her mischievous glee across their soul bond. Her large smile and sparkling eyes were also clear indicators. He gave her a rueful smile, before appearing before the two brothers.


    They stumbled away from him, landing seat first in the snow. Alena appeared too and he took the stone cube from her arms, prompting her to help the startled brothers up. She did so, continuing afterwards to lead them back to the village. He did feel a little sorry for them as he watched them stumble towards the village, glad to have an excuse to reach it quicker.


    Just like all the other times he¡¯d visited, the villagers were gathered waiting for him. As the Azrael  was greeted by Cairn, the two brothers took that as an excuse to vanish into the crowd. Azrael replied to the villagers¡¯ bows with a nod of his head.


    ¡°Welcome my Lord¡± Cairn greeted.


    Azrael nodded ¡°Cairn. You summoned me?¡±


    Carin gulped ¡°My Lord, I would never presume¡­¡±


    ¡°Cairn¡±


    ¡°Yes, my Lord. Sorry, my Lord.¡±


    ¡°You sent for me.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Azrael internally sighed. Of all the villagers Cairn was the bowiest and scrapeiest. Those weren¡¯t proper words, were they. He sighed. The stone cubes in his arms wasn¡¯t getting any lighter either.


    He turned to the village chief ¡°We¡¯ll talk in a moment¡±.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Taking the stone cube, he carried it to the village square, where he laid it before the large stone stele. Letting some mana seep into the ground he let it flow downwards, until he found stone. Reaching it, he latched on and began pulling it up, moulding it with [Stone Shaping].


    Under his will the stone rose, raising the status cube up on a pedestal and slowly beginning to flow around it, encasing it. The pedestal encapsulated the rune plates, covering the sides and only leaving the top of the cube free. As a final touch he slanted the top of the plate at forty-five degrees, to face the user.


    All the onlookers stood silently. No one dared to speak, unsure. Azrael shrugged and walked over to Cairn. Behind him voices slowly began to whisper in hushed tones.


    ¡°So, what did you need?¡± he asked the village chief.


    Before he could receive a reply, an unfamiliar voice boomed through the village.


    ¡°Marvellous! Fantastic! Absolutely intriguing!¡±


    Azrael spun on the spot, summoning two stone daggers and enchanting them with [Reinforcement].


    Standing there, with his hand on the newly integrated status cube, was a portly man with a bushy brown twirled moustache. The man¡¯s maroon clothes stood out in contrast to the villagers¡¯ own drab browns. The man¡¯s status screen hovered in the air, although it was too far away for Azrael to see.


    Azrael activated [Lord¡¯s Insight].


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Name: Bartlos


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Class: Merchant (Lv.9), Warrior (Lv.3).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The man turned to him. ¡°Marvellous, simply marvellous.¡± He said. Azrael gripped his dagger tighter, ready to pounce. He hadn¡¯t expected his village to be found this quickly. To protect it he was willing to kill this man right now. He didn¡¯t want other players discovering this place. The man¡¯s death would hopefully dissuade him from returning, and if he did, well then, Azrael would just have to kill him again.


    Cairn stepped in front of him, blocking his line of attack. ¡°Bartlos! Don¡¯t disrespect the Lord!¡±


    Bartlos chuckled ¡°He he he, sorry Cairn. You know how I get.¡± He bowed to Azrael ¡°Forgive me. I meant no disrespect. It has simply been too many years since I¡¯ve seen an artifact. And a working one at that. Where did you find it?¡± A sly look passed across his face. ¡°Perhaps we could find an arrangement?¡±


    Azrael looked at the man and was surprised to find that he was actually considering it. He didn¡¯t need it and it would be easy enough to remove from the pedestal.


    ¡°Bartlos!¡±


    Cairn¡¯s cry came out the same moment that Azrael felt [Calm Mind] automatically activate, breaking him out of that train of thought. It was the first time the skill had activated without him actively drawing upon it.


    Azrael narrowed his eyes as his mind cleared. The man had used a persuasion skill. Azrael got ready to kill the player there and then. Cairn stopped him before he could.


    ¡°Forgive him my Lord. Bartlos is a  good man and has been a great friend to our village for many years; however, he only thinks of profit.¡±


    ¡°Cairn, you wound me.¡±


    ¡°Wait, years? He¡¯s not a player?¡±


    Bartlos and Cairn turned to him. It was Cairn who spoke.


    ¡°Player? Ah! You mean the Chosen? No, he is not one of you.¡±


    Bartlos bowed deeply ¡°A pleasure. Bartlos, at your service, Wanderer, adventurer and merchant extraordinaire.¡± He pointed to two pack ponies that Azrael had missed. ¡°For all your daily needs. Fantastic iron tools from the greatest blacksmiths of the city, seeds of all kind, pots, pans, ropes and cloth. You name it, we have it.¡±


    ¡°Chosen? Is that what you call us? How do you know that he¡¯s not one?¡±


    ¡°My Lord, can you not feel it?¡±


    ¡°Feel what?¡±


    ¡°Only the God¡¯s Chosen, the ones you refer to as players, have a divine spark. You are the only one here that has one.¡±


    Azrael frowned. Divine spark? He dipped into his soul realm, then followed the soul link over to Alena¡¯s. Disregarding the skills, stats and classes, they were identical. He returned to his. There had to be something different. He kept searching.


    A patch of soul mist swirled, briefly opening a little gap inwards, exposing his core. Like a ray of sunlight between the clouds he felt the energy form his core radiate out, before closing up once more. He flitted to Alena¡¯s soul realm, watching her soul mist move. Nothing. No shining core, no ray of light. Nothing.


    ¡°Sera?¡± he asked in his mind.


    ¡°I can neither confirm nor deny.¡±


    He exited his soul realm, before using [Soul Sense] on Cairn. A moment later he checked Bartlos. Neither of them had a core. He let [Reinforcement] drop.


    ¡°I see.¡± He said, before scanning the rest of the villagers. None of them had the spark. Not even¡­ were those dwarves?


    Two men, stout and muscly stood behind Bartlos¡¯ Pack horses. He didn¡¯t realise that he¡¯d spoken his question out loud until Cairn answered him.


    ¡°Indeed, my Lord. That¡¯s actually why I called for you.¡±

 Chapter 51

    Azrael sat inside Cairn¡¯s house, looking at the two dwarves sitting opposite him. Cairn, Bartlos and Hugh were also in the building, further cramping the already limited space. All of the men in the room were silent as he observed the two in front of him.


    Short and stocky both of dwarves were what he imagined. Both were shorter than everyone else in the building, but corded with muscle. Even their large beards, one red, one brown, fitted the stereotype.


    One of them, the one with the red beard, seemed to be a bit younger, having fewer creases around his eyes and standing shorter than his compatriot.


    Not wanting do draw this out much longer, Azrael used [Soul Sense] to confirm that they weren¡¯t players, before using [Lord¡¯s Insight] on the one with the red beard.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Name: Darj


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Class: Smith (Lv.4), Brewer (Lv.4)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He checked the second dwarf.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Name: Durkov


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Class: Smith (Lv.4), Stonemason (Lv.3), Miner (Lv.2).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Like Bartlos neither of them had the [Villager] class, instead holding ones he¡¯d never seen before. It really seemed that there was a class for every occupation.


    It was Cairn who broke him out of his musings.


    ¡°My Lord?¡±


    ¡°H...Mmm?¡±


    ¡°Your answer?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, could you repeat the question?¡±


    ¡°May we accept them into our village?¡±


    ¡°Wait, that¡¯s it? That¡¯s what you called me for?¡±


    ¡°¡­Yes?¡±


    Azrael turned to Cairn with an unreadable expression. Placing one hand on his shoulder he began speaking to the man in a solemn tone ¡°Cairn, by my power, from this day forth, I grant you the power to act on my behalf, as the leader of this village and all matter pertaining to it and its people.¡±


    Cairn¡¯s eyes bulged ¡°Is that a yes?¡±


    Azrael shrugged, expression returning to his face. ¡°You decide, you¡¯re the village chief.¡± With that he left the building.


    Seriously though? What did those guys want from him anyways? Calling him just to ask if two people could live here? He¡¯d already agreed to letting them stay here, couldn¡¯t they solve their own problems? He only needed them to level up his [Lord] class. Did they expect him to do everything for them? It was better to pass the mundane problems on to someone else. Wasn¡¯t that what nobles did, delegate? He didn¡¯t have to do everything and they couldn¡¯t expect him to either.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For appointing your first subordinate you have gained a level in ¡®Lord¡¯


    WIS+3, END+2, STR+2.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He smiled. At least the system seemed to agree with him.


    Walking out, towards the main square, he found many of the villagers still crowded around the¡­ status cube? It technically wasn¡¯t a cube anymore. Status plate? Status stone? The status stone. He saw them all excitedly crowding around the status stone.


    Not wanting to disturb them he slipped into [Stealth] and went over to browse Bartlos¡¯ wares. They were packaged in boxes, baskets and just generally tied onto Bartlos¡¯ two pack horses wherever there was space.


    Azrael imagined that it was nightmare to remember where any of the stuff was. Seeing a metal pan he approached it and reached out to inspect it. Just as he was about to touch it Bartlos appeared beside him.


    ¡°Interested in any wares, honourable lord?¡±


    Azrael glanced towards the rest of the villagers and then smiled at Bartlos, noticing the stressed word. How had the man gotten here so quickly? Wasn¡¯t he just inside? And how had he seen through his [Stealth]? Probably an anti-thieving skill. It would make sense.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Just browsing.¡±


    ¡°Of course, of course.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°A fine pan, excellent for cooking.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°I have pots too made from the finest¡­ No, too simple for a great man such as yourself. Perhaps some spices might interest you. I have dried Filmur herb from the plains, ground Ranash root from the southern forests, salt from the northern seas¡­¡±


    ¡°Salt?¡±


    ¡°A keen eye, my lord, a keen eye. I knew you were a fine man. This is the finest salt from the Northern Seas, harvested by yours truly. I had to fight off a great many Tidal Crabs to gain access to¡­¡±


    ¡°What do you want for it?¡±


    ¡°Ah, for you my lord, only two gold. After all Cairn and I have been friends for many years.¡±


    Bartlos seemed to look at Azrael with an innocent curiosity, perhaps wondering where Azrael kept his money bag.


    ¡°Ah¡­ Um¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see, worry not my lord. I understand that you would have spent a great deal of wealth to acquire the iron tools for the villagers. Cairn has already told me much of your benevolence and magnanimity.¡±


    ¡°¡­Sure¡­¡±


    ¡°Seeing as we are¡­ friends, I propose a trade¡­ say¡­ for example¡­ if you had any other artifacts you wish to get rid of?¡±


    Azrael almost laughed at Bartlos¡¯ acting. While his words and actions were innocent, his eyes held unbridled curiosity and ambition. Calling Alena over he got her to pull out her hand torch. Since he had given it to her, she carried it everywhere with her.


    He showed it to Bartlos, switching it on.


    ¡°How much could you sell for one of these?¡±


    Bartlos reached out to take it reverently, but Azrael pulled back. He gave it back to Alena. Through his soul link he could feel her worry that he was going to give it away. Bartlos¡¯ eyes followed the torch until it vanished into Alena¡¯s possession.


    ¡°An artifact such as that? At least five, maybe ten gold coins?¡± He twirled his moustache thoughtfully. Azrael could already see him weighing all possible scenarios. ¡°I could trade it to you for seven, maybe eight.¡±


    Azrael threw in his final card. ¡°I can give you five by tonight.¡±


    Bartlos gulped. ¡°F-five, such working artifacts?¡±


    Azrael nodded. ¡°By tonight.¡±


    Azrael could practically see the merchant¡¯s mind whir to a stop, before starting up again.


    ¡°F-five¡­ t-t-tonight¡­ artifacts¡­ I mean, Yes! Deal. My good Lord! My most fantastic Deal!¡± He grabbed both of Azrael¡¯s hands in his and began to shake them, not noticing that he was switching words in his excitment. ¡°Oh, you won¡¯t regret this. You will not regret this.¡±


    Azrael just stood there. Stunned. From the way Bartlos was acting you¡¯d think Azrael had just told him that he had won a million dollar cash prize.


    ¡°Are artifacts that¡­ rare?


    ¡°Rare? RARE?!?! They¡¯re bloody well extinct! You won¡¯t find any working artifact this side of the eastern Opening. The Elves in the east might be hoarding some and I¡¯m pretty sure the dwarves in the south have one or two, but those are either owned by wealthy individuals, or whoever¡¯s in charge. I¡¯ve heard of a few rumors about Chosen that have either found, or made an artifact, but I have yet to see one of those. As for the rest of us normal humans, ha ha, we just have to make do. Any working artifact is a blessing and five? That¡¯s nothing short of a miracle.¡±


    ¡°Opening?¡± Azrael asked, caught on the unfamiliar term.


    Bartlos looked at him ¡°you Chosen are bloody clueless, aren¡¯tcha?¡±


    Azrael noted that the more excited Bartlos got the more his fa?ade of a businessman and merchant slipped. He seemed more of an adventurer that picked up the [Merchant] class along the way, than a [Merchant] who gained a combat class.


    ¡°Listen here. Three hundred or so years ago, maybe more, was the Ending.¡±


    ¡°The Ending?¡±


    ¡°Shush, listen. There was a great war between two empires. At that time each of these empires ruled around half of then charted world. One day the news came that one of the empires had something, something so dangerous and so terrifying that the Gods themselves would tremble in fear. Out of fear, the other empire summoned their greatest mages and launched their greatest weapon as a pre-emptive strike. What came next was the Ending. For a day and a night the whole world trembled and the skies were bleached white. All magics failed during that time. It was chaos. Dragons fled the skies, serpents and leviathans to the deepest parts of the oceans and the spirits retreated to the other realms. Even the Gods went silent. Then, after that day and a night, the other empire was no more. All that remained was the Rings, circular mountain chains that radiated out from the center of what once the capital of the other empire. Something terrible, something powerful had happened there and for a long time no-one dared venture into the Rings. Then almost a hundred years later a great convoy of all races left on an expedition. It was the largest ever seen. Humans, dwarves, beastkin, elves and even vampires and other such creatures congregated to explore the unknown.¡±


    Bartlos fingered a blue bead on his a necklace before continuing.


    ¡°Under a great coalition they all entered a truce and set out. But nobody expected what they found. The effect of the Ending was deadly. Whatever that weapon was it hadn¡¯t just changed the outcome of the war, but on the world. All the maps were better off used to start a fire, as the terrain had been completely rewritten. Seas had been dried to deserts; mountains flattened to savannas. Nothing remained of what was once there. Many on the expedition died to new and unexpected terrains. But it didn¡¯t stop there. Due to trespassing on the land that their own empire had destroyed, the Gods revoked their blessing of mana from the mortal races, to ensure that such a thing would never happen again. Artifacts failed, communication devices, scrying devices, magic tools and weapons. They all failed and many more died. The effects though were worse for the mages and races that relied on magic. Many mages died, powerless and many more turned back. In the end the much-diminished convoy of races entered the final rings. The first ring, the epicentre was only a lake surrounded by small mountains, with an island in the middle. So, they settled in the second ring. Many races left, one after another. The beastkin and the elves were the first to leave, settling by the Opening in the north-east and south-east respectively. The Dwarves, hardier than the other races carried on with the humans. Other races split off in smaller groups, but eventually the dwarves also settled, making their homes in the south-west mountains. The humans settled most places, but a final group crossed to the other side from the Opening. They finally stopped when a forest and mountain barred their way. This was the end of the exodus, the end of their journey. Some tried to return back home, to report their findings. However, the people were not the only ones to return. The beasts did too. Dragons, serpents, gryphons, giants and many more made their homes in the rings. With beasts blocking the exits back to the third ring, the races were trapped. This forest here was the end of the expedition, the last point that was travelled to. That¡¯s how it gained its name. The End Forest.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ wow.¡±


    Azrael left, his mind full of information. That was a lot.


    New Earth - Map:


    Please note: that this map is neither accurate, nor to scale, as a proper mapping system has not yet been invented by players!

 Chapter 52

    Lying in bed that evening Azrael simply stared at the ceiling, although his mind was far from there. The information he¡¯d been given had been¡­ a lot. Dwarves, elves, beastkin. There were other races. And magic! Empires. Magic nukes. Artifacts.


    He shook his head, breaking his gaze away from the ceiling. There was too much to sort through. Other races meant¡­ he wasn¡¯t sure what it meant. His mind was still too full to think. Although, a few things did stand out.


    There were other artifacts out there, which meant magitech was a possibility. According to some rumors Bartlos had heard other players had also managed to make artifacts. He wasn¡¯t sure how that would work. Did they also use runes, and if yes, then were they the same?


    That brought up another interesting question. How did they know these runes then? He had {Rune Master} to help him, but what about them. How did they power their artifacts if they didn¡¯t have runes?


    Also, mana. Bartlos had said that the Gods had revoked their gift of magic. How did that work?


    He summoned a flame above an outstretched palm. How could he use magic then? If the Gods had revoked mana, why him? Was he chosen? No. The answer dawned on him as soon as he thought about it. He wasn¡¯t chosen, he was a Chosen.


    The Gods had granted players magic. Why? He slipped into his soul, watching glimpses of his core shine through the soul mist. Cairn had called it a ¡®Divine Spark¡¯. A spark was a catalyst, in this case for mana it seemed. Despite watching it for several minutes he didn¡¯t have any great breakthrough. He tried controlling the soul mist to let him see more, but it was like shovelling water with his hands. It always rushed back to fill what he had taken.


    Infuriatingly, it only let him get short glimpses. It was like parents teasing a child with their Christmas present. The child knew that it was theirs, but their parents wouldn¡¯t let them see it.


    Giving up, Azrael tried to slip into [Meditation]. He never made it, instead slipping into a restless sleep.


    The next morning Azrael woke, feeling frightfully unrested.


    Peeking out his window, he saw that dawn hadn¡¯t even properly broken yet. Outside however, Alena was already practicing her knife throwing skills. She gave him a terse nod when she sensed him, before continuing her practice.


    After seeing her practice, and after all the information he gotten last night, he was feeling a bit antsy. Sure, he¡¯d been restless for a while, but a bit of [Meditation] would usually help solve it. Bartlos had given him much to thin¡­ Bartlos! Gods above!


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    Azrael rushed inside, grabbing five mana stones and several pieces of rock. He¡¯d promised five magic torches last night, but had been so preoccupied with all the information he¡¯d gotten that he¡¯d forgotten.


    Shaping all the stones into equal sized cylinders he split them in half, adding rune channels to both of the inner sides and adding a mana crystal into each, before closing it up again. The final part was a sort of screw on lid with the light rune on it. Screw it tight and the channels would connect, activating the rune. Unscrew it and they would separate.


    It was a crude system, but then again, they were disposable artifacts. The mana in the mana stone would either run out, or the stone would degrade from use. Plus the entire thing was too small to put a mana accumulator formation into anyways. He shrugged. Not his problem.


    Gathering them up he left Alena to her practice and headed towards the village. Azrael entered the village under [Stealth] and eventually found Bartlos in the Cairn¡¯s hut. The two men were in fierce bartering session.


    It seemed despite Bartlos¡¯ friendship with Cairn he was still a [Merchant] at heart. Deciding to stay still and observe the free entertainment Azrael watched the two men verbally volley back and forth.


    Bartlos made a slightly cartoonish figure, being portly as he was. With every exaggerated wave of his hands his stomach would jiggle a little bit and each word he spoke sent his moustache dancing wildly. Cairn on the other hand was half raised from his seat, threatening to topple forward as he tried to haggle the price down. The two made quite the comedic duo.


    Bartlos waved his hands again ¡°Do you know the troubles I¡­¡±


    Cairn cut in ¡°But think of the children! What are we going to do for the mid festival if you¡­¡±


    Azrael decided he¡¯d had enough, and dropped [Stealth]. Both men jumped at his sudden appearance and nearly toppled out of their chairs. Azrael nonchalantly placed the five hand torches onto the table. It still took several seconds for the men to recover.


    Cairn¡¯s face filtered from fright to shock and then to reverence. Bartlos on the other hand went from startled to combat ready, before laying his eyes on the torches on the table. Disbelief, glee and greed all flashed over his face in a second, before being replaced with cool professionalism.


    He rose, dropping into a bow before Azrael.


    ¡°My lord.¡±


    Cairn followed suit a moment later. Azrael almost smiled. Despite Bartlos¡¯ cool demeanour, his fingers were twitching as if he was holding himself back from touching the torchs.


    Azrael swept his hand towards them ¡°Feel free to inspect the wares.¡±


    Faster than anything Azrael had seen, Bartlos¡¯ hand snatched out and grabbed one of the hand torches. Inquisitive fingers touched it all over, exploring every surface. Then they found the screw-on lid.


    Azrael was about to warn him but before he could the rune activated, blinding and startling Bartlos. Startled and suddenly blind Bartlos fumbled with the torch, nearly dropping it. He turned it off.


    ¡°Impressive my lord. Truly impressive. Where did you say you found it?¡±


    Azrael just smiled ¡°I didn¡¯t¡±


    ¡°Quite right, quite right. Pardon me.¡±


    ¡°Five torches at seven gold each¡± Azrael said. ¡°comes to thirty-five gold in total.¡±


    Cairn nearly choked when he heard the sum.


    Only now did Bartlos seem to realise the implications of his deal. Azrael saw his body visibly deflate as calculations went through the man¡¯s head. With a final sigh the merchant placed down the torch on the table. He gave Azrael a strained smile.


    ¡°Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of one merchant¡¯s entire caravan and ten gold, minus two horses.¡±


    Azrael held his hand out to the devastated merchant, a smile on his own face.


    ¡°A pleasure doing business with you.¡±

 Chapter 53

    Azrael looked at the enormous pile of stuff that Bartlos unloaded. It was massive. How two horses had managed to carry all that, without collapsing under the weight of it, was a mystery. Either that, or a miracle.


    There were metal pots and pans, which Azrael took, along with the salt and spices. A pair of iron daggers adorned his hip, while two more were in a pouch for Alena.


    Seeds, Oil lamps, oil, bolts of cloth and the like he left for the villagers. After receiving that news from Azrael, Cairn didn¡¯t stop bowing to him for the whole time he was in the village.


    Azrael felt the pouch of ten gold coins at his hip and listened to them jingle. It was nice to be a rich man, even if he wasn¡¯t exactly sure how much the money was worth. Hoisting everything he¡¯d claimed onto his shoulder he set off home with a spring in his step.


    Salt! He had Salt! Gone were the days of bland foods. Sure, the village had provided him with a greater variety than just meat, but Potatoes and Bullas butter just didn¡¯t taste as good as they would with salt. Stews, beef jerky, salted fish. The possibilities were almost endless. He¡¯d have to test the spices, but potato curry was another option.


    With his mouth watering he entered his house like father Christmas. Alena was inside, cleaning, but she froze when she saw him walk through the door. He dropped the sack.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± He signed.


    It took a moment for her to reply. ¡°Smile. You smile. Happy like never before¡±.


    He touched the edges of his mouth, surprised to find them turned upwards.


    ¡°I suppose I am¡± he said. Hefting his Santa sack back over his shoulder he was about to carry it into his room when a random thought struck him.


    ¡°Oh, hey, Cairn mentioned the midwinter festival. What¡¯s that?¡±


    Her fingers flashed again ¡°On Midwinter. Long night¡± She corrected herself ¡°Longest night. All come together, give gifts. Fire, food, fun.¡±


    He nodded ¡°Thanks.¡± It was a bit like Christmas then. Except that the village was one big family.


    Tossing the sack onto his bed he pulled out the pots and pans, bringing them into the kitchen. Alena stared in amazement at their shiny surfaces. He laughed at her expression. Huh. Maybe he was in a good mood.


    ¡°They¡¯re ours¡± he said. Placing them in an empty cupboard he went to the window and checked the remaining day light. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in four, maybe five hours. I¡¯ll cook dinner.¡±


    She nodded. Going back to his room he pulled on some water-resistant boots he¡¯d acquired and a thicker jacket. He touched the hilts of his new daggers. Dinner was a perfect excuse to try them out.


    Exiting the house, he saw Alena hold up a hand to make him stop. He paused as she vanished back into the house and returned a moment later with a small pouch. He looked inside to find some dried and smoked meat strips. He accepted it, before turning to the mountains. When the winds blew down from the mountains, he sometime heard the cries of unknown beasts. He bit into a piece of smoked meat. Hopefully they were edible.


    The going was tough. Melting snow and wet leaves made the footing slippery, while the hills themselves rose and became steeper mountains. A seemingly ever-present breeze blew chilly air against his face, once he left the protection of the forest. The ground itself became rockier the higher he climbed.


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    Azrael sighed, chewing one of the last pieces of meat. He¡¯d been hiking for maybe two hours already, but except for a few brave hares and a small fox, he had yet to encounter anything that might resemble dinner.


    Reaching the top of a particularly steep incline, he decided to take a break. He found a lichen covered boulder and leant against it. If he didn¡¯t find anything soon he¡¯d have to use some of the Bulla meat that they were keeping fresh in the snow. It wasn¡¯t bad or anything but hunting for such a monumental dinner as tonight seemed¡­ right. After all, it was only once in your life that you had salt for the first time. Well, in this world anyways.


    Feeling the boulder he was leaning against shift, he carefully pushed himself off and went to move away from it. If it moved, he didn¡¯t want to be between it and the bottom of the slope. It was big and probably quite heavy.


    Looking back, he watched the boulder rock first from one side, then to the other, before spinning in place. He watched it intrigued, before coming face to face with one irritated horned face. It dawned on Azrael that what he¡¯d been leaning against hadn¡¯t been a large lichen covered boulder, but a large woolly ram. The entire creature was almost as big as he was. And it seemed to dislike the fact that he¡¯d woken it from its nap.


    Azrael tried to smile disarmingly ¡°Hello.¡±


    The ram snorted and a second later Azrael found himself flying backwards as the ram¡¯s head rammed into him. Some things it seemed were quite aptly named.


    He hit the ground and gasped for breath ¡°Point taken.¡±


    The ram ignored his words and charged again, but Azrael had already rolled to the side. Instead, it ploughed up a good few meters beyond where he¡¯d been.


    The beast inside of him raised its head from its slumber, looking at the situation with interest. Azrael ignored it, summoning a [Fire Bullet].


    The projectile bloomed like a flower in the cold air, before curling in on itself and launching at the ram. The creature didn¡¯t even notice, its fur too thick and caked in wet mud to even catch alight. A small patch of singed hair was all that remained of the attack. That and the smell of burnt hair.


    The beast in him seemed to raise an eyebrow in mock amusement, which a second later turned into a toothy laugh as an [Earth Bullet] bounced of the ram¡¯s shaggy fur. It seemed that he would have to close the distance.


    Azrael drew his new iron daggers, adding [Reinforcement]. The beast inside him pricked its ears in interest and anticipation. The ram however ignored his new weapons, charging in once more.


    Azrael dodged to the side, swiping at the creature¡¯s side, before landing in a roll on the wet ground. His daggers sliced through the shaggy fur effortlessly. His landing however was a little more hazardous. The ground was slick with snow melt and covered in broken rocks, which made for treacherous footing.


    Rolling up into a standing position, Azrael nearly found himself falling down the steep slope he had climbed up. Quickly back pedalling to regain his balance Azrael barely managed to avoid the perilous demise.


    The ram behind him decided to take advantage of his distraction and charged at him once more. Stuck between a ram and a high place Azrael could only brace for impact. With a flick of the creature¡¯s mighty horns he was in the air again. For a brief moment he hung suspended in the air above the ram, before gravity claimed him again and he went plummeting down, straight onto a shaggy carpet. One of his daggers clattered onto the ground below as he landed.


    For a brief moment nothing happened and it took both Azrael and the ram a moment to realise what had occurred. Neither of them expected to end up in this situation. Then the rodeo began.


    The ram bucked and wiggled, trying to throw Azrael off its back. He clung onto its fur, for dear life. It jumped in circles and tried to gore him with its horns, but Azrael still managed to cling on. Inevitably though, he felt himself slipping.


    The fur was wet and his finger cold and cramping. Coupled with the creature¡¯s wild movements his fall eventually came. Azrael went crashing to the ground and lay there winded. The ram continued to buck around, momentarily unaware that it had shed its unwilling rider. Eventually though it noticed the prone figure on the ground. It thundered towards him, wanting to end the intruder that had disturbed its rest.


    The said intruder barely managed to roll to the side, one of the hooves clipping him in the head, while another caught him in the ribs. He could have sworn he heard something crack. As the ram passed him, he stabbed his remaining dagger into one of its front legs. It bit in deep.


    With one leg injured the ram faltered in its next step and was sent careening into the ground. Azrael¡¯s vision was blurred due to the blow to his skull, so he listened. Other than the sound of rocks tumbling down the slope and the ever-present cool breeze all was otherwise silent. Then, eventually, only the cool breeze remained.


    Azrael waited, listening and when he continued to hear nothing he entered [Meditation].


    In the silence, the beast inside of him curled up and closed its eyes. It would be here. It would wait.

 Chapter 54

    Azrael sat on the cool mountain side for a long time, allowing [Meditation] to help heal his wounds and regain his stamina. Eventually though he rose, his vision clearer and his muscles slightly less sore from the beating he had received. Even his rib, which had been struck by the ram¡¯s hoof, was merely an inconvenience rather than a hinderance, although he was sure he would sport a brilliant bruise in the coming days.


    Wobbling slightly where he stood, he took a moment to steady himself. It seemed that the blow to his head had been worse than he thought. Although he could see things clearly again, things were still a little bit fuzzy around the edges.


    He shivered and looked up. It would be dark soon. Casting his gaze around the area he managed to find the first of his daggers, the one that he had lost his grip on. His second was nowhere to be seen. Now that he thought about it, neither was the ram.


    Had it escaped? No. That didn¡¯t make any sense. It had every chance to finish him off before it left. Following all the skid marks and disturbed rocks on the ground he recreated the flow of the battle.


    Here was where he¡¯d crashed the first time. Here was where it ploughed through the ground. Here he¡¯d cut its side and here it had thrown him into the sky before the rodeo. Azrael followed all of the clues before they brought him to the ram¡¯s last charge. He looked down the slope. There, buried under a small avalanche, the creature lay unmoving.


    After stumbling, it seemed that the ram had been unable to halt its momentum and ended up tumbling down the steep mountain side. In the end it was killed by the very avalanche it started.


    Carefully Azrael began to climb down afterwards. It was high time to go home, but he wasn¡¯t leaving without his new dagger.


    At the base of the slope Azrael began moving the rocks out of the way, appreciating the sheer size of the creature. The entire thing was the size of a small car. All it needed to have do to beat him was to sit on him.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if he could have beaten it in a fair fight. It brought reality back home. He wasn¡¯t strong, it was just that everything in the forest was weak. Sure he still had some skills from the other games he¡¯d played, but this was the beginning of a new game. Plus, all the creatures he¡¯d beaten were either strong or fast, not both.


    The ram was stronger than he was, heavier than he was, as fast as he was and had a natural resistance to his magic and it was the size of a small car. The boars, deer and wolves that he¡¯d fought couldn¡¯t compare to this thing.


    He moved a final rock and retrieved his dagger from the ram¡¯s front leg. He needed to train more. It appeared he¡¯d slacked off recently. First was the villagers, then Alena and finally he ended up spending a lot of time doing rune crafting.


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    Looking down at the crushed remains of the ram, he sighed. Most of the body, save the head and forelegs, was still covered in heavy boulders too large for him to move. The rest of the exposed parts were too mangled to be turned into anything edible. He couldn¡¯t even reach where the creature¡¯s mana core was likely to be.


    Azrael looked up at the sky. Night was rapidly approaching and it had already been past the five hours that he¡¯d promised Alena he¡¯d be back by. Briefly he contemplated using [Stone Shaping] to try and move the rocks, but there was probably more there to move than he could do on a single tank, even with [Meditation]. There were too many separate rocks. He shivered. Not to mention the mountains were getting colder with the onset of night.


    He sighed. It seemed they would be having Bulla tonight.


    It was a pity, he was looking forward to a nice curry. He kicked the dead animal and was about to start the journey home, when he stopped and turned back.


    He sliced the horns off, using his daggers and [Reinforcement]. Maybe he could hang them on his wall. He cringed at the thought. No, maybe he could make them into horns to blow into. He could gift them to Cairn for the midwinter festival. Either that, or make them into drinking horns, not that they had any alcohol to drink from them. Carrying a horn in each hand he began the walk home. It was getting dark quickly.


    Despite Azrael¡¯s best efforts to make it home as quickly as possible he still arrived home in the dark. Alena had activated the two lamps at the entrance to the barrier, allowing him to find his house pretty quickly. In the dark forest the two lamps looked like guardian wraiths.


    His breath hung in thick white veils as he walked up to the door and he looked forward to entering the warmth of the house. It was cold!


    Reaching the house, he unloaded the two ram¡¯s horns, leaving them outside and reached for the door. However, before he could even touch the handle, the door opened by itself. Alena stood in the entrance, a cloth in one hand and a pout in the other. Suddenly he felt like a scolded child, which was absurd! He¡¯d done nothing wrong.


    ¡°Look, sorry, I¡­¡± He began.


    Alena just closed the door in his face, leaving him out in the cold. What? Wasn¡¯t this his house? He rapped his knuckles on the door and after a few moments it opened again.


    ¡°Can I come in?¡± He asked. Alena just looked at him. Her stomach rumbled, causing him to raise an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯ll cook dinner.¡± She relented and let him into the house.


    Inside was warm, so warm that he swore he could see steam rising off of his clothes.


    Quickly changing into a dry set of clothes Azrael began to cook dinner. Tonight¡¯s menu was spicy beef stew, well spicy Bulla stew, but close enough. Leaving the Bulla meat to thaw he placed the iron pot onto the runestove, before starting to chop some wild onion from the pantry. Pouring a little of his precious oil supply into the new pan, the onions followed soon after.


    The entire house was filled soon filled with the smell of cooking onions. Once golden brown he cubed the Bulla meat and threw it in, letting it soak in the onion flavour, before adding salt and a little of an earthier spice. Letting that all roast and stew together he added some diced potatoes. Then he added some water and left it to simmer.


    Taking that time he made a simple bread from salt, oil, water and potato flour, letting that cook in the pan as a flat bread.


    Meanwhile Alena set the table and eventually he dished out dinner for the both of them. He blew on his spoon and took his first bite. He was in heaven. He would never take salt for granted again.

 Chapter 55

    The next morning Azrael was up before dawn. It had snowed again, blanketing the world in soft stillness. His footsteps crunching through the frost and snow was the only sound to be heard in the morning stillness. Even Alena wasn¡¯t up yet, but he preferred it that way.


    While he had grown used to her company, he still enjoyed the peaceful quiet that came from being alone. There was nobody to watch him, nobody to judge him. He could be and do what he wanted.


    Slowly drawing his daggers from their sheaves, he settled into a crouched position. On the walk home he¡¯d done some thinking.


    His character, Azrael, was meant to represent a rebirth, a new beginning, for him. He didn¡¯t want to be the person who he used to be in-game, so he convinced himself that he could simply discard who he was. In truth, it wasn¡¯t that easy. To protect this way of life he needed to be strong and who he used to be wasn¡¯t anything if not strong. Even a phoenix reborn was still a phoenix. A new beginning simply meant he could choose a new end, not that he could discard the past.


    Readjusting his grip on his dagger he closed his eyes and exhaled. He stood there like a stone statue, still, silent, unmoving.


    He thought back to his first dive VR experience. It had been over ten years ago now, back when he was still a high school student. His then and only best friend, Samson, had invited him to play in a classical RPG game.


    Back then combat skills were still hard to program, meaning that everything depended on a player¡¯s skill. Azrael had chosen a [Rogue] as his first class. There had been something about the image of a dual wielding figure draped in black that captivated him. He had become the dark lord of the night.


    Samson at that time had already played for a while and had been too high a level to enter the starter village, so Azrael sought out an elderly NPC in the village¡¯s back streets, a retired [Rogue] character who trained new players.


    Much to Samson¡¯s annoyance, he¡¯d spent a month there, learning everything he could. The NPC was fairly unrealistic and very simple in terms of speech, but had been programmed using real combat data. The NPC only taught basics to those that wanted to learn before sending them off, but Azrael stayed on. There had been something that intrigued him about the way the man moved. It wasn¡¯t powerful, it wasn¡¯t fast, but it was efficient; the movements of a man who had dedicated his life to combat. Azrael wasn¡¯t learning from a simple AI, but the man behind those movements, which they had programmed it from. Azrael still remembered it after all this time.


    Dropping lower into his crouch, Azrael rose onto the balls of his feet and imagined himself in a spar with the instructor, taking the actions in slow motion. Right foot forward. Left foot to the side. Step in with the right foot and pivot. Left foot back.


    He placed each foot carefully, calculating every move. And slowly it came back to him. Sidestep. Back. Forward again.


    Despite only practicing with the instructor for a month, he¡¯d continued to use the same movements  over the year and throughout the rest of his gaming career.


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    Slowly, he began bringing in simple combat movements. Step. Slash. Pivot. Elbow. Reverse grip. Stab.


    He¡¯d had so much fun back then with Samson. Despite spending a month in the starter village Samson couldn¡¯t stay mad for long, as they cleared quests at an alarming rate. A [Rogue] and a [Dark Knight]. Samson had always been fond of the less moral classes. Dark Knights, Warlocks, Necromancers. You name it, he¡¯d played it.


    Those had been good days. He¡¯d been a normal high schooler. He hadn¡¯t been in a coma. There was no debt and his parents were alive and well. He dropped that line of thought, focusing solely on what he was doing.


    Block. Stab. Feint. Evade. His movements became more complex the more he recalled. They were nowhere near the sure and well-honed movements he used to have, a mere shadow of what he¡¯d once been capable of, but it was a beginning. Sweat rolled down his forehead, despite the chill air and dripped down his nose. He ignored it. It didn¡¯t matter. All that mattered was the flow.


    He wasn¡¯t sure how long he continued, but when he finally came to, the sun was well up on its way into the sky. He glanced down at the daggers and wondered where Samson was. Samson was one of the only ones that had never betrayed him. But he hadn¡¯t seen him since he¡¯d¡­ since he¡¯d joined Holy Empire. Back then he¡¯d left without a word to his friend. It was one of his greatest regrets.


    Azrael sheathed his blades and found Alena sitting on the front porch watching him. He didn¡¯t say anything, instead walking past her and to the shower. Her gaze followed him silently. He ignored it. He really needed that hot shower. Now that he¡¯d stopped moving the cold was getting to him.


    ***


    Alena watched her master trudge through the snow to the shower. His display of martial prowess still fresh in her mind. It was¡­ enlightening, yet at the same time it made her feel so inadequate. She thought she was getting stronger, able to be of use to her master and protect the forest, but the way he moved¡­ It was like he was dancing with the snowflakes.


    His footsteps had been so sure of themselves, as if they were as natural as breathing. His blades had flowed like the winter wind, cold and deadly. Even his breathing had been in perfect control as he moved. But what made it so special was the effortless way he moved from one sequence to another, faster than her eye could follow. His blades flashed, his feet moved and his gaze never wavered. Making sure that he had left, she drew her own daggers, settling into a stance similar to the one she had seen. It felt strange.


    She took a step forwards and wobbled in place, her muscles unused to this distribution of weight. She took another step forward, her actions a poor mockery of her master¡¯s.


    A step back, a step forward. Movements usually familiar, suddenly strange and alien to her. She felt hot tears welling up in her eyes, as frustration bubbled up. He¡¯d made it look so easy. Why, then oh why, could she not even copy the simplest of the moves? She blinked away the tears as they threatened to spill over. Step forward. Step back. Stab. Step back again. She¡¯d sparred with her master. So, WHY?


    She tried to speed up, putting more power into the strokes, but even then her movements did not contain a sliver of the speed, grace and strength that her master had. A moment of distraction and she found herself falling into the cold snow. Was she destined to always be weak? She couldn¡¯t kill, she couldn¡¯t fight. What could she do?


    ¡°Get up.¡±


    She looked up into the face of her Lord and master. His golden eyes looked down upon her, like rare rays of sunshine amongst the bleak winter clouds. They held no judgement, but that somehow only made it worse.


    He reached out his hand and pulled her up ¡°Get up. You¡¯ll get cold in the snow.¡±


    She accepted his help and rose to her feet. He pulled out one of his own daggers and dropped back into the stance. Taking a graceful step forward he demonstrated a simple manoeuvre. There was no speed in it, no explosive power, simply a deadly and elegant grace. He turned back to her and patted her on the head as he walked back to the house.


    ¡°It¡¯s not about speed or strength,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s about doing the most with the least amount of effort. Sometimes you have to fight smarter, not harder.¡±


    With that he vanished into the house, leaving her alone in the snow.


    ¡°¡­smarter, not harder.¡±


    She smiled.

 Chapter 56

    Azrael spent the next month and a bit like that. In the mornings he would be up before dawn, white clouds rising from him in billowing veils as he went through half remembered forms. Sometimes with daggers, sometimes without. He would glide through the forms; a dark shadow in a silent world of white.


    Then, he would shower and join Alena for meditation, followed by breakfast. It was a companionable silence, both during meditation and during breakfast. Winter had that quality to make people draw into themselves, escaping the cold world without, by living within.


    Mock battles were still a regular routine for the two of them, but they became shorter due to the cold. Hide and seek was replaced with the occasional snowball fight, after particularly heavy snowfall, but otherwise they dropped it.


    It was too easy to find the other, simply by following their footprints. He tried misleading her by leaving false trails, but both of them could find each other through the soul-link. They still did the occasional hunt, but many animals had either migrated, or were in hibernation. The ever-thickening snow had also slowly begun to block off their path to the village. Azrael still did the occasional supply run, blasting the snow out of his way, but as it piled up, he simply didn¡¯t have the mana capacity to get through it all.


    Azrael looked out the window, the white snow falling thick and fast. The edge of the clearing didn¡¯t seem to exist, as the snowflakes seemed to separate his house from the rest of the world in a white snow globe. The ground itself was no better, the snow piling up high. It was already up to the windowsill, threatening to spill inside.


    He closed the window again and sat back down on his chair. The blizzard had set in a few days ago, rolling down the mountains. At first the heavy snow had been a novelty, piling up to his shins.


    The next day it had been up to his knees, and he¡¯d taught Alena how to build an igloo. They had used the frozen ice from the surface of the water barrel to make little window. Since it was also his first time building an igloo it took a bit of trial and error, but they got there in the end.


    By the fifth day it was up to their waists, making it difficult to pass through. Last night it had risen to chest height. Each day he cleared the snow around the house twice, mornings and evenings, blasting it into vapor with [Fire Bullet]s.


    Other than that, everything had come to a stand still. They couldn¡¯t go out for training, or hunting. Their connection to the village had been cut off and they¡¯d already gone through nearly half their food supplies. Light and warmth was provided by runes, but the water pipes had frozen up. They now melted snow on the stove to get water.


    The most pressing problem though was food. If the blizzard didn¡¯t stop in the next week they would starve. Either that or he would have to find another way to the village. Would tunnels under the snow work? Maybe if he used [Reinforcement] on the snow while running across?


    He got up, restless. He didn¡¯t like being cooped up in here like this. Sure, he¡¯d stayed in his house for longer periods of time in the real world, but there was a difference between can¡¯t and won¡¯t. He at least had a choice. The lack of internet, or any other sort of entertainment was equally infuriating.


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    Alena looked up from where she was sitting at the table.


    ¡°Pacing again¡± she signed.


    He sighed and sat back down ¡°I know. Sorry.¡±


    Her fingers flicked again. ¡°Chess?¡± She asked.


    He grimaced and sat down. ¡°Maybe later¡± he said. She accepted it with a nod, returning to playing the game with herself.


    Due to the absolute boredom of the situation he¡¯d introduced Alena to various board games. Chess, checkers and reversi were amongst them. Nothing special, but Alena had taken a great interest in them, playing those games against herself. He wasn¡¯t sure how interesting it was, but she seemed to find it a worthwhile past time.


    He noticed her looking up at him again, an eyebrow raised. He noticed he¡¯d gotten up again and started pacing. He ran a hand through his hair. Was it just him, or had she gotten cheekier lately? She continued looking at him with her raised eyebrow and he relented, sitting down again.


    A moment later he found himself on the other side of the room, picking up one of the two horn¡¯s he¡¯d gotten from the ram. It really seemed he was unable to sit still.


    Over the last few days he¡¯d taken to cleaning the thing, extracting the core and polishing the outside. With the midwinter festival just around the corner he was intending to gift it to the village, however he wasn¡¯t finished yet.


    Picking up an engraving tool ¨C a scalpel ¨C he used [Stone Shaping] and [Reinforcement] simultaneously, to give the blade an impossibly thin and sharp edge. Then, after a deep breath, he began carving. Barely any horn was shaved off as he ran the scalpel along the smooth sides. This was just for defining the outline.


    The second time he ran the blade over the horn small swirls fell to the floor, just like the snow outside. On the third run the figure of a beast could be seen. On the fourth go he let his breath go, focusing solely one the image that he wanted. The claws, fangs and tail of the mighty dragon became visible, drawn out by his blade. The fantastic beast coiled around the item like a jealous guardian.


    On the next go he began adding the details. Horn was shaved away to expose hundreds of simple scales, while fangs, claw and tail point were all carved to sharp precision. It was a fearsome beast, trapped in a roaring position, fated to stay silent until somebody blew the horn.


    Satisfied he held up the horn to admire his work. It wasn¡¯t elegant but carried a simplistic beauty that told of rugged strength and dominance. He¡¯d played enough crafting classes to at least make something simple like this.


    Two blue screens appeared, blocking his vision.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    [Crafting] (Lv.14) has advanced to [Crafting] (Lv.15)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For appraising a work of your own make you have gained the ability [Craftsman¡¯s Eye]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Craftsman¡¯s Eye


    By looking with the heart, one can see what is hidden to the eye


    By looking at an object you will gain an understanding of it.


    This skill is affected by contact, distance, sight and knowledge of the appraised object.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He smiled. He¡¯d forgotten how good it felt to gain a new skill. He used it on the horn.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Dragon Horn of the End Village


    Crafted by a beginner craftsman this horn is engraved with the figure of a dragon. Despite the simple design it was crafted from the heart and radiates the feeling of strength and protection.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He shrugged. It was good enough. He joined Alena at the table.


    ¡°Game of chess?¡± he asked. She nodded.

 Chapter 57

    Days of snow and grey clouds passed in a haze, as the nights grew impossibly longer. Despite Azrael¡¯s dearest wish to grow stronger, deep snow, biting cold and chilling winds made it a fruitless endeavour. The sound of knuckles rapping on wood drew him from his thoughts.


    ¡°Shall we go?¡± Alena asked.


    He straightened himself and nodded. Today wasn¡¯t about getting stronger. Today was the celebration of the midwinter festival. As lord of the village, he had naturally been invited.


    Opening the door for Alena he grabbed the sack containing his own gifts. Then, using the path he¡¯d shovelled out in the days prior; they made their way to the village.


    Despite the cold, the village was bustling with life. The entire village square had been completely cleared of snow, and tables and chairs were set up in a ring around the stone stele. In the center of the village a massive bonfire was stacked in the log cabin style.


    At the moment it was unlit, but in the darkening light of the shortest day of the year, tens of torches cast a warm glow on the proceedings.


    Cairn greeted Azrael, guiding him to a large wooden chair on a raised dais. It was a simple design, but adorned with many pelts, particularly the midnight coats of misfortunate shadow wolves. Black against snowy white it certainly drew the eye. Alena was shown to a smaller seat by his side. Sitting down he noticed Alena was immediately whirled off by the ladies, tasked with helping.


    He could only watch as she vanished into one of the cabins. It didn¡¯t sit right with him to let everyone else prepare everything, but he wasn¡¯t sure what he could do, or even who to ask. So, with nothing to do he reclined in his ¡®throne¡¯, trying to act like a proper lord.


    This mostly just resembled him nodding to the villagers, as they bowed to him while scurrying by. He sighed. When was the last time he¡¯d had someone prepare a meal for him, without him having to do anything? Probably four or more years ago, back¡­ back when his mother had been alive. He blinked back the tears. It wouldn¡¯t do him any good getting emotional over it now. He couldn¡¯t change the past.


    Seeing Bartlos approach he straightened himself. Durkov and Darj trailed behind him uncertainly. Azrael waved them closer. He didn¡¯t bite and a little company would make him feel less awkward.


    Carrying an earthen cup in each hand Bartlos carefully stepped up on the dais and handed one to him. Azrael gave it a cautionary sip and nearly coughed it out.


    ¡°Alcohol?¡± He spluttered.


    Bartlos just laughed, while the two dwarves simply looked uncomfortable.


    ¡°Indeed¡± he said ¡°A little surprise of our own¡± He took another sip from his own cup and jerked a hand towards Darj. ¡°Mighty handy fellow, mighty handy¡± he said as Azrael remembered that Darj had the [Brewer] class, Darj seemed to shrink into himself under Azrael¡¯s gaze, while Durkov simply looked proud for his friend. Azrael took another sip.


    ¡°Potatoes?¡± he asked, causing Bartlos to nod.


    ¡°With you buying all my supplies and leaving a lot of it for Cairn, they gave me some of their winter reserves.¡± Bartlos sighed. And Azrael imagined the pain that the man must have felt from losing all of his wares, even if he had technically had sold it.


    Luckily, Azrael was saved from having to console the [Merchant], as Cairn arrived, along with the rest of the villager carrying trays of steaming food. Placing the trays on the tables all the villagers found seats around the circle, rugged up against the ever-cooling air. Cairn bowed to Azrael, before addressing the gathered people.


    ¡°We gather once more¡± he began ¡°at the beginning of the longest night in the year, to keep our vigil against the dark and to celebrate the end of another cycle. Like our forefathers, we gather to share the warmth of food, fire, hearths and hearts. To share tales of the year that has been and to welcome the year that is yet to come. This year we welcome our Lord, Lord Azrael, to partake in the festivities and also welcome Bartlos, Durkov and Darj to our fire.¡± With that he bowed to Azrael and held out a flint and steel to Azrael. ¡°Would you do the honours?¡± He asked.


    Azrael nodded and silently took the flint and steel from Cairn, but instead of carrying them to the fire he placed them on his seat. The memory of family Christmases brought something playful out in him.


    With a wave of his hands, Azrael summoned two balls of fire, letting them hover above his hands. Then, carefully he straightened his arms into the sky, letting the fireballs drift upwards like sky lanterns.


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    He felt [Dramatic Flair] activate and take control of his magic, causing the two lanterns to begin dancing around each other, golden sparks falling away beneath them like glitter, while smaller spots of fire mana clustered around them in the air, igniting like small luminescent fireflies.


    Then, when they reached the apex of his range the two lanterns changed course, drifting downwards once more, to gently alight on the stacked wood. A second later, the wood caught fire and tongues of fire darted out between the logs.


    As if a dam had been burst the villagers immediately started chatting. It seemed that the fire symbolised the start of the festival. Walking back to his seat Azrael handed the flint and steel back to Cairn, before joining Alena with loading up a plate from the buffet. Here the villagers had truly outdone themselves. From their impossibly meagre supplies they had somehow conjured a feast.


    Roast meat sat carved on wooden platters, while potatoes and bread lay roasted and toasted alongside. Berry compotes and nut spreads sat in small earthen jars near the bread. There was even cheese, butter and smoked fish. The villagers had somehow found an abundance of food where Azrael considered it to be impossible to survive. He shook his head in wonder, while loading up his plate.


    Taking his food to his seat he watched the villagers converse, listening to their laughter, before letting the general chatter fade away in order to enjoy his meal. Across the soul-link he could feel Alena¡¯s contentment and excitement clearly. And it truly was a wonderous scene.


    Azrael realised that for them it was Christmas and New year¡¯s wrapped up in one. These villagers, who had lost so much in the last year and had toiled to start anew were laughing, the deep lines on their faces vanishing. The serious and pragmatic folks were letting their worries and burdens slip away and taking the occasion to just enjoy the evening.


    The fire crackled with warmth, filling the village square with a lively light. Even the stone spire that towered above everything was not immune to the effects of the fire, being painted in warm tones that stood out against the dark sky.


    Darj¡¯s alcohol flowed into cups and mugs and soon many of the villagers were red faced from more than just the cold.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful¡± he said and he could feel Sera¡¯s agreement.


    ¡°It is.¡± She replied.


    There was something precious about the pure joy and genuine laughter that the villagers showed. It was something worth protecting.


    A drumbeat was started up by one of the villagers and was soon accompanied by a cheery tune from Hugh on the panpipes. A squeal and a laugh later one of the men pulled one of the ladies towards the center of the square and began dancing with her to the joyful melody.


    One by the villagers found themselves in a ring around their fire, either getting up by their own volition, or pulled up by somebody else. Soon enough everyone had their arms linked around the others and were dancing around the fire.


    Azrael himself was no exception, as Alena dragged him from his seat into the circle. He could not help but be carried by her infectious joy that carried across the soul link. Like the villagers he let his worries, his regrets and his fears slip away.


    By now the drum and pan pipes had been taken over by loud and joyful voices, some more in tune than others. Azrael felt more than happy simply to dance along.


    It went on like that for a while, before Azrael noticed people trailing off from the circle. They returned minutes later and Azrael suddenly found everyone giving each other gifts.


    Quietly he retrieved his sack and drew out his own gifts. For Alena he had two iron daggers, her stone ones chipping frequently.


    She hugged him for a good minute before letting go, leaving him standing there awkwardly while she did so. He couldn¡¯t even begin to piece together what she was thinking, as her emotions came across as a jumble over the soul-link.


    To Cairn he gifted the horn, the dragon seemingly brought to life under the flickering flames of the bonfire. Cairn simply stared at it with wide eyes for a while, before thanking Azrael. His final gifts were actually for the two other children in the village.


    Undecided what to make for them, he made two magic spinning tops, which once you placed them on their point would start to spin all by themselves. His present left the two siblings enamoured, and quite a few adults too.


    He also received quite a few gifts in return from the villagers, though his favourite by far was a small wooden figurine of a wolf, made by Hugh.


    Smaller than the flat of his palm the creature was carved with exquisite detail that spoke of painstaking hours of concentration. He thanked Hugh, feeling bad that he hadn¡¯t gotten the man anything.


    Eventually though, the fire died down, as did the excitement. When a few people started to say good night to the others Azrael decided to end the evening with something special.


    Wrapping his mana in an impossibly complex shape he fired it up into the sky, before igniting it.


    The firework exploded, with a deafening roar. He fired a second one, ignoring startled cries of surprise and shock. Very soon though they turned into cries of awe, as each firework burst into a flaming star. [Dramatic Flair] kicked in again and his fireworks soon took on a life of their own. Sparks, like golden glitter rained down, after the fireworks faded, or else he would feel his mana twist out of his grasp at the last moment, detonating into stars and circles. One firework even sent out smaller streamers from the first detonation, which exploded again into golden sparks. He marvelled at the system, just as eager to see what the next firework would bring, as everyone else.


    Eventually though his mana ran low, forcing him to stop, and people filtered off to their own homes. [Dramatic Flair] though had levelled up once.


    A few stragglers stayed by the dying fire, keeping their vigil, but they were only a handful. Finding Alena asleep on a bench he used the furs from his throne to blanket her with, before joining Cairn by the fireside.


    The two sat in companionable silence, as others slowly began filtering back to their homes and eventually it was just the two of them keeping watch by the low light of the fire. They didn¡¯t say anything. There was no need to.


    Then, as the first rays of dawn crossed the sky from the east Cairn raised the dragon horn to his lips and blew.


    In the cold air of dawn, a low note quivered through the frosty forest, heralding a new cycle.

 Chapter 58

    In the following weeks the days began to lengthen once more and the snowstorms became less frequent, leaving only grey clouds for days and intermittent sunlight. The snow thawed and soon the sound of dripping water could be heard in the forest, as green shoots made their presence known.


    By the time Bartlos left with his two horses, snow was only found in melting patches, protected by shade, and swathes of blue split up the dreary and ever-present clouds.


    Birds slowly began to return and wildlife emerged from their hiding places. The dragon too returned with the warmer weather, arriving with thunderous wingbeats.


    Returning from a successful hunt, Azrael decided to once again check his [Status] screen.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.4), Sorcerer (Lv.2), Lord (Lv.3)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 170/170


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 210/210


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 17


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 17


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 20


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 15


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 24


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 21


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}, {Teacher}


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.15), Spear Arts (Lv.19), Mana Sense (Lv.22), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 25), Soul Sense (Lv.12), Mana Control (Lv.25), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 3), Stealth (Lv. 23), Calm Mind (Lv. 11) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 1), Lord¡¯s Insight (Lv. n/a), Stone shaping (Lv.25), Reinforcement (Lv.11), Dagger Arts (Lv.20), Meditation (Lv.22), Mana Transfer (Lv.5), Craftsman¡¯s Eye (Lv.1).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He closed it again. It wasn¡¯t bad per se, but he felt that despite his resolution to grow stronger his growth had stagnated somewhat.


    His individual stats had barely risen and most of his skills had slowed in their explosive growth. Especially those that had passed level 20 had slowed to a crawl.


    [Mana Manipulation] and [Mana Control] both at level 25 had refused to budge and he had feared the worst, but when inspecting his soul he¡¯d found that both skills still had room for growth, so their refusal to proceed left him feeling more than a little confused.


    Other than that, not much had happened. The only two memorable things were, once when the snowmelt had swelled the waterfall and the water level of the lake had risen to a dangerous level, and another time, where he¡¯d managed to control enough of his soul mist to cover the gaps that leaked the presence of his divine spark into the world.


    Cairn¡¯s jaw had practically dropped to the ground when he couldn¡¯t feel Azrael¡¯s divine spark, while Alena didn¡¯t seem bothered by the change. In terms of practicality, the trick couldn¡¯t do anything really, but it had been during the last big snowstorm of winter and he¡¯d had time on his hands.


    Dropping his kill off by the front door, he knocked the mud off his boots and walked inside.


    Alena was currently still in the forest, revelling in newfound power. All of her hard work during training had paid off and she¡¯d gained two levels in a third tier class [Scout]. It was an interesting development for sure, stuck somewhere between the forest based [Ranger] class and the [Rogue] class that he¡¯d been aiming for.


    He wondered whether the fact that she used daggers instead of a bow, or operated in a forest instead of a city had anything to do with the system granting her the class. When she¡¯d first informed him of her class gains, he¡¯d been completely surprised. For him a scout was more of an information gathering subclass of [Rogue], however after considering her skills with [Stealth] and her surprising interest in chess it sort of made sense¡­ maybe?


    He just wondered what took her so long to get it. Was it a requirement she hadn¡¯t met, or did natives of the game simple level slower than players? He shrugged. He might get answers someday, but it didn¡¯t really matter.


    The forest was waking up for spring and the everything was fine.


    ***


    Nords took a customary lap around the village, inspecting the wall and checking for any breaches. Like always, there were none. The winter had been harsh on his players and the last few weeks they¡¯d been living off of rations and whatever else the bravest of them found in the forest.


    It was amazing what the thought of food could do to a hungry man.  Once, on the dawn after the winter solstice the men on watch had reported a long and low horn echoing through the trees. A story spread in his camp the following morning of the shadow demon starting a hunt.


    He¡¯d laughed those off, but his men had been cautious when entering the forest. They hadn¡¯t encountered anything, but that didn¡¯t mean much, as they hadn¡¯t gone that far into the forest.


    Sometimes, it was far wiser to be a coward than it was to be foolishly brave. In the end it was those that survived that won. And Nords liked to think of himself as a winner. That was why he¡¯d allied himself with the largest guild in the game.


    Having completed the round without issue, he started to head back home to discuss crop planting with Jaret, when a cry from a newly erected watch tower rang out.


    Hurrying over to the gates, he accepted his sword from Jaret who had come to investigate, before climbing up onto the watchtower itself.


    Within minutes the form of a horse and rider were clear to see, but it was only when the figure was much close that he recognised it as his guild member Milo, who he¡¯d sent out to deliver a missive to the Holy Empire. After waiting a moment to confirm that it was indeed Milo, he called for the gates to be opened.


    Milo entered the gates at a trot and jumped off the horse with a grimace. They shook hands, before Milo delivered his report.


    ¡°A caravan will arrive in two days¡¯ time, bringing the usual seasonal supplies plus whatever extra I could trade for. A Geomancer will be leading the caravan. He¡¯ll stay here for three months. Seems like a decent guy.¡± Milo frowned in recollection ¡°He has a bit of a problem with his pride though.¡± Then, leaning in close he whispered the last bit of his report. ¡°After telling them about the dragon and the humanoid field boss, Holy Empire is sending one of their elites. One of their main team.¡±


    Nords clapped a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Excellent¡± he said, before addressing one of the other men ¡°Get Milo here some stew. And clean up the place, we¡¯ve got guests coming.¡±

 Chapter 59

    A few days after his last hunt Azrael found himself back in the forest.


    Last night the spear group had been out hunting, when they¡¯d come across the mauled carcass of a doe. A dead animal in itself was nothing special, but they¡¯d reported that other than its throat being savagely ripped out it had been left untouched. The doe hadn¡¯t been killed for food. It had been hunted for fun.


    Azrael knew that cases like this could occur and he also knew that animals that hunted for fun were dangerous. The thrill of hunting an unsuspecting prey, watching it shiver in helplessness, while it knew that its death was¡­ He physically snarled and pushed down the dark beast that threatened to rise up from inside of him. The insidious creature inside of him already smelt the blood of the hunt.


    It would be wrong to claim that these lapses were getting worse, but the dark force inside of him was definitely getting restless. It craved the thrill of adventure and the feel of the hunt. He couldn¡¯t blame it really, even he was feeling pretty cooped up from winter, but literally having something pace inside of him like a cage beast was¡­ irritating, to put it mildly. Unclenching his fingers from the hilt of his daggers, he grabbed his spear and set off to the site of the slaughter.


    Once Azrael found the area, he kept his distance. Despite the cold weather, flies crawled over the young doe¡¯s sightless eyes. Azrael looked down at the young creature.


    It had been mauled to death, its neck almost entirely missing. Blood pooled out of the gaping wound, coating the ground in viscous red. The only other mark on it was a long scratch along its front flank. Everything spoke of a short and one-sided battle.


    Ignoring the dead creature, he began walking around the clearing, looking for other clues. Here and there pawprints sank into the muddy ground. The snowmelt had turned the forest floor into a slushy mess.


    His task was not aided by the boot prints of the other hunters. He would have to talk to them about that. Luckily for him though he found an untouched set of paw prints leading away from the kill site. These prints, they were big, or bigger, than any prints that he¡¯d ever found. They were undoubtedly wolf prints, but that just puzzled him even further.


    Wolves were typically known for not hunting for sport. They were efficient creatures. Pack creatures too. This one was alone. Things were just getting weirder, but after following the tracks north for another hour he thought he might have found a clue.


    Another half hour after that and Azrael found himself in front of a cave, further north than he¡¯d ever been. Technically it wasn¡¯t a cave, but a jumble of rocks that leant against each other like giant building blocks to form a shelter from the elements.


    Bending over to get a better look inside, he froze when he heard a low growl behind him. Slowly straightening he turned around and raised his spear.


    Opposite of him, maybe four meters away, was an inky black shadow. Azrael unconsciously gulped as he regarded the shadow wolf opposite him. It was one mean looking wolf. Unnaturally large, the creature was nearly two meters long and easily came up to his waist. In terms of weight it easily outclassed him. All he needed was a red cloak and a basket, cause that was truly a big bad wolf.


    In the background Azrael felt himself almost unconsciously drawing upon [Calm Mind] and he fell into the now familiar breathing pattern for [Meditation]. Placing [Reinforcement] on his spear he briefly considered dropping into [Stealth], but dismissed it. He¡¯d noticed that it became noticeably harder to actually hide when somebody was already looking at you and knew where you were.


    Neither of them moved and out of curiosity Azrael activated [Lord¡¯s Insight]. To his surprise a blue panel actually appeared.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Ex-Alpha Shadow Wolf (Exiled)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He noticed the distinct lack of class or level description, but didn¡¯t have much of a chance to think about anything, before the Alpha used his distraction to launch its first attack.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    It sprung straight towards him, aiming at his throat, but Azrael barely managed to dive under it. The creature¡¯s jaws snapped at empty air and it skittered across the stones behind him as it landed.


    Meanwhile Azrael righted himself, immediately rising to his feet and turning to face the beast as it dived at him once more. One claw raked through his torso, cutting deep. A few blows later and Azrael¡¯s shirt and winter vest almost hung in rags, blood soaking them deep red. The Alpha hadn¡¯t fared much better. Its side was punctured in a dozen places and its blood dripped onto the floor.


    Stepping to is right Azrael thrust his spear forward, aiming for its face. The exiled alpha leapt away, clearly favouring its left leg. The appendage in question was a mangled mess of bones that had healed wrong.


    Earlier when he¡¯d been tracking it he¡¯d noticed an irregularity in its gait, as if it was injured. Seeing the creature up close simply confirmed his hypothesis and it also explained why it had been exiled. Only the strong survived. There was no place for the sick or weak in a strong pack. But the leg still didn¡¯t explain the sport hunting.


    Caught up in his thoughts again, he failed to notice the creature pounce at him. It bowled him over, using its superior weight to keep him pinned down. He shoved his spear shaft into the creature¡¯s mouth, gripping it one either end. He noticed that the underside of the wolf sported a large, inflamed gash that oozed with puss, rot and infection. Things suddenly became more understandable.


    It seemed that the beast had been in a bad fight, at some point gaining this large wound. Instead of healing, the gash festered, As a consequence, the alpha was in constant pain and had decided to take it out on the world.


    Azrael looked up into the eyes of the alpha that pinned him down and for a brief moment they looked at each other, fighting for dominance. Azrael had a distinct feeling of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. However, this time he had something on his side that he didn¡¯t when he fought the first shadow wolf in this game. He had magic.


    Dropping the spear with his left hand, he slapped the palm against the ground, using [Earth Shaping] to summon a sharp spike of earth from the ground. It lanced up, stabbing deep into the beast¡¯s side.


    At the same time the [Reinforcement] on the spear weakened, as his concentration wavered. The spear snapped into two under the strain, raining wooden splinters down on him. He summoned a second [Earth Spike], puncturing the beast again and it retreated.


    Expecting it to attack he drew his daggers, prepared to fight at close quarters, but instead the alpha ran into the dark shadows of its small cave. Prepared to press to his advantage Azrael gave pursuit. When he arrived, however, the cave was empty. The beast inside of him noticed before Azrael did, its ears pricking up expectantly.


    Casting [Reinforcement] on both daggers Azrael spun around to face the alpha that suddenly appeared from his shadow. The wolf snarled as he blocked it. The beast behind Azrael¡¯s eyes snarled back.


    With its advantage gone his opponent ran into the forest, with its uneven gait. Azrael, his eyes suddenly wide from the thrill of the hunt gave chase. He sported a Cheshire grin.


    In front of him, the alpha shadow wolf dove in and out of shadows, trying to throw him off, but Azrael didn¡¯t care. This was what he was missing! This was where he belonged! The infinite excitement and adrenaline that made the world seem incredibly¡­ [Calm Mind] worked in overdrive, and Azrael picked up the breathing pattern for [Meditation] that he hadn¡¯t even noticed he¡¯d dropped. The inner beast unwillingly retreated. Here was the hunt, the blood, the thrill. It raged as he reeled it in, as if on a leash.


    The ex-alpha was bleeding, but so was he. Worse, without his winter jacket, the cold was getting to him. At this rate they were both going to die here.


    He thought while he chased the wolf. If he knew where it would appear he could trap it, but the wolf¡¯s movements seemed completely at random. Other than the fact that when it entered a shadow it appeared from a shadow moments later nothing seemed to be the same. If only he knew where¡­ no, if only it didn¡¯t know where he was.


    Azrael dropped into [Stealth] and realised that there was a slow change. Where previously the alpha jumped as far away as possible from him, the distance between shadow jumps became shorter, while it spent more time running between the trees. Eventually though it stopped and looked back, waiting and expecting him to appear. When he didn¡¯t, it slowly back tracked to the place he¡¯d entered [Stealth]. It sniffed the area and noticed him too late.


    Azrael dropped down from the tree branch and onto its back, plunging his daggers between the vertebrae of its neck. It struggled, eventually managing to throw him off. Both daggers stayed stuck in its neck. It thrashed towards him, its jaw snapping. He thrust one hand towards it, while the other slapped the ground. [Earth Spike] after [Earth Spike] slammed upwards, impaling it, while a fireball detonated at point blank range in its face.


    Azrael only stopped when he was sure that it was dead. By then it was a bloody and charred pincushion. The smell of iron, charred meat and burning hair hung thick in the air. Despite himself Azrael couldn¡¯t help but retch a little.


    Eventually though he pulled himself together and yanked his daggers out of the mutilated wolf. Grimacing at the very thought of sticking his hand anywhere near the creature he used mana sense to pinpoint the mana core of the wolf and shot and [Earth Spike] through the body. The mana core flew through the air, forcefully displaced from its host¡¯s body. Wiping it on the ground to clean it he pocketed it and began the trek home.


    He couldn¡¯t be bothered to collect the remains of his spear and the rest of the wolf corpse was too mangled to salvage. Even if it had been salvageable, he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted anything from it, after seeing the infection.

 Chapter 60

    Arriving home Azrael washed the alpha¡¯s mana stone, admiring the smoky black mana that swirled around inside the crystal, as he washed it. The mana stone was at least ten times larger than any other one that he had seen so far and was unique for more than just its size.


    [Mana Sense] let him feel that it was somehow different from ordinary mana stones, but was unable to tell how, or whether this had any relation to the black smoke swirling inside. Sure, the swirling black mana in the crystal had a strong resemblance to the creature¡¯s own coat when it passed through shadows, but Azrael felt that there was more to it than purely the aesthetic.


    Placing the crystal down on the table he went and showered himself, to get wash off the chill and the blood. The hot water stung against his wounds, and he quickly turned it off.


    [Meditation] had helped heal them partially, so they weren¡¯t life threateningly deep, but the lances of pain that flashed through his body as he moved were bad enough to convince him that strenuous movement was ill advised.


    Carefully drying off he bandaged his torso to the best of his abilities, before finding a new shirt and letting it lightly drop over his chest. Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t have a spare winter jacket, so he braved the cold walk to the village. He wanted to show Alena the mana stone. Through the bond, he could feel Alena in the village. Hopefully, they would also have something to lend him.


    His reception, or rather lack thereof, when he arrived was surprising. For the first time since the villagers had settled, Cairn did not come to greet him. Instead, all of the villagers were clustered facing the opposite direction. Curious he slipped closer, not even bothering with [Stealth].


    Beyond the clustered group was a stranger. He placed the girl at around twenty years of age and seemingly lost, if not for her determined gaze and the two daggers strapped to her hip. She stood at the edge of the village, silently facing the assembled group.


    The strangest thing about her though was the two snowy white fox ears peeking out from above her long silver hair. Behind her, a single fox tail swung lazily back and forth. A kitsune? A Fox kin!  As surprised and curious as Azrael was, he was still wary. Cautiously moving in closer he reached out with [Soul Sense].


    Azrael¡¯s face tensed and he stepped next to Cairn.


    Cain turned to him in surprise. ¡°My¡­¡±


    Azrael cut him off. ¡°Son¡± he said, while stepping on Cairn¡¯s toes ¡°I¡¯m his son. How can we help you today?¡±


    Instead of replying immediately the girl just looked at him and the next moment Azrael felt something wash over him. It was barely there, but unmistakably divine. Cairn felt the hair at the back of his neck rise. He¡¯d been right. This person was a player.


    Luckily, he had completely shielded his divine spark with soul mist. He could see no other reason to blast divine energy into the surrounds, other than to detect another player with divine energy. The method itself was interesting though. Detection through an omni-directional wave of energy, as well as a possible interaction or resonance between divine energies. He filed those thoughts away for later experimentation.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    The girl finally spoke. ¡°My apologies for my late introduction. My name is Sophie.¡±


    [Lord¡¯s Insight] confirmed it.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Name: Sophie


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Class: Wind Mage (Lv. 5), Rogue (Lv. 4), Prioress of Purity (Lv. 4)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael glared at the woman. It seemed like another God was getting involved.


    ***


    Sophie arrived at the edge of the village, following the scent of smoke through the forest. Originally, she had been cautious when entering the forest expecting great danger, because Nords, the leader of the village she had visited, had warned her of a powerful humanoid field boss with a fire and darkness affinity. On top of magic, they¡¯d included ranker level combat skills to the boss¡¯s repertoire. According to the man the one encounter they allegedly had with him resulted in all the players dying and all the villagers disappearing.


    When their messenger had first arrived nobody had believed him, but the mention of a dragon drew some interest. Since all the others from the main team of Holy Empire were busy dealing with other problems, she had been dispatched as a preliminary scout by their guild leader Melissa. Expecting to be attacked by a humanoid demon of fire and shadows, Sophie had not expected to find a peaceful village hidden so deep in the forest.


    It was a humble village, with barely a dozen buildings, but Sophie spied iron tools here and there, hinting at a connection to the outside world. Although, when she spied two dwarves she was not so sure. From what she had heard of dwarven skills a few iron weapons would be nothing.


    Upon arriving at the village she had expected hostility, but was instead met with a mix of wariness and curiosity. It was only when the golden-eyed, black-haired male stepped in front of the village leader that she encountered any hostility.


    His eyes held a silent sort of anger, but no sort of hesitation. She knew that if she made a wrong move he would attack her with no fear for his life. This attitude caused her to send out a little bit of holy energy granted to her by the Goddess Purity. Players tended to have less hesitation at throwing themselves into dangerous situations than NPC¡¯s. She¡¯d found that divine energy was an effective strategy of telling other players, or Gods¡¯ Chosen, apart from the natives of the game. To her surprise she got no reaction, although his eyes briefly flashed with unbridled anger for a moment.


    She realised that she had been impolite and introduced herself ¡°My apologies for my late introduction. My name is Sophie.¡±


    ***


    Azrael realised he was glaring and supressed the raging emotion he was feeling. Instead, he held out a hand to the player. ¡°Sam¡± he said, shamelessly stealing his best friend¡¯s nickname. If talking with someone was the fastest way of getting rid of them, then it was a small sacrifice. ¡°Forgive us for our unfriendly reception, but we recently had an¡­ unpleasant encounter with other Chosen.¡±


    Azrael avoided lying, since he wasn¡¯t sure if holy classes had [Truth Detection] skills, similar to how Bartlos had his [Merchant] class skill [Theft Detection]. Sophie shook his hand and smiled.


    ¡°I understand.¡± she said with seeming understanding ¡°The wilderness is not one of the friendliest places to live.¡± Azrael had to give it to her, she either truly sympathised, or was one of the best actors he had met.


    He decided to get straight to the point. ¡°What brings a fox kin so close to the end of the world?¡± he asked. The girl stood coyly, seemingly undecided as to whether to answer him, but eventually she relented.


    ¡°I¡¯m here for a guide to the dragon.¡±


    The entire village stared at her as if she was crazy.

 Chapter 61

    Nobody in the village moved and Sophie repeated what she had just said, unsure whether anybody had heard her ¡°I¡¯m here for a guide to the dragon.¡± When she still didn¡¯t receive an answer, she asked another question ¡°There is a dragon¡­ Right?¡±


    Surprisingly it was the village chief, not his son Sam that answered. ¡°There is girl¡± he said ¡°but you¡¯d do best not sticking your nose where it doesn¡¯t belong. One chomp and you¡¯re gone.¡±


    She secretly hid a smile. It was true that to a normal villager a dragon might seem like a legendary existence, though his words weren¡¯t wrong. It would be suicide to fight that thing if the reports were anything to go by. She was neither strong enough, nor did she have enough magic to fight a fifty-meter long fire-breathing dragon. Luckily for her she was proficient in [Stealth] and could also boost her speed with wind magic. Her position as a worshiper of the Goddess Purity also allowed her access to [Heal] spells.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to fight it¡± she appeased ¡°Just to find where it lives.¡±


    Now Sam looked at her suspiciously ¡°For personal curiosity, or for a group.¡±


    His demeanour was at odds with the rest of the village, but maybe that¡¯s how he and his father were playing things, good cop/bad cop. If her suspicions about Nord¡¯s vanished villagers and these villagers¡¯ run in with Chos¨C players were correct, then their suspicions were not necessarily unfounded.


    ¡°I¡¯m on my own¡± she said. A half-truth.


    ¡°Do you belong to a group?¡± he asked again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡± she lied. He didn¡¯t like how perceptive he was. She didn¡¯t want to lie, but she needed a guide to the dragon. If the villagers associated her with the guild that they had escaped from, then they would be less likely to help her. All of the guild people had been too fearful to enter the forest, meaning that the villagers were her last resort. The guild hadn¡¯t given her much to go by, except for the local name of the forest ¨C The End Forest. It was a sinister and foreboding name.


    ¡°Will you grant me a guide?¡± She asked. She let her pouch of coins jingle. As the rookie of the Holy Empire main team, she really needed something to prove that she earnt her position. Most villages only traded using copper and rarely silver coins, but if she had to pay in gold, then she would do so.


    ***


    Azrael looked at the kitsune across from him, considering her proposition. It was obvious that she wasn¡¯t going to leave the village until she did get a guide. Already she was spouting promises of support and aid. He glanced at her again. She was suspicious and he didn¡¯t trust her. She claimed that she didn¡¯t belong to a group, but no individual could promise the support that she was promising the villagers at that very moment. Neither would an individual be interested in a dragon. A researcher might, but none of her classes were research orientated. Finally, there was her holy class [Prioress of Purity]. Everything pointed towards trouble. Her next question confirmed this.


    ¡°Just out of curiosity, have any of you seen or heard about a large monster on two legs that controls fire and shadows?¡± She asked.


    Azrael froze up. There was only one person and one event that Azrael could think of that matched her query, and that was himself, when he razed the village to the ground.


    ¡°You mean the Lord?¡± one of the ladies asked. Azrael stepped in before anything got further out of hand.


    ¡°The Lord?¡± Sophie asked. He should have killed her there and then, when he first realised that she was a player. He would have done so now, if it wasn¡¯t for the fact that she was a player and could revive. It was beyond all doubt now that she was working with the guild he¡¯d massacred. If he killed her now it wouldn¡¯t take long for her to put two and two together. His only option was to mislead and mitigate the damage.


    ¡°The Lord of the End Forest.¡± Azrael introduced ¡°Is not a monster, but protector of the people. This forest is his domain and he welcomes all people of the land, except the Chosen. They are not welcome here.¡±


    It was technically true. Azrael himself was the Lord, he wasn¡¯t a monster. He had the title ¡®Lord of the End Forest¡¯ and [Lord¡¯s Domain] basically appointed this forest as his. He had made the persona to stop players from intruding into the forest, he¡¯d protected the villagers and accepted them and the dwarves, while players weren¡¯t welcome here. Around him a few of the villagers were nodding and he had a spike of childish gratification as Sophie began to look around the village fearfully. A dragon was fine, but a fake demon lord wasn¡¯t. Nice.


    Sophie gulped ¡°Regardless, I need a guide to the dragon¡± she said. The change in tone didn¡¯t pass Azrael.


    ¡°I could lead you there¡± he began ¡°Afterall, I am the strongest in this village¡­¡± He let the sentence trail.


    ¡°What? But what?¡± She asked hopeful ¡°I can pay.¡±


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Azrael smiled. He waved a hand around the village. ¡°We don¡¯t need gold.¡± He said.


    Her face fell ¡°I can deliver materials. Iron, Food, animals...¡±


    Azrael shook his head. ¡°What¡¯s to stop you from going back on your deal after I show you the dragon?¡± he asked.


    She looked desperate. ¡°Anything¡± She said ¡°I¡¯ll do anything.¡±


    A predatory smile slid across his face. Hook. Line. And sinker. This was too much fun. She shivered under his gaze, suddenly feeling very naked. ¡°Except that.¡± She said.


    He raised an eyebrow ¡°I was only going to ask you to bless everyone in the village.¡±


    She paused. ¡°That¡¯s it? That¡¯s all¡± she asked warily.


    He nodded. ¡°That and all your gold.¡±


    ¡°But you said!¡±


    ¡°I know what I said, but consider it an offering to the Lord, for¡­ trespassing on his lands.¡±


    She handed him her coin pouch demurely.


    Azrael turned to the group. ¡°Who wants to be blessed first?¡± He asked. When nobody volunteered themselves, he volunteered them instead.


    One by one the villagers went before Sophie, allowing her to place her hand briefly on their foreheads, while chanting.


    ¡°Hear us Purity, gentle Goddess,


    Hear us and know your children call.


    Bless these humble sheep, deliver them into your embrace,


    and cleanse them of their mortal sins¡±


    A soft glow of lambent white surrounded her hands. Using [Mana Sense] Azrael barely got any reaction, as if nothing was happening. [Soul Sense] however told a different story.


    Although he only got a rough picture of what was going on in other peoples¡¯ souls he could clearly see the same light streaming out from under her soul mist, like light given gaseous form. Whatever it was, it didn¡¯t react with her soul directly, instead seemingly using her divine spark as a gateway for the power. From there it flowed from her into the other person, coming in contact with their soul. Like a thin carpet of mist it created a veil above their soul mist, barely perceptible but still there.


    He watched until all of the villagers were blessed. He felt a little bad using them as guinea pigs, but it wasn¡¯t like anything bad was happening. When Sophie approached him he rejected the offer for a [Blessing] and she sagged in relief. It seemed that granting it still required something from the caster. Instead, he checked his notifications and [Status]


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For gaining a new insight into others¡¯ souls. You have gained three levels in [Soul Sense].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Lord¡¯s Domain]


    The people are a lord¡¯s power.


    This skill provides you with a passive, low level awareness of your domain.


    Current Additional benefits:


    <u>Respect:</u> All decrees that you issue will yield greater results.


    <u>Blessed by Purity:</u> All of your people have been cleansed by the [Blessing of Purity]. For the next week everyone in your domain will be immune to all illnesses, infections and diseases.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael looked at [Lord¡¯s Domain] impressed. It was basically a domain buff against illnesses, simply by blessing a few people. The next notification was also welcome.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For seeking help for your people you have gained a level in [Lord¡¯s Domain].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For seeking help for your people from others you have gained a level in ¡®Lord¡¯.


    WIS+3, END+2, STR+2


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Satisfied with the gains he opened his [Status].


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.4), Sorcerer (Lv.2), Lord (Lv.4)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 190/190


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 63/210


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 19


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 19


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 20


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 15


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 24


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 24


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}, {Teacher}


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.15), Spear Arts (Lv.20), Mana Sense (Lv.22), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 26), Soul Sense (Lv.15), Mana Control (Lv.26), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 3), Stealth (Lv. 24), Calm Mind (Lv. 11) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 2), Lord¡¯s Insight (Lv. n/a), Leadership (Lv.6), Stone shaping (Lv.26), Reinforcement (Lv.13), Dagger Arts (Lv.22), Meditation (Lv.24), Mana Transfer (Lv.5), Craftsman¡¯s Eye (Lv.1).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    A surprise awaited him. [Mana Manipulation], [Mana Control] and [Stone Shaping] had all broken through past level 25 barrier that had seemed to be holding them down. It seemed he had something to thank the alpha wolf for other than wounds.


    A chill wind suddenly blew through the village and Azrael remembered why he had come. He turned to Cairn.


    ¡°Do you have a jacket I could borrow?¡± he asked.

 Chapter 62

    Following Cairn into his house for a jacket Azrael suddenly had a thought and turned to Sophie.


    ¡°Stay here¡± he said ¡°We¡¯ll leave in ten minutes.¡± The less time she had to snoop around, the less information she could gather and the less trouble she would be.


    Since he didn¡¯t have anything that could really help him on an expedition at home, he stocked up here in the village. A new Jacket, a pouch, two water pouches and dried rations. He had his daggers with him, didn¡¯t need a flint and steel due to [Fire Bullet] and he didn¡¯t need a tent due to [Earth Shaping].


    After the promised ten minutes he returned to the village square, only to see a large blue [Status] screen blinking out of existence. In the center of the crowd that had gathered near the status stone, he saw Sophie lift her hand off the plate. He paled. There was no way that any gamer would mistake that for what it was.


    Now that she knew about its existence, he had to find a way to stop her from spreading the news. Its discovery meant the end of peaceful days. He could already see the players swarming here, the guilds fighting wars for¡­ No! He wasn¡¯t going to let that happen. He wasn¡¯t going to destroy his own work either. That was like admitting that he was afraid and that they had won.


    Steeling himself Azrael marched over to the group. The villagers shied away from him, while Sophie still looked at the status stone, amazed.


    ¡°I thought I told you to stay¡± he asked. A bit of anger seeped into his voice, causing Sophie to back away.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    By intimidating your opponent you have learnt the skill [Intimidation].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He mentally pushed it away and continued walking towards Sophie.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For successfully intimidating an opponent you have gained a level in [Intimidation].


    [Intimidation] (Lv. 1) has advanced to [Intimidation] (Lv. 2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He stood before her. ¡°Do you know what you just did?¡± he asked ¡°The danger you just put this village in?¡±


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For successfully intimidating an opponent you have gained a level in [Intimidation].


    [Intimidation] (Lv. 2) has advanced to [Intimidation] (Lv. 3)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Sophie tried to answer, but before she could Azrael cut in again, knowing full well what she had been planning to say ¡°You might promise to keep it a secret, but can you guarantee it?¡± The kitsune visibly shrunk, wilting before his gaze. There was nothing she could say and she knew it.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    For successfully intimidating an¡­


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For successfully¡­


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For¡­


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He ignored the notifications in favour of a response. He saw something die in her gaze.


    ¡°No¡± She replied honestly.


    ¡°Then make an oath¡± he said ¡°Will you make an oath with your life on the line, to swear before the monument of the Lord, guardian and protector of the End Forest, to hold your silence of this village and everything you saw here.¡±


    He stepped forward, not needing a notification to know that he had successfully intimidated her. But despite that, he saw conflicting emotions warring across her face. If his guess was right, then she belonged to a guild of sorts. He wasn¡¯t sure what her position was, but the existence of the status stone was a powerful gamechanger. Knowing your skills and when and how they levelled, was¡­ he wasn¡¯t even sure how other players had survived this long. It would have driven him mad.


    Sophie finally spoke up ¡°I-I¡­ I do¡±.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Oath of Eternal Silence]


    There are deeper ways to be bound then by blood.


    You have fulfilled an [Oath of Eternal Silence] with the individual ¡®Sophie.


    Sophie is forbidden of ever speaking of this encounter with the village, or what she has seen within it, on pain of death.


    [This oath cannot be broken]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to the influence of {Oath Maker}, the God of Death has presided over this oath.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael saw Sophie visibly gasp, as the oath bound itself to her soul. What he found interesting was the effect of his wording. For Alena he had made her swear on her true name, while Sophie swore on her life. One bound the two, while the other offered one sided retribution from Death.


    It was the best he could think of at the moment. Unlike Alena there was no soul link, but he could still feel the effects of the oath, knowing that she hadn¡¯t broken it.


    Azrael smiled at the kitsune, who had collapsed to the ground by now and allowed [Intimidation] to fade away. Ever the gentleman, he offered a hand.


    ¡°Shall we go?¡± he asked. The sooner he got her out of the village the sooner he could avoid things like this and the sooner they would be able to find the dragon. If worst came to worst, he hoped that Dragons accepted kitsune as a snack.


    ***


    Sophie gulped as she accepted the hand of Sam, although she was beginning to doubt his identity as son of the chief. The way he grinned down at her was more predatory than benevolent. Even most the villagers seemed to shy away from him. She accepted his hand simply because her knees were shaking and she didn¡¯t want to embarrass herself anymore.


    Watching Sam smile and wave to the villagers, she followed him into the forest. Seeing him smile now she began to doubt some of what she had seen earlier, but her bones still shook when she looked at him.


    From rude and protective son of the village chief, he had changed to a domineering figure, forcing her to accept an oath. Whether that was his power, the power of the Lord of the End Forest, or some higher power, she didn¡¯t know, but whatever it was she could feel her oath engraved on her soul, threatening to end her life if she even thought of speaking a word about the village.


    For a player knowing their [Status] was incredibly valuable and seeing hers had been¡­ enlightening. She saw his smile and briefly wondered if she hadn¡¯t entered in a deal with the devil, by promising to keep the status plate a secret, but then shook her head.


    She knew that if she revealed the village and its treasure to anyone, then they would march here and take it by force. Unlike many other players she actually cared about the NPCs. They were so human that it was difficult not to see them as such. She knew that the others in her guild didn¡¯t hold the same reservations as she did.


    Keeping the village and status plate secret didn¡¯t change anything for them anyway. They didn¡¯t know that it existed. Since she couldn¡¯t mention it now due to the oath, it was still as if it didn¡¯t exist for them. Therefore, her slip up didn¡¯t matter, results mattered. Perhaps she could have managed it better, finding a loophole in the wording, but it was too late now. If she could find the dragon, then all would be forgiven, she would have proven her worth. Everything for the might of the Holy Empire.

 Chapter 63

    Sophie watched Sam, if that was even his real name, march on ahead of her through the trees.


    She¡¯d followed him southwest for the last few days, but the more she observed him the more of an enigma he became. He was unlike any NPC she¡¯d met before.


    Most of the ones that she¡¯d met were polite people, or perhaps brash and distrusting at worst. Very few had been hostile and even then they generally didn¡¯t attack, often out of fear from ¡®retribution¡¯ for harming one of the Gods¡¯ Chosen. Bandits, hermits and the like fitted into the latter category, but most villagers she¡¯d encountered had been distrustful at worst. Even in his village he¡¯d been the only one to be actively hostile.


    His actions though might have been explainable due to the loss of a loved one at the hands of players, but if he was the son of the village chief, then wouldn¡¯t they have both held a grudge against her for being a player? Since the chief had acted as he had, she doubted it. There was something strange about that village and Sam in particular. There was something off about him, something in the way he acted and the way the villagers looked at him. The status plate and the oath could both be explained away, if they were part of the power of their ¡®Lord¡¯.


    From the reports she¡¯d gotten from Nords and the villagers this ¡®Lord¡¯ could easily be a hidden high tier boss. An intelligent Field boss. She shuddered, glad that it had shown no signs of moving out of the forest, instead being content to protect the forest and the village. This had been confirmed when the villagers had unanimously agreed that their Lord had no interest beyond the protection of the forest and its people. It made her wonder what was being hidden in the forest that a powerful hidden boss guarded it. It wasn¡¯t the status plate¡­ was it?


    For a brief while she had contemplated Sam being the Lord in disguise. But so far, she had yet to see any great feats magic and the bandaged wounds that she¡¯d healed after their first day of hiking had proven that he didn¡¯t have the combat skills that would be required to take down an entire guild. Being the best hunter in the village didn¡¯t equate to ranker level skills.


    From there it just got stranger though. Despite being a seemingly normal villager, Sam was fearless, absolutely fearless, as if he didn¡¯t fear death. The way he walked talked and acted all reflected this. She¡¯d checked several more times to ascertain whether he was a player, but she got no return signal from him like she should have.


    It was a trick that she¡¯d picked up while travelling through the villages. All players, as ¡®Gods¡¯ Chosen¡¯ carried something that the NPCs called a ¡®divine spark¡¯, which would resonate when coming in contact with divine energy.


    His distinct lack of knowledge of the outside world was also disturbing. Some of the questions that he asked were basic knowledge on the gamer forums. Things like how people had an elemental affinity based on what type of magic they first used in game, or the system judged that they had an aptitude for. These questions extended to other knowledge such as other races, the gods, artifacts, practically anything that she thought was common knowledge.


    And yet he could somehow use magic. On the first night and every night after, he¡¯d summoned stone slabs from the ground to make a shelter. As if that wasn¡¯t bad enough, she also found him secretly lighting the fire with a small, conjured flame.


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    Thinking about it made her mind hurt. An NPC was using magic and they were dual affinity too! From all accounts that she¡¯d gathered, that was rare, incredibly rare. But then again so was an NPC using magic, especially a young one. And a human!


    She chewed her lip. It just didn¡¯t make sense! Humans were one of the least mana compatible races in this world and also had no racial gifts or ancestry. The few old ¡®mages¡¯ that she¡¯d met in villages required chants and time to cast their magic and even then, it was small simple things. And here was a young human male using magic like it was second nature. And it was chantless!


    Everybody knew that you needed chanting to focus mana into a spell. It was¡­ It was common knowledge! But just like all the other common knowledge it seemed that this¡­ this¡­fool, had missed the memo. If she hadn¡¯t seen how flawless the game was in every other aspect, she would have suspected a bug. Whatever this guy was, he broke the rules.


    Taking out a little note pad she scribbled something down into her little report journal. Her oath prevented her from speaking of the village and everything that had happened in it, but they were no longer in the village. Anything that she learnt after that was fair game.


    Even if she didn¡¯t want anything to do with Sam after this mission, she would still issue a report to the guild. Sam could become a valuable asset, or a possible threat.


    ***


    Azrael set up camp for the night, dumping a little more than half his mana pool into raising two stone slabs from the ground. While [Earth Shaping] took less mana than actually conjuring it, using it to move such large pieces of earth still took a lot. A hidden [Fire Bullet] later and the bundle of sticks he¡¯d gathered burst into flame.


    So far, he¡¯d stuck to using only these two magics, not wanting to make Sophie wary. He¡¯d tried hiding his use of [Fire Bullet], but gave up once Sophie noticed.


    He¡¯d heard from Cairn and Hugh that they had heard of some villages having mages that could use simple lifestyle magics. He hoped that using only these two basic ones wouldn¡¯t seem too unusual.


    Sophie¡¯s magic itself was quite interesting. One of the perks of her [Wind Mage] class seemed to be a spell to increase movement speed, meaning that they could move far more distance than he¡¯d originally anticipated. Coupled with their stats, they were moving way faster than any normal travelling party back in real life ever could.


    Throwing another handful of sticks into the fire, he touched a hand to his torso. Beneath his clothes his skin was healed, perfect and pristine. It was the effects of [Heal], another one of Sophie¡¯s spells.


    During the first day of hiking, his wounds had reopened, staining his bandages red and becoming more aggravated with each movement. He¡¯d tried to hide it, imperceptibly slowing down to reduce the pain. Sophie had noticed though.


    Forcing him to take off his shirt and jacket she had used [Heal] on him, consecutively. Due to his title {Heretic} her skill had only been half as effective as it should have. She hadn¡¯t seemed to notice.


    [Meditation] had already healed most of the deep tissue wounds, only leaving behind large and aggravated, yet shallow wounds that looked worse than they really were. [Heal] closed them up.


    The process of using [Heal] interested him. [Heal], unlike [Blessing of Purity] actually used a bit of the person¡¯s mana. Using [Soul Sense] he¡¯d watched her draw a little bit of divine energy from her soul, letting it mix with her own mana, before casting the skill.


    All of this took process as she chanted another one of her weird religious chants. Hearing somebody approach the fire, he looked up to find Sophie the firelight. Each night she would take a few minutes and go off into the trees where he couldn¡¯t see her.


    He assumed it was to pray. He couldn¡¯t be bothered checking. It didn¡¯t matter to him anyways.

 Chapter 64

    It was a few days later when the two travellers encountered their first major problem. They had run out of water.


    Before this they had always managed to find a small creek filled with snow melt, or pools of water that they boiled. Unfortunately, they hadn¡¯t encountered anything of the sort for a while.


    Food they could hunt or scavenge for. Water¡­ was not so easy. Sure, the animals that they caught needed to drink from somewhere, in order to survive, but they simply didn¡¯t have enough time to be wasting days on a potentially fruitless search for a water source.


    Briefly Azrael wondered whether [Heal] could keep them alive, but then he discarded the idea. Relying on somebody else to survive didn¡¯t sit well with him and Sophie would probably run out of mana while trying to sustain them. Also, due to her being a God¡¯s follower, [Heal] didn¡¯t work well on him. Sophie didn¡¯t seem to know what to do about it, beyond ¡°keep searching.¡±


    This meant that it was left to him to solve the problem. And he already had the perfect idea. During the winter months, when their plumbing had frozen he¡¯d started trying to make water out of mana, before Alena pointed out that he could simply melt the ample snow outside.


    While he hadn¡¯t encountered anybody that could conjure water he had reasons to believe that it was possible. Since, his unique trait [Elemental Mana] allowed him to turn mana into fire and earth, then water and wind should also be possible. Sophie¡¯s wind affinity [Mage] class further proved that other elements could be controlled.


    He¡¯d learnt from Sophie that apparently, a Chosen one¡¯s elemental affinity was determined by the first elemental magic that player used while in game. Some players were luckier and could get dual affinity, but those were rare. Whether the fact that he didn¡¯t have an affinity derived from the fact that he used pure mana first, or simply didn¡¯t have a compatibility he wasn¡¯t sure.


    Sophie had also explained that people with an elemental affinity gained a passive increase to all spells of that same affinity, while using spells of other affinity types became harder and more mana intensive.


    It was the same concept of specialisation that the rest of the game seemed to work off, but he wasn¡¯t sure whether he could do anything to change having no affinity.


    Checking that Sophie was asleep in the makeshift stone tent, he threw another branch onto the fire and settled into a seated pose, sinking into [Meditation].


    Calming his breathing Azrael slowly reached out to his mana, feeling it flow through him with each breath, healing him, revitalising him, flooding him with power. He ignored it, instead reaching out deeper into his mana core, and drawing out a small thread of his mana. He felt it trail through him as he tugged.


    With [Mana Sense] he followed the streamer, as it moved, from his core to his chest, along his right arm and into his palm, where it emerged into the world, shimmering gold. He¡¯d found that his mana had recently gained a distinct colour in its pure form. He attributed it to the recent change in his soul mist.


    Appreciating the beauty of his own mana for a moment longer, Azrael tightened his control over it and moulded it into a sphere, before changing its shape once more.


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    This time he drew it out and sharpened it into a projectile. He let his control relax, and the mana unravelled, dissipating into the air as a fine golden mist. The air shimmered gold for a moment, before his mana became too diluted and mixed back in with the ambient mana.


    Drawing out another wisp from his core, he brought it once more to hover above his palm. This time he agitated the mana until it burst into brilliant gold flames. Feeding it more mana he stoked the flames. Temporarily the flames flared up, fuelled by his mana. He cut off the flow and eventually the flame receded, before burning itself into nothingness in the night air.


    When that too had vanished, Azrael drew out another thread from his core and wove it into itself, strong, rigid, immovable.


    The mana solidified into stone. As a construct of his own mana he held it afloat, the stone hovering above his palm. He tensed, shooting the pebble into the night. He heard it land far away and smiled, having completed a run through of the basic properties of his mana.


    Azrael had come to realise that mana had set rules and properties, just like everything else. In many ways it reacted just like normal matter. Conservation of mass was upheld by converting mana to mass, thermal dynamics and material states were similarly observed.


    However, different to normal reality, he was converting energy into solids, liquids and gas, instead of breaking down those three states into plasma. While it wasn¡¯t an exact copy of the real world¡¯s laws it still held followed the basic principles.


    All he had to do for conjuration was mimic the properties of the element he was trying to conjure. Fire was energetic and excited. Earth was stable and unchanging. Water would be¡­ flowing and moving? Wasn¡¯t air the same though. He shook his head as he considered the problem that was before him.  He let out a deep breath. One thing at a time.


    Calming his thoughts once more Azrael began siphoning another thread of mana into his palm. All the while he held a picture of water in his mind.


    It was wet. He tried again, this time picturing the waterfall back in the valley. It was relentless, an ever-moving power of nature. The mana in his palm began to move. He pictured an ocean, the tides flowing in and out. The mana in his palm flowed against itself, pushing and pulling like the tides. He pictured a raindrop, falling pristine, perfect¡­


    A drop of water fell into his palm. He looked up. There were no rain clouds. He looked at his palm.


    <table>


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    Congratulations!


    Through a new understanding of mana you have progressed the unique skill [Elemental Mana].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Elemental Mana]


    There is a truth that even nature obeys.


    You may grant your mana an elemental affinity.


    Current Affinities: [Fire], [Earth], [Water].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Smiling he drew more mana from his core, before making it move like the tides. He watched his mana turn from the golden light into crystal clear water. Cupping his palms, he let the it pool in them, and drank.


    The water rolled down his throat like rain after a drought. It was tasteless, and temperature less, neither hot nor cold, unlike the water from the waterfall, which was cool, crisp and clear.


    Sure, most people claimed all water was the same and that water was tasteless, but water from snowmelt and water from rain and water from a mountain stream all tasted different. This water was just straight up flavour less. He shrugged. It would do its job.


    Grabbing the empty water pouches, Azrael began the task filling them up. What would he tell Sophie about where he had gotten it? He looked at her sleeping form and sighed. She was nothing but trouble. Should he kill her now? He could fake the attack of a wild beast. No. He still needed her if he wanted to find the dragon. Her wind movement spells were handy and if they did meet the dragon, well¡­ he might need a snack to appease it.

 Chapter 65

    Sophie woke the next morning, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Sam was sitting, tending the fire. Last night she¡¯d logged out of the game, letting Azrael stay watch. She knew that if something happened, the game would take over her avatar and act just like she would have acted. However, even then there were certain differences.


    It would move like she would move, but it wouldn¡¯t talk. Her character would act as if sleep walking, or in a trance. Sam turned when he saw her rise.


    ¡°Morning¡± he said. If he was a player, which she was starting to doubt, then she had never seen him log off. Although the fact that he spoke to her first surprised her a little.


    Other than to ask questions, or pass on basic information he wouldn¡¯t initiate a conversation. This was the closest he¡¯d gotten. She unconsciously raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Ah¡­ anyways¡± he began, when she forgot to respond. ¡°I found some water last night¡±.


    He held up full water pouches. She took one from his grasp and gave it a sniff, before drinking it. It was water, even if it was a little strange.


    She smiled at him gratefully. ¡°Thank you¡± she said.


    But behind the smile she was slightly annoyed. Seriously, what was with him. If he wasn¡¯t a player then he only had one life. This meant that wandering around in the dark, in an unknown forest was asking for something to take your life. It was little things like this that really stood out and constantly threw her off. It was like he was an NPC with the tendencies, behaviour and habits of a player. It irked her.


    On a principle, Sophie tried to keep villagers out of her player affairs, since they tended to die very quickly as collateral. To other players if someone died, then it didn¡¯t matter for them. If it was an NPC that died, then they weren¡¯t real to begin with and if it was a player that died, then it was ok, because they could simply respawn. No harm done, right? But to her, watching villagers bleed to death, get killed by bandits, or getting mauled by beasts, was the same as watching a person die in real life.


    Just because they were never technically alive, or real, didn¡¯t make the scenes any less disturbing. Even while she traveling with Sam she¡¯d been doing most of the fighting and hunting. Despite his claims as the strongest villager in the village she¡¯d seen those wounds. And that had been after a ¡®successful¡¯ hunt. She¡¯d hate to lose her guide to an unsuccessful one.


    She pushed those thoughts to the side, instead taking a sipping from the water pouch and accepting a meat skewer. Wait. Meat? She hadn¡¯t gone hunting last night. Suspiciously she glanced at Sam¡¯s daggers. Was that why he¡¯d been out in the forest? But at night? Something didn¡¯t add up, but she couldn¡¯t pin down what. With a sigh she sat down beside him and ate breakfast.


    ***


    They travelled for several more days, before spying the dragon one afternoon. It flew overhead twice. Once back towards the village and once towards the mountains. They changed course accordingly.


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    The closer to the mountains they got, the rockier the ground became. The land around them also changed in other ways. The ground rose up, forming steep hills, which eventually became small mountains in their own right. The forest also thinned, giving way to sparce groves of green, while the rising slopes were dominated with bush and shrub.


    Water still stayed scarce, the slopes too steep to let water pool. In the evenings while Sophie was sleeping he would take watch and refill the water pouches. He was so careful that there was no way Sophie would suspect a thing. Sometimes his own acting skills terrified him.


    Eventually though, the pair encountered an unforeseen problem, eager to bar their way forward. A massive crevasse cut through the mountains on their path, water flooding through the bottom in a raging torrent.


    Over time water had cut a deep channel through the mountains and even now the continuing snowmelt was continuing the age old work with thundering force.


    A small goat track, barely wider than shoulder width, trailed along the side. On one side of the trail led to a long fall into the raging waters and guaranteed death. On the other side, the steep cliff face continued upwards.


    Their way into the mountains was barred on one side by the cliff and they couldn¡¯t cross the raging torrent to get to the other side.


    Using [Stone Shaping] as secretly as he could Azrael reinforced the goat trail and they carefully progressed. Sometimes, A few times rocks fell down from overhead, threatening to brain them.


    When he looked up, he saw a shaggy face, framed by large, curved horns, looking down at them. It was the same kind of mountain goat that he had carved the village¡¯s dragon horn out of.


    By the end of the day They had yet to reach the other end of the ravine, forcing them to stay the night in the ravine. Uneager to spend the night sleeping at death¡¯s edge he carved out a small cave with [Stone Shaping].


    Letting him settle in to their accommodations Sophie left and prayed, or at least that¡¯s what he assumed that she did. It came as a surprise to him when he heard not the sound of praying, but arguing.


    Stuck between two cliff walls her voice carried to him, even over the sound of raging water. Despite this he couldn¡¯t quite make out what she was arguing about, or even with whom. He was curious though and slipped into [Stealth], before sneaking towards her.


    ¡°Give me more time!¡± Sophie argued. She paused to listen, but Azrael didn¡¯t hear anybody speaking. ¡°I still have a week!¡± Again, she paused, before replying in a more subdued tone ¡°No, sorry.¡± Azrael rounded a slight corner in the ravine and saw her standing alone, one hand held up to the side of her head. Telepathy? It didn¡¯t fit in with any of her classes.


    She shifted position and Azrael saw her holding something up to her ear.  It wasn¡¯t and ability he realised, but an artifact. She was using some form of long-range communication artifact.


    ¡°No¡± she continued ¡°No, I understand¡±.


    From the way she was talking whoever was on the other end was obviously a higher rank.


    ¡°No. You won¡¯t have to tell Melissa.¡±


    Azrael froze when he heard the name. It brough back bad memories. He tried to find a [Calm Mind]. Melissa wasn¡¯t that rare a name, it could be somebody else. The beast in his soul raised its hackles, equally uneasy. They were both feeling the same thing.


    There was no way that Holy Empire could have found him here. There was no reason for them to seek him out. Not after what they had done to him. Was the entire dragon hunt just a ruse to get him? How had they found him? What were they plotting?


    Azrael calmed himself down. There was no reason for it to be Holy Empire. Melissa probably didn¡¯t even remember him. Everyone that wasn¡¯t her was beneath her. He relaxed. It was just somebody with the same name. Yes, that was it. It had to be. There was no reason to panic. They didn¡¯t know he was here.


    Sophie finished her conversation.


    ¡°Glory to the Empire.¡±

 Chapter 66

    Azrael was tending to a small fire when Sophie returned. There were a few small trees and shrubs that managed to make their home amongst the cracks in the cliff, their roots spilling down into the canyon below.


    Sophie sat down beside him, but he ignored her. Now that he knew that she belonged to Holy Empire he recognised her. Not from when he¡¯d been there, but from the TV, way back when he¡¯d first started the game.


    She had been the white fox kin girl fighting the ogre. Which meant that Melissa had been the priest. Why was she here now? How much did she know? Was she here for him and how much of what he knew about her had she lied about? Could he trust any of the information she had given him?


    A hand waved in front of his face impatiently. ¡°Hello-o¡± Sophie called. He turned to face her.


    ¡°Finally!¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve been talking to you for a minute and you haven¡¯t been answering.¡±


    He pretended to smile. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ve been in thought.¡±


    ¡°I was asking if you had any of that jerky left. There¡¯s nothing to hunt around here.¡±


    He handed her some jerky from his pouch. There wasn¡¯t much left.


    Gazing back into the fire he realised he was overthinking things. The fact that he didn¡¯t know her meant that she had joined Holy Empire since he had left, which meant she¡¯d only been with them around two years, max.


    The fact that she had used Melissa¡¯s name in the conversation meant that she was higher up in the guild. This was further confirmed by the fact that he had seen her fighting the ogre with Melissa. He thought back to the fight. Only being with Holy Empire for two years meant that Sophie was the rookie in the group. During the fight Melissa had cast a late heal. For all of Melissa¡¯s faults timing was not one of them. She was an expert [Healer] with a fantastic sense of timing. This skill had gained her the Ranker title ¡®The Saintess¡¯, in every VR game she played, due to the number of players that she could simultaneously keep alive. It had practically become synonymous to her character.


    Azrael knew the late [Heal] treatment well. It was her way of reminding people that she was in charge. The fact that Sophie was receiving that treatment meant that she had done something to anger Melissa. Not that that was hard to do.


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    Be prettier than her and Melissa would let her full jealousy fall upon the unfortunate victim. Steal the spotlight and Melissa would find a way to humiliate you. In anything and everything where somebody was better than Melissa, they suddenly found themselves under assault from Holy Empire¡¯s forces. Even her own team were not protected from her pettiness. The game was just a way for her to stroke her own ego.


    The entire Guild in fact was funded by her father¡¯s business and money. Sophie being here, despite being part of the main team, was a punishment for her. Sending someone to the edge of the world for a rumour sounded exactly like the type of thing Melissa would do. Azrael wondered what Sophie had done to deserve it.


    Despite feeling mild pity for the fox girl, he knew she would have to go. Before she had been a danger. Now she was the enemy.


    Turning his gaze from the fire, he watched Sophie lie down on the hard stone ground and try to sleep. The thought of Melissa stirred all sorts of old memories. Everyone in the team was a Ranker and had a Moniker.


    Although some Rankers had different Monikers in different games, Holy Empire¡¯s elites kept theirs through every game. ¡®The Saintess¡¯ Melissa would probably at the Holy Empire¡¯s seat of power. ¡®The Spymaster¡¯, the [Rogue] of the group, and tactician, was probably nearby. The Paladin, ¡®Son of Virtue¡¯ was probably out somewhere looting, burning and conquering in a holy crusade for the ¡®Glory of the Empire¡¯. The last two, he shuddered, were a little more¡­ eccentric. ¡®The Heavenly Archer¡¯ was probably with ¡®The Alchemist¡¯ somewhere.


    Both of them had the sadistic hobby of torturing people (In secret of course). The [Archer], she claimed that she liked to see the faces of people break. And the [Alchemist], pursued knowledge, using other people and players for experiments. He claimed it was the best way to get results.


    Despite their personalities all of the main team were high rankers.


    Letting the unpleasant memories fade, he turned to look at Sophie again. She was fast asleep now. It would be so easy to kill her. By the time she respawned and returned he would be gone. Or if she found him he could blame in on a beast, or cave in.


    He stopped himself from reaching for his daggers. Sophie presented less of a threat than any of the others in Holy Empire. It was likely that she didn¡¯t even know that he existed. He had changed his in-game name and appearance.


    His old avatar, while in Holy Empire, had had short blonde hair, flawless pale skin and sky-blue eyes. Azrael had darker skin, gold eyes and wavy black hair. There was no similarity between the two in that regard.


    It was highly likely that Sophie had been sent out here for the dragon. Even if it was punishment for her, a dragon presented the possibility of rare and powerful materials. Even punishment had a purpose, and once they knew where they could find the dragon it would be little problem to raise an army and subjugate it.


    The mountains would present a logistical nightmare, but magic could solve many problems. That and money. Melissa had nothing if not money.


    Azrael sighed. He would get there when he got there. Letting the fire die down, he prepared to sleep.

 Chapter 67

    Sophie woke up, her entire body sore from the night¡¯s sleep on the hard stone ground.


    Previously while traveling they had used branches that they¡¯d broken off of trees and bushes as padding, creating an acceptable mattress. Here in this gorge barely anything grew and that which did was more gnarled wood than leaves.


    Stretching she rose and turned to Sam. Seriously! Did that guy never sleep?


    She smiled at him ¡°Morning¡±.


    He ignored her and rose, walking out of the cave. She really couldn¡¯t get a read on him.


    First, he barely talks, then he initiates a conversation and now he wouldn¡¯t even answer her. There had to be a bug in the program. There was no way someone as weird and messed up as him could exist in reality.


    Squashing her irritation, she rose. One of the positives of being a [Prioress of Purity] was a passive cleanliness buff, meaning that she never had to brush her hair. Beyond really extreme situations, it stayed soft, clean and silky.


    Outside of the cave Sam was already working his magic on the path, straightening and strengthening it. She¡¯d once breached the topic, curious, but he¡¯d just answered ¡°Just do.¡± How do you ¡®just do¡¯ something that breaks common sense. It didn¡¯t work that way!


    She realised that she¡¯d gotten annoyed again and regained her calm fa?ade. She was a member of Holy Empire¡¯s main team. It was not good to get worked up on something so trivial. Her management team would scold her again if she didn¡¯t keep an elegant face in the game recordings. She felt her fingers clench. But he was so infuriating!


    A rock clattering down from the top of the cliff caught her attention and it was quickly followed by another and then a second and a third.


    A veritable rockslide was soon tumbling down the cliff, smashing bits of the path to pieces on their way down to the raging torrent below. Nothing lasts for ever and eventually, it stopped.


    When the dust began to clear she saw a large boulder blocking their path forward. Half of the path in front of them had been worn smashed to nothingness. Sam was already working on repairing the path when she saw the boulder move.


    Thinking that it was about to fall towards him, she called out and simultaneously pulled him backwards, where he landed with an undignified squawk. If it weren¡¯t for the situation, she might have laughed. Instead, she jumped over him, landing between him and the boulder.


    Using almost all of her remaining mana she conjured a strong wind to push it in the other direction. It toppled backwards. Before righting itself and standing up on two legs. She watched, unable to understand what was going on when Sam called out.


    ¡°Mountain Goat¡±


    ***


    Azrael narrowly avoided the rockslide, jumping back and watching as it erased the path ahead of them. Eventually though it stopped and he went to repair the almost non-existent remains of the path.


    All of a sudden Sophie called out, yanking him back. Caught off guard, he toppled backwards, landing on the ground, hard. Sophie ignored him, jumping over him and conjuring a massive gust of wind.


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    It pushed back the boulder¡­ no, not boulder he realised as he used [Lord¡¯s Insight] to identify the small-car sized object.


    <table>


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    Mountain Goat


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    ¡°Mountain Goat¡± he called out in warning. At the same time, it charged.


    The goat cleared the gap in the path with ease, using the smallest of foot holds to propel its bulk forward. Azrael could only watch as it sped towards them. Sophie stood closest to it, visibly spent from the magic feat she had just performed. She was too far away and the goat too fast. Azrael made a decision.


    Pushing his three highest levelled skills to the limit Azrael used [Mana Control], [Mana Manipulation] and [Stone Shaping] simultaneously to force a human sized hole to appear in the cliffside. He saw Sophie jump up, using a little wind to help propel her ascent.


    She sailed up, aiming to land behind the mountain goat. It wasn¡¯t enough.


    One of the horns clipped her foot as she sailed by, sending her tumbling through the air, off course. He barely managed to squeeze out of the mountain goat¡¯s way before it thundered past with all the speed of a juggernaut and about just as much finesse.


    Letting the dust clear, he saw the mountain goat skid to a halt, jump to the other cliffside and somehow find a foot hold and rebound, before charging towards him again. In a single desperate move, he summoned a massive [Earth Spike]. The goat collided with the spike and he placed [Reinforcement] on it as it threatened to crack. The sheer force and mass of the car sized goat caused spiderweb cracks to continue down the reinforced [Stone Spike]. Azrael knew that it wouldn¡¯t hold, but refused to let the goat go any further. This was where he stood and this was where he was going. To. STAY!


    Forcing as much mana as he could, Azrael overcharged [Reinforcement] and the cracks stopped spiderwebbing their way down. A blue screen popped up.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For increasing a skills¡¯ output by increasing the mana you have gained the skill [Overcharge]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Overcharge]


    If power doesn¡¯t solve a problem, add more.


    By increasing the mana input you can increase a spell¡¯s output. Mana to output efficiency decreases with increasing mana.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He ignored it.


    In the end both Azrael and the goat slumped down, despite neither having moved in the last few moments. Azrael exhausted, the goat dead. It had impaled itself of the [Stone Spike], sealing its own demise.


    Azrael felt his entire body relax and he began to laugh. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but he just did. It was like it was the only thing that made sense. Laughing. At least nobody was here to hear¡­ His laughter caught in his throat and he scrabbled up, looking for Sophie. The path was empty. She was nowhere to be seen.


    Had she run off, leaving him to die? No. There was nowhere to go. She couldn¡¯t have climbed up and the only other way to go was. He looked down.


    Sophie hung dangling on an extended root. He knuckles were white from the strain and even as he watched she slipped a little bit further down the root. She hadn¡¯t noticed him yet. She was looking down and flutily trying to find a foothold. He looked at her. It would be so easy to kill her now. Cut the root before she looked up and she would never know that he¡¯d been there. It was so¡­ so¡­ so what the others in Holy Empire would do.


    ¡°Here¡± he called, offering her a hand. Sophie looked up, her face strained. She tried lifting her free arm up to reach him but was too low. Her hand slipped a little bit more.


    With worry and exertion etched into her every feature she began to swing herself from side to side. Each swing caused her grip to slip perilously further, but she continued. With a final swing she used all of her force to simultaneously pull herself up the root and at the same time reach out. Their fingers touched.


    And they slipped through. Azrael could only watch as Sophie fell and vanished into the raging torrents below. He stared at the spot where she had vanished. Well, that was unfortunate.


    It really was.


    He¡¯d wanted to have a look at that artifact.

 Chapter 68

    Azrael looked down, into the rushing waters.


    ¡°Do you think she will survive?¡± He asked Sera.


    ¡°I doubt it.¡±


    ¡°Well damn¡± He sighed ¡°She made me think so much, for nothing.¡±


    ¡°At least you know to be on guard¡± She replied ¡°Do you think we should expect any trouble?¡±


    Azrael stood up ¡°I doubt it. She should think that I was an ordinary NPC. Also, it was the mountain goat that put her into that position, not me. I even tried to help her!¡±


    ¡°No need to sound so defensive.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°You are.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°You still planning to go after the dragon?¡±


    Azrael looked at the collapsed path and the looming mountains behind it. Without a companion, and possible dragon snack, the endeavour was already looking much riskier.


    ¡°No¡±


    ¡°But you put all this time into getting here!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but we don¡¯t know exactly where the dragon¡¯s lair is and what to expect. There could be hundreds of obstacles between here and there. Realistically, you would need a fully mounted expedition to stay on the safe side. Look, even with the amount that we¡¯ve been traveling plus Sophie¡¯s wind boost spells, we haven¡¯t seen anything that looks remotely like a dragon¡¯s lair. We don¡¯t even know when this gorge ends.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re just going to leave it like that?¡±


    He grinned wryly at her.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you meant to be my voice of reason?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Do you want me to be?¡±


    ¡°No, all good. Let¡¯s go home.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a long way back.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not getting any shorter¡±.


    Sera was right, it was a long way back. Even traveling at his fastest pace, he barely managed to reach the pace that he had with Sophie. He took the travel time to chat with Sera, but there was still an annoyingly large distance to traverse.


    In the end he decided to test his luck once more with [Elemental Mana], hoping to gain access to a wind. He hoped that he could then use a wind based speed boost, similar to how Sophie had used, to speed up his travels.


    Seeing how useful the different elemental categories were he beat felt like beating himself up for not experimenting with them sooner. There was no use crying over spilt milk though. He would just have to make the best of the situation now.


    Settling into a seated position under one of his makeshift stone tents, he let his thoughts fade, until all that was left was his breathing. Once more he was conscious of his breath, of how it moved through his nose and lungs.


    He could feel his blood, moving through his body and his muscles, tired from the day¡¯s travel. [Meditation] made him acutely aware of his body¡¯s condition, including the mana in his core. What had once been a pitifully small star had now expanded into a decently blazing sun.


    Drawing a thread from his mana pool. He took it through the movements, as he played with it a bit. He enjoyed the feeling of control. Under his administrations his mana took on various forms, becoming first a sphere, then a bolt, before bursting into flames, like last time.


    Without dismissing it he then reverted it back to a pure mana state before changing it into earth, and finally water. While he still had to continuously feed small amounts of mana into the external construct, he marvelled at how much control he now had, compared to when he started. Very little was wasted, held in control under his firm grip.


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    Playing around he let an [Earth Dagger] flow into a [Water Whip], before reverting it into a plain sphere of mana hovering over his hand.


    Wind. What was wind? Air? Gas? All the other elements had been easier. Raging fire, solid earth and flowing water were all easier to envisage. Air was¡­ nothing, but not. Using his free hand, he rubbed his head in frustration. Why was it so difficult?!?!?


    You could watch fire burn.You could feel the heat and hear the cracking of the flames. Earth and water were much the same. Earth you could feel, see, touch and even smell. Water you could see and feel as well. Air¡­ Air you could feel, but only if there was a breeze. You couldn¡¯t see it, you couldn¡¯t feel it and it might as well as not exist.


    What if he could sense it? Due to [Mana Sense] he knew that there was mana in the air. If he could sense that, then maybe, maybe he could do it.


    Pulling several threads of mana from his core Azrael began to try something that he¡¯d never done before. He tried to actively dispers his mana.


    Azrael had always controlled his mana, forming it into constructs. He had never tried controlling it, without controlling it, by dispersing it into his environment.


    Releasing his mana, he pushed [Mana Sense] to the maximum of its abilities. His sensed his mana disperse into the air, becoming fainter and fainter. He could feel the natural mana in the air, but the two types of mana didn¡¯t mix. His only continued to disperse, until he couldn¡¯t differentiate it from all the natural mana. Once it was out of his control he couldn¡¯t even reel it back to him like a¡­ like a fisherman!


    Drawing many threads from his core Azrael began weaving them together into a rudimentary net. Many places warped, trying to re-join with each other, but he forced them apart. Then, when he thought he was ready he cast his mana net.


    The net passed through the metaphorical air, touching strands of natural mana. For a moment Azrael thought he could feel something in the air, moving on the currents, but then his mana net collapsed, ripping holes into itself as parts of it tried to join back together. What he was left with was a mess of wasted mana.


    He reeled it in, the threads happily joining together into a singular mass. Annoyed, he blasted the entirety of the regathered mana out, as an unfocused mana blast. The mana had no structure, only force and dispersed in every direction. Some rebounded off nearby objects returning to him. It was such a shock to feel something invisible hit him, that he actually fell backwards from his seated position.


    What had¡­? Had he? What was?


    A hundred thoughts raced through his head as he toppled backwards. But past all that he realised he¡¯d touched¡­ something.


    Blasting a bit of mana out from himself he waited, but nothing happened. Had he been mistaken? No. There had definitely been something. He glanced at his MP. It was a little under half full. The mana net had taken a lot out of his reserves to fashion.


    Drawing out as much as he felt was safe, he let it blast out in every direction.


    There! He felt it. There was something. Something had reacted to his mana.


    Crawling outside he checked the place that his mana had given him a signal and found a bird taking off in flight. At that very moment a blue screen popped up in his vision.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    By discovering a new application of mana you have gained the skill [Search]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Search


    He who sees with eyes alone is truly blind.


    You are able to discover items, objects and creatures containing mana, or traces of mana.


    Distance increases with level.


    Is slightly hindered by mundane mass.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    It was only a few days after this achievement when Azrael managed to gain access to [Air] magic. Of all the elements this one had taken him the longest to understand. The notifications that had accompanied his success had been a pleasant surprise.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through a new understanding of mana you have progressed the unique skill [Elemental Mana].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Elemental Mana]


    There is a truth that even nature obeys.


    You may grant your mana an elemental affinity.


    Current Affinities: [Fire], [Earth], [Water], [Air].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For successfully harnessing the four basic elements you have gained a level in ¡®Sorcerer¡¯ INT+1 WIS+3 END+1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Air also had currents, like water, but these only flowed in one direction. This meant that he found them harder to control, as he had to force his mana to constantly flow in a singular direction.


    Despite the notification congratulating him for ¡®successfully¡¯ harnessing the four elements, he still had trouble with [Air].


    Many times, he ended up creating [Water] instead of [Air], which was a pain. Especially when he tried to boost his movement speed using small vortexes of air under his feet, but he ended up with wet boots instead.


    The spell itself was also not very cost effective and had a distinctively higher channelling time than his other spells, however he still sped homewards with good time.


    Azrael looked forward to sleeping in his own bed.

 Interview with Az

    A masked presenter with a black and white suit stood in a talk show room. He raised his mic and addressed the invisible crowd.


    ¡°Ladies and jellybeans, boys and gorillas, welcome to the very first episode of ¡®Interviews with Az! Today I¡¯ll be hacking your story to bring you more for less. This broadcast is sponsored by the author and brought to you by yours truly, all for the small price of $0.00. That¡¯s right, $0.00. What a bargain!¡±


    The presenter grinned, before extending a hand towards an empty chair.


    ¡°Today we will have a range of guests on our show, answering questions from¡­¡±


    A drumroll began to play.


    ¡°¡­From you! That¡¯s right. We¡¯re here to answer questions from you! Not to worry though, all guests have been completely brainwashed tonight, so they won¡¯t remember a thing. Don¡¯t worry. Nobody was harmed in the making of this show. Now, lets begin by bringing in our very first guest, who is none other than the man behind Azrael himself. Ladies and gents, a round of applause.¡±


    The lights shift to the side of the stage, and Kade stumbled in, confused. The presenter turns to greet him and leads him to a seat.


    ¡°Welcome Kade, or do you want me to call you Azrael, can I call you Az, or Rael, or maybe Real As? Sounds a bit like ¡®Real Abs¡¯. Haha, do you Real¡¯As what I did there? Sorry. Anyways, we have our first question of the show. You keep naming your characters from the bible, are you religious?


    ¡°Uh¡­ Well¡­ not actually. I mean, I like the values that religion has, like love your neighbour and be kind and helpful and good karma and stuff like, but I don¡¯t believe in some guys up in the sky looking down and lording over people.¡±


    ¡°So, what about Cain and Azrael and Seraphim?¡±


    ¡°Well, sure Cain appears in the bible, but it means ¡®trouble¡¯ in old English. It was the name that my best friend gave me when we played together. He would always say ¡®You¡¯re trouble¡¯. Or when I came running he¡¯d always say ¡°Oh, here comes trouble¡±. I took the name as a joke and it sort of stuck after that.¡±


    ¡°Interesting, so what about Azrael and Seraphim?¡±


    ¡°Well, I chose Azrael because I kinda liked the symbolism of the name and all that. Phoenix would have been another choice, but it doesn¡¯t have that coolness that Azrael has. It¡¯s edgy. As to Sera¡¯s name¡­ well¡­ I was under a bit of pressure and I didn¡¯t want to call her Angel or Cherub.¡±


    ¡°Fascinating, fascinating. So, it was all just a big coincidence. What about before you had Cain as your name? You said your friend Samson gave it to you while you played. Obviously, you would have had to have a name before then, right. What was it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I had one. I never actually played a VR game before Samson brought me in, so I used Cain for every game after my first.¡±


    ¡°I see, but you avoided the question. What was your first username in a game?¡±


    ¡°It was ¡®The_Dar¡­¡±


    ¡°Pardon? We had a little difficulty hearing that.¡±


    ¡°I said it was ¡®The_Dar¡­¡±


    ¡°Sorry, one more time¡±


    ¡°I SAID THE_DARKLORD69.¡±


    ¡°Ok, ok, no need to get you undies in a twist. We all have dark pasts, there¡¯s nothing to be afraid of. Nobody¡¯s judging you. Just don¡¯t look in my closet. Ha ha he... Anyhow, we do have to be mindful of time, so it¡¯ll be on to the next question. Many readers were wondering why you play so unprofessionally? Afterall, you were in Holy Empire for, what, nearly five years?


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    ¡°Four and a half, but yeah, close enough.¡±


    ¡°So, what do you have to say on that topic?¡±


    ¡°Firstly, I was never technically a part of ¡®the team¡¯. Yes, for all intents and purposes I had a contract and was on the team, but was never properly a part of the team. At the time when they scouted me they had lost their [Mage], so they needed a fill in. Ignore the fact that I had never played a caster or long-range class before that. At the time, in the game that they were in, they were losing a lot of publicity. The PR and Advertising teams were pushing for something fresh and new in the team, that would keep people interested. I fit the bill. At that time I was a rookie with no formal training, but well enough known on the internet. This meant they could basically sell the fact that they were hiring talent regardless of station. This kept fans and aspiring gamers interested. Some of my in-game stunts and exploits had made it pretty big of the internet, so they hired me to keep the advertising and marketing companies interested as well. I was never actually hired for my skills. The fact that I had at the time, passable, combat skills was a bonus. Not that that helped much. They stuck me in a [Mage] roll, which meant that quite often I couldn¡¯t use my combat skills. Even then I was kept on the shelf, except for large scale battles, or other planned stages¡±


    ¡°So, you were basically there for marketing?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Pretty much. I was brought out for aired raids and boss fights, but in general I was either ignored, or sent on endless fetch quests. I was never allowed to do presentations outside of game either. It was part of the contrac¡­ ¡±


    ¡°You mentioned pointless quests earlier in the story, when you met Sophie, could you elaborate a bit more on that?¡±


    ¡°Sure, well¡­ uh. Melissa got jealous very easily. The entire guild is basically ego fuel. During raids she was the star, keeping everyone alive. However, occasionally I would get praise from the advertising guys, because I occasionally mixed magic with close combat or self-crafted items. Without the spotlight on her she would then send me on quests and guarantee herself the lime light . This meant that I occasionally missed raids or other battles. Sophie was probably in a similar position to the me at the time.¡±


    The presenter looked down at the cartoon figure watch on his watch and gave a low whistle.


    ¡°Oh! how time flies and we still have two more interviewees. Thank you Kade, lovely to have you on the show. I hope we get another chance to chat, but on to the next person ¨C Sera. Sera, there have been a few people speculating about you, why you changed from a secretary to a little girl. We all know that you claim that it was to help Kade settle in, but we would like to ask you what you think about that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, hello, well actually, I can¡¯t say very much as I¡¯m bound by a privacy agreement. However, I can say that our task is to take the form that our player feels they are most comfortable with. While Kade was still in need of some, and dare I say it serious, guidance I took the form of a secretary, now I¡¯m a little sister type, ¡­ well, I¡¯ll let you guys speculate the rest.¡±


    ¡°I see, thank you. Now we have a few more questions for you actually, but we¡¯re running out of time, so I¡¯ll ask the most important one. We might have missed it, but how does respawning work?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s an easy one. It¡¯s even in the game manual. So, once you die you use up a life token. Generally, each player only has three. You can get bonus ones through other challenging methods. When you die you use up one of the tokens, if you don¡¯t have anymore, then you¡¯ll have to start a new character from scratch.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, that¡¯s harsh.¡±


    ¡°Very, but the designers wanted to put an emphasis on valuing life and rewarding people who overcame great challenges. Then, when one of your tokens are used up you respawn in the last place that you slept, which you designated as ¡®safe¡¯. This doesn¡¯t always mean the last place you slept, but the last place you felt safe in which you slept. That can mean that you travelled a month, but you only felt safe in that one inn in the city two weeks back. Or, if that place were under siege the game would designate it as ¡®unsafe¡¯ and either respawn you at the closest possible ¡®safe¡¯ location, or the last other place you felt safe. This was done to avoid spawn camping.¡±


    ¡°Interesting. Thank you. We still have a few questions for you, however, unfortunately, we have to move on to our last guest speaker for the show. Nord¡¯s come on out. Welcome, Nords. It¡¯s good to have you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good to be here.¡±


    ¡°So, Nords. We had a question we were curious about that we were hoping you could answer. Why Free Sheep as your guild name? Why not the Roaming Tigers or Wild Wolves?¡±


    Nord¡¯s scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.


    ¡°Uh, Actually¡­¡± Nords looked up suspiciously ¡°You won¡¯t tell anyone will you? It¡¯s kinda embarrassing.¡±


    ¡°Not a soul.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. The name came about by accident actually, while I was on my way to some friends for a drink. I was driving by some fields, after a day at work and I saw this group of sheep in the field. They were just sitting there, carefree and going about their day and there I was, trapped in my everyday life. That evening, while I was drinking with my friends they were talking about this new game coming out and I mentioned how nice it would be to live like those sheep, carefree, without a worry. We were all so drunk at that time, but somehow, we all agreed to make a guild together. None of us remembered who suggested the name, but somehow the name stuck. So, we became the Free Sheep.¡±


    ¡°A fantastic story! Unfortunately, that¡¯s the end of our time today, however I wish you two both the very best in the game and we¡¯ll see you all next time!¡±

 Chapter 69

    Azrael travelled homewards in record time, his physical speed coupled with wind spells carrying him at an amazing pace.


    Of course, his mana pool wasn¡¯t large enough to support his continuous use of mana, but [Meditation] proved invaluable, in restoring lost mana and stamina as he travelled. He even tried using [Search] when he had time, his newest skill proving to be a handy addition to his skillset.


    [Search] allowed him to feel the magical signatures of creatures, from birds to boars. Although, he still had trouble reading the incoming signals. He could differentiate between larger and smaller bodies, but still had trouble with calculating the exact distance or animal species. It helped in hunts and in avoiding unnecessary fights.


    Coming to the end of the journey Azrael began to hear the familiar rumble of the waterfall around afternoon. He smiled. It was like coming home after a long trip. [Lord¡¯s Domain] also welcomed him back, having cut out after several days when he originally travelled away with Sophie. It seemed that it didn¡¯t recognise him as owning all of the forest, just the valley and surrounds.


    A snapping twig alerted him to a presence, and he barely made managed to avoid a person soaring through the air for a flying hug. Alena landed on the ground with an audible umpf. He looked at her, first perplexed, then amused.


    ¡°Miss me?¡± he asked.


    Alena just rubbed her head sullenly.


    ¡°No¡± she signed.


    He smiled.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you too¡± he said ruffling her hair.


    It seemed Alena had noticed him coming back, probably due to their soul-link. As he¡¯d gotten closer their soul-link had strengthened again. He¡¯d noticed it too.


    When he¡¯d originally set out with Sophie and travelled away, their soul link became strained with over the increasing distance. He could still feel general things, like that she was well, but emotions had become muted.


    Alena got up and begun tugging his sleeve, dragging him towards the village. There was a silent sort of urgency in her actions and he followed her unquestioningly. As it turned out, he was a lot closer than he¡¯d thought.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Cairn greeted him, rushing up to him and giving him a big hug.


    ¡°My Lord!¡± he sniffled.


    Azrael froze. What was wrong? Had somebody died. He did a head count. No, everyone was alive.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he asked, extricating himself from Cairn¡¯s embrace.


    ¡°You¡¯re alive¡± Cairn said with relief.


    Azrael looked at Hugh for an explanation. Hugh bowed.


    ¡°Forgive him. The fox lady, Sophie, returned nearly two weeks ago without you. She claimed that you had both encountered danger and that she wasn¡¯t sure that you had survived. Cairn has been worrying ever since. Everyone has. I believe Alena was the only one who did not doubt that you would return.¡± Hugh explained.


    Azrael let out a sigh of relief, thinking that it had been something serious. It seemed that Sophie had respawned in the players¡¯ village and come visiting the village. The fact that she thought he was dead was probably a blessing in disguise. She would be unlikely to pursue him for letting her fall to her death.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m back¡± he said with a smile.


    Hugh bowed again.


    ¡°Welcome back Lord Azrael¡±


    The rest of the villagers also expressed their joy at his return, ladening him with gifts. Gifts that he didn¡¯t actually need. There was only one that really caught his attention. It was a crudely carved wooden board with a light rune etched into it. It was almost correct, with only one line being slightly off. He looked at the giver. It was the young boy, one of the two children, he¡¯d gifted a magic spinning top to.


    As it turned out the young boy, Kalen, had been so fascinated with the runes that he¡¯d borrowed Alena¡¯s hand torch to look at the rune. Although he had yet to find a way to activate it without mana he¡¯d almost perfectly copied the rune. Azrael decide to return the gift, by granting him several stone plates with lesser runes and their names. Kalen and his family had been beyond words.


    The fact that it hadn¡¯t even taken him two minutes to make what they might now consider a family heirloom made him feel kind of bad, but he figured the boy deserved something for his effort.


    Leaving the village, he left most of the gifts for Alena to carry. He wanted to get home as soon as he could. Despite the early hour he couldn¡¯t wait to fall into bed. He¡¯d missed his bed.


    It was nothing compared to a spring mattress in the real world, but it was better than sleeping on the forest floor for over a month.


    Pushing open the door he took in the interior of his house. He¡¯d missed the feel of smooth polished floors on bare feet, the feeling of using proper equipment to cook and sitting at a proper table to eat.


    A young man dressed in motley clothing sat at his table. The person¡¯s lips curled into a smile, revealing pearly teeth. Azrael blinked and the figure vanished, leaving him alone in his house. Alena came up from behind him, ladened down with all the gifts and Azrael moved into the house, making way for her. He must be more tired than he¡¯d originally thought.


    Cutting a slice of bread he smeared it with butter, before placing on a slice of cheese. Munching on it he bid Alena good night. If he was so tired that he was now imagining people, he probably really needed that sleep.


    Kicking off his shoes Azrael untied his daggers from his waist, before dropping onto his bed. He was out before his head hit the pillow.

 Chapter 70

    Azrael opened his eyes, to find himself floating in a dark and endless void. However, unlike last time, this one was filled with countless stars and swirling galaxies. He felt as if he was floating in the heart of the cosmos.


    Despite the vastness of the space, he found himself in, it was not static. Everywhere he looked there was movement on unimaginable scales.


    Great galaxies swirled together, passing through each other, while stars collided in impossibly massive fusions of energy. Black holes feasted on solar systems, the individual celestial bodies being sacrificed to an inexorable doom. Worlds collided, the planets fracturing and wiping out all life in the blink of an eye.


    Yet, even as he watched, new stars blossomed into existence, born from the ashes of ancient solar giants and long gone galaxies.


    Meteors and space dust merged, being pulled together to form new celestial bodies, under the influence of new gravitational fields.


    Change, destruction and rebirth happened continuously and constantly, at a cosmic scale unfathomable to the human mind. The energies of these phenomena ripped through Azrael, despite their epicenters being several thousand light years away. He had never felt smaller or more insignificant than at that moment. At the same time he was both humbled and proud to be able to bear witness to such vast cosmic power.


    A polite cough drew him out from his stargazing and Azrael¡¯s eyes fell on a single individual dressed in an assortment of motley clothing. The individual in question was seated at an antique table sipping tea from a small porcelain cup.


    The image was only made more bizarre when Azrael realised that the person¡¯s face was constantly shifting, as if unable to settle on a single appearance.


    One moment they were an innocent young lad with blue eyes and brown hair, the next a lady with flaming locks of red. Even the clothes seemed to subtly shift, changing in accordance with their appearance. The only thing that stayed the same were the eyes. They were blue and twinkled with irrepressible humour, like a bubbling spring in sunshine.


    The person lifted up a cup.


    ¡°Care for a cup of tea?¡± asked a blue-eyed old man with a beard.


    ¡°It¡¯s quite good¡± said the little girl, as the same beard vanished from her face.


    Azrael was left speechless, his mind having a hard time comprehending things.


    ¡°Cat got your tongue?¡± asked the figure, growing cat ears and changing into a cat kin. It laughed at its own joke.


    Azrael¡¯s hand went to his hip, searching for his daggers. They found empty air. He looked down. He was barefooted and dressed only in the clothes that he had on when he¡¯d gone to bed. His daggers were nowhere to be found. Right. He¡¯d taken them off.


    Looking at the space around him Azrael tried to rationalise. This was a dream right? This had to be a dream. He tried summoning his [Status], only for it to fail. Definitely a dream. Either that or mind magic.


    But if it wasn¡¯t a dream, then it begged the question, was who was this person in front of him and why were they here? Had Sophie manage to somehow break her oath? No, she thought he was dead. Why the elaborate set up then? The galaxies, the table floating in deep space, it made no sense. Mental attack or illusion? Azrael realised that just thinking about it wasn¡¯t going to get him any answers.


    ¡°Who are you¡± Azrael asked. ¡°What do you want? What did you do to me? Where am I?


    The figure only laughed. Azrael bristled. Should he try to force answers out of this person?


    Something told him that that would be a very bad idea. He wasn¡¯t sure what made him think so, but he stayed where he was, cautiously watching the figure.


    Eventually though the figure stopped laughing, wiping tears of mirth out of its eyes.


    ¡°Ah¡± it sighed ¡°That¡¯s why I love mortals. Although, you¡¯re the first of your kind that I¡¯ve spoken to.¡±


    Azrael debated internally before asking ¡°My kind?¡±


    ¡°Travellers, Chosen, Adventurers, whatever you want to call yourselves. You who are not from this world.¡±


    Azrael felt himself pale as things started to click into place.


    Who¡­ No. If he was right, then whatever this person was, they were far more dangerous than anything Azrael had encountered. The dragon included.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Now that Azrael was aware what he was up against he knew what to look for. He could feel it now.


    The figure was surrounded by an aura of absolute power and dominance, so vast that he hadn¡¯t noticed it at first, but unmistakably there, exerting power on the surrounding space. Mana, space, bits of reality and even the remnant forces of the dying galaxies, all bowed their heads to this figure.


    The aura was being suppressed with a godly level of skill, but Azrael could still feel it, in the way it interacted with the world around them. The table, chair and teacup were all directly manifested through the person¡¯s power. Azrael had a sinking feeling in his stomach.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked again, hoping to be proven wrong.


    The figure finally seemed to settle on a face and Azrael found the mischievous blue eyes twinkling at him from under a mop of messy orange hair. The figure raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve guessed it by now.¡±


    Azrael swallowed.


    ¡°You¡¯re a god¡± he whispered.


    The figure clapped excitedly.


    ¡°Marvellous!¡± they exclaimed, as if he had just deciphered the world¡¯s greatest secret.


    Azrael took a step back, startled. Despite being a god, they were clearly not right in the head. Should he try to run? He could¡­ he looked out into the cosmic void. There was nowhere to escape to. He might as well stay and hope to get some answers.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked for the third time, resigned.


    The god didn¡¯t seem to notice his resignation.


    ¡°Ah! It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve been asked that question, I¡¯d almost given up hope. Finally! My name is¡­¡± The god strangled to a sudden stop, as if an invisible force was choking him.


    The teacup fell from the god¡¯s fingers and shattered on the table, as he clutched his throat. His fingers scrabbled around, as if to catch an invisible binding.


    A brief moment later, the god removed his hands and gasped for breath. He muttered something under his breath, which Azrael barely caught.


    ¡° ¡­rules¡±


    The god picked himself up and smiled at Azrael.


    ¡°Restrictions¡± he explained to Azrael, while rubbing his throat ¡°Can¡¯t have gods cause too much chaos in the mortal realms. Knowledge is power and all that stuff. And to know a name is to know a person.¡±


    Azrael watched him silently and the god chuckled again.


    ¡°No need to look so surprised. Even gods have to acknowledge higher powers.¡±


    Azrael just stared blankly as the being that claimed to be a god spoke to him. Rules? Restrictions? Higher powers? What was a god if not the highest power? Too much was happening with too little explanation.


    The god walked up to him and gave a small bow, while holding out his hand.


    ¡°Trickster¡± he said. ¡°God of Mischief, patron of thieves, jesters and mischief makers.¡±


    Azrael shook the Trickster¡¯s hand reflexively, before quickly pulling back.


    The briefest of touches was enough to cause his bones to shake and his hair to stand on end. The sheer amount of raw power being contained in the god¡¯s vessel was overwhelming, even in a supressed state.


    If there were higher powers Azrael hoped to never encounter them. The Trickster¡¯s aura was starting to weigh on him. Just an ordinary dragon was enough for him. He turned to the Trickster, realising that he¡¯d missed what the god had just said.


    ¡°Pardon?¡± he asked.


    The Trickster sighed, repeating what he¡¯d just said.


    ¡°I said I¡¯ve been meaning to meet you for a while. That system you made. Beautiful! Oh, the divine realm hasn¡¯t been in such an uproar in centuries! All those gods¡± He smiled reliving the memory, before looking at Azrael conspiratorially. ¡°Chaos, chaos I tell you¡±.


    He wiped a mirthful tear from his eye, laughing.


    ¡°Heavens above. At that moment I knew that I had to meet you right there and then. You caused so much chaos by accident, I¡¯d love to see what you would come up with if you tried.¡±


    Azrael ignored that last statement.


    ¡°Why here, why now?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Well, I would have liked to meet you earlier, but like I said, gods have rules too. What you see in front of you is currently a projection of myself. I haven¡¯t been able to manifest myself properly in the mortal realms for.. ah.. since the¡­ what did you mortals call it again? The Fall? No. The Ending? Yes! The Ending! Terrible thing really. All the mana, *POOF*, gone, just like that!¡± The god made a little hand gesture to show all the mana just vanishing ¡°There are some things that were never meant to be tampered with. Even my pranks would never go so far.¡±


    Though Azrael felt very lost, he suddenly had an intense feeling of worry crawl up his spine.


    What sort of god was this Trickster that he considered wiping half the world off the map a prank gone too far? If this was a god, a supposed ¡®holy¡¯ deity, then what were the demons and devils like in this world? Where there even any? He tuned back in, to what the Trickster was saying.


    ¡°Without mana we aren¡¯t able to manifest. It would have taken a few good centuries more before there would be enough natural mana to do that again on the smallest scale. Even with you Travellers arriving and accelerating the natural process, I would have still had to wait at least another year or so at the current pace, before I could manifest.¡±


    ¡°Wait? Before we came? What did we change?¡±


    The god ignored him.


    ¡°But then you built that dome of yours. So interesting, yet so flimsy. Ha! I bet none of the gods expected that either. The pure unintentional brilliance. You sped up a natural process that would have taken centuries into a few mere months. Months!¡±


    ¡°My dome? I did?... What?!?¡±


    ¡°Ah, don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s nothing bad. Your runic array created a highly dense field of natural mana, allowing me to manifest. I still had to borrow a fair bit of power, but it was enough for a foothold. I tried directly manifesting into your reality, but ultimately failed. When you arrived, your presence shifted the natural equilibrium.¡±


    Azrael was getting more and more confused the longer this conversation went on. He let his confusion wash over him, keeping a [Calm Mind]. In the end, there were only two questions that really mattered.


    ¡°Where are we and why am I here?¡±


    The Trickster looked at him, his face becoming serious in the span of a heartbeat. He turned to Azrael, staring straight into his soul. His eyes were deadly serious. The Trickster spoke in an authoritative tone.


    ¡°Azrael, Traveller of another world, I have been asked to act as an intermediary between you and another.¡±


    There was a subtle shift in the air. A thrum of power that he hadn¡¯t noticed before.


    ¡°You have been called into the presence of the Primordial of the Void, Keeper of Chaos.¡±

 Chapter 71

    ¡°¡­ the Primordial of the Void, Keeper of Chaos.¡±


    Azrael heard the Trickster finish his sentence, but didn¡¯t quite understand what he was saying.


    ¡°The Primord¡­¡±


    He suddenly found himself stopped midsentence. He couldn¡¯t continue. The pressure around him suddenly increased beyond mortal limits, as a presence made itself known. Azrael found himself flattened to the ground, forced down onto his knees. The pressure was too powerful to resist.


    Those greater powers the Trickster had spoken about, one of them was here.


    Around Azrael all the stars seemed to shift, while the laws of reality broke down. Meteors passed through each other, and colliding worlds began to reverse course, putting themselves back together as the reality around them fractured.


    The entire cosmos moved to accommodate the Primordial.


    Time and space warped, colliding, losing meaning, unravelling. Futures, pasts and presents all happened at the same time.


    He saw it all and recognised the place for what it was. Not space, not chaos, but possibilities, potentials: all of it, all at once. Everything that was, is and could have been all converged at this single point.


    It was only when he felt the gaze on him, forcing him down further that he realised the truth. The cosmos wasn¡¯t moving for the Primordial. The cosmos was the Primordial.


    The last thing he saw, before his head was forced down, was two eyes torn into reality itself, both brighter than the brightest supernova and at the same time darker than the darkest corner of deep space. The Void addressed him.


    ¡°Child¡­ of man¡±


    It was a voice that was not meant for mortal ears and Azrael could feel it driving through him, tearing at his very existence. It was both the deep thrum of the empty void and the discordant twinkling of a million stars. It spoke not with words, but with pure intent. Intent of a primordial, which was focused solely on him.


    Azrael would have screamed if his lungs hadn¡¯t been crushed under the pressure of the gaze. In those three words, a thousand worlds were torn apart and a million stars vanished in a breath.  Hell froze and heaven burned. Azrael suffered with them.


    ¡°I wish¡­ I wish¡­¡±


    The primordial struggled to express its intent in mortal words, but Azrael barely noticed. He felt his body getting torn to a million pieces, as the space around him warped and shredded his very existence.


    He could feel the entirety of everything bearing down on him, crushing him, but at the same time he was weightless, floating in countless pieces. Mana, time, space, they all flowed through him, threatening to unravel what remained of him. His mind started to fracture from the strain.


    ¡°I wish to choose you.¡±


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    In a single moment a thousand new galaxies were born and billions of stars burst into existence. Azrael snapped back into his body and his mind shattered, like a mirror.


    He felt the pain of his body and the pressure on his back. It was as if nothing had changed, as if, for the most fleeting of moments he had not ceased to exist.


    Azrael gritted his teeth and leveraged his own meagre aura to briefly resist the extreme pressure he found himself under. He forced himself to speak, fighting forces beyond his ken or comprehension.


    ¡°To choose me?¡± he asked. If his body hadn¡¯t forgotten how to function he would have been in tears, screaming.


    He still didn¡¯t dare to look up, but he felt the Void look at him, once again breaking him into a million pieces that were scattered to the edges of existence. The Void simply watched on, before speaking one last word.


    ¡°Choose.¡±


    Azrael felt threads of fate and mana converge, endless possibilities, threatening to constrict him. It turned its gaze elsewhere, finding something, and Azrael found he could breath again.


    A hand gripped his shoulder, helping him up. It was the Trickster. After the sheer weight of countless worlds and endless timelines, the gods¡¯ power was barely a tingle in comparison.


    ¡°Choose? Choose what?¡± Azrael gasped questioningly.


    The god too seemed to have suffered, his clothing in disarray and his chair and table forcefully dispelled by the Void.


    The Trickster began to speak, carefully tasting each word, as if fearing punishment. He seemed to choose the simplest explanation.


    ¡°We¡­ gods¡­ and primordials have been tasked with a higher duty, but we cannot always be there, in your mortal realm.¡± He paused, choosing his words carefully, before continuing. ¡°Each higher being may choose advocates,¡­ champions, to herald and champion their cause. The stronger the higher being, the fewer champions they may elect. Even now, we are¡­ bending the rules. You¡¯ll need to find the¡­¡±


    He choked off, seemingly having overstepped some unknown bounds.


    ¡°You¡¯ll know when the time comes¡± he finished, gasping.


    ¡°But only if I choose, right?¡± Azrael asked.


    The Trickster nodded. Then, seemingly against his better judgement spoke out.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to choose to agree. You can always decline. If you do and you find the¡­¡± he paused, looking for a way to circumvent the restriction. ¡°¡­the place, I¡¯ll accept you as one of mine, if you wish. You would do well.¡±


    Seeing Azrael unconvinced he tried another way to try and convince him.


    ¡°Power comes at a price.¡±


    ¡°It always does. I¡¯ll pay it if I have to.¡±


    The god looked at the swirling galaxies of the void sadly.


    ¡°Sometimes, it¡¯s not a price that you can pay.¡±


    But Azrael didn¡¯t seem to hear him. He¡¯d already turned to face the starry expanses. He didn¡¯t know what this ¡®place¡¯ was, or what the price he might have to pay might be. He knew one thing though.


    ¡°I shall meet you there¡± he said.


    He could have whispered it into the endless expanse of space and he was sure that the Void would have still heard it.


    A rumble of agreement echoed through reality, striking him in the gut. It wasn¡¯t as bad as being under its direct attention, but he still fell to the ground, doubled over.


    The Trickster helped pick him up again.


    ¡°There¡¯s still time to change your mind¡± he said.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get there¡± replied Azrael. ¡°when we get there¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just lucky he only sent a fragment of himself to visit you.¡±


    Azrael turned to him aghast. ¡°That was only a fragment!¡±


    The Trickster nodded. ¡°There was¡­¡± He suddenly stopped midsentence.


    ¡°Restrictions¡± he groaned.


    Azrael waved a hand in understanding.


    ¡°It¡¯s ok.¡± He said ¡°but what now? Do I get to go home?¡±


    The Trickster rubbed his throat.


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯ll send you back now. The energy lent to me is starting to run out, as is the mana in your dome. We probably won¡¯t see each other for a while. At least until I¡¯m strong enough to borrow a...¡± He cut out again, with a pained look on his face. ¡°I¡¯ll send you back now.¡±


    The Trickster waved a hand across Azrael and Azrael began to fade from this plane of existence.


    ¡°How did you bring me here anyways?¡± Azrael asked as a final question.


    ¡°Dreams. The barriers between planes of existence get a little thinner then.¡±


    The god touched his shoulder one last time.


    ¡°May your paths be blessed¡± he said.


    Azrael just smiled back and watched the swirling galaxies fade like a dream.


    The last thing he heard before he woke was a muttered ¡°Ah, that¡¯s not good.¡±

 Chapter 72

    ¡°¡­not good.¡±


    Azrael gained consciousness, with the God of Mischief¡¯s last words still fresh in his mind. He felt something digging into his back and tried to grab it without opening his eyes. His hands found it. It was a stick. Why was there a stick in his bed?


    His eyes opened. He didn¡¯t have any plants in his room either. So, why were there leaves above him? Actually, what had happened to his roof? Beyond the leafy canopy above him, there was only blue sky.


    Azrael sat up and looked around. Where was his bed? Why was he on a forest floor? Which forest was he in anyways? Unlike the trees that surrounded the lake these were easily four or five times the size, stretching between 50 or 100 meters in height.


    Before he could start getting his bearings, far too many blue boxes flashed into his vision in rapid succession.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to surviving an encounter in the void you have gained the title ¡®Void Touched¡¯.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®Void Touched¡¯


    Those that have survived through the impossible can turn even the worst into a blessing.


    You are more likely to be positively affected by random effects of the void.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through having seen the flow of mana [Mana Sense] has evolved into [Mana Sight].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Mana Sight]


    Though you could not see it, you have learnt.


    You may now see the mana in the world around you.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to having been exposed to the void your skill [Stone Shaping] has mutated into [Void Shaping].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Void Shaping]


    Even the eternal, the infinite, the unbreakable and the impossible can change.


    By drawing on the power of the void you may exert influence to change the form of physical matter.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    By gaining the acknowledgment of the Trickster you have gained the title ¡®Blessed by Mischief¡¯


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®Blessed by Mischief¡¯


    Some have a natural talent for creating chaos.


    There is an increased chance that people will believe your disguises and deceptions.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Your title ¡®Sinner¡¯ has activated! Due to forging your own path a god¡¯s judgment has doubled.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    The Trickster rewards those who are unique and stray from the usual paths. Your title ¡®Blessed by Mischief¡¯ has become ¡®Trickster¡¯s Blessing¡¯.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®Trickster¡¯s Blessing¡¯


    Even the Trickster has favourites.


    People are more likely to believe your lies, deceits, disguises and deceptions.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Due to being exposed to an overpowering [Aura] and gaining an awareness of your own you have gained the unique skill [Aura].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to withstanding a greater [Aura] with your own your [Aura] has gained an aspect of Defiance.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to your skill [Intimidation] your skill [Aura] has gained an aspect of Intimidation.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to your class ¡®Lord¡¯ your skill [Aura] has gained an aspect of Authority.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Aura]


    Some kings wear their power as a cloak.


    Those around you will be affected by your aura. This effect increases the stronger you are.


    Current Additional Aspects:


    <u>Defiance:</u> You are more likely to resist negative status effects from stronger opponents


    <u>Intimidation:</u> Weaker opponents are more likely to fear you.


    <u>Authority:</u> You are more likely to be obeyed.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For enduring beyond mortal limits you have gained END+3.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For gazing at secrets not meant for mortals you have gained INT+3


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For comprehending knowledge not meant for mortals you have gained WIS+3


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through passing through the void and surviving alive you have gained the title ¡®Void Walker¡¯


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®Void Walker¡¯


    For those that have passed through the impossible, everything else is possible.


    Your soul and body are able to move through separated dimensional spaces, rifts, realms and magics without negative effect.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    An incomplete skill @*^$ !&#% has gained an awareness of Self and developed into the unique skill [@#%& Self]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Absolutely overwhelmed, Azrael opened his [Status] in the hopes of getting a clearer view on what he¡¯d just read through. It was all too much to process.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.4), Sorcerer (Lv.3), Lord (Lv.4)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human (97%)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 230/230


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 280/280


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 19


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 23


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 20


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 15


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 28


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 30


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}, {Teacher}, {Oath Maker}, {Void Touched}, {Trickster¡¯s Blessing}, {Void Walker}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana], [Aura], [@#%& Self].


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.15), Spear Arts (Lv.20), Mana Sight (Lv.23), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 26), Soul Sense (Lv.15), Mana Control (Lv.26), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 3), Stealth (Lv. 24), Calm Mind (Lv. 11) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 2), Lord¡¯s Insight (Lv. n/a), Leadership (Lv.6), Void Shaping (Lv. n/a), Reinforcement (Lv.13), Dagger Arts (Lv.22), Meditation (Lv.24), Mana Transfer (Lv.5), Craftsman¡¯s Eye (Lv.1), Intimidation (Lv.6), Overcharge (Lv.1), Search (Lv.8).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Even after looking at his entire [Status] he couldn¡¯t quite comprehend anything. The meeting with the Void primordial and the God of Mischief were still too prominent in his mind for him to try and think of anything else.


    Slowly he began sorting through the notifications. The first notification seemed to say it all; ¡®Void Touched¡¯. He could feel it. After being torn apart and put back together by the void, he had gained a finer sense for anything that had to do with him. This included such changes.


    The touch of the void seemed to slightly infuse his very being, as if it had stuck to him when he¡¯d been torn apart. It had changed him, becoming a part of him.


    He looked at his [Status] ¨C Race: Human (97%). He hadn¡¯t really paid much attention to this bar and the change scared him a little. He was sure that those missing 3% had either been taken, or changed by the void.


    He looked down at his body. He was still human, at least mostly, according to the status. He wondered if the change was a onetime thing, or if the percentage would continue to change.


    Cautiously dropping into [Meditation] he gave his body a quick once over. He wasn¡¯t sure that he liked what he found.


    The feeling of the void was strongest in the core of his soul, in his divine spark, where he could feel a direct connection to the void. It wasn¡¯t connected to The Primordial of the Void, but the void space he¡¯d been in. He just hoped some ancient eldritch horror didn¡¯t use the connection to enter the world.


    In a way the connection seemed much like Sophie¡¯s connection to Purity, where she drew upon her goddess¡¯s power to influence the world.


    Azrael knew that if he tried, he could draw upon the paradoxical powers of the void through [Void Shaping]. He didn¡¯t though. The memories of the void were too fresh in his mind for him to try and summon it through his soul. The possible risks seemed equally dangerous. Afterall, it had changed his skills and his very being.


    Despite being able to draw on this connection to the void he hadn¡¯t gained a related class, like Sophie¡¯s [Advocate of Purity], or even a title like he had from the ¡®Trickster¡¯s Blessing¡¯. It seemed that there was something he wasn¡¯t understanding;


    Would he have to find ¡®that place¡¯ in order to accept the Void¡¯s offer, or was it tied up to something else. Did primordials even need champions? He could understand a god needing one, to fulfill their agendas, but what about primordials?


    What would the Void Primordial require from him? Afterall, it was the personification of all possibilities ¨C the potential of everything.


    Leaving the mystery, he turned his mind to one of his skills which had evolved in the void. [Mana sense] had evolved to [Mana Sight].


    While being torn apart by the torrents of the void he had seen and passed through countless streams of mana, gaining an intrinsic understanding of how mana interacted with the physical realms and itself.


    He had realised there was no ¡®one¡¯ mana, but many types of mana which were ever changing and formed a complex spectrum. His four mana types, [Fire], [Earth], [Water] and [Air] were only a few of many.


    Curious about the change in one of his oldest skills he was about to activate it when he felt something small impact him in the neck from behind.


    Reaching his hand back, Azrael pulled out a dart. He looked at it confused. There had been no pain when he pulled it out. No, that wasn¡¯t the problem. Where had it¡­


    Azrael frowned as an unfamiliar notification popped up.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    You have been paralysed.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    It was followed shortly after by a second notification, but Azrael never saw it.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    You have been knocked out.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>

 Chapter 73

    An elf with short brown hair and glasses walked into an office.


    Tall shelves lined the walls, filled with maps and documents. They faced inwards towards the only other bit of furniture in the entire room ¨C A desk.


    The elven man behind the wooden desk barely glanced up, revealing green eyes, before returning to his paperwork. His chestnut hair was tied into a top knot behind his head, keeping it out of the way.


    ¡°What is it Amelia?¡± He asked his secretary.


    She stood straighter as he addressed her.


    ¡°Commander¡± she said


    He briefly looked up, raising an eyebrow, before waving her down.


    ¡°Just Zen, if you please. We¡¯re the only ones in the room¡±.


    Her posture changed immediately, going from absolutely straitlaced to casual in a moment. He smiled, returning to his work. It was amazing how she managed to do that.


    ¡°There¡¯s a guy we found outside in the forest with a dress sense you wouldn¡¯t approve of¡± she said.


    He looked up at her from behind a pile of papers. ¡°Why?¡± he asked ¡°What sort of clothes is he wearing?¡±


    She shook her head.


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing, he¡¯s not wearing any.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Where is he now?¡±


    ¡°We have him in the interrogation room. He¡¯s unconscious¡±


    Zen looked at the paper he was writing thoughtfully, before placing his quill into the inkwell and rising.


    ¡°Well then, lets meet this stranger of ours, shall we?¡±


    He paused at the door, as they were leaving.


    ¡°Ah, and Amelia¡­¡±


    She looked him.


    ¡°¡­get him some clothes, would you?¡±


    ¡°Yes Commander.¡±


    He sighed.


    ***


    Azrael woke up in a small stone room, his mouth dry and fuzzy.


    He looked around, taking in the two small windows providing light and the wooden desk set between him and another man. The man coolly regarded him with his green eyes. Azrael sighed. It seemed he had made a habit of waking up next to strangers.


    Seeing that the other man was unlikely to initiate the conversation anytime soon Azrael continued observing the room.


    Unlike stereotypical interrogation rooms this one was well lit, despite the small windows. The sunlight streaming through illuminated the sandstone blocks of the walls. The floor was similarly made of hewn sandstone, while the roof and door were made of wood.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The door and windows were the best indicators for the room¡¯s purpose. The door was thickly built, with plenty of reinforcements, while the windows were too small to climb through. It would be hard to suddenly escape this room.


    Briefly he wondered if he could use magic to escape. Fire might work on the door, or else [Stone Shaping] could¡­ he remembered he no longer had [Stone Shaping]. It had changed becoming [Void Shaping]. He wasn¡¯t desperate enough to try and use an unknow skill on the fly, especially one that drew power from the void.


    During this whole time the man had simply watched Azrael calmly, however he now cleared his throat. Azrael turned to look at him. In his current mindset he began assessing the man, wondering about the likely hood of escaping.


    The man¡­ no. Azrael noticed the pointed ears. The elf, he corrected himself, sat with an air of confidence, as if he was in absolute control. The elf¡¯s eyes watched him calmly, seemingly relaxed, while the man¡¯s whole body was tensed, ready to react to any sudden movements.


    Azrael mentally shook his head and forced his own body to relax. There was no reason to escape, yet. He didn¡¯t know where he was, or what awaited him outside of the door. Any sudden actions would possibly be neutralised in a moment. The stereotypical elf also suggested an affinity with mana, ruling out hidden magical attacks.


    He had little to lose and more to gain if he took the time to speak with the elf. If things went south, then he could always try to escape then. He turned to face the elf.


    Despite having drawn Azrael¡¯s attention, the elf didn¡¯t speak for a long time until he realised that Azrael wasn¡¯t going to start the conversation. The elf cleared his throat again, before extending a hand out to Azrael.


    Azrael hesitated for a moment, recalling his handshake with the Trickster, before reaching over.


    ¡°Zen¡± the man introduced.


    ¡°Azrael¡±


    Thankfully, the man¡¯s handshake was normal, with none of a god¡¯s overwhelming power.


    Azrael took the initiative to ask a question.


    ¡°Where are we and why am I here?¡± he asked.


    Zen clasped his hands in front of himself.


    ¡°That¡¯s actually the question I wanted to ask you. What is a completely naked person doing in the New Elven forests?¡±


    Azrael was confused for a second. Naked? He looked down, only just realising for the first time that he wasn¡¯t wearing his villager clothing, but instead some pastel and green clothing similar to Zen.


    But in the first place, why was he¡­? That Trickster! First, he¡¯d been kidnapped and then he¡¯d been left in a random forest, naked! Azrael swore to get the Trickster back for this one. The only question was how far he was from home. It couldn¡¯t be that far, right?


    ¡°Where are we now?¡± He asked Zen.


    ¡°We¡¯re in the southern outpost of the Origin Forest.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the forest?¡±


    Zen looked at him confused.


    ¡°Where on the map is the forest?¡± Azrael rephrased.


    ¡°We¡¯re in the southeastern quarter of the second ring.¡±


    ¡°Pardon!?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re in the¡­¡±


    Azrael waved him off.


    ¡°No, I understood that. Sorry.¡±


    To be in the southeastern quarter¡­ If he remembered the map correctly, then the End forest was in the northwest, almost completely on the other side of the map.


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    THAT BLEEPING THRICE ACCURSED GOD HAD PLACED HIM ON THE. OTHER. SIDE. OF. THE. KNOWN. WORLD!


    Azrael felt [Intimidation] tick up another level from Zen and forcefully tried to regain a [Calm Mind].


    Outside an alarm bell started ringing.


    ***


    Zen heard the alarm bell ringing, pushing his chair back. Today it seemed the heavens were deciding to make him pay the price for the relatively uneventful week he¡¯d had.


    He should have known that trouble comes in pairs.


    First a stranger was found naked in his forest. Strange, but not completely odd. Some players still started out this far from the center, despite the warnings on the forums.


    This player however didn¡¯t seem to be a newbie. Despite the absolute lack of equipment, the player before him seemed to have an aura around him. It quietly dominated the room and set him on edge. What had been meant as a quick interrogation was quickly swapped around to him answering questions, instead of the apprehended individual.


    Even Zen¡¯s usual intimidation tactic of waiting in silence until the other person started speaking had backfired. From there Azrael, as he¡¯d introduced himself, had quickly taken over the conversation.


    At the end, he¡¯d even been slightly worried for his safety as the man¡¯s aura flared for a moment. He¡¯d been saved by the bell. Quite literally.


    Unfortunately, this bell signified something far worse than a single man. It was the warning for a monster raid.


    Zen turned to Azrael, deciding to trust his gut.


    ¡°How good are you at combat¡± he asked.

 Chapter 74

    Azrael followed Zen, as he rushed out of the room.


    Another elf opened the door for them, pulling open three sliding bolts to let them out. Zen strode past the man without a word. Azrael hurried behind him.


    He¡¯d hoped to gather more information from the man, but it seemed that that had to wait. Whatever had come up was serious enough for the elf to enlist a total stranger. Despite all that Azrael was excited. This was technically his first proper quest! Taking in the villagers didn¡¯t count.


    Walking through another door Azrael suddenly found himself in dappled sunlight. He looked back at the building complex they had just walked out. Built out of sandstone and covered with trees the entire building was a strange mix of stone and plant.


    Massive trees had grown around, in and through the building, affectively becoming part of its structure. The trees formed arches and bridges, between various buildings and some even housed rooms.


    The rest of the fort had a similar design. Solid sandstone buildings had fused with massive trees, forming a unique architecture. The dappled sunlight that fell through the leafy canopy above only seemed to add to the fantasy feel.


    ¡°Pretty, isn¡¯t it¡± said Zen, despite his hurry.


    Azrael could only agree. His focus was redirected a moment later when he was forced to sidestep a running aide. Azrael finally paid attention to the people in the fort.


    Squadrons of soldiers were rushing about carrying weapons, wearing pastel and green uniforms, while aides were running between buildings carrying orders. Amidst all this Zen calmly strode towards one of the fort¡¯s walls.


    A female elf with short brown hair and glasses rushed towards him carrying an ornate bow and quiver. Another soldier of higher rank rushed up at the same time. Zen accepted the bow and quiver, before turning to the soldier.


    ¡°Report¡±


    The man saluted.


    ¡°Commander! An incoming horde of spider type monsters has been discovered approaching the fort from the south. All squads preparing for combat.¡±


    Zen nodded. His demeanour completely different to the man in the interrogation room. It was the air of someone who had fought many battles before and was used to directing others.


    ¡°Expected waves?¡±


    ¡°Three, sir.¡±


    ¡°Assessment?¡±


    ¡°Hard, but not impossible. Casualties inevitable¡±


    ¡°Send runners to the closest two forts. Notify them. Send healers. No other reinforcements currently needed. Standby.¡±


    Zen¡¯s words were short and concise. The man saluted once more before rushing off again. Zen then turned to the female aide with glasses.


    ¡°Take this man to the armoury. He will be joining us on the wall¡± he said pointing at Azrael.


    Zen strode off towards the wall without a second glance backwards, his mind already on the coming battle. His aide similarly started walking, though in a different direction, deftly threading her way through the chaos. Azrael followed.


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    In the end they ended up in an armoury, which was already mostly empty due to the need to equip all the squadrons. There were only a few spears, swords and bows left.


    ¡°No daggers?¡± he asked.


    The aide, Amelia, shook her head. Reluctantly Azrael tied two short swords to his waist, before grabbing a spear. The swords would be unwieldy, but still better than nothing and he had experience with the spear. He opted not to take a bow. Archery was never a forte of his.


    Amelia didn¡¯t seem to agree with his choice of weapons, swapping his spear for a bow.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be fighting on the wall¡± she explained as she replaced the spear in the rack. He frowned, but didn¡¯t comment. This was their fort, he would follow their rules. They just couldn¡¯t blame him for wasting arrows.


    Seemingly satisfied that he was equipped, she walked out of the building expecting, him to follow. He did.


    The fort¡¯s sandstone walls were impressive to say the least. Three-meter behemoths, sitting two meters wide, the walls seemed to have grown directly from the ground. They were absolutely flawless and looked impenetrable. The wooden gates looked no less of a barrier. Azrael was glad he hadn¡¯t tried to escape earlier.


    Amelia pointed Azrael in the direction of Zen, before leaving. Presumably, the aide of a commander also had much to organise for the coming battle.


    Walking up to Zen, Azrael was impressed by what he saw. At the base of the wall elven shield and spear users stood at the ready, alongside elven swordsmen. The walls were lined with archers. To best make use of the elevated position.


    Arrows were positioned in small barrels, stocked and ready for prolonged use. There were around a hundred soldiers ready to fight, all up.


    When Zen saw him approach, he greeted him with a nod. Azrael nodded back and took a place beside him.


    A few minutes later a scout came running through the trees, drawing everyone¡¯s attention. A hush fell over the assembled group. The previously restless soldiers stilled and displayed perfect discipline.


    They opened a path to let the scout pass through to the gates. It closed up a moment later with practiced precision. The soldiers waited in silence, though the silence was soon broken.


    The sound of hundreds of scuttling chitinous legs could be heard and Zen took the moment to speak, breaking the rising tension. His voiced could be heard by all.


    ¡°Soldiers¡± he said. ¡°Today we fight again, to protect our friends, our families and our people.¡±


    Zen notched an arrow onto his bowstring, as the first of the hound sized spiders appeared from the foliage.


    ¡°The enemy is many, but we are strong. We stand united. We fight together. And we will prevail!¡±


    He loosened the arrow. It pierced through the closest spider, killing it instantly.


    ¡°ATTACK!¡±


    Taking their cue from his command, dozens of arrows rained down onto the advancing spiders, while the men below braced themselves for the inevitable fight.


    As Azrael nocked his own arrow, he wished that he was down there with them. He had little practice with a bow, although it was almost impossible to miss with just how many spiders there were. Azrael glanced at the arachnean horde below, worried that they were going to run out of arrows. He was only managing to bring down a spider every third shot.


    Zen himself was firing faster than Azrael, but still somehow managing to take down a spider with every arrow. Even as he watched Zen confidently nocked a new arrow, aiming and releasing in a heartbeat. Each arrow shot off, a deadly herald of death. Their accuracy was also phenomenal, honing straight for their target. Azrael glanced at the bow using [Craftman¡¯s Eye].


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Bow of the Elven Commander


    Granted to an elf for his outstanding service, this ornate bow has been blessed by wind spirits.


    The bow draws a small amount of mana from the user to tip each arrow with wind to increase piercing power and accuracy.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael glanced at his own bow.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Simple Elven Bow


    This simple bow has been made in elvish design. Its grip has seen much use, making it well worn and comfortable.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Ah. The disparity of equipment. Azrael nocked the next arrow.


    This time he tried to infuse some of his own [Wind] mana onto the tip. The arrow shot off, piercing straight through an incoming spider. He reloaded and recast the spell.


    There was nothing like some little target practice to work off a little irritation at the unfairness of life. Some people got it handed to them, while others had to work hard for the same results.

 Chapter 75

    Azrael pulled another arrow out of a restocked barrel, nocking it and firing into the trees. He¡¯d stopped infusing the tips with [Wind] mana a long time ago. It was costly, added more time to his already slow firing rate and didn¡¯t help with his accuracy at all.


    His arrow struck his intended target and a spider fell down, dead. It was nearing the end of the third and final wave.


    In the last few waves Azrael had encountered various types of arachnids. From small and fast ones to others that were poisonous or shot web nets, right through to large lumbering spiders that simply pierced everything they met with their long legs.


    The tree-slinger variant was one of the newer ones. They would shoot webs into the trees, before reeling themselves in at high speeds. This had allowed a few to sneak past the wall uncontested. Zen had dealt with those that made it into the fort effectively.


    It had been a long tedious day. Azrael¡¯s arms were sore and trembled with each arrow he pulled, despite having taken several long rests. Even Zen was beginning to show the stress of a long day. His occasional shot would fly past any intended target, vanishing into the forest, or piercing trees.


    The men weren¡¯t faring much better. Despite rests between raids and a later introduced rotational shift the soldiers were bone tired. Weapons had broken, shields cracked, and many men were sporting serious wounds, while a few would never see the next day. Even with the extra healers from neighbouring forts, not everyone could be saved.


    Right now, there were only a few straggling spiders left, trying to breach the fort. Azrael wasn¡¯t even sure why they bothered trying. The waves were as good as done. The men seemed to realise that too, attacking the last remaining spiders with a vengeful gusto.


    Azrael watched Zen take down the last of the arachnids. It fell to the ground with a thud. Several soldiers followed suit, falling to the ground, spent. They had survived.


    A feeling of relief spread through the fort as the sounds of combat stopped.


    There was no more clicking of chitinous legs, no more sound of screeches of dying spiders and no cries of wounded men. There was only a relieved and subdued silence. They had survived. They had prevailed. Even Zen didn¡¯t seem immune to the atmosphere, dropping to rest against the balustrade at the top of the wall.


    Below Azrael watched the gates swing open, as non-combatants streamed out. Some went straight for the soldiers, delivering water to drink and helping the wounded.


    Others approached the spiders¡¯ corpses, retrieving arrows and beginning the process of dismantling. These people were the only reason that they hadn¡¯t run out of ammunition earlier, or that the battlefield was clogged with dead spiders.


    During the gaps in the waves, they had rushed out, clearing and collecting the spiders and arrows with a practiced ease. Zen had told him that these waves happened every now and again and that the spiders were harvested as usable alchemical ingredients.


    A scream rung out from one of the gatherers and Azrael heard a panicked shout, which was instantly echoed by many others. Zen rose and muttered a curse.


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    Azrael looked out seeing all the soldiers and non-combatants flooding towards the protective gates of the fort. Behind them was a massive spider, far larger than any they¡¯d fought before. It was almost the size of the wall itself. Zen immediately tried to take control of the situation.


    ¡°ATTENTION! WAVE BOSS! ARCHERS!¡±


    At his command, all able-bodied soldiers rushed up onto the wall, despite their weariness and other injuries. Under his order more than sixty bows were drawn and fired. A rain of death fell towards the large spider.


    Almost all of them bounced of its thick carapace, ineffective.


    A second volley proved just as ineffective. Even Azrael¡¯s wind infused arrow glanced off the spider¡¯s thick hide. Only one of Zen¡¯s arrows managed to do serious damage, piercing the large spider¡¯s eye. It let out a piercing shriek, which caused several soldiers to black out. Azrael managed to shrug it off due to the effect of his [Aura].


    As a further counterattack the spider began to spawn dozens of white eggs, which cracked open the moment they hit the ground. Dozens of cat sized spiders began to join the assault. Zen made a quick decision.


    ¡°Everyone to the left of a barrel, swords!¡±


    Since two archers shared a barrel of arrows, every second man retreated down the wall, swapping their bow for a sword. They streamed out of the fort, forming a protective line. Azrael looked at the barrel he was sharing with Zen. He was on the left side of the barrel, so¡­ technically¡­


    Azrael dropped his bow, jumping straight down the front of the wall and trusting his stats to prevent him from the worst of the danger. He dropped into a roll and mitigated most of the impact, even as he drew one of the short swords.


    Good. He was no longer stuck on the wall. He was so bad at [Archery] that the game hadn¡¯t even rewarded him with the skill. Swinging the sword blade in a few circles he tried to familiarise himself with the blade. Behind him he heard Zen call his name. He ignored it.


    Moving past the elven swordmen, he met the first of the spiders with his blade. The blade smashed through the carapace, killing it outright. It joined the rest of its brethren on the field, dead.


    The next spider came and then the next. Azrael met them all with his blade. His muscles were too tired for any fine work, but that was ok. Strength was enough. These spiders were weaker and slower than any of the others that had come before. Even their fangs proved ineffective, drawing little blood.


    Eventually the rest of the elven soldiers joined him, and they continued the slaughter. Arrows rained down from overhead, aiming for the spider mother. It was still ineffective, but every volley one or two arrows managed to find a chink in the great monster¡¯s armour. Zen¡¯s arrows were guaranteed to be amongst those. Despite this the large spider didn¡¯t move, simply spawning more and more small spiders.


    It was only after a good five, ten minutes when Azrael realised why.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    You have been paralysed.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael couldn¡¯t feel many parts of his arms, or legs, letting wounds build up as the paralysation set in.


    ¡°Paralysis poison!¡± He called in warning. A few heads glanced his way, before they also realised what was happening. Luckily, Zen had heard his warning.


    ¡°Men, retreat! Medics!¡±


    Azrael ignored him. He¡¯d gotten the NPCs out of the way, but the fort was doomed to fall if nothing was done about the continuous spider spawns. If the wave of spiders continued, then the soldiers would all be poisoned and die. If the spider mother decided to move it could almost just walk over the wall. Either way the fort would fall.


    Using magic, Azrael applied wind to his feet for speed, before copying the principle from Zen¡¯s bow again and applying a layer of wind to his blade for increased sharpness.


    He¡¯d had enough time to replenish his reserves since he¡¯d used it for the arrows.


    Judging from his current mana output, he had a little under half a minute¡¯s worth of mana if he went all out. Staggering his usage pushed it up to a minute, maybe a little more.


    In a sudden burst of motion he dashed forward towards the monster. He wondered if they would give him a fancy weapon for saving the fort.

 Chapter 76

    Zen heard Azrael¡¯s cry of warning and called for his men to retreat. He should have considered the poison. Afterall, it was one of the most sought-after materials from the spiders, alongside their silk and carapace.


    His men retreated and Zen was in the middle of redirecting his soldiers¡¯ aim to the now advancing spider horde, when he saw Azrael charge forward in a burst of speed. A few arrows came dangerously close to striking the mad man.


    Drawing breath to yell at the man for disobeying orders, Zen remembered that Azrael wasn¡¯t actually one of his. He was a stranger that they had found naked in the forest this morning.


    Zen groaned, as he commanded his men to avoid Azrael and focus solely on the smaller spiders. At the moment Zen was as annoyed as he was thankful for the man. Without him he might have lost more of his men before realising that the small spiders carried poison. He was still infuriated that Azrael decided to charge forward by himself, putting himself in their firing range.


    Zen couldn¡¯t decide whether Azrael was a newbie, or an experienced, but slightly reclusive and eccentric player. Nothing about him made sense.


    First, he¡¯d showed up naked in the forest, with no clue where he was. He¡¯d even spawned at the edge of the known world. It all screamed NOOB!, but then there was the unexplainable aura around the man and the way he dominated the conversation. No clothes would have meant that he¡¯d only just started today, but the aura was definitely a skill.


    Zen himself was a Ranker and only felt that same way around other, more powerful, Rankers. However, Zen was sure he could beat the man in a PvP. Azrael had a complete lack of skill in with both the bow and the sword, which left him further confused. Was he a Ranker or not?


    Most Rankers had picked up one or the other at some point, but Azrael was abysmal with the bow and completely lacked finesse with a sword.


    Then, in the middle of the battle Azrael just jumped off the wall and joined the swordmen below, despite his lack of sword skill. After that, the man realised the poison, allowing his troops to retreat alive. That could be explained by quick thinking though.


    However, now Azrael was attacking a wave boss three times his height with nothing more than two swords at his disposal.


    Zen notched an arrow and aimed for the large spider. While he¡¯d commanded his men not to aim for it, out of fear of hitting Azrael, he was confident that his arrow would fly true. He let loose.


    ***


    Azrael dashed forward, narrowly avoiding a large arachnean leg as it came down. He suddenly accelerated to avoid it, before using his momentum to slide underneath the monster. His wind coated sword drew a thin line of blue blood from the creature¡¯s underbody. It didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    Appearing behind the spider he popped up, firing a [Fire ball] at a batch of newly produced spider eggs. They burst into flame, frying all the spiders near them. A burst of wind later and he was on top of the spider, slashing at it with his blade.


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    He saw Zen fire another arrow, which pierced deep into the spider¡¯s eye. A second one pierced just above the creature¡¯s legs.


    Despite all the damage that they were doing, Azrael wasn¡¯t confident that they were going to win this. He could already feel his mana steadily being used up to sustain his spells. [Meditation] was alleviating a bit of the urgency, but not by much.


    The creature suddenly reared in pain as Zen managed to strike another eye. Four of them were impaled and bleeding.


    As it reared Azrael tumbled off. He stabbed the short sword into the creature¡¯s abdomen to prevent himself from falling, but his weight kept on dragging him down. His sword trailed after him, slicing deeply through the spider¡¯s flesh. Eventually though it got caught, leaving Azrael dangling from the hilt. He dropped to the ground, abandoning his sword and drawing his other one.


    A large leg moved, smashing into him and throwing him through the air, before he could touch the ground. His sword went tumbling through the air with him, as he lost his grip on it.


    Azrael landed on the forest floor with an almighty thud. He gasped for breath, as he forcefully landed. For a moment the whole world seemed to blur, before coming back into clarity.


    He rolled to the side as another of the spider¡¯s legs bore down towards him. He barely managed to avoid being impaled, although his shirt ripped as it was pinned. The leg rose again and moved on. The spider was on the move.


    Azrael glanced towards the fort¡¯s walls.


    Archers, spearmen and shield bearers alike stood atop of the stone walls, preparing for a final stand. It was their duty to protect the fort and they would lay down their lives to achieve it. Azrael knew that they were doomed to fail.


    If the spider reached the walls their ends would be sealed. Being of the same size as the fort¡¯s wall, the wall itself presented no more of an obstacle to the monstrous arachnid than a large log across its path. It would cross and there would be nothing they could do about it.


    Despite this Zen continued firing, although the rates of his shots was slowing. It seemed that even the elven commander was finally reaching his limit. Azrael dived under the large spider. He could only buy them more time.


    Touching the ground Azrael summoned the largest [Earth Spear] he could, watching it impale the arachnid¡¯s abdomen. He frowned at the unfamiliar sensation of the skill, remembering that [Earth Shaping] had been changed by the void. He could use the skill, but there was a sense of¡­ difference, like he could do more.


    Impaled by the [Earth Spear] the spider faltered, its momentum arrested. It strained and the spear cracked in two, allowing the spider to continue its advance.


    Looking at his largely diminished mana pool, Azrael drew upon every last inch of mana, full well knowing the consequences that would follow.


    The ever-growing headache he was enduring, while marshalling his last reserves, was but a minor price for what was to come.


    A large [Earth Spike] shot up bearing half of Azrael¡¯s remaining mana. The other half was invested into using [Overcharge] on [Reinforcement]. The [Earth Spike] began to glow slightly golden as he forced the extra mana into his skill and the spider shrieked as it was once again brought to a halt. In a panicked frenzy a stray leg pierced his side.


    Several soldiers on the walls fell unconscious, but Azrael hung on, even as his blood began to flow and his vision began to dim. On the wall he heard Zen shout something and the gates began to open.


    Azrael fell unconscious, even as his hands fuelled mana into the [Earth Spike].


    ***


    Far away Alena felt something through the soul link, strained as it was, like the reaper¡¯s scythe coming to gently rest on her neck. She knew her master was far, far away. The sense of pervading death meant he was in danger, dying. Dying but not dead. She would know if he was dead, after all her life was linked to his. If he died, she died too. The link was too strained by distance to feel more, but she knew that he lived, for now.


    Still, she didn¡¯t know what was happening and it scared her. Her lord and master had vanished, holding her life in his hands. She trusted him, but it was still terrifying, to know she could die at any moment and not be able to do anything.


    She looked at the pieces on the chessboard by the window. She resolved to become strong enough to protect him when he returned. She did not like feeling helpless.

 Chapter 77

    Something pulsed through the darkness, warmth. He was so cold. He could feel the life blood seeping out of him, death¡¯s embrace welcoming him. The warmth chased away the cold, but it was still dark. So dark.


    Something flickered through the blackness, a shaft of soft light. Azrael squinted, his eyes not yet adjusting to the light. He saw a figure move. Alena?


    She was saying something, but Azrael¡¯s head felt a little fuzzy. He raised a hand to his head. He¡¯d overused magic again. Why? Azrael groaned. Even the memory was fuzzy.


    Forcing his eyes open he finally managed to take in the room. Yellow brown sandstone greeted him instead of his usual white-grey stone walls. The voice was calling out again. He tried to listen.


    ¡°¡­ael. Azrael, can you hear me?¡±


    He looked up. Not Alena, but an elf. Since when were there elves in his village? No, he focused on the walls again. They weren¡¯t any walls like that in his village. Out of habit he opened his [Status], glancing through it. His mana was almost full again, but two things jolted him out of his stupor. {Void Touched} and {Trickster¡¯s Blessing}.


    He wasn¡¯t in the village anymore. He¡­ The Spider!


    Azrael¡¯s hand shot out, his left hand, gripping the elf, no ¨C Amelia¡¯s, wrist. She tried to pull back, startled. He barely even noticed his healed arm.


    ¡°The spider¡± Azrael asked. ¡°What happened to the spider?¡±


    ¡°Dead¡± She said. ¡°We killed it. You¡¯re in the fort now. It¡¯s ok. You¡¯re safe¡±


    He licked his dry lips, before noticing Amelia¡¯s pained face. He looked down to her wrist. He was still holding it tightly. He let go.


    ¡°How did it die?¡± he asked.


    She glared at him and nursed her wrist, before slipping into a professional mask and answering him nonetheless.


    ¡°After it started moving it stopped producing more spiders. When you pinned it in place Zen commanded all forces to attack. It died from loss of blood. Between your spike and Zen¡¯s arrows it was weakened enough that the ordinary soldiers could attack. You had fainted when we managed to dig you out.¡±


    ¡°How¡­¡± He coughed ¡°How long?¡±


    ¡°A little over nine hours?¡±


    Azrael checked his [Status] again. 280 MP at 30MP/hr¡­ it seemed he¡¯d really been out for the last nine and a bit hours.


    He touched his side, where he¡¯d been pierced. It was healed. Evidently the healers had come around to him while he¡¯d been out.


    ¡°Zen¡± he croaked. His throat was really dry. He needed to talk to the elf. The fight had raised some questions that needed answering.


    Amelia left with a bow, sending in a nurse with some broth as she left. Azrael gulped down the broth eagerly, while he waited for Zen. They had been interrupted by the fight, but he had a lot of questions he needed to ask.


    While waiting he noticed a waiting notification and pulled it up.


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    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    For surviving a deadly experience you have gained END+1.


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    The system really knew how to cheer somebody up.


    In the end it took about an hour before Zen actually walked into the room. The elf looked really weary.


    ¡°Sorry¡± Zen gave a weary chuckle ¡°The reports took a lot longer than I thought they would.¡±


    ¡°Reports?¡±


    ¡°Damage reports, assessment reports, inventory, warning the other forts, alerting the elven council.¡± The man sighed as he sat down. ¡°Paperwork. That was the biggest dungeon break to date and I¡¯m not sure we would have managed to hold on if you hadn¡¯t been there. You have my thanks.¡±


    Azrael listened politely, until he heard a certain word.


    ¡°Dungeon?¡±


    ¡°Ah.. yes. A dungeon. The spider attacks have been coming quite often recently. From all the reports it¡¯s the work of a dungeon. A dungeon overflow, if you will.¡±


    Azrael looked at the elf, wondering if he wasn¡¯t going to ask the obvious


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t you subjugated it yet?¡±


    Zen looked him, his features suddenly becoming more haggard, if that was possible. He only said one word, but it was enough for Azrael to understand.


    ¡°Bureaucracy.¡±


    Azrael could see it. A dungeon was both a danger and an opportunity. It was a danger to any nearby civilisation, but also a chance at attaining materials. The spider dungeon was an unknown dungeon, outside of line outer forts.


    It wasn¡¯t a direct threat, which meant that funding for an expedition would not be granted. Neither would money for finding and conquering it, or building a guard station near it.


    Even without finding the dungeon the spiders would arrive at the fort, delivering the materials right to their doorstep. If the waves had been smaller the last few times, then it was low cost for high rewards.


    Azrael nodded in understanding.


    ¡°I see¡± he said ¡°But now¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve filed a report. There¡¯s been no raid boss before. Two maybe three waves. Nothing serious. The appearance of the boss means it¡¯s now become a direct threat to the elven forests. The council will probably send a subjugation force. Maybe I¡¯ll even get a promotion after all this.¡±


    Zen chuckled wistfully at the thought.


    Azrael cleared his throat. Though the information that dungeons existed was nice, that wasn¡¯t what he¡¯d wanted to ask for. Unfortunately, Amelia took that moment to enter the room. In her hand was a familiar artifact.


    ¡°A call for you¡± she said, handing him the communication artifact. Zen accepted it, rising from his seat. He turned to Azrael.


    ¡°I apologise, duty calls, but Amelia should be able to answer all of your questions. I noticed that you probably haven¡¯t read the stuff on the forums, but you shouldn¡¯t worry. Amelia knows enough about skills, magic and the lore, so you should be ok¡±. He winked.


    For a moment Azrael didn¡¯t get what he was talking about, before he realised. He checked the elf with [Soul Sense], a sinking feeling slowly creeping over him. There was a divine spark.


    ¡°You¡¯re a player.¡± He said, subdued.


    Zen just looked at Azrael and laughed.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡±


    Zen left the room, while Azrael could only look at the closing door. He¡¯d been interacting with players? How many were there? Was everyone in this fort a player? He checked Amelia. She came up negative. A native then. What about the soldiers? The medics?


    ***


    Outside the door Zen channelled a bit of mana into the communication device to activate it. He glanced back at the door to the room that he¡¯d just left, making sure he was far enough away. Azrael¡¯s aura was no longer palpable outside of the room. It had originally startled Zen, but once he¡¯d gotten over his surprise it was nothing special.


    Azrael¡¯s weapon skills were also below average, but it was his magic that had interested him. After the battle he¡¯d contacted a friend to try and find some information. He raised the communication artifact to his ear.


    ¡°Well,¡± he asked ¡°Any news?¡±


    A female voice on the other end, another player, answered him with a negative.


    ¡°No¡± she said. ¡°I found nothing. None of my contacts found anything about a tri-elemental combat mage. There¡¯s nothing on the grapevine. There was nothing on the forums either, no post, no image. Nothing, even on the OneWorldGaming Ranker board for the game. Are you sure you saw a player use wind, fire and earth magic to take on a boss? It¡¯s ok even for the Sylphian Archer to make a mistake sometimes.¡±


    Zen just stayed silent for a moment, thinking things through, ignoring her taunt with his Ranker name. Finally, he answered.


    ¡°Yes. I saw it. Wind augmentation, fire manifestation and earth manipulation. From the strength he displayed there was no weakening due to lack of affinity, unless water is his affinity. But why only use your weakest abilities? It doesn¡¯t make sense. Still, I saw it. He exists. Keep your ears open.¡±


    With that, he ended the conversation. It seemed Azrael wasn¡¯t a Ranker. OneWorldGaming was usually spot on with any information on Rankers, past present and emerging. The fact that there was no news meant Azrael was new to the scene. He didn¡¯t know who Azrael was, but he was sure that in the future he could become a powerful ally.

 Chapter 78

    Inside the room Azrael looked at Amelia. She was sitting as far away as was politely possible, one hand protecting her wrist. He grimaced.


    ¡°I apologise for earlier¡± he said.


    She simply gave a terse nod. He wasn¡¯t sure whether she was accepting his apology, or if she was simply acknowledging his words. Either way he had questions. Zen¡¯s reveal still left him feeling a bit shocked though.


    He decided to start with an easy one.


    ¡°How much do you know about players?¡± he asked. Depending on that he would have to see how to phrase his questions. He¡¯d never tried revealing the fact that this was all a game to a NPC, but he was sure that the game had some restrictions in place to stop that from happening. He wondered how Zen had gotten around such a restriction. Amelia¡¯s next words explained it.


    ¡°Zen has told me that the Chosen, or players as you call yourselves have a form of astral travel, which allows you to be in another plane of reality, while your body is still here. In this plane you can share and find information from other players around the world, without having to meet them.¡±


    Azrael looked at the secretary, impressed. Zen had actually managed to find a decent way to explain logging on and off. He had to give the man credit, where it¡¯s due. He nodded to Amelia.


    ¡°Good enough. Now, Zen said you could help me with information of skills, magic and other stuff. Give me a quick run through.¡±


    Amelia¡¯s demeanour immediately changed. Giving information was her job afterall.


    ¡°Skills. Skills develop based on things you do. This can be anything, from crafting to fighting, cooking, brewing, anything. Even sleeping. There are records of a sleeping shaman who cast spells, depending on what position he slept in.¡±


    Azrael waved his hand.


    ¡°Not necessary. Keep it short. Is there a skill limit?¡±


    ¡°A limit on a skill, or a limit on the number of skills you can possess?¡±


    ¡°Both¡±


    ¡°To date neither are known to have hard limits. A person may have as many skills as they can learn and their skills can progress to godly heights. However, there are still soft limits on skills. It¡¯s¡­¡± She paused ¡°Let me try it differently. All people have something called intent. When people are born they have pure intent, like soft clay, it is mouldable. As they progress in life and grow older their intent solidifies. It gains a defined form. Zen likes to call these ¡®classes¡¯, though we call them professions. A person¡¯s actions mould intent, until they form classes. Skills are small details in these classes. Since intent has no measurable size, the number of skills you can posses if theoretically endless. However, once your intent gains definition, it become harder to change, or learn skills from other professions. A child might have an easier time learning cooking, archery, weaving and alchemy. But a veteran archer will have a harder time learning swordsmanship and an even harder time to learn magic, as his intent has not formed that way, though reinforcing a sword with magic will naturally be easier than trying to shoot a fireball for them. If your intent is defined, then it becomes harder to learn the skills from other professions. This holds true for crafting and combat skills, but also magic. The things you players call magic ¡®affinities¡¯ are nothing more than a person¡¯s own idea subconscious idea of magic. Every mage, shaman and magic caster is drawn to a subconscious idea of the ¡®ideal¡¯ magic. This manifests itself as ¡®affinities¡¯. A healer wishes to heal, a shaman likes to prepare their magics beforehand with rituals and talismans and a mage draws directly from the natural energies. From there, every mage will have a preferred element, that they perceive as the strongest and most useful. Their intent will then shift to represent that, boosting their prowess of that element, at the cost of others.¡±


    Azrael nodded. That actually made sense. It worked in with his earliest theory of action, effort and intent. What you did, how often you did it and what you believed it would do.


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    ¡°What about skill levels? You mentioned them.¡±


    ¡°Well, we haven¡¯t actually managed to find a way of measuring skills, but all masters of their crafts will experience a bottleneck in their skill, where their skill progress slows down incredibly and practically comes to a halt. Naturally, all skills will slow down in leveling, the higher the level gets. Eventually this will actually force the skill to a stop, unless the person experiences something great. This push past the barrier is what we call an ¡®advancement¡¯. Zen, for example, is a first advancement archer. Passing an advancement is a sign of mastery. Without knowledge, dedication and a little luck many people never get a skill past the first advancement.¡±


    Azrael thought back to when he¡¯d experienced a bottleneck. He¡¯d broken through it, by nearly losing his life in combat against the alpha shadow wolf. It seemed combat had been the push that he¡¯d needed to advance [Mana Manipulation], [Mana Control] and [Stone Shaping] past level 25.


    ¡°How many advancements are there?¡± He asked.


    Amelia pushed her glasses closer to her nose.


    ¡°To date only first and second advancements have been confirmed. Most people will usually gain a first advancement in their lives. Second advancements also occur, although those are more common in longer lived races, such as elves and dwarves. The elven council has a few such members. Third advancements themselves have been mentioned in rumours and legends, but they¡¯re just that, fanciful stories, not facts. And if there is a fourth advancement, then that would be in the realm of the gods. The amount of time, luck and effort needed to get a second advancement skill is phenomenal. To pass beyond that, even if you were to focus your entire life on a singular skill, or skillset, would mean you were either a monster or a god.¡±


    Azrael listened closely. If a first advancement was around level 25, then if he took an educated guess, then second advancements were around skill level 50. He could easily believe that gods were at the fourth advancement level. He shivered when he remembered the mere power that their presence had possessed.


    ¡°What about gods?¡± he asked ¡°tell me about the gods.¡±


    She looked at him, seemingly evaluating him, before replying.


    ¡°Fine, it¡¯s common knowledge anyways. There are 88 higher beings. The pantheon of 72 gods, 8 primordials and 8 fallen gods.¡±


    She finished, looking at him. He waited for more, until he realised that that was it.


    ¡°Wait? That¡¯s it? Surely there¡¯s more! Who are the gods? What do they do?¡±


    She looked at him briefly, before giving out a very discrete and professional sigh. The kind which says ¡®I¡¯m not sighing at you, but could we wrap this up soon¡¯ kind of sigh.


    ¡°Last question, I promise.¡±


    ¡°The gods are all higher beings of great power. Allegedly before the Ending they walked the mortal realms, bestowing gifts and granting blessings. After the Ending they shut themselves off, taking back their gifts and forsaking the mortal planes. Many still pray to them, hoping for guidance, a gift, or a blessing. Primordials are beings of greater power, though nobody is sure what they are. The written records speak of them as the progenitors of the realms, pure manifestations of elemental will.¡±


    Azrael could believe that. The Primordial of the Void spoke more with intent than with words. It being a pure manifestation of will was not too farfetched.


    ¡°What about their names? They have them don¡¯t they?¡±


    He looked at Amelia pleadingly.


    ¡°Very last one, I promise.¡±


    ¡°Very last one¡± she said darkly.


    If looks could kill he doubted the healers could have saved him from the slow excruciating pain that Amelia¡¯s eyes seemed to be promising him. Fortunately, she deigned to answer his ¡®last¡¯ question.


    ¡°We call the gods by their domains, not by their names. Names have power, doubly so for a being whos existence is so defined. All the gods have a domain, or domains. These are often found in their titles. The Blacksmith, God of the Forge, is one such god. Although, he is also the patron of smiths, artisans and craftsmen. There are others, whos names are self-explanatory, such as Purity, the Goddess of Healing, Virgins and Cleansing, The Warrior, God of Combat, Weapons and Strategies. Others don¡¯t have titles, but folk names, such as the Stormlady, Goddess of Storms, Cyclones and the Sea, or the Wild Lord to name two. Then there are others who don¡¯t fit at all, such as Death, guide and keeper to the afterlife. Unlike the gods, the primordials do not have names, or domains. They existed before both. They are named after their elements. The Primordials of Fire, Wind, Ice and Earth are few, but there are two¡­¡± Here her voice sank to little more than a whisper ¡°two¡­ that were said to have existed before the rest. They have neither a name, domain, nor a physical element. They existed before all.¡±


    ¡°¡­the Void?¡±


    ¡°Void and Balance. Chaos and Order are better terms. Flux and Stability. They are the cycle. One is chaos, change and constant flux. The other is balance, order and stability. Void is the beginning and the end, where we come from and whence we return. Balance is what we are, what grants our realms existence and prevents reality from falling apart.¡±


    Azrael could only sit and stare in silence, as Amelia slipped out. The implications of the last part of the conversation had him shocked. He¡¯d spoken to the great-granddaddy of the Universe.

 Interview with Zen (and Special Guest)

    ¡°Hello again and welcome to another night where we interview your chosen characters.¡±


    The presenter bowed low, the mic held close to his mouth.


    ¡°Here we are once again, to ask questions, by yours truly. It really is an honour to be back, but let us make the most of the time we have afforded to us. Firstly, before we beginI would like to inform everyone that we have a special surprise guest coming tonight, but before that I would like to invite Zen, the Sylphian Archer, to the stage. A round of applause for the Ranker, people.¡±


    A man with green eyes and long chestnut hair, held in a top knot, confidently walked onto the stage. He takes a seat, calmly folding his hands in his lap.


    ¡°Welcome Zen! It really is lovely to have a Ranker on the show. Now Zen, there were a few people curious about what Rankers are. And who is the OneWorldGaming that you mentioned? What do you need to be a Ranker? Is all you need strength?¡±


    Zen smiled and waited until the presenter finished, before speaking.


    ¡°As you mentioned just then, strength is one thing that Rankers are known for, but it¡¯s not the only thing you need to be a ranker. It¡¯s one of the most commonly discussed aspects, but far from the only aspect. It¡¯s not even the most important one.¡±


    ¡°Do tell.¡±


    ¡°A Ranker¡­ perhaps I should start this differently. When true VR popped up, not augmented reality or simple VR headsets, but true immersion tech appeared, there appeared a site online known as OneWorldGaming. Games of any kind, from sports to Esports, will always have a fan base, a forum, a wiki, a ranking system. OneWorldGaming became that for Immersion VR, or simply VR. Nobody knows whether it¡¯s an individual, or a group, but they compiled information on top players, and created the site OneWorldGaming. Since then, they have tracked, updated and followed all the top players in all the VR games. Then, one day, after a showdown between two of the top players they created the ranking ladder.¡±


    ¡°So, all you have to do to get on the ladder is to be a top player?¡±


    ¡°Yes and no. Most Rankers will be top player but being a top player will not guarantee you a place in the Rankings. To be a Ranker you need something that makes you special, something that makes you stand out, something that makes you unique?¡±


    ¡°And that is¡­?¡±


    ¡°A moniker. You need recognition. But that¡¯s a lot harder than most people believe. Being the first to kill a dungeon boss in a new game won¡¯t give you that. You might not even get it for being the first to clear the first five, even with scoring the best times. You need to prove not only that you¡¯re better than everyone else, but that you are so far ahead of them that they will struggle to ever imagine coming close to your level. And it can be just one thing. It doesn¡¯t matter if you¡¯re luckier, faster, smarter, stronger, crazier, craftier, crueller, or richer. You just have to stand at the peak. That¡¯s what it means to be a ranker.¡±


    ¡°Thank you Zen for that explanation, but I¡¯m still confused as to how this ties in with OneWorldGaming.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m getting there. As I was saying the first part of being a Ranker is popularity and reputation, to get a Moniker. From there OneWorldGaming will quickly catch on and if there are enough people that recognise the moniker they will add you to the Ranking board. The Ranking Boards are mostly split by game, as it¡¯s not uncommon for some Rankers to hold one or two different titles over different games. Most top Rankers will stick with a recognisable theme, or a class. Me, for example, I keep the [Archer] class over the different games, keeping my moniker, the Sylphian Archer. I earned that one in a game called ¡®Global Conquest¡¯, for my unerring accuracy and swift shooting. But we¡¯re getting sidetracked. Once on the ranking board OneWorldGaming will then calculate a players¡¯ potential, which in the end will give them a final ¡®Ranker score¡¯. The higher the score, the higher your ranking.¡±


    ¡°And how does this ¡®score¡¯ get calculated?¡±


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    ¡°Well, nobody has quite figured out the exact maths, but the criterion are pretty straight forward. Combat strength is a large one and the most popular. There¡¯s wealth, both in game and in real life, as well as how much capital they could call on if they needed to. Popularity factors in as well, with how many watchers follow their streams, how many players they could rally in game and who they are affiliated with. Strength, wealth and connections are the three big ones, but there are also others. Technical skill is another one for example.¡±


    ¡°I see, thank you. I do believe that that clears things up for quite a few people.¡±


    The Presenter stands up from his own seat and extends his free hand to the Ranker. They shake, before Zen walks off.


    The presenter makes sure that Zen is gone before a large screen, previously hidden in the background, flickers on. A mischievous face with messy orange hair and startlingly clear blue eyes appears. However, they are sideways and it takes a moment for them to realise that and correct it.


    The presenter clears their throat and addresses the figure. ¡°Hello, welcome to¡­¡±


    ¡°Hello??? Can you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we can.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Good.¡±


    ¡°As I was saying, welcome to tonight¡¯s talk show. We¡¯re so glad to have you on our show tonight¡±


    The presenter turns to the audience.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome The Trickster, God of Mischief to our show! Our first ever deity, here to answer questions, live! So, Mr. Trickster¡­¡±


    ¡°Just Trickster is fine.¡±


    ¡°Trickster it is! We invited you tonight, because we had three questions come in and we thought that you might be the best person, or should I say God, to answer it for us.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°The question was: ¡®Why does Azrael have void powers, even if he hasn¡¯t accepted the void as a patron¡¯. The second one was ¡®why didn¡¯t he accept the Void¡¯s offer there and then?¡¯ and the final one is ¡®Has Sophie accepted Purity as a patron?¡¯¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see. I will try my best to answer these questions, but as some of you might have noticed Gods also have rules to follow. The greater the power, the greater the consequence of the actions. Therefore, restrictions are put in place, to keep balance. The Void for example is one of the most powerful deities. He, and I say this now but primordials have no gender, has the greatest power, but also the greatest restrictions. Primordials themselves, unlike gods are not allowed to directly interfere with the realms. It was because of this that I had to make contact with Azrael and summon him outside of the physical realms. It¡¯s a bit of a loophole, but that¡¯s what I do best.¡±


    ¡°I see, however I do not believe you¡¯ve answered any of the viewers¡¯ questions¡±


    ¡°Questions? Oh, right, those. Sure. So, anyhow deities can choose advocates, champions, apostles, whatever you want to call them. There is a procedure to that though. Champions may only be appointed at ¡®that place¡¯, after ¡®that thing¡¯. So, no Azrael has not accepted a patron. Similarly, Sophie could not have accepted Purity as a patron either, however she can still dedicate herself to Purity¡¯s cause and Purity can grant her a blessing, much like I did with Azrael. As to the power which Azrael has gained, the void and The Void are fundamentally different. The Void refers to The Primordial of the Void, while the void is simply a space separate from the physical planes, which exists beyond time, space and reason. Part of Azrael¡¯s soul is anchored in the void, granting him access to it.¡±


    ¡°I see, thank you for answering those questions.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure¡­ do you think I should host a talk show in the Gods¡¯s realm? Trickster¡¯s Talks? Talks with the Trickster? What about¡­?¡±


    The screen suddenly goes dark and the presenter turns to the audience, as if nothing had happened, while pulling out a letter from a pocket.


    ¡°Well then ladies and gents, on to the last of our show for tonight. Our beloved author sent through a question for the public. And it was as follows:


    Dear Readers,


    As you all know I¡¯ve taken some time off for real life stuff and intend to continue editing in my very limited free time.


    I was recently re-reading all the comments and looking through the story as I was editing it and found something that stood out. As I was correcting and editing out unnecessary bits I realised that I had a big part in my story that wasn¡¯t really necessary. Azrael didn¡¯t have to be (as one of you readers so kindly phrased it an ¡°angry young master¡±. I could cut out and edit a large part of his backstory and relationship with Holy Empire, without it affecting the actual story. Looking at what I¡¯ve written so far and what I intend for the story I realised that if I wanted to change it, it would have to be now, before the next part of Azrael¡¯s journey in New Earth.


    It wouldn¡¯t change any of the occurrences, or interactions that have happened so far and very little information would be edited out.


    I was wondering what you guys though about it and decided to put it to a poll (see below).


    Hope you guys are holding up fine and hope to be writing again.


    Your author,


    - Wulfian


    The presenter put the letter away, tucking it back into one of his pockets carefully, before turning to the crowd, with a smile on their face.


    ¡°I am happy to announce that you have all voted for no change in back story! Hearing this the author has decided to follow your wishes and edit the story as is.¡±


    The presenter looks up at you, conspiratorially.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s all folks. See you when I see you!¡±

 Chapter 79

    Azrael spent the rest of the day in recovering in his room, despite his insistence that he was okay.


    While healing magic healed the body, it apparently didn¡¯t replenish lost blood. This meant that he was stuck in bed for the foreseeable rest of the day.


    It was already past the fourth evening bell, so it wasn¡¯t really that long ¨C a few hours before bedtime.


    Never one to waste time, Azrael decided to go over the series of events that had brought him to where he currently found himself. Everything had happened so fast, since he¡¯d been summoned by The Trickster, that he hadn¡¯t even had a moment of respite.


    First there was the summoning, then there was his meeting with The Void Primordial, as well as the influence of the void on his soul, skills and race. This had been followed by an interrogation, a dungeon break and a raid boss and then, to cap it all off, he¡¯d nearly died.


    In all of that he¡¯d just been a bystander, reacting as things came. There had been no plan, no tactics. He¡¯d just gotten caught up in the tide of events. He hadn¡¯t even noticed the fact that Zen was a player.


    Oh, and he was on the other side of the known world.


    His only consolation was that he hadn¡¯t died. He¡¯d honestly considered it, as it would have probably returned him home, but in exchange Alena would have died. He would have also lost a life token.


    Each lost token was a step towards the final deletion of his character. Azrael made a promise to himself ¨C he would not die.


    Pushing himself up, Azrael tried to find a comfortable seated position. Even now he could feel the newly formed connection to the void in his soul. He needed to see how badly his soul had been impacted by this new sudden power.


    Slipping into his soul space, Azrael let the world around him fade.


    Like a god that had left a world for several centuries, Azrael came back to find his soul changed. Not drastically. The general shape of his soul was still there ¨C untouched, just as mankind hadn¡¯t managed to change the geography of the oceans and continents.


    There was a thrum of new energies though, burning in his soul. Just like mankind discovered coal, oil and nuclear energies.


    Moving in closer to inspect his soul, Azrael found his gaze drawn to the swirling soul mist. Though no denser than the last time he had entered, the roiling veil that hid his core had a new quality.


    The presence of the void was mixed in. Azrael was unsure whether it was because of his newly changed skill [Mana Sight], but he could actually see strands of the void flowing through his soul. He could instinctively feel that it wasn¡¯t mana, but that was more of an innate sense from soul sense, rather than from [Mana Sight]. He wasn¡¯t actually sure whether [Mana Sight] influenced his [Soul Sense] in that regard though.


    Like his soul mist, the barely perceptible streamers of void swirled around and flowed through his skill crystals. What worried him most though was the way it seemed to warp the surrounding mist, absorbing or discharging it at random. Sometimes two streamers of void would meet and devour each other into nothingness, or else grow larger. The paradoxical substance seemed to follow no consistent rules.


    His only consolation was that it didn¡¯t reach down to his core. Whenever he spied a glance of his soul core, the divine spark glowed as brightly and as fiercely as it ever had, untainted by the void.


    There were only two other things in his soul that seemed radiate a power of their own, though neither was as bright or as powerful as his divine spark.


    The first of these was less of a skill crystal and more of a pedestal for a small star of its own. From it, he could feel The Trickster¡¯s power radiating outwards, a weak imitation of the God¡¯s true aura. Presumably this was the {Trickster¡¯s Blessing}.


    The second source of power was almost the exact opposite. Unlike the radiant sun that was his divine spark, or the lambent star of the {Trickster¡¯s Blessing}, this gateway to the void was like a paradoxical black hole.


    The gateway to the void sat on top of what was formerly [Stone Shaping]. The top of the skill was warped almost beyond recognition, as if melted and reforged under intense heat. Though the original skill [Stone Shaping] was still usable, he could see that it no longer had the potential to grow.


    The end of the skill crystal was so warped that it was impossible to facilitate any more growth. Instead, it pierced through the black hole and connected into the void. Bolts of entropy arced out of the gate where it touched his soul and void mist leaked out, drifting downwards to mingle with his soul mist below. Instinctively Azrael knew that he could draw on the power of the void and use it to shape the world around him, through the new skill [Void Shaping].


    It was perhaps his most interesting skill crystal, because it facilitated both [Stone Shaping] and [Void Shaping]. If he understood the skill correctly, then by channelling pure mana through the Skill he could freely shape stone and by mixing his mana with the power of the void he could theoretically shape everything else.


    The fox girl, Sophie, had done much the same, mingling her own mana with Purity¡¯s power to bless the villagers. It meant that with a bit of practice [Void Shaping] would be less mana hungry than [Stone Shaping], because he was augmenting a part of the power with the energy of the void.


    Returning to his body, Azrael looked out of his window and found a few hours had passed. Ignoring the darkening light, Azrael began to draw upon his mana. He wanted to test his new skill, as well as his hypothesis.


    Gathering his mana into his palm, he then began to infuse an empty wooden soup bowl with his mana. [Stone Shaping] wouldn¡¯t work on a bowl, but [Void Shaping] said it would work on physical matter. Feeling his mana sink in, he decided to activate [Mana Sight] for the first time.


    A myriad of shining colours burst into existence, as the skill activated, blinding him. Not expecting such an explosive reaction from his skill Azrael lost focus and his mana tore itself from his grasp. Mana drained out of the bowl and started dissipating into the air around him. A small part drained into the wooden table that the bowl was resting on.


    Without properly thinking things through Azrael accidentally pushed past the final barrier of his [Void Shaping] skill, drawing out the power of the void with his mana, in the hopes of regaining control.


    With a sickening lurch he felt his soul connect to void. Paradoxical forces flooded through him, unleashed like an army from hell¡¯s gates. The energy rushed along his mana like lightning down a wire. With no proper direction it continued rushing along his mana, leaping out of his arm into the air in front of him.


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    Even with his vision heavily impaired by the swirling colours of [Mana Sight] Azrael could see a wrongness as the energy from the void warped the mortal plane. Unbound from his control the void forces had free reign.


    A moment later and Azrael regained his calm. He deactivated all of his skills.


    Mana stopped flowing, his vision returned back to normal, and the void forces stopped passing through him. Fearfully, he looked at what had once been a wooden bowl on a wooden table. Warped didn¡¯t even begin to describe it.


    It was as if an artist had tried to carve an abstract modern art sculpture out of wood. While the table had managed to retain two of its legs the rest of it had been warped beyond recognition. All that remained was a swirling mass of wood and air, locked in a delicate dance for eternity. Not a single sharp corner remained where it had been warped. Azrael gulped. If his hand had been in there when he¡¯d¡­ He shivered. It was best not to dwell on those sorts of things.


    A knock on the door revealed a single elderly nurse with a oil lamp entering the room. Seeing him up she smiled.


    ¡°I have a candle for the dark, deary. You¡¯ll be discharged tom¡­¡±


    Her eyes landed on the table.


    ¡°...orrow¡±


    Not daring to take her eyes of the impossibly warped table, she managed to find an untouched corner of the table and place down the candle. The nurse smiled professionally.


    ¡°Enjoy your rest.¡±


    Azrael smiled back as she rushed out of the room.


    Watching her close the door behind her, Azrael settled back into a seated position. In his panic during the previous experiment, he¡¯d scrambled to the other side of the bed to get as far away from the warping space as possible. Now, very carefully, he slowly reactivated [Mana Sight]. In hindsight, activating two unknown abilities simultaneously had been a mistake. Then again, hindsight was a truly lovely thing.


    As [Mana Sight] slowly started to activate again, Azrael watched as a filter was applied to the world. Mana, previously invisible to the eye, now became visible in swirling streams. Shadow mana seemed to cling to walls, as fine as gossamer, but as thick as molasses.


    The oil lamp on the remains of the table was a swirl of different mana types. Light mana streamed out of the small flame, piercing through the veils of shadow mana in the corners of the room. Fire mana burned in the flame, dispersing into heat mana, which rose into the air in fine swirls. Wind and cold mana streamed in through open window, adding yet more movement to the already intricate dance.


    Hot and cold ¨C the two antithical types of mana met, spiralling around each other and cancelled each other out. He hesitated to say that they created wind mana, as he didn¡¯t understand enough about mana to confirm it. He could, however, see that the collision of the two mana types definitely empowered the already existing wind mana.


    The only other type of mana, that he could recognise nearby, was earth. The earth mana moved through the sandstone walls slowly, almost sluggishly, not really interacting with the rest of the mana types.


    All in all, [Mana Sight] painted a very complex and interwoven picture. Though the premises upon which the mana types moved and reacted seemed simple, Azrael knew that there was more to it.


    Satisfied that he had at least a basic understanding of his Skill¡¯s evolution he wished to once more test [Void Shaping].


    He did, however, wish to once more draw on his mana. Carefully calling it out, Azrael channelled it into an untouched section of the table, before once more using it to channel the power of the void. Like burning brimstone and soothing spring the forces of chaos and change flowed through him.


    Like a oil in a river, the void flowed through his mana. It was not uncomfortable as such, but there was a sense of wrongness, and danger, as if the smallest spark could cause the whole thing to go impossibly wrong.


    Guiding the mana with [Mana Manipulation] he simultaneously used [Mana Control] to clamp down on it, keeping everything moving where he wanted. If a bit of his mana escaped, then it wouldn¡¯t be that big of a deal, but with the void mixed in there was a certain proven danger. He looked at the deformed desk and shuddered, even as the two skills ticked up under the strain of the task.


    Guiding the void into the table, Azrael used his mana to move it around, through the table. Wood warped as it came in contact with the void and Azrael took the opportunity to reshape the mana under his control. Though tainted with void touched wood, he forced his mana into a perfect sphere, the wood moving as if he were sculpting clay.


    It was a slow process, eating away at his mana reserves. Dropping into the now familiar breathing techniques for [Meditation] alleviated some of that problem.


    Eventually though, the wood under his control accepted its new shape and he cut off his connection to the void, letting the newly formed wooden sphere drop to the ground, even as his mana dispersed. The energy of the void, with nothing to conduct it vanished from the mortal plane, as if it had never existed.


    Unfolding his legs from their seated position, he groaned as he bent to retrieve the wooden sphere from the floor. After a prolonged period of inactivity, they were now sore. A bell outside signalled the eighth hour.


    In the dim light of the oil lamp, Azrael admired his handiwork. The sphere, once part of a common table was now a perfectly round sphere. He checked it with mana sight, finding nothing but lingering traces of his own mana. He could not sense the presence of the void.


    He checked the sphere with [Craftsman¡¯s Eye].


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Smooth Wooden Sphere


    Crafted by an unknown craftsman, this wooden sphere was shaped by forces beyond the mortal planes. The sphere is perfectly smooth. It floats and will roll down sloped surfaces.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael snorted. It seemed that the system had some humour, in its own dry kind of way. Placing it on the table, Azrael checked his [Status], curious as to whether his race had changed due to him channelling the void.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.4), Sorcerer (Lv.3), Lord (Lv.4)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human (97%)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 240/240


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 94/280


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 19


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 24


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 20


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 15


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 28


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 30


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}, {Teacher}, {Oath Maker}, {Void Touched}, {Trickster¡¯s Blessing}, {Void Walker}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana], [Aura], [@#%& Self].


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.16), Spear Arts (Lv.20), Mana Sight (Lv.26), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 27), Soul Sense (Lv.15), Mana Control (Lv.27), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 3), Stealth (Lv. 24), Calm Mind (Lv. 11) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 2), Lord¡¯s Insight (Lv. n/a), Leadership (Lv.6), Void Shaping (Lv. n/a), Reinforcement (Lv.13), Dagger Arts (Lv.22), Meditation (Lv.25), Mana Transfer (Lv.5), Craftsman¡¯s Eye (Lv.1), Intimidation (Lv.6), Search (Lv.8).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Fortunately, he found his race still firmly on 97%, while [Mana Manipulation], [Mana Control] and [Meditation] had all gained another level. Funnily enough, so did [Crafting]. [Mana Sight], as an outlier, gained a whole three levels, pushing it right past the first advancement. Azrael wondered whether the presence of the void had anything to do with that, or whether it was simply his knowledge of different mana types, which caused it to jump past the first advancement.


    Closing his [Status] with a satisfied sigh, Azrael bid the world good night.

 Chapter 80

    Morning came far sooner than Azrael would have liked.


    It was a new dawn and a new day, along with all the problems he¡¯d put off until tomorrow. The only problem was it was tomorrow and he had to face them.


    Unwilling to do so, and hoping for a sleep in, Azrael hid under his blankets, until one of the problems walked through the door.


    ¡°Good morning! Wakey wakey!¡± said Zen, in a far too chipper voice. ¡°We¡¯ve¡­¡±


    Zen¡¯s voice trailed off and Azrael peeked out from under the blankets. Zen was standing in the middle of the room, his gaze caught on what had once been a wooden table. Azrael just hid back under his blankets.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me and if it was, I was asleep.¡± He grumbled. He really could have gone another hour, or two, or three without seeing Zen.


    So far Zen seemed like a nice guy, but the problem was he was a player. He was real.


    Zen however didn¡¯t share any of Azrael¡¯s anxieties and whipped the blanket off the bed. Shivering in the slightly cooler morning air Azrael had to face reality, that it was cold and most times you were never prepared for it.


    ¡°We have to talk.¡± said Zen. Azrael could only agree.


    ¡°Yes, we do.¡±


    Following Zen out of the room, they exited the infirmary building. On the way out, Azrael passed several larger rooms, with other soldiers still in recovery. There was a scent of death and illness in the air, that was not quite covered by the scent of disinfectant and flowers.


    Gazing into one of the rooms, Azrael saw nurses and healers scurrying around. It was then that he realised how lucky he had been. Here in the main infirmary there was little privacy between soldiers, and many of them had red bandages on, while some were missing limbs.


    It seemed that Zen had given him priority in healing and accommodations. Rushing after Zen, he exited the building.


    In the early morning light, the towering trees cast long shadows across the forest floor. Rare beams of sunlight illuminated the warm yellow and oranges of the sandstone buildings and morning songbirds heralded his way.


    As they crossed the grounds, Azrael saw aides, soldiers and other staff stop and watch the two men walk. Whispered conversations took place behind raised hands, while a few of the soldiers saluted them as they passed. Azrael just followed Zen, his mind on other things.


    Finally, they entered a different building and the two men ascended a flight of stairs and entered what seemed to be an office. Amelia was inside, sorting papers.


    The two took a seat at the table and Amelia moved some papers to make space.


    Azrael decided to take the initiative.


    ¡°What do you need?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Nothing. The elder council has received my report and I¡¯ve been recalled to make a report. Amelia and I will be leaving for the capital before the midday bell.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    ¡°As such, I would like to know your plans and what you intend to do from here. As it stands, the fort is in your debt. You saved not only the soldiers by identifying the spiders¡¯ poison, but also played a crucial roll in defeating the wave boss. Whatever you need, if it is in our power, we will help. If you desire a place to stay and play the game, I am sure that the elven council will welcome a hero, even if you are a human. If it is rewards you want, I have enough pull in the military to give you a medal and monetary rewards. Or if you wish to travel, then I can help finance travel expenses. The choice is yours.¡±


    Azrael listened to the proposition quietly. It wasn¡¯t a bad offer. Land, wealth, or fame. Zen could offer it all. Even with his misgivings Azrael could see that the commander was genuine with his wish to repay Azrael.


    What did he want to do? The medal and recognition for his help was a no-go. Too much exposure. He didn¡¯t want that. He could still take the money though. Get some land, start over. Maybe figure out how they made the enchanted bow and the communications device. He could open a store, or build a cabin in the woods somewhere. Dungeon diving also sounded like it could be fun.


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    Despite all this, those dreams rang hollow. Azrael could feel it in his soul. Quite literally.


    Alena¡¯s soul link was tethered to his soul. Despite the distance, he could still feel her connection. It pointed the way home.


    Home. He tried the word, testing how it felt in his mind. Honest Cairn, Humble Hugh, the spear squad, the villagers and Alena. He looked out the window and  up at the morning sky. She would have finished her morning training by now.


    No. He wasn¡¯t getting sentimental. They were just there for him to use, to level his [Lord] class. To¡­ To¡­ To... Who was he kidding? Just the thought of leaving them felt bad. He told them that he would be there for them. He¡¯d promised Alena to get revenge. Leaving them without a word would be a form of betrayal. He knew how they would feel. He knew the feeling all too well.


    They would never know though. They were just NPCs, lines of code. Azrael made up his mind.


    ¡°¡­home.¡± He said with a weary voice. ¡°I want to go home.¡±


    Zen looked at him a bit puzzled.


    ¡°Real life or here, in the game?¡±


    Azrael stayed silent for a moment.


    ¡°The End Forest. How long would it travel to the End Forest?¡±


    Zen pulled out a map and both Amelia and he looked through the map. Eventually, Zen found it. He paused, checking where they were and where the End Forest was.


    ¡°How did¡­ No. I mean¡­ Actually, you know what? I¡¯m not going to ask.¡±


    Zen pinched the bridge of his nose, holding his silence for a few moments and thinking things through. In the end he turned to Amelia.


    ¡°Amelia?¡± He asked. They both turned to her, as she started to think things through.


    ¡°Assuming that it took Ch¡­players over two months to reach here from the center of the first ring and the distance is doubled to the End Forest, then that¡¯s five months moving in an expedition. Subtracting delays from terrain, beasts, and logistics, then that¡¯s around four months on foot. Since roads and villages have been built in the meantime logistics and route have been solved. Assuming that a person travels directly from here to the center and then out to the forest, following the shortest route and with no delays and taking terrain into account, then¡­ a little over two months on horseback.¡±


    Both of the men looked at her speechless and she pushed her glasses up her nose.


    ¡°That¡¯s not taking magic into account either.¡± She stated.


    It was Zen who broke the silence first.


    ¡°Thank you Amelia.¡± He turned to Azrael. ¡°Your thoughts?¡±


    Azrael just nodded.


    ¡°Perfect! Amelia, where¡¯s the closest place that links up to a main road heading towards the center?¡±


    His secretary drew out a second map from a stack of scrolls and laid it out onto the table.


    ¡°Here.¡± she said, pointing to a spot on the map. ¡°Niversbrook. Two days travel. It¡¯s on our route to the capital.¡±


    Zen glanced up at Azrael.


    ¡°It seems like you¡¯ll be stuck with us for a few days more.¡± He said with a smile.


    ¡°Yeah, it seems like it.¡± Azrael replied, with a lot less enthusiasm. Zen didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    A short while later Azrael, Zen, Amelia and a contingent of six soldiers found themselves ready for departure.


    Preparations for the trip had been quickly organised and currently all soldiers who weren¡¯t on duty had gathered by the gate to see them off.


    Lining up on either side, soldiers saluted in respect, while the aides and servants waved.


    Zen at the moment sat high upon his horse, waving at his troops. Amelia, Azrael and the soldiers were similarly mounted, trotting behind him. As the group passed the soldiers a few began to shout Zen¡¯s name.


    ¡°ZEN. ZEN. ZEN. ZEN.¡±


    More voices joined in an eventually another name joined the call.


    ¡°AZ-RA-EL. AZ-RA-EL. AZ-RA-EL.¡±


    Previously hoping to avoid attention Azrael suddenly found himself shrinking back from the noise and attention. The entire group on horseback halted, as Zen trotted back beside him, still waving.


    ¡°They¡¯re waiting for you to do something.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    Zen shrugged. ¡°Anything. A speech? The bigger the better.¡±


    Azrael looked at the cheering faces of the soldiers. Despite originally not wanting to draw attention to himself, he now realised that his plan to leave unnoticed was no longer viable.


    The soldiers wouldn¡¯t let them go until he did something. And as Zen said, the bigger the better.


    Azrael figured that he would never see these soldiers again and decided. And there was nothing bigger and better than a ball of flaming destruction. Raising an arm up to the sky, Azrael unleashed a massive [Fire Bullet].


    Burning with golden light, the large flaming projectile shot up, above the crowd. Like a blazing star of burning glory it ascended, bathing the onlookers in a fiery golden light.


    A silence fell over the onlookers. Then, in an almighty explosion, the small sun tore itself apart. The blast echoed through the giant trees like a cannon shot and was returned and rebounded from all around.


    Thousands of golden sparks rained down, like flaming snow, as the symphony of cannon shots reverberating through the trees slowly quietened.


    When the onlooker finally managed to turn their eyes away from the last flakes of flaming gold, they noticed that the group had departed. They had left to the farewell of a hundred blazing cannons. The cheering, momentarily forgotten redoubled until it filled the fort.


    Further down the track, out of sight of the cheering soldiers. The horseback riders regrouped themselves, calming their frightened horses. Though trained as soldier¡¯s mounts, the horses had been so startled by Azrael¡¯s stunt that they had bolted away from the sound, away from the masses, into the peaceful forest.


    It had taken them over a hundred of more meters just to be able to slow the horses down a little and a good few minutes more until the frightened creatures calmed down.


    Amelia threw Azrael the stink eye, while Zen tried to hide his grin from his unamused secretary. Azrael could only look away.


    Zen had said the bigger the better, but he still found it better to avoid Amelia¡¯s gaze. The look she was throwing him could have withered roses.


    Seeing that the horses had settled, Zen called for them to trot onwards.

 Chapter 81

    Despite the sudden and dramatic start to their journey, the group of nine had a relatively uneventful trip. The most interesting thing that Azrael could have recounted would have been Zen almost singing his eyebrows off when he leaned in too close to one of Azrael¡¯s conjured flames. Other than that there was nothing worthy of note.


    On their second day of travel, as Amelia had predicted, they reached Niversbrook.


    If Azrael had been on his own, then there was a high likelihood that he would have missed it. Hidden amongst hundreds, if not thousands, of tall trees the settlement was almost as good as invisible.


    Following the same track that they had followed since the fort, the first indicator that they were nearing the village was the sound of trickling water ¨C the brook that the settlement gained its name from Azrael presumed.


    Even then, while they followed the track and the sound of water, all they could see was trees. Then, rounding a bend Azrael saw a scene that couldn¡¯t be described as anything short of enchanting.


    A crystal-clear brook flowed through a series of large ponds. Small fish languidly swum amongst flowering lily pads of fairy pink and between the stalks of tall white lilies. The midday sun banished all shadows from the pristine petals and warmed the group.


    It was only when they got closer that Azrael noticed a sandstone bridge bridging the brook. Zen nudged his horse towards the bridge, and everyone followed, the horses¡¯ hooves clattering against the stone.


    It was only after having crossed the bridge that Azrael noticed the first building. It was barely twenty meters away. Once he saw it, Azrael began to notice other structures half hidden between the trees.


    There were no towering stone walls, or tree houses to announce the presence of the village, just simple stone and wooden houses amongst the trees.


    Built of a lighter sandstone than the fort, the buildings seemed to radiate golden light where the sun pierced through the dappled shade. Combined with the pristine flowers and accompanied by the sound of a trickling brook it was nothing short of a fantasy experience.


    This feeling was further reinforced when Azrael spotted a villager approaching them.


    The aged elven chief had long hair of spun silver, the wrinkles on his face a testament to his age, despite his race¡¯s longevity. Zen hopped off of his horse and placed his right fist on the left side of his chest and gave a small bow. The elven chief responded in kind.


    As Azrael dismounted, he began to notice other villagers approach, all of them elves. Despite suffering from sore muscles and aching joints, Azrael couldn¡¯t stop a smile finding its way onto his face. It was an elven village. He¡¯d completed the fantasy staples. He¡¯d used magic, drunk with dwarves, seen a dragon, met a god, fought a spider and visited an elven village.


    Briefly, he wondered whether Darj¡¯s primitive alcohol actually counted. The experience wasn¡¯t quite¡­ right? Maybe in a tavern next time?¡­ and slimes. He hadn¡¯t seen one yet. Did they go extinct? What about a sea serpent?


    Now that he thought about it, there were a few more things that he felt were missing including those. Maybe he hadn¡¯t completed his staples, but¡­ it was an elven village. He¡¯d never seen another race, other than human and Zen didn¡¯t count because he was a player.


    Actually, what about¡­ Azrael checked the soldiers he¡¯d been traveling with. They all had long pointy ears. He stared at them. How had he missed that??? Trying to recall his stay at the fort Azrael tried to picture the faces of the soldiers, aides and medics. Had they been elves? All of them? They had been, hadn¡¯t they.


    ¡­


    How did he miss that?


    ¡°¡­rael. You listening?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    Azrael looked up to see Amelia speaking to him.


    ¡°Pardon?¡± he asked.


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    ¡°I said, were you listening?¡±


    ¡°No, sorry.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Don¡¯t then.¡±


    She turned to leave, her annoyance clear in her posture. Azrael hurried after her, pulling his horse along behind him, into the village.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It was wrong for me to ignore you. Could you please repeat what you said?¡±


    Amelia just seemed to ignore him and continued walking.


    ¡°Amelia, please.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Listen closely. Zen spoke to the village chief. They have a wagon heading out to the next town over tomorrow. You can purchase a horse there or find another way to travel. In the meantime, one of the villagers has offered you a stay in their house for the night. Zen and I will unfortunately have to continue onwards towards the elven capital. The council waits for no-one.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t just take this horse?¡±


    ¡°What? No. That¡¯s a horse from the fort. They¡¯re specially trained for combat and to deliver messages, not to gift to random people. One of the villagers will return it in a few days.¡±


    Azrael sighed. Of course, it was never that easy. What if he stole it? Waited until they were gone and then just rode out of the village?


    He stopped himself and pinched the bridge of his nose. No. That wasn¡¯t the kind of person he was. Also, it would be a poor return for the hospitality that Zen and the others had shown him.


    Yeah, but he would never see them again. He could¡­ He shut that line of thinking down. It was just thoughts. He knew he would feel bad if he did that, especially after how well they had treated him. They didn¡¯t have to help him. In fact, if Zen wanted to he could lock Azrael up in a cell, never to see light of day again. Sure, he would inevitably break free, but that was beside the point.


    Allowing one of the villagers to take his horse, he followed Zen and Amelia into the elven chief¡¯s hut. It did not disappoint.


    Different from the utilitarian buildings of the fort, the inside of the house was¡­ homely, for lack of a better word.


    The entirety of the combined living, cooking and dining area was well kept and orderly, though small trinkets and personal artefacts seemed to vie for space and attention on the shelves. Drying herbs hung from rafters and a small pot bubbled over a lit hearth. They had obviously caught the village chief while he was cooking his midday meal.


    The aged elf seated them around his table, pulling out bowls and wooden spoons, before serving them all soup.  Zen protested, insisting that they had to continue travelling. The chief just ignored him and continued to dish out soup. Azrael was surprised to find meat in it. He had thought elves didn¡¯t eat meat. The elder who picked up on his confusion with a smile.


    ¡°Elves eat meat, just like you other races. We accept death as a natural part of the cycle of life. Even we will eventually return to the cycle, nourishing the trees. The forest provides and we return to the forest. We all exist as part of a cycle. We elves simply have a greater respect for the cost of our living.¡±


    Azrael nodded and the four of them started to eat. Zen, Amelia and the elder spoke for a while, but Azrael zoned out, letting them talk.


    Eventually though Zen had to depart and the two parted way in the village square.


    ¡°This is it, huh?¡± Zen asked ¡°You sure I can¡¯t convince you to accept my earlier offer?¡±


    Azrael shook his head, thinking of Alena and the rest of the villagers.


    ¡°No, I have people waiting for me.¡±


    Zen nodded in understanding.


    ¡°I wish you best of luck then.¡±


    They shook hands and Zen turned away from Azrael, leaving him with a money pouch.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell Amelia.¡± he said conspiratorially ¡°We don¡¯t run a charity.¡±


    Azrael raised it up.


    ¡°I promise I¡¯ll find a way to repay you if I can.¡±


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Due to the nature of your Skill {Oath Maker} the God of Death has presided over your oath.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Oath of Repayment]


    There are bonds that transcended the races


    You have fulfilled an [Oath of Repayment] with the individual ¡®Zen¡¯.


    You have received the help of an individual during a time of need and have promised to return the favour.


    [This oath cannot be broken]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Zen walked away and raised a hand in acknowledgment, but Azrael completely missed it due to the two screens popping up in front of him.


    ¡°Move out!¡± Zen called, as he mounted his horse.


    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t¡­ Urgh!¡± Azrael complained to the God of Death, as he watched eight riders leave the village. With mixed feelings, he watched One player and seven NPC¡¯s rode away, all of them as real as the other.


    Watching them leave, Azrael stood there a moment longer. A complex feeling was twisting itself through his gut. It wasn¡¯t the beast, which had been silent since his meeting with Mischief, but something more¡­ complex. The added emotion from the last two notifications were the least of it.


    Azrael thought it over for a second. He¡¯d just met, spoken with and farewelled a player, a person who didn¡¯t want to screw him over.


    After telling himself for the past two years that the world had been out to get him, to not have someone try to extort, bribe, frame or use him was¡­ both uplifting and frightening at the same time.


    Zen had helped him, for no reason. He¡¯d taken him with him, he¡¯d provided him with food, money, advice and information.


    The wall, the world picture, he¡¯d built up around himself chipped, just a little.


    Maybe it wasn¡¯t that bad to have a reason to meet up again at some point in the future¡­maybe.


    With suspicion and gratitude warring in his gut and chest he followed his host into their house.

 Chapter 82

    The next morning Azrael found himself on the back of a horse drawn cart. The stocky creature was almost more pony than horse and plodded along at a very sedated trot. While he appreciated the ride to the next town over, the pace was making him reconsider returning back to the elven village and just stealing the horse from the fort.


    He didn¡¯t though. It would be poor repayment for the trust and kindness shown to him by Zen, the elder and the elf that had housed him last night. Just because he didn¡¯t like people and didn¡¯t want much to do with them, it didn¡¯t make him a bad person.


    Azrael glanced at his chauffeur. The young male elf, or at least the elf who looked younger, was gazing off between the trees. Azrael had realised rather quickly that his companion wasn¡¯t much of a talker. One- or two-word answers were the extent of his conversations, though not through lack of intellect. Resigned that the trip would take more than a few hours, Azrael lay back amongst the cargo and logged out.


    Stepping out of his capsule, Kade blinked at the unexpected light that streamed through his window. He¡¯d expected it to be evening. Obviously, he¡¯d been wrong.


    The unexpected light wasn¡¯t the only disorientating thing. As he stepped out of his capsule, he almost stumbled. He¡¯d forgotten that his normal height was different from in-game. He ran a hand through his hair ¨C brown, instead of black. Another difference. Sometimes he wondered which was the real him. The black-haired-golden-eyed Azrael, or the brown-haired-brown-eyed Kade. It was a dilemma for another time.


    Going through a series of stretches that he¡¯d picked up on the internet, Kade got rid of any residual stiffness from the gaming capsule. The game capsule supported the player with sleep and nutrition, but not exercise, meaning he always exited stiff from prolonged stillness.


    He still went jogging every two days when he logged out, to counteract this. His jogs had even gotten longer since he started.


    Walking into his bathroom he looked into the mirror and admired his physique. Ok¡­ It wasn¡¯t fantastic, but it was an improvement.


    You could no longer call him chubby, as the faintest of muscle definitions was visible under the bathroom light. It was¡­ an improvement. He hadn¡¯t been this fit in a few years.


    Jogging could do that. Maybe he should hit a gym every second break? Give his arms some definition too? He hopped into the shower, imagining himself with a buff body. If only he had a little extra height too. He sighed and applied shampoo.


    Rinsing, towelling and dressing himself, Kade found himself in front of his laptop. It was an old second-hand gaming one, but had been with him since high school. Another, happier and simpler, lifetime ago.


    Dropping himself into his seat, he briefly glanced at his gaming capsule and logged in to his laptop. Two pictures with smiling faces greeted him.


    On one side he stood beside his parents, smiling into the camera. He was in a uniform. It had been his first day of high school.


    In the second photo he was in a caf¨¦ in casual clothes. Two others accompanied him. A chubby boy with blond hair and blue eyes and a girl with tan skin and straight dark-brown hair. They were both his age, if a bit taller.


    He smiled a sad smile. One was Samson, his gaming partner and nerdy best friend. The other was Leila, a girl they¡¯d met on a quest online. This was a picture of their first IRL meeting.


    A girl meeting two guys she only knew from gaming was probably something that could raise a few eyebrows, if Leila hadn¡¯t been able to probably whoop both his and Samson¡¯s asses half with her hands tied. Leila always played as a combat class in games.


    He opened a web browser and the photos vanished behind the search engine. The past was in the past. He¡¯d accepted that he would never see any of them again.


    Opening his bookmarks he logged into a site that he didn¡¯t think he would. OneWorldGaming. A mix of blog, game wiki, news site and forum the site was a key resource for every gamer.


    He typed in: New Earth.


    Originally, his plan had been to enjoy the game, discover it on his own and just play it the way he wanted to. Reality had different plans for him. Players had made a base nearby, Holy Empire had sent a scout and then the gods had decided to become involved, leaving him on the other side of the known world.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Despite his resolve to ignore the rest of the world, the world didn¡¯t seem intent on ignoring him. Ruefully, he wondered whether he should have just kept ¡®Cain¡¯ as his in-game name, with how much trouble seemed attracted to him.


    Exiting his musings, he turned his attention to the New Earth Forum.


    WORLD GUARDIAN QUEST UPDATE


    Posted by: ExplorersOfficial


    THE QUEST SYSTEM IS SHIT!!!


    Posted by: Mad_Lad5000


    BEST DUNGEONS TO FARM


    Posted by: Bob_Is_King


    CURRENT LOCATION OF 50 TOP RANKERS


    Posted by: ProWatcher


    100 REASOSN WHY DEVS SHOULD ADD A STATUS


    Posted by: WhiteTiger14


    DUNGEONS, WHAT ARE THEY??


    Posted by: Pun-ishable


    ¡­


    Dozens of forum posts popped up on his screen. Kade scrolled through them, taking in the various titles of the posts. He was looking for relevant information. Currently that meant maps, fastest means of transport and general information regarding the End Forest.


    The topmost post caught his attention though.


    WORLD GUARDIAN QUEST UPDATE


    Posted by: ExplorersOfficial


    Following the defeat of the four Bosses of the first ring, the Explorer¡¯s Guild launched an investigation on the Bosses of the second ring, after the existence of the second ring was discovered¡­


    Kade skimmed the rest of the article.


    ¡­The Bosses use traditional western RPG creatures. So far four have been confirmed¡­


    ¡­The Red Dragon of the West, The Sea Serpent of the North, The Gryphon of the East and The Giant of the South¡­


    ¡­These Bosses have been unofficially dubbed ¡®World Guardians¡¯¡­


    ¡­Similar to the Guardians of the first ring (Ogre, Orc, Goblin and Gremlin)¡­


    ¡­.They guard and bar the way to the rest of the world¡­


    ¡­The first ring contained nothing, the second ring contained civilisation¡­


    ¡­.Who knows what lies beyond these mighty guardians?...


    ¡­Join us¡­


    Kade finished what was essentially a recruitment page. The information was interesting, though not overly helpful. He¡¯d already realised that the red dragon Sophie had been trying to locate was some kind of Boss monster, he just hadn¡¯t realised how important of a Boss it was.


    Essentially, the four World Guardians would block all passages out of the second ring, until the players were strong enough. It was a clever game design. Essentially, it allowed players to choose when they wanted to conquer the next level, but also forced people to work together. Equal parts challenge and freedom.


    Skipping over a lot of complaint posts, Kade found a few relevant ones. Fastest methods of travel, locations of major cities and a few others.


    As it turned out, Amelia, unsurprisingly, had been correct. The fastest way back was by horse. Travel magic existed, however this was currently limited to small buffs. Teleportation spells seemed to exist, but so far nothing larger than a mouse survived even short-range teleportation. Other solutions, such as cars, also drew blanks.


    When he researched cars, motor wagons and planes, a whole series of posts greeted him. As it turned out, several motor enthusiasts had tried to recreate modern technology, however more complex technology failed.


    This included electricity, gunpowder and motor engines. Oil lamps, waterwheels and such still worked though. They had chalked it up to some sort of magic interference. This meant that motor vehicles, guns, dynamite and possibly even nukes would fail to function. Briefly, he¡¯d considered building a steam engine, to see if that worked, but then realised that he had a more pressing problem. He needed to get home.


    Clicking through various other posts and pages, Kade planned his route by horse. The best and fastest route from the Forest of Origins to the village in the End Forest would be through the first ring.


    Judging from a few brief articles he¡¯d skimmed, a sort of unofficial capital had sprung up at the very center of the map, where the first players had logged in. The only problem was that the first ring was almost completely filled by a lake. A circular lake with a circular island.


    Luckily, the island was also the location of the city, Nova Lux, meaning that there had to be some form of transport from shore to island and back again. Either by bridge, or by boat.


    Ignoring the option of passing through the first ring, Azrael had the choice of either traveling over, or under the ring. Passing south of the first ring would be the easiest of the two options, while the northern route would carry him across a mighty river, which flowed from the lake of the first ring to the northern ocean of the second ring.


    The best route seemed obvious, until he discovered something of terrible importance. Nova Lux, the player capital, was a city funded, controlled and run by the Holy Empire. It was probably fuelled in no small part by real world money.


    It was either a longer route to getting home, or risking enemy grounds.


    Kade ran his hands through his hair and leaned back onto the back legs of his chair.


    Theoretically he had nothing to fear. He was no longer affiliated with them, had nothing to do with them and looked completely different in game. The chances of anyone recognising him amongst hundreds, if not thousands of players was almost zero. Then wanting to do anything to, or with him, was almost zero again. The risk was negligible, if it even existed. Still, he had a tight feeling in his gut.


    With a sigh he logged out of his laptop and stood up. He would get there when he got there. Checking the clock Kade went for the routine jog, before showering again.


    Next, he cleaned out and refilled the game capsule. Technically, he still had two in-game days left before he needed to refill, but it felt strange being out and not changing everything out. He didn¡¯t want to break the routine he¡¯d built. Then, undressed, he stepped into the capsule, preparing to close the lid.


    He paused, a thought emerging. He jumped out of the capsule and rushed over the laptop. It was important.


    Two minutes later, Kade logged into the game, a smile on his face. Sera watched him pass with a stifled giggle. He didn¡¯t mind.


    He¡¯d confirmed something important.


    Slimes existed.

 Chapter 83 - A little Escapade

    Logging back into his avatar, Azrael realised that the shaking of the cart had stopped. Curiously he opened his eyes.


    Blue sky, devoid of emerald-green tree canopies greeted him. Obviously, they had left the forest.


    Rising from an uncomfortable position amongst the cargo Azrael peeked out, above the side of the cart. It was only then that he began to notice the unfamiliar sounds and sights.


    A lone cart rumbled down the main street of the village, while the sound of shouting could be heard from behind buildings. Geese and chickens clucked underfoot, while the sound of a whinnying horse was carried towards him on a gentle breeze.


    Completely righting himself from where he lay, Azrael took in the entirety of the scene. The cart he was in was parked on the main street, beside a wooden building. A dozen or more similar buildings lined either side of the main street. If it wasn¡¯t for the green rolling fields just outside the village and the presence of elven villagers, it almost looked like an old western town from the movies.


    Azrael smiled as he imagined two elves having a ¡®shoot off¡¯ with bows. That was not to say that there weren¡¯t any humans. Elves simply made up the majority.


    Seeing his elven chauffeur emerge from the closest building he hopped off the cart.


    The elf nodded, before unlatching the back of the cart.


    ¡°Help¡± he said, pointing at the cargo.


    Azrael obliged, helping unload.


    Thirty minutes later, Azrael found himself alone in the village. With the cargo unloaded and the payment collected, the elf had left. Azrael could sort of understand it, if the elf left now, he would just make it back to the village in time for nightfall. The sudden departure with no explanation still irked him a little.


    Azrael paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. No. He could do this. He wasn¡¯t getting soft. Just because Zen had helped him, didn¡¯t mean that he should expect it from anyone else. With nothing better to do, Azrael decided to follow the sound of the whinnying horse. That was why he was here in the first place ¨C transport.


    Walking down the main street, Azrael felt the gazes of the villagers follow him. He mostly ignored them, but after the fiasco with Zen he¡¯d hidden his divine spark and began to check for players.


    Spreading [Soul Sense] as far as he could reach, he briefly touched all of the people he saw. To his surprise none of them were players. Not a single one. He let out an unrealised sigh. He still wasn¡¯t comfortable with players. He¡¯d realised though that in an VRMMORPG, meeting other players was an eventuality. Apparently though, players didn¡¯t want to stick around in tiny villages. Azrael stepped over a pile of horse droppings in the middle of the road. He couldn¡¯t understand why.


    Leaving those thoughts behind, Azrael rounded a corner, off the main street, and found himself in a stable. Two horses were tied up, contently eating hay, while a third was being ridden around a circular yard by two boys.


    The two, one elf and one human, were clearly mistreating the horse, kicking it in the flanks, before tightly pulling on the reins. While one of them rode on the horse, the second beat at its flank with a stripped twig, causing the horse to occasionally buck. Both of them were laughing, unaware at the pain that they were causing the poor creature.


    Appalled, Azrael was about to rush towards them, when he tripped over something. Stumbling to regain his balance he looked back, noticing that he¡¯d tripped over someone¡¯s foot. Following the foot, he found a figure napping in a pile of hay. Disturbed from its sleep, the napping old man awoke.


    As the man rose, Azrael studied him. Short, stout and portly, the man was clearly overweight. A large nose that had never set properly after being broken protruded over a scruffy beard that hid yellowed teeth. Bleary eyes glared at him from under wild and messy hair. His clothes were just as unkempt as his appearance.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°What?¡± The man asked, his breath clearly reeking of alcohol.


    Azrael involuntarily took a step back from the stench emanating from the man.


    ¡°I was just going to¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡± The man asked again, stepping close into Azrael¡¯s personal space. Azrael just barely managed to stop himself from shoving the man back. He tried speaking again.


    ¡°I said I was¡­¡±


    ¡°EH? Speak up!¡±


    Clenching his fists Azrael let out a deep breath.


    ¡°I SAID I WAS GOING TO¡­¡±


    ¡°ALL RIGHT, NO NEED TA YELL YA HALF-FART. DID NOBODY EVER TEACH YA TO RESPECT YA ELDERS? NOW GET YOUR SKINNY ASS OUTTA MY STABLES, OR I¡¯LL SHOVE MA BOTTLE UP WHERE THE SUN DON¡¯T SHINE¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Azrael bit down on his tongue, until he tasted blood. By now the two boys in the ring had stopped tormenting the horse and were staring at the commotion. Azrael just looked at the man in front of him. This couldn¡¯t be serious, right? There was no way any of that had just happened.


    ¡°Do we have a problem here boy?¡±


    The man stepped forwards, till chests were touching, in an attempt to be threatening. Azrael almost reflectively gagged at the pure wave of stench that surrounded the man and stepped back, with a forced polite smile.


    ¡°No, we don¡¯t have a problem. None at all.¡±


    Azrael had learnt since the beginning of the game that it didn¡¯t pay to be rash. He could wait.


    Seemingly satisfied at the answer and his seeming victory, the old man crossed his arms and watched Azrael as he left the stables. Behind him the two boys began riding the horse again, having swapped positions.


    Azrael didn¡¯t look back, instead walking back to the main street to explore the village. Unfortunately, it seemed that that old man was the only owner of horses in the village.


    The village itself was similarly unremarkable. Beyond the general store most of the buildings were residences. Despite being on the way between a small city and the elven forests it wasn¡¯t big enough to warrant anything more than a store to refuel supplies, or a stable to swap out horses. That meant no baker, not blacksmith, no tavern. It didn¡¯t even have a night watch.


    So, when night fell, the streets were deserted, shutters closed to the night. It was a situation that suited Azrael extremely.


    Casually strolling in the shadows of the main street, Azrael barely resisted whistling a small tune.


    It was a bit unfair. Why did villains get music but he didn¡¯t? That was not to say he was a villain or anything. Far from it. He was on his way to do a good deed. Definitely.


    Above him an almost full moon glared down admonishingly. He just shrugged. The man had it coming. Better a small reminder now, than the old guy offending the wrong person and losing his life. Azrael was doing him a service. A kindness from the depths of his caring heart.


    Stepping into the same side alley from before, Azrael calmly strode into the stables. In all honesty he could have done this in daylight, it wasn¡¯t as if there was anybody in the village that could stop him. He¡¯d checked with [Lord¡¯s Insight]. He just didn¡¯t want word reaching back to Zen. As much as he still harboured a little distrust towards the guy, he didn¡¯t want to cause too much trouble.


    Hearing him approach, one of the horses whinnied and he heard an annoyed grunt from under him. He looked down. Sprawled in the hay, dead drunk was the same old man from earlier. Azrael looked from the horses, down to the man and back to the horses, an idea forming. The closest one bobbed its head. Azrael only grinned mischievously.


    ¡°Sera?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Are you going to stop me?¡±


    He heard his assistant sigh.


    ¡°Could I?¡±


    ¡°Probably not.¡±


    ¡°Then why ask?¡±


    ¡°Quite right.¡±


    Azrael fed a little mana into the ground, shaping it into a tough band or rock over the man¡¯s mouth and eyes, effectively cutting of his ability to see or call for help. Then, with a bit of a grunt he grabbed the man¡¯s legs and began dragging him back to the main street.


    It wasn¡¯t until Azrael reached the center of the main street that the old man awoke. By then, however, it was too late. Shaping the earth around his victim¡¯s wrists and ankles he splayed the man¡¯s limbs in all directions, binding him to the road. Then, with a flourish, he drew a dagger that Zen had let him keep from its sheath. He let it swig in an expertly arc.


    The man stilled, shivering, as the cold night air touched his skin. His clothes fell to either side of him, severed down the front. Continuing his work on his art piece, Azrael¡¯s blade swung again and again, never drawing blood. Stepping back, Azrael admired his handywork.


    The offensive old drunk was now bound to the ground, as naked as the day he was born. Azrael was truly good from the bottom of his heart for sparing the man. He wasn¡¯t even hurt!


    Leaving the main street again, Azrael once more entered the stable.


    Walking to the last stall he found what he was looking for. The abused horse. He walked up to it.


    ¡°Howdy pardner, fancy going for a ride?¡±


    The horse just glared and snorted at him, causing Azrael to smile.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡±


    Barely ten minutes later he was out on the road, leaving behind a naked man and an empty stall. His horse bucked below him.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll call you Bucky? Bucky of the Barns¡±


    The horse bucked.


    ¡°Bucky it is.¡±


    Bucky snorted as they rode into the night. Azrael just grinned and read the notification that popped up.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For stealing something of value without anybody realising it you have gained one level in ¡®Thief¡¯.


    AGI +2, DEX +1, INT +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>

 Chapter 84 - In The Clear?

    For the next week Azrael rode, wary, though not fearful, of potential pursuers. Either nobody had realised that it was him, or they did realise and didn¡¯t know which way he¡¯d gone. Either that, or they had sent somebody, but they never found him. He realised that there was a whole host of reasons as to why nobody pursued him for a stolen horse, like nobody actually caring for the drunk man and plight. Whatever the reason, he made a safe getaway.


    Bucky himself was unfortunately not as grateful as Azrael had presumed, starting each new day with a short rodeo ride. Still, after the morning activity, he carried Azrael along at a good pace.


    Twice the traveling duo passed through a village, their layout similar to the one he¡¯d freed Bucky from ¨C ten to twenty houses built along the main road.


    He did notice however that the further he travelled from the forest the lower the percentage of elves in the villages was. It seemed that many, if not most, stayed near the forest. There were also still large bodies of trees, but as he travelled these became smaller and sparser, with many places also having been cleared for fields.


    He also encountered a few more players, most of them traveling through the villages in the opposite direction. To be safe Azrael hid his divine spark behind a shroud of soul mist, to pass as an NPC. He travelled unnoticed and unaccosted.


    Then, in the late afternoon, on the morning of his tenth day of traveling, he arrived at what could possibly be described as the end of the elven territory. The ever-thinning forest had finally given way to smaller and more separated bodies of trees. And there, dominating the center of a patchwork of fields, was a city. The domineering behemoth of grey stone stood taller than even the fort.


    Built on a hill, the central keep peeked out from behind the five-meter stone walls that ringed it. Houses had spilled out of the castle walls, although Azrael noticed tell-tale signs that there were more hidden safely behind the walls. Here and there a guard patrolled the wall, looking down onto the rest of the small sprawling city. People, and players, were moving through the streets, giving the city an air of general busyness.


    Trotting past an incoming cart, Azrael was faced with two choices. He could either go through and past the city, or he could go around it. Either one presented itself with various problems.


    Azrael looked up at the already setting sun and realised that any time he lost now would probably be equally lost if he tried to find an alternative route around the city. He couldn¡¯t always avoid players, especially if he was planning to travel through Nova Lux. It wasn¡¯t like they would recognise him as a player either. That and the city probably had an inn with a bed. He¡¯d been roughing it since he left the fort. Deciding in favour of a bed, Azrael led Bucky down the road.


    Azrael walked down the main street, leading Bucky by the reins. A wave of voices and smells washed over him, causing him to momentarily stagger and wince as the sudden wall of scents and sounds assailed him. After only traveling through peaceful fields, for the last week and a bit, with Bucky as company, the sudden bustling life of the city threatened to overwhelm him.


    Vendors called out their wares to the masses that passed through the streets, while storekeepers watched haughtily from inside their stores. Carts clattered by and the horses¡¯ hooves echoed off the stone buildings on either side.


    The throng of bodies presented its own challenges in terms of both navigation and smell. The smell of dirt and sweat mingling with the smell of roasting meat in the air. The proximity of a dozen or so players at any point in time didn¡¯t make the experience any easier. Somewhere a child was crying.


    Azrael gritted his teeth, already regretting his decision. He held onto Bucky¡¯s reins tightly, his knuckles whitening. It was only the promise of a bed that caused him to push ahead, through the crowd.


    He found it in the end, at least one of the ones the city had to offer. It was tucked up, beside the castle walls, along the main street. There was another one inside the walls, though a talkative vendor had hinted that it was more expensive than this one.


    Azrael looked up. The inn, in difference to most of the other buildings outside the castle walls, was two-story. A narrow alley allowed for access to a stable behind the building and he gratefully tied Bucky off, beside a few other horses. Bucky was almost worse than he was with big crowds, his understandable distrust of humans causing him to lash out at any that he felt threatened his safety. A stable boy watched the two disinterestedly as they arrived and Azrael left the horse under the kid¡¯s eye and care. Then, with that, he strode into the inn.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    The inn was almost as crowded as the streets, though the general level of noise was at a far more sedated level. Other travellers, players and merchants had decided to stop here for the night, the gentle hubbub of their chatter occasionally broken by raucous laughter, or cries of indignation.


    A middle-aged woman deftly threaded her way through the room, delivering food and drink, while her husband kept a watchful eye from behind the bar. The room itself was nothing remarkable. Too many tables had been squeezed between four wooden walls and a staircase at the back of the room led up to a second story. The hardpacked dirt floor itself was covered in straw, to soak up ale, grease and¡­ possibly other things.


    Azrael moved towards the bar tender, who assessed him with a level gaze.


    ¡°Greetings, elf-friend¡± he said, with a smile.


    Azrael looked at him confused, before following the man¡¯s gaze and glancing down at his clothes. He was still wearing those he had received from the fort. The cloth cut and colour was distinctly different from the common garbs.


    ¡°Ah. Oh, I¡¯m not¡­¡±


    The barkeeper just laughed, his barrel frame bringing it out in a deep jolly rumble.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not one to have anything ¡®gainst ¡®em. You might find others more inclined to disagree, but there¡¯s nothing wrong with ¡®em. Where you heading to, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡±


    ¡°West¡± Azrael replied.


    ¡°Ah, best be careful then, our long-eared friends tend to get a bit more discrimination the further out you travel from their forest. That includes those working with them.¡±


    Azrael nodded, as the barkeeper threw him an appraising gaze.


    ¡°Now, what can I get you?¡±


    ¡°A stay for the night.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, thought as much. Bet you¡¯re hungry too.¡±


    Azrael nodded, trying to guess the price for the night.


    ¡°How much?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Nine coppers.¡±


    ¡°Not gold?¡± Azrael asked perplexed.


    Since Bartlos had asked for payment in gold and had in turn paid him for his artifacts in gold, he¡¯d assumed that gold coins were the standard currency.


    The barkeeper burst out with sudden laughter, drawing the eyes of several patrons.


    ¡°Gods no.¡± He said, wiping a tear from his eyes. ¡°Nobody would come here if I charged that much, no matter how good the bed, drink or food.¡±


    He smiled at Azrael and leaned in conspiratorially.


    ¡°Tell you what¡± he said, already pulling out a mug from behind the counter ¡°The drink is on me.¡±


    A little while later Azrael found himself nestled away in at a table in a quite part of the room, a bowl of steaming stew and a mug of ale beside him.


    The stew itself was a thick meat stew, bits of carrot and potato bobbed in the bowl with the meat. A few slices of a hard brown bread accompanied the stew. He watched a few other patrons dunk their bread into the stew, before eating it. He followed suit, before cautiously taking a bite.


    After dunking, the tough bread became softer, soaking up the flavour of the soup and adding to the texture of the well cooked meat and vegetables.


    It was only when he was halfway through his meal that Azrael remembered the ale. He took a cautionary sip.


    The ale was strangely bitter yet sweet at the same time, but with neither flavour dominating the tastebuds. It was just enough to cleanse hie palate, but not enough to overwhelm other flavours. Though he wasn¡¯t much of a drinker he decided that it made a pleasant addition to the stew.


    Eventually though, his mug ran empty and his bowl was mopped clean with the last remains of his bread. Azrael sat back, surprisingly full. Despite its simplicity and lack of spices, it had been a good meal.


    By now nightfall had arrived and several patrons had either left or retired. The remaining few drinkers, or chattering groups, more than made up for the empty seats with increased volume and bravado, emboldened in no small measure by a steady flow of alcohol.


    Once a fight nearly broke out, one man threatening a neighbouring drinker with his fists. The barkeeper¡¯s, and now obviously tavernkeeper¡¯s, wife muscled her way to the two men, browbeating them back into their seats.


    The barkeeper just watched his wife with a bemused expression, while cleaning a mug with a rag. Some regulars, obviously used to the scene also watched on with bemused expressions. With the fight resolved and the tension dying down again, Azrael decided to call it a night.


    Passing the barkeeper, Azrael paid another three coppers for a breakfast in the morning and checked on Bucky. Seeing the horse freshly groomed, watered and fed he slipped the stable boy a copper from his purse, before heading back inside. He simply hoped that the bed was as comfortable as Bucky¡¯s hay. Worst case, he would just bunk down with the horse.


    As it turned out, Azrael needn¡¯t have worried. His straw filled mattress offered all the luxuries of Bucky¡¯s stall, with the added benefit of a sheet that prevented the straw from stabbing into his sleeping form. With a satisfied sigh he dropped in, kicking off his boots.


    He rolled over and pulled the blanket up, looking at the ceiling. Dropping into bed like this reminded him of a night bordering on two weeks ago, though it seemed to have been far longer.


    ¡°Do you think Alena is ok?¡± he asked the dark room.


    There was no reply in the empty room, until Sera spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to tell you what you don¡¯t know, but I¡¯m sure she¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°How about a little hint?¡±


    ¡°I literally, technically, physically, metaphorically and every other -ally, can¡¯t tell you.¡±


    Azrael closed his eyes, knowing that Sera wasn¡¯t being rude, just letting him know in the best way possible ¨C directly. Checking his soul-link, he found nothing. Alena was alive, that was it, though that very act of her being alive alleviated some of his worries.


    Letting go of his touch on the soul link, he drifted off to sleep.


    The silver light of a waxing gibbous moon cast a gentle light into his room, illuminating a content half smile on his face.

 Chapter 85 - A Premonition?

    Morning came with the sound of rattling carts and shouting voices, as the masses of the city began their day. Azrael rose with far less energy than the bustling crowds on the streets.


    Getting dressed, he slipped his shirt on after having taken it off to sleep. He stretched his arms up, before bending down to touch his toes. Lastly, he stretched his neck. The bed hadn¡¯t been as comfy as he¡¯d hoped. It might have almost been better to have slept in the stables.


    After being used by many passing travellers, the straw that made up the mattress had been compressed, losing some of its inherent springiness. Still, it was better than sleeping on the cold hard ground. At least he¡¯d had a blanket and a roof over his head.


    Descending downstairs Azrael found the room almost empty, many of the travellers presumably having risen early to continue their travels. Azrael could sympathise. Already the constant noise from outside was starting to grate on his nerves.


    The barkeeper, cleaning a mug despite the early hour, noticed Azrael coming down the stairs and smiled. As Azrael returned it, the big man turned to shout something to someone and by the time Azrael had reached the last step the waitress from last night was bringing out a bowl of last night¡¯s soup with bread.


    ¡°My husband tells me that you¡¯re quite a joker.¡± She said with a kind smile, as she brought his food over.


    Azrael could only grin sheepishly, without quite knowing how to answer. Luckily, he wasn¡¯t expected to and he quickly found himself seated at a table, the food served in front of him.


    He turned to look at the barkeeper as his wife returned to the kitchen. The man gave him a grin, before busying himself with cleaning another mug.


    Azrael shook his head as a random though replaced the last one he had. Was being buff and constantly cleaning a mug a requirement for running an establishment like this?


    Instead of breaking his head by trying to think of those things, he turned his attention to the food.


    After being left to settle for a night the flavours had all thoroughly sunken in, making the food more enjoyable than last night. He did wish had had another mug of ale though. It wasn¡¯t so much that he wanted a drink than that the flavours had complemented each other well.


    Still, the stew vanished all too quickly and he found himself outside with Bucky again, after having thanked the barkeeper and his wife for the meal. They hadn¡¯t even taken any payment when he¡¯d insisted. He shook his head and saddled up Bucky.


    It took him a while as he realised that he didn¡¯t have much of a clue how everything went on properly. Usually, in games, you just summoned a mount and it would take you where you wanted. You didn¡¯t have to worry about a saddle, or a harness. Here though? Here it mattered.


    He just hadn¡¯t realised it, as he¡¯d found Bucky tied up in his stall. The two boys had ridden him and the old grouch had just tied up the horse uncaring. Azrael, now that he realised it, hadn¡¯t been much better. In the evenings he¡¯d always just take the saddle off and the bit in the horse¡¯s mouth out, using the reins to tie him to a tree or something. No wonder Bucky always tried to throw him off when he got back on.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°Sorry about that¡± Azrael said, stroking the horse¡¯s flank.


    Bucky just rolled his eyes and shook his head.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll take better care from now on.¡±


    Bucky just snorted and let Azrael lead him out of the stables.


    The main street was crowded, with many people all trying to head towards their respective destinations.


    Knuckles white on Bucky¡¯s reins, Azrael tried to thread his way through the throng. Carts, other riders leading their horses and far too many people were trying to move through the street.


    The limited space was only made worse by vendors on the roadsides, desperately trying to get passers-by to glance at their wares. Opportunistic players were mixed in amongst the experienced NPCs. Azrael just pulled the soul mist tighter around his spark.


    Inside the walls of the city the throng somehow got worse, though carts became less frequent.


    Eventually though, he managed to make his way out of the city and found the road heading west. Relieved to be out of the bustling crowds Azrael hopped into Bucky¡¯s saddle and pointed towards the horizon.


    ¡°Onwards!¡±


    Bucky complied and neither of them looked back, simply glad to be out of the city again.


    Around late afternoon, light grey clouds rolled over heralding a spring shower. They were in an open plain, meaning there was no shelter from the light drizzle when it began. Both horse and rider pressed on.


    Azrael reasoned that if they kept on moving then they¡¯d stay warm, or at least Bucky would. Azrael just hoped that they¡¯d find some shelter before his clothes got completely soaked.


    For the rest of the day the two travelled, passing a few others on their way. The rain itself was a constant companion, though sometime the clouds would part allowing the sun to peek through and warm the unfortunate rider.


    It was not like the light drizzle was that bad. The sun dried much of what fell, but when it did drizzle the fine droplets would pool on Azrael¡¯s hair and eyelashes, before dripping into his eyes, or sliding down into his shirt. It was uncomfortable.


    Before evening though the rain decided to give Azrael a reprise, the sun almost completely drying his damp clothes in the last few hours before it set. Both horse and rider were thankful and decided to call it an evening when the sun stopped gracing them with its warmth.


    The moon rose as the sun set, like two watchers changing guard. Not that there was anywhere for anyone to hide. The plain Azrael was traveling on was as flat and a devoid of trees, bushes or shrubbery as could be.


    A single rock pile beside a lake presented a good a place to spend the night as any. The pile, barely taller than Azrael himself presented the only form of shelter that he could see. The stones would hopefully act as a windbreak.


    Leading the horse over to their destination, Azrael removed both the saddle and the bridle. A handful of grass was what he used to rub the horse down with, before settling in to watch the last of washes of fiery colour fade into the night.


    For the longest of times he seemed to watch the pinks, reds, oranges and yellows reflected in the lake give way to the star spangle night sky. Even then Azrael felt compelled to watch. There was something here, something¡­ familiar?


    He ran a hand through his hair, unable to pin the feeling down. It hovered there, just out of reach. It was there. He knew it, but it refused to materialise.


    Lazily he shot a [Fire Bullet] into the lake, watching it fizzle out. Ripples disturbed the smooth surface, sending the reflected stars dancing.


    Nothing.


    Nothing moved. Nothing changed.


    Even Bucky just looked up uninterested from where he was grazing. The grassy plain was just as quiet as the lake, though he could hear insects amongst the grass. A bird of prey, barely a shadow against the night sky, swooped in for a kill. If there was a danger here that he didn¡¯t know about then they were quite carefree.


    He stretched [Soul Sense] as far as it could go, but was unable to pick up any lurking humans. He sighed in defeat. The answer, it would come in time. He knew that, but it didn¡¯t make it any less easy to ignore.


    Resigned he pressed himself closer to the rocks and pulled his clothes in tighter. Since nightfall the evening chill settled in.


    Shaping two daggers from the stones behind him, he fell asleep with them in his grip.


    Above him the full moon reflected looked down, even as its own reflection mirrored in the lake looked up.

 Chapter 86 - A Memory In The Fog

    Azrael woke with a start and found himself in a combat crouch, before he could consciously register what was wrong. One moment passed, two¡­ three. Nothing happened and after five breaths he began to doubt.


    The lake and plain were silent, dead silent, giving nothing away. He couldn¡¯t even see far, as a cold thick fog had crept up from the lake, shrouding the world from sight. He shivered, his clothes wet with droplets of water.


    Azrael waited another minute, two, then three. Despite the silence and apparent calm, Azrael didn¡¯t lower his daggers. It was happening, whatever it was. He could feel it. The problem was he wasn¡¯t quite sure what it was yet.


    Minutes continued to tick by, without any visible change. Thick fog billowed, wet and heavy, obscuring his sight. It left him with a severely limited view of his surrounding and gave his imagination free rein.


    Silhouettes, real or imagined, moved amongst the folds of the fog. Their shapes were highlighted by the full moon hidden above, but were never there when he turned to face them. His ears strained to their limit, in the hope to hear the passing of the fleeting shadows.


    The tension was palpable, charging the air. Even the very mana around him seemed to react, charging the air further.


    A group of bandits, lying in wait, changed into a single hulking form. A giant approached with silent footsteps, only to vanish as the fog thinned for a moment. Beasts took shape, summoned by his imagination. Wolves and foxes made of shadows were replaced by silhouettes of dragons and more fearsome beasts.


    Azrael backed up, hoping to find the stone pile. He moved slowly, each step measure, as quietly as possible. He never found it, despite having rested against it when he slept.


    Unexpectedly, the tension in the air seemed to snap and the ambient mana momentarily stilled, before, impossibly, shattering. A second later it continued flowing as if nothing ever happened. The change was so sudden that, against his will, Azrael collapsed to the ground, like a marionet who¡¯s strings had just been cut.


    Heart hammering, Azrael pushed off the ground again as two blue screens flashed in his vision. He pushed them away. He couldn¡¯t get distracted. Not now. Not when a single mistake could cost him his life.


    Azrael knew that the moment had passed. It had happened. But that didn¡¯t mean that the danger was gone. It just meant that he couldn¡¯t sense it.


    Eventually though, despite his misgivings, insects began to stir again. They came out from where they had hidden and started up their usual racket, as if their silence was only an illusion. There were less of them though. What once a soft blanket of sounds was now had an intermittent pause every now and again, as if there were less of them to take up their songs.


    For almost another half an hour Azrael waited, expecting something to come for him. Nothing came though.


    The insects chirped and the fog swirled peacefully.


    In the end, Azrael collapsed to the ground, stones digging painfully into his backside.


    Had he been wrong?


    He looked at the gentle fog in front of him, moonlight filtering through.


    Had he imagined it?


    Light and shadow played harmlessly amongst the countless droplets of moisture that hung in the sky. For all the swirling patterns that it showed, it revealed nothing.


    Resigned, Azrael brought up the dismissed notifications.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have stepped into a World Memory: [Mors¡¯ Retirement]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to your skill ¡®Void Walker¡¯ you have passed through without any harm.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    <table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to keeping calm under pressure you have gained a level in [Calm Mind].


    [Calm Mind] (Lv.11) has advanced to [Calm Mind] (Lv.12).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael looked at the notification, his mind shooting in a hundred different directions. Somehow, he still came up blank.


    ¡°Sera?¡±


    He felt her presence strengthen, indicating her moving towards his conscious thoughts.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°What just happened?¡±


    ¡°You just passed into a World Memory. Mor¡¯s Retirement to be exact.¡±


    Azrael released a dagger in favour of running a hand through his hair.


    ¡°I know that¡± He said, irritated ¡°I¡¯m asking about what just happened and where I am now.¡±


    The sudden change in tension had left him feeling off kilter and slightly short on any reasonable emotional responses. He knew that Sera could feel his frustration.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± He said, his voice slightly strained. ¡°Why? Because you actually don¡¯t know, or it¡¯s one of those things you can¡¯t tell me?¡±


    ¡°Because I can¡¯t tell you.¡±


    Azrael¡¯s hand jerked and he plunged a dagger into the ground for lack of better response. Sera was apologetic. He knew she was, but¡­


    ¡°GRAAAAAAAAAAAAH!¡±


    He didn¡¯t ask for any of this! All he wanted to do was play a game in peace, yet here he was on the other side of the goddamn known world! Players, gods, NPC¡¯s, none of them left him alone, but he¡¯d still thought that the game was fair, that there was something he was doing wrong. The game, it seemed, was just waiting for a chance to screw him over just as much as everyone else.


    ¡°Sera. Short and sweet, am I where I was earlier?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Can I get out?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Can I get out now?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Is that because you don¡¯t know, or because you¡­ You know what? I don¡¯t care!¡±


    He forcefully shoved Sera out of his consciousness, blocking of any way she had to contact him. With an angry yank he ripped his dagger out of the ground and picked up his other one, before storming off into a direction. Any direction. He didn¡¯t care.


    Stones crunched underfoot, while fog continued to obscure his view. A gentle upwards slope prevented him from walking in circles. It was boring and monotonous. Always the same crunch of stone and the same swirling fog.


    He¡¯d tried to disperse the fog, but wind magic didn¡¯t work for long as the displaced fog would just roll back again. Fire magic was even more ineffective, the golden light of the blazing flames overpowered the silver light of the full moon, but failed to affect the heavy fog. The conjured flames tinged the surrounding mist gold and provided a bit of warmth, so he kept the flames summoned. For a small flame the mana cost was almost negligible, though not indefinitely sustainable with his current mana pool.


    After seemingly trudging for hours on end Azrael paused, dismissing the flames. For the endless journey so far the flickering gold flames had been his only companion. That and the endless grinding of stones underfoot.


    Now however, even with his flames dismissed, the fog retained a golden light. The silver light of the moon was nowhere left to be seen.


    Azrael rushed forward hopeful and grateful for a break in the monotony. Each step forward bore him up the slope. Each step forward brough him seemingly closer to the light. Then, suddenly, Azrael broke free of the fog.


    The bright light of the rising sun blinded him as it reflected off of the tops of endless clouds.


    Adjusting to the sudden light Azrael blinked at the sight before him. A cloud sea; a sea of endless clouds stretched out before him in all cardinal directions. Above, the sky, so beautifully bright and blue, welcomed him.


    For a moment everything was forgotten, except for the relief of being out of the endless monotony of stone and fog.


    Hell wasn¡¯t blazing hot, nor icy cold. It was bleak, monotonous and wet. The thick fog turned to droplets on your clothes, soaking them, weighing you down. The shadows, mocking, twisting, wore at your mind and the endless grating of stones underfoot threatened to tip you past the brink of insanity.


    You couldn¡¯t stop though, despite your clothes getting heavier the longer you walked and the grating of rocks, because if you did you would start to freeze. Your body would cool, soaked to the bone and you would start to shiver, start to freeze. And always the hope, the endless hope as you trudged up the slope, that you would break free from the monotony, from the insanity and be free.


    And Azrael was free. He had made it, passing through hell and breaking into the sun kissed cloud meadow of heaven.


    Azrael was completely free of the fog and enjoying the suns embrace, when he noticed something. The slope had flattened out, leveling itself a few meters above the sea of white clouds. The mountain top peeked out, an island in the endless sea of white, barely fifty meters in either direction. The cloud island plateau housed a tree and a single building ¨C a wooden hut.


    The hut was smaller than any of the houses back in his village and looked as if it would be blown away by the slightest gust of wind. A flap of tattered and faded cloth, perhaps once dyed in a magnificent red, served a curtain in the doorway.


    A hand reached out, pushing it to the side and an elderly man stepped out, his silver hairs shining in the sunlight. The man¡¯s clothes were as tattered at the curtain in the doorway, and just as faded. It was impossible to discern their original colour.


    Seemingly ignoring him Azrael watched the man walk to the side of the house and pick up a stick, barely longer than his own arm. It was only then that he turned to face Azrael. There was no fear in the man¡¯s eyes. In fact, there was nothing that gave away what the man was thinking.


    Azrael watched, rooted to his spot as the strange man calmly pointed the stick at Azrael. Then with his free hand the man held up five fingers, before pulling in his thumb and leaving four fingers open. Four became three as the pinky was similarly pulled in.


    Azrael took the chance to use [Lord¡¯s Insight] on the man.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Name: Mors (The Silver Sword)


    (weakened)


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Class: Knight Captain (Lv.25), General (Lv.14). Trainer (Lv. 16)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The last finger came down and the man seemingly vanished from his position. Barely half a second later Azrael felt his legs being swept out from under him and everything went black as his head hit the ground.


    The last thing he remembered seeing was a grey-haired face looking down at him and frowning, as if it were disappointed. Then, everything went dark.

 Chapter 87 - Who Are You?

    Azrael woke under the steely gaze of two grey blue eyes.


    ¡°Get up¡± Mors said, before turning and striding away.


    Azrael blinked, a ramshackle wooden roof blocking his view of the sky. It seemed that since he¡¯d had his encounter with the God of Mischief he¡¯d been constantly finding himself waking up in strange places.


    The first time it was naked in a forest. The second time it was in somebody else¡¯s bed. Following this trend the next time it would be naked in somebody else¡¯s bed.


    Mors paused at the door, one hand already pushing aside the faded curtain.


    ¡°Out¡± he said and before vanishing past the curtain.


    Azrael complied and hurried out after the man.


    Outside the sun was on its downward arc, several hours obviously having passed since Mors had pointed the stick at Azrael. Or rather, where Mors had knocked Azrael out with a single sweep of  stick.


    Right now, Mors was waiting outside, the same stick in his hand again. Just the sight of it gave Azrael a feeling of foreboding. Mors pointed the stick at Azrael.


    ¡°Fight me.¡±


    Again, the fingers began their count down.


    ¡°I refu¡­URGH!¡±


    Azrael found himself sprawled on the ground, again, his legs swept out from under him. He just barely having managed to protect his head this time, sparing himself a new concusion. The breath was driven out of his body though as he fell awkwardly. Mors watched without compassion.


    ¡°Your stance is weak¡­ and falling for the same trick again¡­Pathetic.¡±


    Mors¡¯ so far emotionless voice dripped with unrestrained contempt. Azrael struggled up, gasping for breath.


    Mors once again raised his hand, three fingers in the air. Azrael conjured two stone daggers, layering them both with [Reinforcement]. The twig came whistling down and Azrael tried to block it with both daggers crossed.


    He was sent flying across the field, one of his daggers crumbling from the force, even after having [Reinforcement] applied. Mors regarded at him with a sneer.


    ¡°Weak. Flawed.¡±


    Azrael considered just staying down. It hurt. He hurt. His health had also dropped by nearly ten percent from those two encounters. And the man was clearly holding himself back.


    The twig came down again rapid succession, landing on all four of Azrael¡¯s limbs.


    ¡°ARGH!!¡±


    There was enough force behind the blows to send loud thunder shots into the air, but not enough break the skin or bones.


    ¡°Get up.¡±


    This time Mors¡¯ voice was once again emotionless and cold, but with a deadly undertone. Azrael understood that the man standing over him with a twig wasn¡¯t Mors an old man, but Mors the Silver Sword.


    Azrael wasn¡¯t sure what the title meant, but this was a man that had killed and would do so again, without batting an eye.


    Azrael pushed himself up, conjuring a new dagger. He glared poison at Mors, but the man didn¡¯t even blink, instead raising three fingers. Azrael didn¡¯t wait, launching himself forward. His daggers left his grasp almost immediately, flying for the man¡¯s throat.


    Mors leant to one side, letting the first dagger pass by harmlessly. The second dagger was met by the twig, small stone shards exploding out from the impact. Impossibly fast a first [Stone Spike] emerged from out of nowhere, lancing through the air. It was followed by a second and a third. All three pierced the space where Mors was standing and all three missed.


    The stick came down against the back of Azrael¡¯s head, sending him sprawling face first into the dirt. He spat the dirt out of his mouth and turned his head back to glare at his tormentor. A [Stone Spike] erupted out, from directly under Mors, but the man moved like lightning.


    The stick came down on Azrael again, causing Azrael to lunge towards the man in anger while swinging his fist. The stick came down against his knuckles, knocking the blow off course.


    ¡°Futile¡±


    Azrael staggered to a halt, cradling his stinging fist. He turned and glared at the man. At the tormentor, the psychopath, that beat him up for no reason.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°Why¡­¡±


    The Silver Sword cut him off.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Though it was a question, there was no curiosity behind it. It was almost a statement.


    Before Azrael could respond though the twig came down again. This time there was no warning, no fingers, no countdown. It came, fast as lightning and almost as painful.


    Azrael felt tears welling up, both from the pain and from the humiliation.


    ¡°Why?¡± he asked.


    ¡°You are weak.¡±


    There was no judgment, only cold assessment. Somehow, that just made it worse.


    Azrael launched himself into the air with a blast of wind to get away from the pain. The Silver Sword followed him up, letting the pure muscle strength in his jump carry him into the sky.


    The stick came down. Azrael came down faster, the blow smashing him down into the earth. His health was below half.


    Notifications popped up, but he pressed them to the side, dropping into [Meditation]. The breathing pattern, so familiar only came to him in laboured gasps. Azrael fired a [Fire Bullet] at his opponent.


    The golden flames burst forward, in brilliant glory. The stick cut through them with ease, dissipating them into the night.


    ¡°You are weak¡± Mors repeated again.


    Azrael knew it was a taunt. He knew he shouldn¡¯t react, but he still felt himself bristle at the provocation. The absolute lack of emotion was what made it the worst. His opponent said it as if he were speaking about the weather, as a fact.


    ¡°I¡¯m not weak¡± Azrael growled, frustration and anger coiling in his stomach along with something darker.


    The stick didn¡¯t care as it came down again. And again. And again. Unerringly. Unceasingly.


    Azrael pulled back and the two circled each other, both ready if the other made another move.


    Azrael was beaten, bruised, panting and covered in dust and sweat. Mors on the other hand was barely breathing heavily, although a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his forehead.


    ¡°The weak will always be trodden on.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not weak.¡±


    He launched a [Fire Bullet], dropping into stealth as Mors was temporarily blinded.


    The man sliced through his ball with contemptuous ease, before his gaze flickered over the field and locked onto Azrael. The stick came in a horizontal arc, shattering a defensive [Earth Spike] that appeared between them.


    The resulting explosion of rock peppered Azrael with stone shrapnel, drawing blood from all of his exposed skin and shredding through his clothes. The twig swung again and Azrael found himself landing underneath the solitary tree on the mountain. He pulled himself up to lean against the tree, while cradling his side.


    His health had dropped down again, leaving him dangerously close to death. Even [Meditation] could only accelerate his healing so far.


    ¡°Stop.¡± He gasped, his pride as battered as his body.


    Tears threatened to spill. The pain was unbearable. The humiliation was just as bad.


    The Silver Sword, Mors, only looked down at him calmly. His expression was unreadable.


    ¡°Make me¡± He said finally, raising the hated stick in challenge.


    ¡°Force me to stop. Fight me. Bribe me. Convince me. Beg me. Choose.¡±


    A smile played on the man¡¯s lips for the briefest of moments.


    ¡°Who are you to get me to stop? Convince me, show me. Prove that you have something, anything.¡±


    Azrael pulled himself up and that same smile flickered across the man¡¯s passive face again.


    ¡°What will you choose?¡± he asked. This time it was a question. A proper question with genuine curiosity.


    Azrael answered with a massive roar, his [Aura] bursting out of him in full force. From within him something answered his call.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Your unique skill [@#%& Self] has gained full awareness of self.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning! ¡­


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael ignored the rest of the notifications as he felt power of the beast flooding through him. Its roar answered his call, adding its voice to his. Its power lent itself to his. Its will lent itself to his. Because, for the first time in a long time, they were in agreement.


    Azrael charged at The Silver Sword, his daggers drawn and flames roaring around him as [Wind] bore him forward.


    *****


    Alena turned her gaze to the house, something seeming to draw her out of her practice. She placed her daggers back into their scabbards and walked inside.


    Like always since her master had left the house was clean, swept, washed and ordered. The dishes were washed and the pantry was stocked full.


    Her gaze soon found what had disturbed her. Even now she felt the compulsion, calling her. The compulsion called to her from the depths of her soul, ordering her to move, as if under the command of her Lord and master. She hesitated as she looked at the big crystal on the windowsill. The compulsion locked itself on to the item.


    It was like a mana core, but too big and tendrils of inky darkness swirled inside it. Her master had brought it back after the wolf hunt, before he had disappeared. She had left it where he had left it, only moving it when she cleaned the table. Before now it had never reacted. Always the stone was cool to the touch and the tendrils of darkness unresponsive to anything outside of itself. Now though? Now she could feel a pull, a tug. Compelled by curiosity, and something more, she touched it.


    The stone shattered, darkness exploding outwards. Like a hungry maw it enveloped the light, stealing her sight and robbing her of her vision, before streaming into her like grasping fingers.


    It vanished into her, and she could see again, but she could feel it moving through her, deeper and deeper, down to her very soul¡­ and then beyond.  All of a sudden, she could suddenly feel her Lord. The darkness flowed towards him, like a hound to its master. The soul-link, temporarily strengthened by rolling darkness let her feel her Lord as she had been unable to since he¡¯d left.


    She could feel his anger, his hopelessness and above all his resolve. Then, like that the darkness was gone. The connection stopped, the emotions cutting off with an abruptness that left her gasping for breath. She felt drained, her energy washed away by the power of the darkness. It had all transferred to her Lord, all save a little.


    The remaining tendrils curled around inside her, soft, barely noticeable.


    She thought back to her Lord, to his resolve, before looking at the chess board by the window. The pawns were lined up in neat rows, protecting their king.


    She strode towards the village. Another two new people had arrived seeking refuge, adding to the growing number of villagers. She fingered her daggers.


    She had work to do.

 Chapter 88 - Who am I?

    Azrael lunged at The Silver Sword, his physical capabilities boosted to previously unreached levels. The elements heeded his call, cladding him in power and boosting him further.  His daggers were reinforced to their maximum, while his [Aura] proceeded him in the attack. He didn¡¯t make it further than his first lunge.


    One step, one move, and Mors was suddenly in front of him. The twig, unbroken despite the furious battle, cut through the remaining distance in the same way it cut through his [Aura]. Its tip raced towards Azrael. The blow, the end, was inevitable.


    Azrael gasped and sat upright, throwing a worn blanket off himself. He ran a hand to where his heart was, patting it down. He was alive.


    The blow had never come. Azrael had lost. That fact was undeniable. However, it was only his pride, not his life that he¡¯d paid with.


    Azrael looked down to his chest, to where the twig had stopped just short his heart. If Mors was wielding a sword, then he knew that he would have been dead.


    Despite that realisation Azrael could only think back to a single memory. Where he¡¯d looked down at the stick pointed at his heart. The amount of power and control that had been focused on that small unquivering tip, stopped just short of his chest.


    He felt a shiver run through him from the memory, both in fear and in thrill. It was only just dawning on him. He could have almost died. He would have died if Mors only had half the control he did.


    Still, there was an undeniable thrill of letting loose and giving it his all, to throw all rules out of the window. There were no consequences, no real ones anyways. It was a game.


    It was the last thing that remembered, just before he¡¯d blacked out, that left the greatest impression on him. He¡¯d been beaten, broken, defeated and those apathetic eyes had looked down at him. Mors had stepped in close, the stick still pointed at his chest, and repeated a question in his same cold voice.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± he had asked.


    Three words, but for Azrael they were the equivalent of to ¡°What is life?¡±


    It had been a rhetorical question. Mors hadn¡¯t expected an answer, just like he hadn¡¯t the first time. It was, he realised, not a question for Mors, but for himself. And though Mors didn¡¯t require an answer, it did need to be answered.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Who was he? Could anyone really say who he was?


    He was a gamer, but that didn¡¯t define who he was. The past played a large role in defining his present.


    Who was he?


    He was Kale Evans, ex-programming student.


    He had been best friends with Samson.


    He¡¯d fallen into a coma, losing a year of his life and more.


    He had been The_Darklord69, a notorious player, a quest clearer. Later he was Cain, a troublemaker.


    He¡¯d even been a guild master in a small guild he¡¯d made with Samson.


    He¡¯d betrayed and been betrayed in turn, when he joined Holy Empire and played as Cain, the mage.


    He¡¯d suffered, he¡¯d endured, he¡¯d hoped.


    He¡¯d lost both parents and been pushed to the side by Holy Empire in a time where he¡¯d sought normalcy and stability.


    And he¡¯d withdrawn, forsaking the world as it forsook him. Yet, somehow, he was back.


    Almost.


    Things had changed. He had changed.


    Who was he?


    It was hard. The thoughts and ideas seemed disassociated with each other, coming in fragments.


    Azrael¡¯s hand moved and he found himself touching a blanket. He removed it and looked around the room he found himself in. It wasn¡¯t the same room from earlier, but a different one. It was smaller, containing only a chair, a table and the sleeping mat he found himself on.


    Light shone in from a window, showing that at least a night had passed since their duel. Despite the game¡¯s prodigious healing Azrael still felt sore, as if he¡¯d run a marathon and then thrown himself off a cliff ¨C repeatedly. Though he was still covered in deep blue bruises, Mors had never drawn blood.


    Curious about his recovery, Azrael opened went to open his status, only to get swamped by the list of new notifications. The list went on, seemingly forever.


    ¡°Sera?¡± he asked, curious. ¡°Is there a way to compress the notifications?¡±


    He knew there was no way for Sera, or him to change the way his [Status] was laid out, as that was how he¡¯d created the skill. The notifications however had not been something he¡¯d added, but the system. It simply piggybacked off of his skill.


    Since Sera was the AI in charge of his skills and stat gains, it made sense that she would be the system¡¯s link to his [Status] and the notifications.


    Sera giggled and the notifications compressed, with like notifications compressing into others of their type.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For Enduring past your limits you have gained END +2.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For Pushing yourself beyond your physical capabilities you have gained STR +2.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For showing masterful skill in combat you have gained DEX +2.


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


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For pushing your speed to the limit you have gained AGI +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He looked at the change appreciatively.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    With a much shorter though still incredibly daunting list, he read on.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have gained a level in [Dagger Arts]


    [Dagger Arts] (Lv.22) advances to [Dagger Arts] (Lv.23)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have gained levels in [Meditation]


    [Meditation] (Lv.25) advances to [Meditation] (Lv.28)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have gained levels in [Calm Mind]


    [Calm Mind] (Lv.12 ) advances to [Calm Mind] (Lv.14)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have gained levels in [Mana Control]


    [Mana Control] (Lv.27) advances to [Mana Control] (Lv.29)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He was both surprised and glad to see that the fight had pushed [Meditation] past level 25 and the first advancement. That wasn¡¯t the only surprise that he found amongst the seemingly endless notifications.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For successfully harnessing different elements at once you have gained a level in ¡®Sorcerer¡¯ INT+1 WIS+3 END+1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Your unique skill [@#%& Self] has gained full awareness of self.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Your unique skill [@#%& Self] has absorbed the incomplete skills:


    [Combat Awareness], [Hunting], [Hawk Eye], [Sprint], [Fatigue Resistance] and [Light Steps].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Your unique skill [@#%& Self] has absorbed the incomplete titles:


    {Man Slayer}, {Predator} and {Protector}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Due to a soul-link formed through the soul-bound individual ¡®Alena¡¯ the skill [@#%& Self] has absorbed the essence of a [Mana Core of an Alpha Shadow Wolf].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Your skill [@#%& Self] has forcefully acquired [Shadow] mana.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Your skill [@#%& Self] has bound itself into your shadow.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations


    Due to your skill [@#%& Self] you have forcefully acquired [Shadow] mana.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Due to no elemental affinity all elemental spells will be fused with [Elemental Mana].


    As your understanding of the elements grows, so too will the utility of the unique skill


    [Elemental Mana].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Elemental Mana]


    There is a truth even nature obeys.


    You may grant your mana an elemental affinity.


    Current Affinities: [Fire], [Earth], [Water], [Wind], [Shadow]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to the synergy between {Void Walker} and the absorbed skill [Light Steps] you have gained the unique skill [Shadow Step].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table style="width: 90.0531%">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 97.6829%" width="601">


    [Shadow Step]


    Even shadows are but a cloak on your journeys.


    You may step into, travel through and hide in shadows.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For successfully aquiring an element beyond the basic four you have gained a level in ¡®Sorcerer¡¯ INT+1 WIS+3 END+1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table style="width: 90.0531%">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 97.9775%" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 50.1178%" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 47.8597%" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.4), Sorcerer (Lv.5), Lord (Lv.4) Thief (Lv.1)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 97.9775%" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human (97%)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 97.9775%" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 50.1178%" width="298">


    HP: 280/280


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 47.8597%" width="298">


    MP: 310/310


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 97.9775%" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 50.1178%" width="298">


    STR: 21


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 47.8597%" width="298">


    END: 28


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 50.1178%" width="298">


    DEX: 23


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 47.8597%" width="298">


    AGI: 18


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 50.1178%" width="298">


    INT: 31


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 47.8597%" width="298">


    WIS: 33


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 97.9775%" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 97.9775%" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}, {Teacher}, {Oath Maker}, {Void Touched}, {Trickster¡¯s Blessing}, {Void Walker}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center; width: 97.9775%" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana], [Aura], [@#%& Self], [Shadow Step].


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 97.9775%" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.16), Spear Arts (Lv.20), Mana Sight (Lv.26), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 27), Soul Sense (Lv.15), Mana Control (Lv.29), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 3), Stealth (Lv. 24), Calm Mind (Lv. 14) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 2), Lord¡¯s Insight (Lv. n/a), Leadership (Lv.6), Void Shaping (Lv. n/a), Reinforcement (Lv.13), Dagger Arts (Lv.23), Meditation (Lv.28), Mana Transfer (Lv.5), Craftsman¡¯s Eye (Lv.1), Intimidation (Lv.6), Search (Lv.8).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    His status was growing, a numerical representation of who he was. Though it was enormously satisfying, it didn¡¯t represent all of who he was and didn¡¯t help answer the question that kept on swimming through his thoughts.


    Who am I?


    Rising, he moved to the door of the small room. He was going to find Mors. Maybe another fight would rattle an answer loose. That and the stat gains were good. A gamer¡¯s gotta gain.

 Chapter 89 - The Shape Of Denial.

    Azrael found himself on the dusty ground for the fourth time since he had challenged Mors in frustration. The battle wasn¡¯t half as fast paced as the one last night. That didn¡¯t mean much for Azrael though. It just meant that the old man was going easier on him.


    ¡°Why?¡± Azrael asked, groaning as he rose.


    ¡°Why what?¡±


    ¡°Why are you going easy on me?¡±


    Mors just lifted his eyebrow and opened his mouth to say something, before seemingly reconsidering.


    ¡°I am fighting you, am I not?¡±


    ¡°You are.¡±


    ¡°And have you landed a blow on me yet?¡±


    Azrael¡¯s silence was all the answer Mors needed.


    ¡°Since you do not find it easy to land a blow on me, I do not believe I have been going easy on you.¡±


    Azrael remained silent, having risen and dusted himself off. He didn¡¯t even look at Mors as he raised his stone blade towards the man.


    ¡°Again¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°AGAIN!¡±


    Azrael charged, his daggers moving at extreme speeds, only to pierce empty space. Mors had swayed to the side, barely moving, yet avoiding both incoming blades. His own stick rapped Azrael gently on the head.


    Azrael whirled around, his daggers once more flashing, as he pushed himself to the limits of his speed. Blades passed through air and once more the stick came down.


    ¡°Foolishness is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.¡± Mors said calmly ¡°You fight without a plan, without a goal. Do you know what they call a fight with no plan, with no aim, with no goal? A brawl.¡±


    He fixed his gaze on Azrael.


    ¡°Who are you and why do you fight?¡±


    Azrael could only stare in disbelief. The words that had sounded so profound earlier, now only sounded like the ramblings of an NPC with a broken script. It was the fourth time he¡¯d heard it today.


    After being kidnapped from his own home, sent to the other side of the known world, sucked into some sort of alternate realm and beaten black and blue by an old man who was apparently the only broken NPC in the game, this was the final straw.


    ¡°I¡¯M AZRAEL, LORD OF THE END FOREST! I WAS CAIN, THE MAD MAGE, THE CRAZED CRAFTER, I WAS THE DARKLORD, THE SLAUGHTERER OF THE BATTLEFIELD. I HAVE MADE ITEMS THAT BROKE WORLDS! I HAVE GIVEN GMS NIGHTMARES. I HAVE SENT THOUSANDS TO THEIR GRAVE WITH A WAVE OF MY HAND AND HAVE FOUGHT HORRORS AND ARMIES THAT YOU COULD ONLY DREAM OF AND I SURVIVED.¡±


    Azrael was panting by now, his voice hoarse.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Azrael asked weakly ¡°To tell me what to do? To humiliate me? To question me? What right do you have?


    For a long time the two of them stood there, one panting, one calm and composed. Eventually though Mors broke the silence, his words quite.


    ¡°There once was a man¡± he said, his voice not directed at anyone ¡°who was gifted with the sword. He was a farm boy, of humble birth. He knew that his life would start and end like his father¡¯s and like his father¡¯s father before him, in the fields.


    Yet, by some twist of fate he saved a wounded knight and as thanks was taught the way of the sword. The boy was fit and the boy was strong. Upon seeing the boy¡¯s potential, the knight offered him a choice. The boy accepted, leaving his mother, his father, his village and his lover.


    They begged him to stay, but he didn¡¯t listen, because for once he was special, different, and he was proud. Perhaps too proud. As the years progressed he surpassed all his peers and eventually his instructors.


    A call for help came from his village, but in his pride he dismissed them. He would not let them drag him down. The village was wiped out.


    In grief he threw himself into his training, seeking to fill the hole in his heart. His station rose, from mere soldier to imperial knight captain and eventually a general. Upon his sword he swore his oath to the kingdom, to protect it with his life. He led soldiers into battle, brothers in arms and he gained a title, ¡®The Silver Sword¡¯. He was still proud though, chasing glory. His bothers paid the price, falling for his mistakes. One by one they fell, until he was truly left alone.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Bitter he left, abandoning his oath, his kingdom. Then, it all ended. The gods heeded his prayers for an end. It was not salvation though, but an eternal punishment. The world went white and the next thing he knew all that was left was a sea of clouds, endless, inescapable. It was his punishment from the gods, to have lost everything and bear that weight for eternity. The heights that he wished for, were his and hi alone, amongst the clouds.


    He could neither die, nor leave. For his pride he lost his family, his home, his heritage, his village, his lover, his brothers and his kingdom. He was swayed by the words of others, he let them fill his head. In the end he could save nothing. All was lost, save his sword. He never touched a blade since.¡±


    Mors just stood there silently, looking up at the clear blue sky, the vast endless roof of his prison. The way the sun fell on his face highlighted his many wrinkles, making him suddenly look old, old and tired. Neither of them spoke.


    ¡°Sometimes¡± said Mors, his voice bitter ¡°it¡¯s better to hold something tight and never let it go. Unless you want to lose it all.¡±


    ¡°How do I choose¡± Azrael asked his own tired seeping out of his bones. All the emotions he¡¯d bottled up had spilled out, leaving him empty and exhausted.


    ¡°Sometimes you have to look inside, deep inside.¡±


    With that he left Azrael alone on the dusty field and vanished through the curtains of his house. Azrael stared blankly at the swaying curtains for a moment longer before retreating back to his own abode, a small outhouse beside Mors¡¯ humble shack. With a weary sigh he dropped ono his sleeping mat and stared at the roof.


    Who was he?


    Again, that question.


    What did he want?


    Compared to the previous question that seemed too superficial. Just because he wanted something it didn¡¯t mean he could have it. Complaining about the weather wouldn¡¯t make it change. It wasn¡¯t within his power.


    Azrael sat up and clenched his teeth. No. He would have that power. He would make it. In the hopes of an answer he pushed himself up and entered [Meditation], before falling deeper, into his soul. He didn¡¯t call Sera. It felt wrong to break the silence.


    Inside his soul realm his soul glowed brightly. Rays of light shone from his divine spark, illuminating skill crystals in an otherworldly light. His soul mist, serene, swirled in impossible forms. His soul was more¡­ him. It was more him than the last time he¡¯d been here. It wasn¡¯t the play of light that changed the feeling. There was something more. As if his soul was, had, something more. It felt alive. Then he saw it.


    Even as he peered through his soul mist, down towards the spark, it moved again. A black shadow against the light of the spark. He looked at it and it looked back.


    Azrael found himself jolted out of his soul space. It happened as soon as their eyes met, if you could even call them that. The thing was almost formless, a shadow against the light. Though it had no defining features he could have sworn that their eyes met, that it had looked back at him. He shivered, before slipping back in.


    His spark was scoured clean, all the new skills that had been developing, but not yet reached the first level at the soul mist, had been devoured, absorbed by the shadow. He searched for it, seeking it, but it was gone. A feeling of dread overtook him. He left the soul space just as a maw of darkness snapped shut where he had been.


    Azrael vomited, a cold sweat soaking his clothes. It had been close, too close. He hadn¡¯t even noticed the shadow, the beast, until its jaws were nearly upon him.


    He calmed his panicked breathing, drawing in deep breaths to steady his heart. The beast was awake again, though this time was different. Before it had been a part of him, a quite voice in his mind, a whisper shackled by mental chains. Before it had always reacted on instinct and emotion. Now though? It seemed awake, free, intelligent.


    Shakily he settled into [Meditation] letting the familiar rhythm help calm him. He didn¡¯t dare to go deeper into his soul though. He could still feel it though, it was¡­ The beast pinned him down, locking him in place. Caught unawares, he didn¡¯t have a chance to fight back.


    The beast sniffed him, searching for something. Azrael forcefully kept himself in [Meditation], fearful of possible consequences. He knew what happened to people who lost to their inner demons in cultivation stories.


    The beast nudged him, forming¡­ no strengthening a link. Its thoughts were violent like a bloody storm. He felt its anger, its rage. It desired to fight, to kill, to dominate, to crush, to destroy, to¡­ he felt himself drowning in the feelings, the boundaries between their personalities blurring. All the bits of him that he¡¯d pushed away and locked away slowly rose up as his mental barriers broke down. Like a wave it rushed at him, but he pushed past that, swimming through it in the hopes of escaping.


    He felt its will, tenacious, unyielding. He felt its bond to him, loyal, in the same way a shadow never left the body. Though it fought him they were one. They both knew that. The strength of the feelings overwhelmed him though, threatening to erase his existence, his half of the bond. Still, amongst that rush, he saw something, something in the dark abyss of emotions.


    He touched its mind. It was cool, sharp and clear. Deadly. It turned its gaze onto him, but before their eyes met he burst out of [Meditation].


    Gasping he lay on the floor. His body shivered, not because he was afraid, but because he understood. He understood the beast. How could he not? They were one.


    The shadows moved and he looked up, the midnight silhouette of the shadow wolf alpha looking down at him with his own golden eyes. It looked at him like a tame dog, trust radiating out of its gaze. He was not fooled however, the bloodlust it contained still transmitted to him through their link.


    He looked at it and understood it for what it was. What it truly was. The beast wasn¡¯t some terrible monster. It was worse, much worse.


    The game had taken all the emotions that he¡¯d denied, that he¡¯d supressed and thrown away, and had given it form.


    The beast wasn¡¯t some dark monster from the most bloodthirsty pit of hell, but his own inner demon, the shape of everything he denied.

 Chapter 90 - Murder

    A shiver ran down Azrael¡¯s back as he tried not to blink.


    For the past half an hour or so, or at least he assumed that it had been half an hour, he¡¯d been staring at the black Beast. It had stared back, unflinchingly.


    Truth be told the time could have been far shorter, or far longer. The tension that was between them made his focus razor sharp, but everything else seemed to blur.


    Still, he didn¡¯t blink. He didn¡¯t dare to look away from the dark silhouette that had manifested itself from within him.


    Some things were better left buried, hidden away in the darkest corners of the heart, forgotten and ignored by the mind. When most people buried memories and feelings of their past they didn¡¯t want it back. And normally they didn¡¯t. It was an unfortunate luxury that he didn¡¯t seem to have. His past, it seemed, had decided to comeback and haunt him.


    Like a silent spectre it watched him. The gaze it returned was both blazing with bloodlust and cool with sharp intelligence and yet somehow reproachful at being forgotten. It frightened him, because it was him ¨C at least a part of him. No matter how much he might have wished to deny it he couldn¡¯t. He could feel that it was the truth. This Beast was as much him yet not him as his feelings were his, but not exactly his either.


    There were other feeling in it of course, beyond rage and reproach, but they were hidden behind its fiercely blazing will to run amok.


    A sharp tap resounded on the door, causing Azrael to accidentally break his gaze. As the door opened, his watchful shadow flickered losing its canine shape and vanished, streaming towards him. Mors appeared in the doorway, the sunlight dispersing any shadows that remained inside.


    ¡°We need to talk¡± Mors said.


    Azrael just stared at the floor where his shadow touched his feet, seemingly ignoring him.


    Mors stepped inside and Azrael¡¯s head suddenly snapped up, his eyes pitch black. His sclera and normally radiant gold irises were stained in the deepest black. He snarled.


    Mors stumbled back as a veritable explosion of [Stone Spikes] exploded from the floor. A [Fire Bullet] detonated right where he had been a moment before, blasting part of the door and doorway apart. The Beast snarled and inside Azrael screamed, struggling to regain control of his own body.


    Adrenaline filled his body with fire, while he felt old emotions break to the surface. Like boiling magma they broke through the cooled crust that had hidden them and they came fore with all the power of a natural disaster.


    He slashed at Mors, his summoned stone dagger elongating to rapier length. Only [Reinforcement] kept the blade from shattering. Mors parried each blow with a piece of splintered scrap wood. While no longer desperate after the first sudden surprise, it was still awkward, as Azrael manipulated his blades into different lengths and shapes.


    Time and time again the stone blade would shatter from the force of their blows, even with the [Reinforcement] and time and time again the blade was brought back into existence, flaws fixed and stronger than before.


    The two fighters rounded the building, entering onto the large and dusty area where they¡¯d previously been fighting. The burning shame of seeing the place he¡¯d been defeated added fuel onto an already raging fire. The Beast felt the shame stronger than he did. It had his pride, and more violent tendencies. It renewed the fight with vigour.


    Meanwhile, Azrael felt like he was drowning, sinking. Emotions rushed past him in chaotic geysers, while the light seemed to fade from his grasp. Unlike the cold bottom of the deepest ocean, it was hot. Blistering hot. Or at least it should have been. Somehow, to him the darkness, and all the madness that it hid and held, seemed to embrace him. It felt familiar, safe.


    A warmth suffused him, allowing him not to think about everything he was feeling right now. He recognised it for what it was. Denial. Humans were good at denying and he was no exception. It had allowed him to live, to pass on from grief, to pass on from regret.


    Grief and regret were still here though. They swirled around him. Bearing him down. He let himself sink, watching the battle.


    Outside, the Beast leapt around with a precise grace that Azrael had forgotten. Each move made the next one more efficient. Each move maximised the energy spent to either strike, or avoid, Mors¡¯ makeshift sword.


    The Beast relished it, the wild combat, the flurry of moves. And in a way forgotten to him Azrael did too. A single mistake and it was over.


    He watched it hold its own against The Sword Saint, his body moving with a graceful savagery that he had long buried. Perhaps it was better this way. To let it fight.


    The Beast felt his resistance weaken and he felt the emotions flooding in, coursing through him. They became one, or rather it dominated him. He could feel its feelings, its will, its thoughts.


    And the feeling caused him to shudder with pleasure. The sheer exhilaration, the adrenaline. It burned with a passionate fire that he¡¯d forgotten. It coursed through him, like a drug. He hadn¡¯t felt so alive in¡­ since he¡¯d played with Samson.


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    The piece of wood lanced through the air towards him, trapping him between it and the wall of Mors¡¯ house. Azrael felt despair even as his own face twisted into a grin beyond his control.


    His body fell backwards, into the dark shadows of the wall. He tried to protect his head, but his body wasn¡¯t his own anymore. The Beast had it firmly in its control.


    The wall never came. One minute he was facing Mors and the next the world went dark, a world of shadows. If he had been able to, he would have screamed. Instead, he was forced to watch as his body hurtled through the shadows only to step back into the real world through Mors¡¯ shadow. His blade stabbed into his opponent¡¯s thigh.


    The piece of wood came down, stabbing through the shadowed ground where he¡¯d been a moment ago. He appeared out of the shadow of the house again, alongside a notification.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to successfully utilising the technique you have gained a level in [Shadow Step].


    [Shadow Step] (Lv.1) has advanced to [Shadow Step] (Lv.2).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Mors sensed his return and the blade cut through the air horizontally. Azrael was no longer there though, having propelled himself up with a sudden burst of compressed [Air]. He hurled a [Fire Bullet] at Mors, forcing the man to move. The swing never stopped though.


    The makeshift sword caught his ankle, causing him spin in the air and to land awkwardly. He grinned, even as his bones creaked from the impact. It hurt.


    Pushing back with another gust of [Air] he made some distance and fired [Fire Bullets] at rapid pace. They sprayed everywhere, detonating against the ground, in the air and on the walls of Mors¡¯ house. A swipe from Mors¡¯ weapon caused them to gutter out, but the damage was already done, with the house wall having a new window blasted into it. The old man looked disgruntled, irritated even, and it brought a fresh grin to Azrael¡¯s face. The old man was finally showing some emotion.


    Remorselessly Azrael, continued to hold his distance, firing [Fire Bullet] after [Fire Bullet], along with the occasional [Stone Bullet] to try and catch his opponent off guard.


    It also felt so good, letting everything go, truly go. No rules, no rights, no honour. It was just a fight. Humans overcomplicated everything. In this battle he felt free.


    The Beast relished the freedom, rejoicing in it. Its emotions coursed through him, elating him.


    No longer was it bound by custom, by manner, by society.


    Society was hypocritical. It made rules to include everyone, only to reject everyone that didn¡¯t fit in. It made rules to protect the wealthy, manners to keep a hierarchy. But behind that fa?ade it was all laughing faces and twisted grins behind a mask of manners and polite courtesies. They helped nobody, yet expected everything. A hypocritical society of those who felt entitled.


    It made him sad. It made him angry.


    In the real world you couldn¡¯t be you. Anger was reviled, grief hidden and revenge was demonised.


    Anything less than the perfect mask was criticized, and eventually destroyed.


    Azrael stopped moving. His breathing laboured. His hand raised itself without any conscious thought on his part. He felt the Beast¡¯s emotions. To destroy and to protect.


    To protect himself, itself, themselves, it would destroy. It would destroy before it could be destroyed.


    In the deepest pit of shadows, Azrael gasped as the darkness around him suddenly became darker and more stifling. The emotions burned him, burned in him and he felt himself try and claw himself out of the metaphorical pit.


    Mana rushed through him, gathering. It was more than he¡¯d ever mustered at one. It was everything, every remaining reserve. All of it surged through him, forming a raging torrent from his hand to his soul. A bridge for the powers yet to come.


    The gate to the void opened and he felt his mana twist as it tried to contain it. The energy from the void tried to twist reality, even as the mana tried to shape it.


    Inside, Azrael fought against the shadowy restraints that bound him, but he already knew that it would be too late, that he was too late.


    The energy from the void manifested in the world as a distortion, barely visible. It churned with a promise of being, with the promise of potential. All that kept it from bursting forth into being was a thin casing of mana. His mana.


    The Beast pointed at Mors, the swordsman seemingly oblivious to the danger directed towards him. The Beast would destroy anything that threatened it, anything that dared fight with it.


    It fired and Azrael screamed. He screamed loudly as the unstable void energy passed through him. It was blazing hot and icy cold. It was the tearing of a thousand claws and the passing of softest silk. It hurt, it soothed, it called to him.


    His hand jerked to the side in an attempt to redirect it, but it was too late. The roiling mass of void energy was already flying through the air. At best, he had displaced it a little to the side. It wasn¡¯t enough.


    In a twisted mess of magic, void energy and matter the resulting devastation was unlike any other that Azrael had ever experience, or ever would.


    The unstable energy from the void broke free from his mana as it travelled through the air, tearing through space and dusty ground alike with impunity. Sand and stone exploded outwards in a bubble, warping and tearing everything down to its base particles before reconstructing it in alien forms. The entire explosion was silent, swift and deadly.


    Drained of mana, will power and mental energy Azrael collapsed down to the ground, finally back in control of his body again.


    He stared at the twisted explosion blankly. Sand, stone and dirt all hung suspended in mid-air, frozen in an impossible moment. A fine lattice of spider web like stone crisscrossed through the entire thing gaining density near the center of the explosion.


    Despite all the impossible otherworldly beauty that the explosion held, Azrael could only stare at it blankly. He¡¯d killed Mors.


    He¡¯d killed Mors.


    He¡¯d killed an innocent old man. He¡¯d killed before, in the game, but it wasn¡¯t the same. Those had been other players, able to respawn. In other games he¡¯d killed NPCs, sure, but they were mindless, unfeeling bits of code. Mors had had his own life, his own story, and Azrael had ended it.


    The Beast, bound in chains again, laughed, even as it struggled to escape. It laughed at his weakness. It revelled at its strength. Mors¡¯ death meant nothing to it. In the same way that Mors had looked down at Azrael coolly, the Beast looked down on him. It was the right of the strong.


    And such was the way of the jungle. It had defeated a strong opponent to protect what it cared for. For all of its intelligence, the Beast still acted on its base needs and instincts, rather than on rational and logical thought. Or rather it was more free in the way that it accepted its own thoughts and feelings and acted upon them.


    Azrael blacked out, drained. It was sudden, instead of a transition.


    He fell crumpled down onto the dusty ground.

 Chapter 91 - The Revenge Of A Dead Man

    Azrael groaned, his entire body sore and aching. Why was it that he continuously woke up unsure where he was and suffering from some form of injury? At least in the stories the protagonist woke up with a pretty lady (or two) beside him. He let his head weakly flop to the side. No pretty beauty. At least he still had his clothes on. He sighed.


    Scabs cracked as he shifted and abused muscles screamed in protest as he moved. He noticed that he was in his bed again. How he had gotten here he had no recollection. He knew that something had happened. Why couldn¡¯t he remember anything?


    Azrael thought back, trying to piece together what had happened. The dull, yet persistent, throbbing in his skull didn¡¯t help the process. How had he gotten to his bed? He¡¯d blacked out. Why? He didn¡¯t know. What was before that? Why was he in pain? Fragmented recollections came back to him, slowly.


    He¡¯d fought. He¡¯d fought Mors. Or more accurately the Beast inside had taken his body to fight Mors. His memories of the battle were fragmented at best, obscured behind a mental haze. He tried grasping at the scattered pieces, slowly reconstructing the battle.


    A moment later he wished he¡¯d hadn¡¯t. He turned on his side and dry retched as he remembered. The Beast, no he¡¯d, killed Mors. He¡¯d warped Mors¡¯ existence so thoroughly with the use of void energy that nothing remained. Nothing, except a twisted bubble of warped reality.


    The Beast inside of him stirred as the mental chains around it slipped. Instead of trying to escape though, it raised an eyebrow, admonishing him for losing his mental grip. There was no remorse in its eyes for what it had done.


    Azrael dry heaved again, his whole body convulsing as it tried to expel something. Nothing came however and he was left gasping for breath.


    Eventually though the heaving subsided, leaving him feeling ill and emotionally empty. He wiped the moisture out of his eyes and struggled to rise. He had to go to the site, even if it was just to confirm Mors¡¯ death once more.


    Somehow the reality still didn¡¯t seem wholly possible. Mors had been so quick, so confident. He¡¯d been old though, an old man. Time could wear down the mightiest of mountains.


    Rising he stifled a scream, his whole body in painful agony. Stiff muscles protested against the movement, while bruises previously undiscovered, decided to let themselves be known. He stood, his lip bleeding, due to an effort not to scream. Scabs cracked open fully and blood began to trickle out of hundreds of small cuts. He hadn¡¯t even realised any of this while he¡¯d been fighting. The adrenaline and the Beast¡¯s bloodlust had overwhelmed any pain or discomfort that he¡¯d felt.


    Somehow, he still managed to take that first step, then a second, a third and a fourth. He accepted the pain as his punishment.


    Eventually he made it to the large dusty area. Scorch marks, craters, and broken stone spikes marked the area, a testament to the battle that had taken place here.


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    The monument of Mors¡¯ death, the bubble of twisted reality dominated the center of the field. It was as eerily beautiful as he remembered it.


    Dust and stone hovered in mid-air, exploding outwards, trapped in a single moment, while hundreds of hair fine stone filaments spiderwebbed through the entire thing. No trace was left of Mors, the potent energy from the void having destroyed his existence entirely.


    The void was too dangerous, too uncontrollable for a mortal.


    Azrael opened his status, remembering the backlash of void energy he¡¯d experienced as he¡¯d tried to gain control of it from the Beast. He focused on one particular bit of information in particular.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Race: Human (78%)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The backlash had entered his body, changing it. He flexed his fingers, wincing at the pain. Though he didn¡¯t feel any change, his fears had been confirmed. The void energy was doing something. What exactly, he didn¡¯t know, but he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to find out. So far he hadn¡¯t noticed any changes though.


    Staring at the monument of destruction, lost in thought, Azrael missed any signs of the of the thing that whacked against the back of his head. He fell to the ground off balance with a cry of pain and shock.


    A figure, Mors, pointed the hated stick down at Azrael. Azrael closed his eyes, waiting for the ghost of his victim to deliver a final blow. The blow never came.


    When he opened his eyes, the stick was still pointed at Azrael.


    ¡°Never let an opponent sneak up on you.¡± Mors said.


    Azrael had no reply. Mors had come back from the grave to tell him that? He wasn¡¯t sure whether to laugh or cry. In the end he did neither. They both hurt.


    Mors however wasn¡¯t finished.


    ¡°Your skills are passable, but your execution is lacking. There¡¯s no ingenuity, no creativity, no variation. You lack planning, you lack foresight, but above all you lack control.¡±


    The irony of the situation didn¡¯t escape Azrael. The man he¡¯d killed had come back from the grave to tell him off for everything he¡¯d done wrong. He must have hit his head harder than he¡¯d thought when he¡¯d blacked out for him to be hallucinating now.


    Azrael let out a short laugh, before groaning at the pain. He looked at the ghost.


    ¡°You should be dead¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, go in peace.¡±


    ¡°Like hell I am, you nearly killed me!¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I know, I kill¡­ WAIT. WHAT???¡±


    ¡°I said you¡­¡±


    ¡°But I killed you!¡±


    The stick came whacking down across his head once more.


    ¡°Like hell you did boy! I¡¯m not going to die from such a pathetic excuse of a fighter! I was fighting wars long before you were a twinkle in your father¡¯s eye. I didn¡¯t die then and I won¡¯t start now, so stop cursing me!¡±


    Mors paused and continued in a gentler tone.


    ¡°You did give me a run for my money though, which is not something many people could do. For that you have my respect.¡±


    And Azrael could hear it. The respect was genuine and shone out of Mors¡¯ eyes. For Azrael that was the equivalent of a round of applause. He wiped his eyes clear.


    ¡°Something in my eye¡± he said.


    pretended he didn¡¯t see, or hear, instead allowing a big grin to spread over his face.


    The look of respect turned to something far more sadistic.


    ¡°In lieu of the fact that you almost killed me, I have decided it would be a waste of your talent if I didn¡¯t give you some training.¡±


    Azrael looked into Mors¡¯ eyes and swallowed. There was something deeply sharp about Mors¡¯ gaze at that moment and despite all of his instincts screaming at him Azrael wasn¡¯t sure he had a choice to refuse.


    The person talking wasn¡¯t Mors an old man but Mors the Silver Sword, a general.


    Azrael gave a wobbly smile.


    ¡°I would be delighted¡± he said, a slight quiver in his voice.

 Chapter 92 - Training Begins

    Azrael found a relatively intact part of the dusty field and summoned two daggers. He turned to face Mors, before dropping into a stance ready for battle.


    ¡°Ready¡± he said.


    Mors didn¡¯t move, once again regarding him with his trademark blankness.


    ¡°Put them down. You¡¯re nowhere near ready for that¡±


    Azrael narrowed his eyes at the man.


    ¡°I nearly killed you. You said it yourself, I¡¯m talented.¡±


    ¡°I said you had talent and that it was a waste if I didn¡¯t train you. I didn¡¯t say that you were talented. The fact that you have talent and waste it is pitiful, at best.¡±


    Azrael adjusted his grip on his weapons, ready for any sudden movements that Mors might make. There were none though.


    ¡°Put them down¡± Mors said. ¡°You won¡¯t need them.¡±


    Azrael chucked them to the side, dismissively, and crossed his arms.


    ¡°Fine, what are you going to teach me the?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Everything, apparently¡± Mors muttered under his breath.


    Azrael pretended not to hear the man.


    ¡°But first¡¯ Mors said a bit louder ¡°you¡¯re going to fix the mess you made¡±


    He pointed to the war-torn field, marred by scorched craters and broken stone spikes. Raising his hand Azrael began infusing his mana into the ground, flattening the stone spikes and filling and raising the holes and craters.


    It was a simple task really, He basically only had to infusing the stone with his mana and then let gravity do the work as it pooled flat like water. The raised hand had been an unnecessary gesture. He¡¯d just wanted to look cool as he did it. It took more time and mana than he¡¯d first calculated though, causing him to hold his hand up in the air like a fool for far longer than he¡¯d thought. Eventually he lowered his hand. Though it was simple, it was still a time consuming task.


    Around half an hour later and low on mana, despite [Meditation], Azrael found himself next to Mors, surveying his work. The once hazardous ground had once again been returned to a pristine flatness, though blackened and scorched sand was still visible in places. Unfortunately, the bubble of warped space refused to be affected by conventional mana ¨C the stone inside the warped space unreachable through any means that he had tried.


    Mors nodded at Azrael¡¯s work.


    ¡°We may begin now.¡±


    Azrael sighed gratefully, going to retrieve his daggers from the sidelines. Despite not being the hardest of tasks, flattening the field had drained him of almost all of his mana. That and a fair bit of mental power.


    Mors grabbed Azrael¡¯s collar as he turned to get his daggers, yanking him back.


    ¡°I told you to leave them¡±


    This time there was a dangerous edge in the old man¡¯s voice, causing Azrael to pause. Mors pushed him onto the newly reconstructed training field. When he next spoke it was as The Silver Sword, commander and general.


    ¡°Power, mastery and control.¡± he began, emphasising each of the three words. ¡°These are the three things that separate and define combatants. Power is raw strength, and it lets you plough through those weaker than you. Mastery is your familiarity with your skills and lets you fight with those on par with you. Control is where it becomes an extension of you and lets you triumph over those stronger than you.¡±


    He looked Azrael straight in the eye.


    ¡°Quite frankly, besides power, you are lacking in any of these categories. I have said it before and will say it again. Your fighting style is too simplistic, lacking any creative use of your skills. You underutilise the skills that you have and rely on the same techniques over and over again. You put too much emphasis on raw power, lacking any proper planning, instead trusting your own strength. In short, any advantage you have is wasted¡±


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    Mors paused, obviously wanting to say more, but stopped himself. Instead, he gestured to the field that Azrael was standing on.


    ¡°Because of that, we are going back to the basics. Starting from the bottom up.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ What are we going to learn?¡± Azrael asked curiously.


    ¡°No we. You. You will be learning proper footwork¡±


    Azrael looked at him incredulously.


    ¡°Footwork?¡±


    Mors flashed in his sight, disappearing for a second, before Azrael felt his breath beside his ear.


    ¡°Yes, footwork¡± Mors said.


    A second later Mors reappeared in front of Azrael.


    ¡°Footwork is the basics of all combat. You can press to your advantage, retreat to defend and move to avoid. Movement is what brings you to battle, allows you to avoid battle, or in a desperate case flee from battle. All movement in a fight can be described through footwork. It is the core, the foundation, of any decent fighter.¡±


    As if to prove his point Mors briefly flashed out of Azrael¡¯s sight for a moment and the next thing he knew he was lying on his back again, staring up at the blue sky and Mors¡¯ face.


    ¡°Like a building without a cornerstone on which to build on, a warrior without footwork will fall.¡±


    Azrael groaned and pushed himself back upright. All his bruises were throbbing and his sore muscles were rebelling against their rough treatment.


    Mors waited until he rose to his feet, before dropping into a combat stance. It similar to the one Azrael used. Though it was too low to the ground for a sword, bit was perfect for someone that used daggers.


    ¡°Watch¡± Mors said ¡°I will only show it once.¡±


    With slow, deliberate steps Mors began to move. Each move, each step, was precise and each move flowed perfectly into the next. If it wasn¡¯t for the way Mors held himself, then Azrael might have thought that he was dancing. Despite the seemingly languid movements, Mors covered ground faster than Azrael thought should have been possible. He watched enraptured as Mors made his way in a circle around the training field.


    Azrael took note of the way Mors placed his feet, of how he shifted his weight, never staying in one spot for long. He made sure to watch the man carefully. It was difficult though. Mors never stepped how he expected, never moving the way he thought he would.


    As Mors continued, he began increasing his pace, flowing through the movements, repeating them over and over again in a mesmerising display of skill.


    At some point though Mors began to blur, or more specifically he began to blur around the edges. The old man¡¯s entire form seemed to lose definition, becoming elusive, as if he wasn¡¯t truly there.


    Azrael knew that that wasn¡¯t true though, because he¡¯d seen the gradual build-up of speed. Mors hadn¡¯t changed his movements from the form he used at the beginning. It wasn¡¯t magic, just skill. Mors wasn¡¯t even moving that fast.


    Eventually though Mors came to a stop and Azrael saw beads of sweat roll down the man¡¯s forehead. The old man grinned evilly at Azrael as he wiped those beads of sweat away.


    ¡°Your turn¡± he said.


    Azrael complied, dropping into the same stance Mors had borrowed from him. Mors was a swordsman. If he thought that he could beat Azrael in knife-fighting foot work, then he was going to be sorely disappointed. This wasn¡¯t punishment. This was an opportunity for him to prove Mors wrong. With a smug grin he stepped forward with his right foot, taking the first step he remembered Mors making.


    A stick came down, smacking against his shin.


    ¡°Too far¡± Mors said ¡°Keep your feet closer.¡±


    The hated stick had returned and Azrael grimaced at the sudden pain, but otherwise forced down any other reaction. He moved his foot back. He would prove the bastard wrong. He took the next step, moving his left foot diagonally behind his right foot.


    The stick came down again, this time against a kneecap. The force of the blow knocked him off balance and he toppled over. Mors met his glare unsympathetically.


    ¡°Your weight was on the wrong foot.¡±


    Azrael got up without complaint, starting the sequence again. It hurt like hell. Each consecutive whack of the stick adding more pain to his already protesting body. He wasn¡¯t going to let Mors gain any satisfaction from a reaction though.


    Step. Thwack.


    Step. Thwack.


    The stick landed a blow on his body almost every move he made, correcting him. Rarely did it not strike and sometimes it landed twice, granting him the promise of a fresh patchwork of bruises.


    Azrael took them without complaint. The blows stung but would do no lasting damage. He stuck to it, gritting his teeth. He would prove Mors wrong, and he would definitely snap that hated stick at the first chance he got. Azrael doubted he had ever had such a strong dislike for an object before.


    In the end he never made it past the first ten steps. Azrael¡¯s legs gave out under him, sending his body sprawling to the ground. Even as he pushed himself up to stand again his legs wobbled, unused to the strain from the unfamiliar movements and already crying out from the overexertion of the previous day. Azrael rose and dropped into the stance again, refusing to give up.


    The stick came down again. This time though it blocked his path forwards, instead of landing on his body.


    ¡°Enough¡± Mors said, gazing down at him ¡°We finish for today.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not weak¡± he said, gritting his teeth.


    Mors merely removed the stick from Azrael¡¯s path and left for his own cabin.


    ¡°Pride is just as likely to get you killed¡±


    Azrael spat at the ground. The old man just had to get the last word in. Annoyed he contemplated continuing without the man, but realised that just getting to his little outhouse was going to be a problem with how shaky his leg were.


    A thought occurred and the irony of the situation wasn¡¯t lost to him. This was probably exactly how Alena had felt after his training lessons. She¡¯d always insisted that she could continue, but in the end she¡¯d retreated to her outhouse to rest after he convinced her.


    He snorted.


    Even the fact that he lived in an outhouse compared to the main house wasn¡¯t lost to him.


    Wearily, he limped back to his cabin.

 Chapter 93 - A Memory Of The Past

    Azrael woke around dawn, his body covered in a motley mix of purple, blue, yellow and green splotches.


    A better man might have accepted them for what they were ¨C lessons. Azrael was not that man and despite accepting that he had learnt a lot and Mors had much more to teach him, he resented each bruise. Still, he knew better than to try and fight the man again. It wasn¡¯t something he wanted and ultimately it would bring nothing.


    Last night, after a few more rounds of training, followed by far longer rest periods, he had spoken to Mors. He had enquired about this ¡®prison¡¯. Though after the discussion Azrael had come to realise that prison wasn¡¯t the right word to describe the place.


    It was only a prison for Mors. Under special circumstances other people could enter and exit this realm, this pocket dimension. In so far, exile was a better word to describe the place. While others could pass through the dimensional path that opened once every full moon Mors could not, forever banished to the mountain top.


    Azrael sighed and settled into a lotus position, preparing to enter [Meditation]. Mors had been right, whatever he had been, he wasn¡¯t now. And now was the only time that mattered.


    Now was the time to explore his limits.


    Now was the time to learn.


    Now was the time to grow stronger.


    Sinking into [Meditation] Azrael let his blood carry his consciousness through his body.


    His heart beat, a steady drum. His blood flowed, carrying power and infused with mana. He took in everything he felt. His muscles, his bruises, his bones. All of it was him. Then, he sunk deeper, falling into the space of his soul.


    Here the crystal spires that defined him lanced into the sky, defiant, proud. A single crystal tower held aloft a black hole, a dark gate, to the void.


    Below his ever-shifting soul mist was tinged gold, the colour of sunrise on clouds. It was the same colour as his mana, the same colour as his eyes. Currently it was still only a pale gold, but the colour had been growing in definition depth and he had no doubt that it would continue to do so.


    Then, there were darker streaks ¨C colourless wisps of void that appeared and disappeared in the streaming billows of soul mist. They filled him with feelings of dread and foreboding, but also exhilaration and power.


    Lastly, he let his focus turn to the guest, his co-host. The Beast slunk out from behind one of the skill crystals on canine paws, its coat of midnight made more sinister by the contrast to the golden soul mist.


    They watched each other and he crouched down before it, holding out a hand. It watched him silently, appraisingly. He could see its hunger, its need for destruction and he shivered. Both of those feelings were demons that he¡¯d tried to bury. Yet, here he was trying to reconcile with the embodiment of both. He recognised that there was more there though, more than simply the embodiment of destruction manifest.


    The Beast took a step forward and he flinched involuntarily. In that moment of weakness and hesitation it leapt forward, its jaws of pointy obsidian closing in on him.


    Azrael¡¯s hands came up to protect his neck, only to find himself gasp at the pain that accompanied suddenly moving his real body. He was drenched in his own sweat, and his heart rate had accelerated far beyond its normal rate.


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    Taking a few minutes to calm himself down Azrael felt himself tremble, though he was unsure whether it was from exertion or fear. The memory of the Beast¡¯s maw closing in on his neck¡­ an involuntary shudder ran through his body.


    How did people face their own demons? It was terrifying, as if a single wrong move could send him plummeting off a cliff and into the eternal abyss. What was worse than being simply afraid was that he was afraid of himself, afraid of what he could become, what he had once allowed himself to become.


    Azrael smashed a fist into the ground and forced himself to get up. Though he couldn¡¯t fight himself he could get strong enough to not have to rely on the Beast¡¯s power. He rose and walked to the training field, his daggers in his hands.


    Outside on the training grounds he dropped into a combat stance, getting ready for a battle with an imaginary opponent. All of a sudden Mors was there, the stick rapping sharply against Azrael¡¯s wrists.


    The pain from the blows forced him to drop his daggers. He turned to glare at his tormentor as his weapons hit the ground.


    ¡°Wrong¡± Mors said.


    The stick came down again, hitting him in three different point at seemingly the same time. One hit his left ankle, one behind his right knee and the final strike came down on his shoulder, forcing him lower into the stance.


    ¡°Feet apart, knees bent, body down.¡±


    Azrael only grunted from the pain.


    ¡°Your footwork is the foundation. Weak footwork means no power, no speed, no stability. Lower your center of gravity, spread your weight.¡±


    Azrael glared at the man and the stick poked him in the cheek.


    ¡°Eyes forward¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°And begin¡±


    To save himself from the promised strikes Azrael began to step through the movements he¡¯d learnt yesterday. The stick still came down though, again and again, landing on old bruises, or creating new ones. At times he messed up, others he fell. Mors was merciless.


    ¡°Again¡±


    The stick came down, correcting an arm or leg that was slightly out of place.


    ¡°Again¡±


    His body was screaming, covered in sweat, dust and bruises.


    ¡°Again¡±


    He could barely stand.


    ¡°Again¡±


    He used the last dregs of his strength.


    ¡°Again¡±


    He was too tired to glare at the man, losing himself in the steps. That was all it was, one step at a time. One foot in front of the other. He tripped and fell.


    ¡°Again¡±


    He struggled to rise, before moving through the pattern once more. It had been beaten into him countless times, almost as natural as breathing. It was a companion in a dusty and unchanging moment of pain that seemed to stretch for eternity. Three more steps, two, one. He finished the last step and fell into the dust.


    He rose again, without having to be told. At some point the painful reminders from the stick had stopped, though his muscles brought him far more agony.


    He took the first step forward again, how many times he¡¯d done this step he didn¡¯t know. Who knew how many times they had drawn a breath? It was the same now.


    The stick came down again, to gently rest on his chest. This time, instead of pain, it brought sweet words of release.


    ¡°Enough¡±


    Azrael collapsed onto the ground, his body sorer than it had ever been, pushed past the limits that he¡¯d thought were possible. His mind itself was also worn thin, stretched beyond patience and reason. If he¡¯d had enough energy he would have cried. As it was, he didn¡¯t even have enough energy to open his status and check new notifications.


    Large gentle hands reached down to him and lifted him up. Azrael let his head roll back a bit to look at Mors. There was no sympathy to be found. Instead, there was something far more valuable, something Azrael hadn¡¯t seen directed at him in years, not since his parents.


    Pride.


    ¡°Up you come¡± Mors said softly, hoisting Azrael to his feet.


    Carefully, and slowly, he led Azrael to a bench outside of his hut, where he seated him. Then, in a practiced motion he pulled off Azrael¡¯s dusty shirt and began to wipe him down with a damp cloth from a water bucket.


    ¡°You did well¡±


    It was a simple statement, but it took Azrael back years. To his father picking him up when he¡¯d fallen as a child. To his mother wiping away the sweat on his forehead, when he¡¯d been stuck in bed, weak with fever.


    He¡¯d forgotten, or rather he¡¯d never let himself remember. He¡¯d locked it up, hidden it with all the rest of the pain and fears. Like a dam bursting a thousand different memories came flooding back and with them came the tears.


    The tears began to roll down his face, first slowly, before increasing to a flowing torrent. Relief, pain, sadness, melancholy, regret. There was so much mixed up in those tears, and for the life of him Azrael couldn¡¯t get them to stop. They simply fell, soaking into the dusty ground.


    Inside of him the beast was silent, its anger lost in commemory melancholy.


    Mors said nothing and continued to wipe Azrael down with the cloth.

 Chapter 94 - Wise Old Men

    The next day continued much like the last. Azrael rose, meditated and then went out for training. Mors would meet him on the training field and the torture began. Each move required utmost concentration and each repeated sequence brought ever growing waves of agony. By midday it felt like his body was being torn apart.


    He could feel it though, how his body was slowly being forged into something more, something stronger.


    ¡°A strong blade needs to be forged of the strongest steel, in order to never break. If you rush past the tempering it will break from the smallest touch. If you rush past the hammering it will never strike true. It takes time and persistence to forge a blade. If you try to rush it, a wrong move can cause a flaw in the metal.¡±


    And Mors¡¯ stick beat down on him, each blow like a striking hammer, forging him into something new. Unceasingly and unerringly the stick would land on a point of his body, correcting him. The moves became clearer, sharper and more precise. Each blow fixed mistakes and minimised excess movement.


    When he his muscles trembled and his stamina was spent and he could go no more they took a break, only to start again later. He would collapse, then rise again, fall and rise once more.


    The entire day took on a cycle. And like the moon follows the sun and day follows night again, the days passed in a blur.


    The days of pain were followed by nights of dreamless sleep as Azrael stepped through the pattern, hundreds, if not thousands of times. The stick rained blows on him just as many times. His only consolation was that as the days passed the stick merely became a passing acquaintance, infrequently meeting an incorrect move here or there. Eventually these too stopped as Azrael moved through the sequence flawlessly.


    It was far from the natural grace that Mors exhibited and not even half the speed he had witnessed, but it was a beginning. Azrael could hear the tune and dance to its steps.


    Azrael threw himself into the pain with zeal, not because he enjoyed it, but because it made him feel alive ¨C alive again.


    When he¡¯d been younger he¡¯d thrown himself into his schoolwork, pushing the limits of his capabilities and when he¡¯d started playing full-dive games he¡¯d pushed the limits of what was possible. But after his parents¡¯ death he¡¯d pulled himself into himself. He¡¯d hidden himself away from the world. Because it hurt.


    He¡¯d forgotten the joy of pushing himself, of growing for growth¡¯s sake, of knowing himself.


    It was for this very same sake that he didn¡¯t slack off during his break times. With his body weary beyond belief, he pushed his mind to its limits too.


    Resting against the wooden walls of Mor¡¯s hut, Azrael ran through hundreds of combat scenarios, ones he¡¯d been in before and ones that he never hoped to ever be in. In each one he tried to apply different combinations of skills, applying different skills to the same scenarios over and over again. If a sword was forged through persistence, then its blade was sharpened by experience. Though Mors had so far prohibited combat during their training Azrael pushed his skills to a theoretical limit.


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    It was day 10? 15? He¡¯d lost count of which day it was when Mors met him on the training field and informed him to take a few days off. Azrael looked at him in disbelief.


    ¡°Pardon?¡± He asked.


    Mors regarded him coolly, perhaps even a bit fondly.


    ¡°I said take a few days off¡±


    ¡°What happened to forging a sword, striking when it¡¯s hot and all that?¡±


    ¡°Even a smith must know when to strike and when to let the blade lay in the coals for a while¡±


    Azrael snorted.


    ¡°You¡¯ve probably never even held a hammer in your hand, let alone made a sword.¡±


    ¡°I indeed have not.¡±


    ¡°SEE!¡±


    ¡°The point still stands. You are strong, but even the best sword can be ruined if you strike too often or temper it too much.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t we just¡­ARGH!!! Fine. I¡¯ll take a break!¡±


    Azrael stormed off back to his little outhouse. How could someone sound so smug and sagely at the same time, even when they were just spouting absolute garbage? He¡¯d just admitted to never having wielded a hammer in his life! What did he know of forging swords?


    Still, he was secretly grateful for the few days break. He¡¯d noticed a few days ago that, even with the game¡¯s increased healing, his body was waking up more and more sore every morning. His avatar was reaching its physical limits.


    Reaching the outhouse, he entered and lay down on his bed, despite it still being early morning.


    ¡°Sera¡± he said with a smile, ¡°Take me out.¡±


    A breath later and he was with Sera, his in-game assistant sitting behind an oriental table. The sofas, books and general chaos had been replaced with a small bonsai garden. Azrael found himself and Sera sitting in a red pavilion.


    Sera raised a cup of tea into the air, a fake white beard tied to her face.


    ¡°Life is like a cup of tea¡± she started profoundly ¡°The longer it seeps¡­¡±


    Azrael held up his hand, stopping her.


    ¡°Please, stop. I think I have enough of wise old men for a while.¡±


    With a fake pout Sera lowered her tea and took off the fake beard.


    ¡°I¡¯m sowwy, Onii-chan.¡±


    Azrael pinched the bridge of his nose.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious, stop¡±


    The entire scene faded away, leaving Sera in a maid costume.


    ¡°As you wish, Master.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Sera¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°You can tell what I¡¯m thinking, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°So, please¡­¡±


    ¡°No¡±


    Azrael dropped his head into his hands and couldn¡¯t help but let a sigh escape from his lips. He peeked out from between his fingers. Sera was staring at him with a smug smile. He decided to ignore it.


    ¡°Could you make me a training area here?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I could.¡±


    ¡°Will you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Azrael just looked at her wearily. It was endearing the first time, but it got old pretty quick.


    ¡°Sera.¡±


    ¡°I think it would be good for you to spend some time in the real world. When was the last time you left the game for more than a few hours?¡±


    Azrael thought back. Other than changing out the various life support pouches for his capsule and going for his jog he didn¡¯t have anything else that needed his attention in the real world. He didn¡¯t need to cook, he didn¡¯t need to eat, he didn¡¯t need to go shopping. Everything that needed to be done could be sorted in a little over an hour real time. This meant that the last time he¡¯d spent a longer period of time in the real world was¡­ back when he¡¯d climbed the mountain? Maybe? Even that was nearly three moths ago. Almost a year if you went by time spent in game.


    ¡°Fine¡± Azrael conceded, ¡°I¡¯ll take a day off.¡±


    Maybe he would watch a movie? Cook again? How did other people spend their days?


    Letting the world go black for a second, he logged off.


    Behind him, still in a maid costume Sera bowed, a mischievous grin on her face.


    ¡°Goodbye, Master.¡±

 Chapter 95 - Have Fun

    Kade opened his capsule, feeling the air in his apartment flood in. He lay there for a moment, relishing the feeling of being back in his bruiseless body. Eventually though he rose and stepped out, heading for his clothes cupboard.


    Out of habit he grabbed his jogging gear and changed into that, before restocking his capsule. It was only when he was at the door, doing warmups, that he realised what he was doing. Due to all the times that he¡¯d gone jogging straight after coming out of his capsule it had become a deeply ingrained habit.


    Unwilling to waste the time that he¡¯d spent warming up, he decided to go jogging anyways. It wasn¡¯t like he had anything better planned.


    Outside the air was warm, hot even. The sun shone down onto the concrete, sending waves of heat dancing upwards. The dappled shade of the trees lining the roadside called to him invitingly.


    He gave his legs a final shake and set off. With the steady rhythmic sound of his feet he soon found himself lost in his thoughts.


    Three months. That¡¯s how long it¡¯d been since he¡¯d started playing New Earth. One year in the game. A little over that now, actually. Most people might have considered it a waste. Afterall, he¡¯d practically been living in the game for a quarter of a year. It was only once a week, two real days that he came out to restock his capsule and go for a jog. He didn¡¯t mind though. He was almost¡­ happy?


    Happier.


    He was happier. He wasn¡¯t sure that he could ever be happy again though. Still¡­ a year. So much had happened in that time.


    He¡¯d gotten the capsule, started the game. He¡¯d ¡®met¡¯ Sera, built a house and founded a village. He smiled, lost in his memories. He wondered whether Alena was doing ok. Was she still at his place, or had she moved back to the village? How were the villagers, Cairn and the rest? Did they think he was dead, or that he had deserted them?


    He shook his head, to clear the thoughts. Why was he even thinking of them anyway? They were just NPCs, bits of code, no matter how real and lifelike they acted.


    He thought of Sophie, wondering what she was up to. Was she still on the dragon mission, or had she been relegated to another task? Had Melissa¡­ Azrael¡¯s smile slipped of his face. He remembered that he still had to pass through Nova Lux, where the Holy Empire was based.


    Passing into a park he stopped at one of the benches. He checked his watch. Thirty minutes. That meant he¡¯d run around five kilometers. He let out a little laugh that startled a walking passer-by. To think that he¡¯d struggled to complete a kilometer in the same amount of time when he¡¯d started. It was nothing like the five-minute kilometers he¡¯d run while in high school, but it was a good pace nonetheless.


    Letting his head fall backwards he looked up at the early summer sky, while relishing the slight burn in his legs. It felt good to accomplish something. The burn let him know that he was alive and had completed something, so different to the years he¡¯d spent hidden away in his apartment. The slight burn was nothing compared to his bruised and beaten avatar in game.


    A thought popped into his mind and he almost laughed at the irony of what he was about to do on his supposed ¡®free¡¯ days.


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    Pushing himself up onto his feet he rose and walked over to an empty grassy patch of the park. A few people walked by, a young boy was walking his dog with his father and further away a group of ladies were doing yoga in the pleasant weather. Azrael ignored all of that as he closed his eyes and dropped into a combat stance.


    The stance that he¡¯d suffered so much to learn felt both painfully familiar, but also strange to his real body which wasn¡¯t used to the position. He let his mind fade away, falling into the breathing for [Meditation], despite the lack of the skill in the real world. It helped him get into the zone and that was all that mattered. Then, when he felt that he was ready, he stepped through the sequence.


    It was slow, awkward and clumsy at first, as if somebody had filled his usually smooth joints with sand and replaced his muscles with waterlogged clay. His limbs moved slower than he¡¯d expected, forcing him to accept the slowed pace.


    Flowing through the movements he felt his entire body shake from the strain and he put conscious effort into getting each movement correct, more so than he¡¯d ever done before.


    He noticed how each limb moved, where each belonged and how each move flowed into the next.


    It was only when he completed the third repetition that he finally began to understand what he¡¯d learnt. To say that it was an epiphany would have been an exaggeration. It was more of a slow realisation, as countless observations that he made finally connected into a larger picture. The revelation was so shocking that he actually faltered and stopped.


    When he started again he didn¡¯t move his feet, instead moving only his arms. They windmilled, stabbed, slashed and sliced through the air around him, filling it. Next, he moved his legs, breaking off parts of the sequence and rematching them to create a new sequence.


    His feet moved, carrying him. He felt fast and untouchable, like the wind, the racing clouds.


    The technique wasn¡¯t just a movement technique, but also a combat technique. His arms moved in various sequences, representing attack and defence. His feet carried him forward and backwards ¨C advance and retreat. Each separate move itself was a strategic masterpiece that could be strung together into an indefinite number of combinations.


    He stopped moving, his lungs burning and his whole body on the verge of collapse from exhaustion.


    Around him applause began to ring out from a crowd of onlookers that had gathered to watch him. If he face wasn¡¯t as red as it already was from exhaustion, then it would have definitely reached that same colour in that moment.


    He left the dispersing group and staggered over to the park bench, utterly drained of energy. If it had been up to him, then he would have just collapsed onto the ground where he¡¯d stopped. Unfortunately, there were onlookers and he had his pride, so he endured the distance to the bench.


    That evening he fell into bed after a shower and a takeaway meal from the local Chinese store. To be training on his day ¡®off¡¯ was very¡­ very¡­ very much like something he would do. He sighed as he pulled the covers up. His body was almost as sore as it was in game. The only thing missing was the bruises.


    He turned to the side and looked at a photo frame in the dark. He knew that his parents would be smiling back at him from inside the picture. He closed his eyes and smiled. Would they have been happy to know that he was jogging again? What about the fact that he was practically living inside the game capsule?


    Closing his eyes he saw them before him, a memory from when he was still in high school. It had been the day when Samson had invited him over for a sleepover and the day he¡¯d first stepped into a game capsule.


    ¡°Do you have all your books?¡± his mother asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Did you grab your lunch?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What about¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes Mum.¡±


    He¡¯d been eager and impatient to go, excited at the prospect of playing in an game capsule. Luckily his father saved him from his mother, by placing a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from asking the next question. He used his other hand to ruffle a younger Kade¡¯s head.


    ¡°See ya¡¯ champ. Have fun¡± he said with a smile.


    Kade heard his younger self reply.


    ¡°Thanks Dad, I will.¡±


    Azrael woke, tears in the corners of his eyes, a sad smile twisting across his face as he finished his younger self¡¯s sentence.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to have fun.¡±

 Chapter 96 - New Resolve

    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to have fun.¡±


    Kade¡¯s own words hung in the otherwise still air of his bedroom ¨C a promise to his younger self. He wiped the tears out of his eyes and prepared to log in.


    Once inside the game he took the moment to admire his avatar, Azrael.


    Originally, he¡¯d chosen the name as the symbolic end of Cain and his past. Now, he realised he¡¯d chosen it for a far different reason. It was cool.


    There was no greater reason, no higher thought. He¡¯d chosen it because it was cool. Any other name would have sufficed to end his past, after all a discarded name was a name that was discarded, irrespective of what it was replaced with.


    Azrael, just like his original username The_DarkLord96, was there because he liked it. Because they were cool. They summoned up the image of a dark figure, someone who did what they wanted because they wanted. And there would only be one reason to not follow anything meaningful ¨C because it was fun.


    He¡¯d entered his advanced coding courses in school, not because he liked coding, but because he wanted to make a game that he could play a game, ¨C a whole new world ¨C where he could have fun.


    Causing trouble, forming a guild and generally causing grief to players, devs and GMs alike was all for a sole reason ¨C for fun. He¡¯d just lost track of that. After his coma games had become a way to earn money. It was no longer fun, but work.


    He¡¯d joined Holy Empire for the money, sacrificing the friends he had fun with, for a job. Now, though? He had a fresh start. He wasn¡¯t playing for money. He didn¡¯t have to play at all if didn¡¯t want to, but he did. He could play for himself. He could play for fun.


    That single realisation brought a long dormant glow to Azrael¡¯s eyes and he felt uplifted as metaphorical chains fell off him. With a steadily growing grin on his face. Azrael entered the waiting room and practically threw himself at Sera. He picked her up in a hug and spun her in wide circles around him.


    She shrieked in surprise and flailed about trying to escape his sudden attack.


    ¡°AZ! AAAZ! PUT ME DOWN! LET ME GO!¡±


    Azrael found himself laughing as tears of joy streamed down his face. There was no reason to do this, absolutely none. Sera was code in a game. Not even in the game. He wouldn¡¯t gain stats or skills from this and it was for exactly that reason that Azrael did it ¨C because there was no point. It was absolutely ridiculous.


    The surprise attack ended when Azrael found himself on the ground laughing so hard that he was afraid he¡¯d suffocate from a lack of oxygen.


    For the next minute the two of them lay on the ground trying to recover their breath. Azrael from his laughing and Sera from her panic.


    ¡°It¡¯s good¡± Azrael said once he regained the ability to breath properly.


    ¡°What is?¡±


    ¡°Having fun, being free¡±


    Azrael knew that she knew what he was thinking, but he answered her anyway. She remained silent and Azrael let the silence stretch on until he realised something. He turned to his virtual assistant and looked her in the eyes.


    They were blue, framed by long blond hair. Sera looked back at him, her face deceptively innocent. Despite knowing the fact that she was only strings of code on one of the world¡¯s greatest supercomputers.


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    He whispered two words, though they were wholly inadequate to express the extent of what he felt.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    She had done more for him than anybody else had in the last few years. She¡¯d stood by him since he¡¯d first braved the game. She¡¯d been there when he¡¯d been in the forest, she¡¯d been there when he¡¯d fought the wolf and gained magic. She¡¯d watched him mess up, fail and succeed. She¡¯d helped him speak with the villagers and as a result with other players. And while he felt that he still couldn¡¯t trust real people he at least felt comfortable speaking with the NPCs. She¡¯d shown him hope where he¡¯d thought there was none to find.


    Azrael closed his eyes to stop more tears from flowing out. When he opened them again he was in the little wooden hut on Mors¡¯ mountain. He knew she¡¯d heard him, because even now he could feel her watching over him.


    He rose from the rough bed and exited the outhouse.


    Mors saw him when he approached and perhaps he noticed a change. It might have been a straightening in the posture, a sureness in his gait, or the glimmer in his eyes, but Mors asked him the same question he had when he¡¯d first arrived.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Azrael answered without hesitation and a smile on his lips.


    ¡°I am someone who wants to have fun.¡±


    ***


    Alena¡¯s dagger flashed through the air, stopping just short of her opponent¡¯s face. The grown man stumbled backwards, his own wooden practice daggers dropping out of his hands as scrambled backwards. The rest of the onlookers in the clearing watched silently.


    She frowned in disapproval, as the man retreated in panic. He was worse than terrible, but he would learn. Her free hand flickered into a single signal.


    ¡®Up¡¯


    The man scrambled to obey. Around her the other seven of her trainees straightened at the finger sign.


    It had taken her a long time to figure out how to teach them finger signs, but in the end she¡¯d found a way. It had involved learning how to read and write and a fair few bruise ¨C on her trainees¡¯ part. Now though all of them had basic literacy skills and could understand one-word hand signals.


    One of the trainees, a young boy, hurried in and picked up the two dropped daggers, before he returned to his position. Nobody else dared move a muscle. All of them were new villagers, who¡¯d settled in the village since her Lord and Master had left. The man she¡¯d just defeated was the newest recruit yet.


    Still, he obeyed her commands. In fact, all of them obeyed her without question, despite having been in the group less than a month. She¡¯d trained that into them. They all knew that if one of them displease her, then all of them would suffer for it. It meant that they all kept each other in check. Despite that none of them looked at her with fear, instead their gazes were filled with respect.


    Each one here was here because they wanted to be. Their reasons were varied. Some wanted to learn to protect themselves, one wanted revenge, another was here because he was fascinated by her skills. Whatever the reason was she accepted them. Like pieces on a chess board, so long as they did what they told she didn¡¯t care.


    With the disappearance of her Lord she¡¯d come to realise her powerlessness and how little she truly knew of the world around her. This group was to counter that. They were her pieces, her eyes and ears.


    When they were ready, they would go where she could not and gather information for her, or should the need arise, eliminate threats before they arose. That way she could guarantee her Master¡¯s safety and the safety of the growing village.


    It had been her Master¡¯s teachings that had originally inspired the idea for this group. She and her Master had been playing chess in the winter and he¡¯d countered every one of her moves before she¡¯d made them. Later he¡¯d confided in her that she¡¯d been trying a similar strategy over and over again, to force her way to his king through the center using overwhelming pieces.


    A later word of wisdom had sparked the actual idea. Even now she could hear his sure and calm voice.


    ¡°It¡¯s not about speed or strength,¡± he¡¯d said. ¡°It¡¯s about doing the most with the least amount of effort. Sometimes you have to fight smarter, not harder.¡±


    ¡®¡­smarter, not harder.¡¯


    The words became the foundation of the group. If she couldn¡¯t go somewhere, then others would. If something was too much for one person, then a group was required. They were the proof of her resolve to her Master, her resolve to protect his forest even if he wasn¡¯t here.


    Alena looked up and noticed that the trainees were looking at her expectantly. She¡¯d drifted off in her thoughts. She looked at them and flashed another sign.


    ¡®Hide¡¯


    They dispersed in a sudden explosion of movement, each one vanishing into the trees. They would hide and she would find them. Then she would fight and beat them and they would learn to hide and fight better.


    And so, the student had become the master.


    If only her Lord and Master would return.

 Chapter 97 - Near The Realm Of Death

    It was nearing sunset and Azrael stepped backwards, narrowly letting the stick in Mors¡¯ hand whistle by, as he summoned a handful of fiery sparks.


    Taking advantage of the briefest of openings in Mors¡¯ defence, Azrael threw the sparks at Mors¡¯ face like a blazing handful of dirt. The expert sword fighter sidestepped to avoid his attack and Azrael grinned.


    In the next moment the sparks exploded, like a hundred fireworks, as the fire mana that was compressed into the smallest of spaces forced its way out.


    ¡°Boom¡± said Azrael, still grinning, while changing directions and charging at Mors to take advantage of his distraction. He never saw the fist coming.


    Mors punched through the flames, ignoring the heat, and catching Azrael in the shoulder. The blow caught him with force and sent him spinning through the air. With [Dramatic Flair] Azrael brought himself into an acrobatic manoeuvre, his hand briefly touching the ground before spinning and righting himself. He landed nimbly on his feet, resummoning one of the daggers that he¡¯d been forced to discard.


    Mors never gave him a chance to summon it, charging through the remainder of the dispersing flames. His feet traversed the ground like lightning, each step leaving a small crater in the ground. Then, all of a sudden, he came to a jerking stop, just short of Azrael. Mors¡¯ body snapped forward as he suddenly found himself unable to move.


    He looked down to find his foot sinking into quicksand. Azrael had set the trap when his hand had briefly touched the ground. Mors ripped his foot out, but that delay was all the time Azrael had needed.


    Using Mors¡¯ own footwork, Azrael rapidly manoeuvred around the man, striking at his unprotected back. The stick flashed around and without looking Mors deflected Azrael¡¯s dagger.


    A handful of dirt flew through the air, in a familiar tactic, and Azrael was forced to close his eyes to avoid it. All of a sudden, he was on the defensive.


    One strike of the stick landed on his wrist, disarming him. The next landed against the side of his knee, bringing him down. In a desperate attempt to locate his attacker while blind Azrael let out a blast of pure mana, activating [Search]. He narrowly avoided a third strike to his face and pushed off backwards, using a blast of [Wind] to further increase that distance.


    Flying through the air, Azrael used the brief pause in combat to blink the remaining dirt out of his eyelashes and regain his vision. What he saw was Mors¡¯ face right above his, the old man having pounced after him.


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    Azrael tried to bring up his dagger to block the inevitable strike, but knew he wouldn¡¯t make it in time. Closing his eyes he recalled a memory of when the Beast had taken over. It had been dark, it had been soft, it had been¡­


    Azrael vanished into his own shadow as his body touched the ground. Mors¡¯ strike only hit the hard dirt. Azrael had used [Shadow Step] to escape.


    Blanketed in soft silence Azrael opened his eyes. There seemed was no change, because there was no light. He was in a world of shadows, a realm that bordered the rest of reality. Here everything was painted in shades of shadow, each darker than the last.


    It was a chilling realm, not in the sense that it was cold, but that Azrael knew he would die if he got lost here. Like a shadow, the third dimension lost its meaning. There was no up, nor down.


    He paused, frowning. His innate sense of the skill, and by extension of this shadow realm, let him feel that there was still movement. Up and down still existed, yet at the same time they didn¡¯t. The concept of three dimensional movement seemed to lose its order, as all the principles of space were compressed into a wild mess. Up was down, down was left and left was back.


    It was only here and there that he noticed patches of white, so blindingly bright that they may have been invisible. These patches, these holes in the realm, were the windows to the other side. They were the windows back to the right side of reality.


    Azrael began moving towards the nearest one on his right, only to find it on his left. He moved back the other way and all of a sudden Azrael found himself so far away from it that he wasn¡¯t sure it was there anymore.


    Azrael felt the slow chill of promised death breath down his neck. He knew that if he lost sight of that point, even once, then he was unlikely to make it out of here alive. Even now the oppressive shadows, an endless array of swirling black, were pushing against his mind. He could feel his sanity slowly eroding it at the edges.


    Normally Azrael wasn¡¯t one to panic, but even he couldn¡¯t help himself from hyperventilating. The shadows were simultaneously everywhere and nowhere, both stiflingly close to him and so dizzyingly far from him that he might have been in a void.


    Quashing the feeling Azrael did the only thing he could. He listened to the silence. And the silence thundered. It was overwhelming in a way he¡¯d never experienced. Where the shadows left him effectively blind, the silence left him deaf. Neither was there anything to taste, smell or feel in this shifting void. Still, Azrael listened.


    The thunder raged, the billowing darkness danced with darker shadows and in that unchanging void that deprived him of his senses he felt something move, a pattern, a flow.


    With a single shuddering breath Azrael closed his eyes again and took a single trusting step backwards.


    ¡°You died¡± Mors said, pointing his stick at Azrael¡¯s throat, when he emerged from out of the tree¡¯s shadows.


    Azrael could only acquiesce.


    He collapsed onto the ground, drinking in the sights, sounds and smells. He smiled, the ordeal already only seeming half as bad. Though the [Shadow Step] Skill had definite potential it was equally hazardous. The shadow realm was not a hospitable environment for the living, devoid of logic and depriving him of his senses. Still, it was good to be alive.


    Above, the nearly full moon looked down, while the first stars of the evening twinkled in agreement.

 Chapter 98 - Full Moon Again

    Azrael didn¡¯t, no¡­ rather couldn¡¯t, believe that the time had come. A full moon cycle, a month, had passed since he¡¯d entered the World Memory and met Mors. It had been a full month of strenuous training, bruises and also a time of inner reconciliation.


    Azrael would be lying if he said that he fully understood everything that Mors had taught him. He would also be lying if he said he was a better person. He had a better idea of who he wanted to be though ¨C a way forward. He would not be lying if he said he would miss the tranquillity of the mountain and the old man who lived on it.


    In the last few days he had dueled Mors more than half a dozen more times, finding new and inventive ways to keep the old man in his toes. Still, he¡¯d never won once against Mors, even when his opponent limited his strength to Azrael¡¯s level. As Mors had said ¡®Power, Mastery and Control¡¯. Mors¡¯ mastery was simply far higher than Azrael¡¯s and his control certainly was.


    Last night had been the closest he¡¯d gotten to a win. It had been a tie¡­ sort of.


    In a desperate final manoeuvre, he¡¯d managed to place the edge of a blunted dagger against Mors¡¯ throat at the same time as the old man had touched his chest, above his heart, with his stick. Though Mors would have undeniably won if he was using a sword, with its longer reach. It was a still a victory nonetheless.


    Now it was time for him to leave, to return to the game, because that was what it was ¨C a game to have fun, not an escape from reality. Azrael realised that though he was no longer one of the strongest , the fastest, or the most powerful players in the game it didn¡¯t matter. He didn¡¯t have to be. He just had to be strong enough to do whatever he wanted ¨C whether that was protect the village, troll an army, or take revenge on a certain god.


    Looking to his right Azrael saw the sun slowly slipping behind the ever-present sea of clouds, painting them and the sky awash in a blaze of fiery reds, oranges, pinks and golds. On his other side the colours were darker and more subdued, the blazing colours giving way to deep purple and finally a dark navy blue adorned with pricks of silver. Amongst them the pale full moon lifted its head to peer above the clouds and take its watch on the endless sky.


    It was beautiful, but it was still a prison. Azrael had spent a month here. Mors had spent countless years, unageing, in a repeated cycle of day and night upon this mountain top.


    Footsteps in the dirt caused Azrael to turn his head and he looked to see Mors approaching him.


    ¡°A beautiful night¡± Mors said.


    Azrael could only agree and they lapsed into silence. Neither needed to say anything, they both knew what would happen. Azrael would leave, Mors would stay.


    Eventually Azrael spoke, breaking the silence.


    ¡°If I told you that you could leave this mountain, would you?¡±


    There was no reply and Azrael thought that he¡¯d only thought the words, instead of spoken them.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Eventually though Mors replied.


    ¡°No.¡±


    It was only a single word, but the word carried an immense weight to it, ladened with age and experience.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I would.¡±


    Azrael turned to the man slightly surprised. Though he thought that might be the answer he ould receive it was still a surprise.


    ¡°Why?¡± he asked.


    If he tried hard enough and put his mind to it he was sure that he could find a way to let Mors pass through and exit the World Memory. Anything was possible through the void and he had access to that place and to its unpredictable energies. He knew that it could shape physical matter and he¡¯d seen it warp the concepts of time and space. It was as possible as anything else in this world. Mors broke him out of his train of thought.


    ¡°¡­had my time. I¡¯ve lived my life, made my choices and accepted the consequences, both good and bad. From what you¡¯ve told me my world is gone, everything that I knew is gone and everyone that I knew along with it. It¡¯s no longer my world, but a world for you Chosen and the people who live there now. I live in the world of yesterday. You live in the world of tomorrow. It was only today that the two of our worlds could meet.¡±


    Azrael listened solemnly, before giving the old man an impish smile.


    ¡°Generally, when a disciple leaves the master, the master gives him a present, right?¡±


    Mors cocked an eyebrow.


    ¡°And?¡±


    Azrael held out a hand towards the old man.


    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯ve passed your training and I¡¯m leaving, so shouldn¡¯t I get a parting gift?¡±


    Mors let out a short bark of laughter, the ever-hated stick swinging round to land on Azrael¡¯s wrist.


    ¡°HA! You? Passed? You¡¯ve barely even gotten a grasp on the basics. Come back when you can defeat me and I¡¯ll give you a present.¡±


    Azrael rubbed his wrist and glared at the old man balefully.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back old man¡± he promised, the tears in the corner of his eyes weren¡¯t just from the pain.


    Azrael would be back, and he would snap that hated stick!


    Azrael¡¯s voice softened and he raised an arm in farewell. He started walking without looking back.


    ¡°Take care¡±


    The last thing he heard before the clouds swallowed him was Mors¡¯ voice.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get lost¡±


    He let out a strained smile and set his eyes forward, into the rolling swirls of moisture before him. He wouldn¡¯t get lost. Not now once he¡¯d found his path again.


    Then, it was just him again - the lonely sound of his breathing and the crunching of stones underfoot. On and on it went, while Azrael followed the slope downhill. Down and down he went, the full moon above painting everything in a ghostly light.


    Occasionally Azrael summoned dancing golden flames to keep him company, or let sudden gusts of wind momentarily drive away the thick fog surrounding him. Once, for a short while he thought he saw his shadow twist upon itself, to walk beside him in a dark canine form. When he checked again all he saw was his normal shadow and swirling streamers of silver mist.


    It was only when he tripped over a tuft of grass that he noticed that something had changed. The heavy fog that he¡¯d been walking through had given way to a light silvery mist, while the downward slope had levelled out. Even the footing had changed, broken stones giving way to grass.


    Like emerging from a dream Azrael left the silver curtain of mist. Before him, a large lake reflected the moon¡¯s face back up to the heavens. He looked around, finally finding the stony outcrop that he¡¯d taken shelter behind a month ago. For a moment he furrowed his brow as he felt that something was missing. It took him a moment to realise what it was. Bucky, his horse and companion, was gone.


    He was unsurprised though. He wouldn¡¯t have waited either if his travelling companion had vanished for a month. He just hoped that the game returned Bucky to one of the nice warm barns somewhere, though he suspected Bucky was more likely to find someone else to take for a rodeo ride.


    Without a companion Azrael decided to continue his journey, enjoying the world as it was painted in mystic silver by the moon. On the lake, the fog was slowly rolling across the still water, while also laying claim on the lake¡¯s shore.


    Finding the track he¡¯d arrived on Azrael turned to the west and began walking. Above him the full moon was his guide, illuminating the way home.

 Chapter 99 - Reaping The Rewards

    Day broke with radiant brilliance, the first rays of the sun gently kissing the dew ladened treetops. Insects buzzed and birds woke in their nests, adding warbling birdsong to the symphony of sensations that greeted him.


    Azrael tried to stifle a yawn, but was still forced to raise his hand and cover his mouth. He¡¯d already walked quite a distance throughout the night, letting his feet carry him along the rough road. The lake was already far behind him, lost to him beyond the horizon. It truly was amazing how far a human could cover on foot, when they didn¡¯t stop for breaks.


    His body, strengthened beyond the realms of a normal human by the game, could easily hold a steady jog all day. Compared to that, walking was nothing. The distance he could cover, compared to a normal human, was further increased when he used [Shadow Step] to speed up his journey back home.


    Always keeping an eye on the road¡¯s position, Azrael had used the shadows cast by the full moon to accelerate his journey. In terms of travel, so long as there were shadows it truly was afantastic movement skill, though the diving in and out of shadows did take some practice.


    He wasn¡¯t even hungry, despite the time and distance that he had travelled, leading him to think that stats also somehow affected hunger in some strange way. Was it some type of saturation? A hunger bar, similar to the hidden stamina bar? Or was hunger affected by stamina? A form of satiety?


    Finding his thoughts turning to his [Status] Azrael slowed, stopping his shadow jumping and returning to the road at a leisurely pace.


    He¡¯d put it off for so long ¨C checking his [Status]. Originally, he¡¯d been tempted to check it after every notification he received, but when he was training or in combat that was simply unviable and a slip of concentration would result in a beating.


    Later, when he¡¯d finally learnt Mors¡¯ footwork and made his discovery in the real world, he¡¯d stopped himself from checking, realising that a change in [Status] didn¡¯t necessarily equate to a growth in combat prowess.


    While he might have understood the skill better and made progress like that, it didn¡¯t actually represent him using the skill to its upmost effectiveness. In a way, by having his growth determined by numbers, he was limiting his potential growth, because it narrowed his way of thinking. In the end he just hadn¡¯t checked, too busy trying to devise new ways to beat Mors.


    Anxiously swallowing Azrael summoned up his notifications, letting the rows upon rows of blue boxes take up the entirety of his vision. A moment later they all shrunk down, merging and becoming a comprehensive overview, as Sera heard his silent plea. Only one or two important ones were left unchanged.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For continually fighting and resisting against a stronger opponent you have gained STR+5


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For continually suffering and enduring beyond even superhuman limits you have gained END+9


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For managing to continually avoid attacks from a faster opponent you have gained AGI+6


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For continually managing to perfect your movements on your own and against a stronger opponent you have gained DEX+8


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For continually finding strategies to fight against a greater opponent you have gained INT+6


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For understanding and discovering more than you realised you have gained WIS+4


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    To say that he was pleased would have been a massive understatement. The stat gains for the last month were¡­ crazy. That was the only word Azrael could find to describe the situation. Only a crazy person could have achieved that.


    Even just reading through the descriptions for the individual stat gains showed what he¡¯d gone through and showed how much of a masochist someone would have to be to earn such stats.


    Almost every notification emphasised that he¡¯d continually thrown himself against a greater, stronger and faster opponent, continually suffering and enduring. He wouldn¡¯t consider himself a masochist, but the only other, and probably more accurate, option was also quite terrifying ¨C he was a battle junkie.


    Considering the fact that he had a black beast inside of him that was more than happy to rip, tear and kill anything that stood in its, their? way he¡­ wait¡­ maybe it was worse than just being a battle junkie. His avatar had black hair and golden eyes. He had a black beast inside of him that was ready to unleash destruction on the world and he had named himself after the archangel of death.


    Did that make him a Chunnibyou? Was he a chunni battle junkie? Did he have eighth grader syndrome?!?!


    Azrael struck a pose in the middle of the road, one hand covering his face, the other pointing at an imaginary opponent.


    ¡°Fu fu fu¡± he laughed slowly in a deep voice ¡°I see you have fearlessly come to face me, but you do not truly know who I am. I am the darkness that slumbers in your nightmares. I am the shadows that wreath your heart and the dark beast that preys upon your thoughts. Fear me, for I am fear itself. I am you inevitable ending. I am death. I am Azrael¡±.


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    He held that pose for a moment later, before dropping his hands and looking around, while feeling more than a little embarrassed. Nobody had seen that, right? He looked around again. Right?


    When he, inevitably, didn¡¯t see anyone he let out a sigh of relief and continued checking through his notifications, ignoring the situation that had just happened. Nobody had seen it and that meant it had never happened. Definitely.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    [Mana Manipulation] (Lv.27) has advanced to [Mana Manipulation] (Lv.32).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    [Mana Control] (Lv.29) has advanced to [Mana Control] (Lv.32).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    [Dramatic Flair] (Lv.3) has advanced to [Dramatic Flair] (Lv.11).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    [Calm Mind] (Lv.14) has advanced to [Calm Mind] (Lv.21).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    [Reinforcement] (Lv.13) has advanced to [Reinforcement] (Lv.24).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    [Dagger Arts] (Lv. 23) has advanced to [Dagger Arts] (Lv.32).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    [Meditation] (Lv.28) has advanced to [Meditation] (Lv. 30).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    [Search] (Lv.8) has advanced to [Search] (Lv. 10).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Ah, bliss. True bliss. Stat gains were great, but it was skills that really helped highlight his time, effort and growth.


    Despite the slower leveling at higher levels, he had managed to push three skills, [Mana Manipulation], [Mana Control] and [Dagger Arts], to level thirty-two. So far, he had managed to push five skills past the first advancement. It was just a pity that [Mana Sense] hadn¡¯t also levelled up, not that he¡¯d used it that much.


    Spying the content of the next notification he eagerly read on.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through hellish pain, harsh discipline and inhuman effort you have mastered the basics of Mors¡¯ [Footwork].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Footwork]


    To attack and to retreat. All stratagems of war are founded in the basics.


    You can swiftly and accurately traverse across solid ground.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Actually, that was a little disappointing. It wasn¡¯t exactly that he was dissatisfied, either. The description accurately summed up what he¡¯d gone through to learn that skill.


    It had been a hellish nightmare that had threatened to break him so many times. He¡¯d gone to bed unable to move and had struggled to rise the next morning. The correctional beatings with the stick during training were quick, sharp, effective and above all painful. Mors had been a merciless drillmaster, but despite all that the skill had the simplest and least flashy name of all of his skills. It was simply [Footwork].


    Even the description of the skill seemed a little lacklustre. He could swiftly traverse solid ground by jogging too. Despite all that he couldn¡¯t deny the skills potential and effectiveness. Applied effectively he could potentially be untouchable in a battle.


    His final notification cheered him up a little bit more though.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through gaining a greater understanding on the versatility of the elements you have gained a level in ¡®Sorcerer¡¯ INT+1 WIS+3 END+1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Any bonus or addition to his status was welcome. A level in a class was just as welcome. It gave stat points that he didn¡¯t need to suffer for. They came as part of the parcel. So, while potentially less effective than purely leveling up stats, just leveling classes had its own set of merits.


    Finally, Azrael pulled up his updated [Status], reading through it with a gamer¡¯s pride.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.4), Sorcerer (Lv.6), Lord (Lv.4), Thief (Lv.1)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human (78%)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 380/380


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 380/380


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 26


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 38


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 31


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 24


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 38


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 40


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}, {Teacher}, {Oath Maker}, {Void Touched}, {Trickster¡¯s Blessing}, {Void Walker}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana], [Aura], [@#%& Self], [Shadow Step], [Footwork]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.16), Spear Arts (Lv.20), Mana Sight (Lv.26), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 32), Soul Sense (Lv.15), Mana Control (Lv.32), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 11), Stealth (Lv. 24), Calm Mind (Lv. 21) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 2), Lord¡¯s Insight (Lv. n/a), Leadership (Lv.6), Void Shaping (Lv. n/a), Reinforcement (Lv.24), Dagger Arts (Lv.32), Meditation (Lv.30), Mana Transfer (Lv.5), Craftsman¡¯s Eye (Lv.1), Intimidation (Lv.6), Search (Lv.10).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Everything was so beautiful. Stats and Skills were like good investments. They just went up, up, up and up.


    He was surprised though that [Footwork] was under unique skills. He¡¯d been taught that, so shouldn¡¯t others be able to learn it? Was it because he was the only one who currently had it, or was there something more that he was missing? Realising that he probably wouldn¡¯t get any answers now, if ever, he focused on the biggest positives from his recent gains.


    He¡¯d gained another 100 points in health all up and his mana capacity was also increasing. With his increased mana regeneration, he was regenerating a shot of elemental magic in less than ten minutes.


    While that didn¡¯t sound like much it was impressive compared to when he started. That was just his base regeneration, without even taking the effects of [Meditation] into account. With [Meditation] it was almost a full point of regenerated mana every minute. He looked forward to the day he could just fire out [Magic Bullet]s indiscriminately, without having to worry about his mana regeneration.


    He smiled at the thought. A magic marksman. That didn¡¯t sound too bad. Maybe he could get custom daggers to fire lasers. Magic plasma daggers? Transforming gun daggers?


    He let that train of thought continue for a while, before he dismissed his [Status] and stopped walking for a moment. He took the moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath. It was good. Life was good.


    He was on his way home again. He was stronger than ever and surer of himself than he¡¯d been in a long time.


    With a little hop Azrael jumped into the closest shadow, reappearing out of another one a dozen meters along the road, before vanishing again. Small bursts of [Wind] accelerated the process further, letting him dive in and out at a fantastic speed.


    He still had a long way to cover.

 Chapter 100 - Nova Lux

    The sun beat down on the back of Azrael¡¯s head. After several days of travel, he had finally reached the mountain chain that formed the first ring. Though nowhere near as tall as the mountains of the second ring, where he had made his home, they were still fairly steep.


    With the hot midday sun blazing brightly and a distinct lack of taller trees near their higher windswept peaks there was little shadow for him to utilise, either for [Shadow Step] or to escape the sun¡¯s heat.


    Azrael had left the main road, as the number of people travelling along it had increased. Many travelled inland, while many more travelled out, making use of one of the few passes through the first ring. Azrael, deciding to avoid the ever-growing crowds, had decided to split of late yesterday.


    His decision meant that he had to take a harder route, climbing up and across the mountains, instead of passing through them. Still, he felt that his decision to the trek through the mountains had been worth it, even if just for the view.


    Below him, illuminated in all its splendour by the early summer sun, was a patch work of verdant fields, lush forests and rolling green hills. In the very center of it all, a massive lake encircled an island.


    It was the cradle of civilisation, the starting point of the whole game. Even now, the white spires and many fortressed walls around the entire island made for a grand scene. It was by far the largest proclamation of human engineering and architecture that he¡¯d witnessed in the game. Every single village, fort and city that he¡¯d passed through so far could all fit comfortably within its confines, with plenty of space to spare.


    Long stone bridges connected the island to the lake shore, before roads shot off from it like spokes of a wheel. The most bustling of these roads connected to the few passes through the first ring, while others connected to villages dotted throughout the lush lands. The only dampener on the scene was the thought that it was all under the control of the Holy Empire.


    Still, it showed the ingenuity and tenacity of the players. While the largest city in this game was a far cry from the breath takingly large intergalactic empires, and continental cities in other games, it was early game yet. In under a year the players had managed to put together a city that would have taken a few hundred years to build in medieval times. It was no doubt aided by the use of skills and magic, along with the free labor of hundreds if not thousands of players.


    So, while nothing overly impressive at first glance it was still a mark of dedication in the early stages of this game. And the city, just like people¡¯s skills and magic, would only grow until it no doubt equalled or rivalled those in other games.


    Taking a few more minutes to rest and admire the view Azrael finally set off again, using carefully controlled bursts of [Air] to take large jumps down the mountainside, before using pillows of [Air] to arrest his descent and start over again. While the technique itself wasn¡¯t sustainable with his mana pool it was enough to help him get down the mountain to where the trees began again. From there he transferred back into using [Shadow Step] and racing towards Nova Lux and all the dangers it might hold.


    Racing towards the city and the crowds Azrael felt anxiety starting to build up in his stomach. Whether this was due to the thought of entering enemy territory, or the thought of having to mingle with uncountable people he wasn¡¯t sure. Either way, it was inevitable as he sped towards the bridges of Nova Lux.


    In the end it took him another entire day to reach the bridge at the lakeshore, even when utilising his skills to their current maximum. What he didn¡¯t expect was that his first trial wasn¡¯t in the city, but before it.


    Like himself countless hordes of people also wanted to enter the massive city. With the bridges being the only way to cross the lake, it meant that every single person and their grandmother, aunt, dog, cow and horse was lined up on the road leading to the bridge.


    Unable to see an alternative Azrael joined the slow-moving line, enduring the seemingly endless press of bodies and cacophony of voices. Still, one brawl, four arguments and several hours later Azrael finally reached the front of the line. It was here, with his temper wearing thin, that he encountered his second challenge for the day.


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    ¡°Halt Beggar!¡± A guard cried, imposing their spear in front of Azrael.


    Azrael felt a tingle of energy emanate out from the guard, passing through his soul. Like always he had his soul spark covered, making him a appear as a simple NPC. A check with soul sense let him know that all four people guarding the entrance to the bridge were players, with an average of two levels in [Spearman] and another three in [Guard].


    Azrael turned a weary eye on the man blocking his way and wondered whether it was more of a hassle to deal with this guy now, or just to kill the four of them and deal with the consequences later.


    Realising that murder was a good way of being noticed in enemy territory Azrael instead focused on the guards. All four of them were dressed in white clothes and polished silver armour. A golden sword and crown, the symbol of the Holy Empire, was imprinted above their chests. It was only after a few second that Azrael registered what the man had said.


    ¡°Beggar?¡± he asked confused.


    Why a beggar? The likelihood of someone calling him a beggar was even less likely than the chance of them recognising him as an ex-Holy Guild player. Why would they¡­


    Azrael followed the man¡¯s gaze and looked at his clothes. Ah. They were in tatters.


    His clothes, once gifted to him by Zen at the fort were beaten and torn from his fights with Mors. The articles of clothing were also graced by a liberal coating of dust, which had accumulated on them since he¡¯d last washed them in a small creek a few days ago. He supposed he did look like a beggar in that respect.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a beggar¡± Azrael tried to clarify ¡°I¡¯m just a traveller passing through¡±.


    ¡°And I¡¯m the Holy Saint!¡± the guard guffawed.


    The neighbouring guard gave his fellow a quick prod, shutting him up. Both of them looked around, as if suddenly afraid of someone overhearing them. When nothing happened, they both relaxed and the first guard turned back to speak to Azrael, a sly look growing on his face.


    ¡°But no, seriously, let¡¯s say I believe you, do you have any way to prove it?¡± the guard asked, bringing his thumb and pointer finger together in the universal sign for money.


    Azrael could only look at the men. Were they asking for a bribe?


    When he didn¡¯t answer, the second guard¡¯s eyes narrowed and whispered into the first guard¡¯s ear. Immediately after both of them stood looking at him suspiciously. Had they recognised him? Did this other guard somehow notice something that gave him away? Azrael cautiously summoned a small stone blade, which he hid in his palm and strengthened with [Reinforcement].


    ¡°Those are elf garbs¡± The first guard said certainty ¡°You¡¯re a symp¡±.


    ¡°I¡¯m a¡­ simp?¡± Azrael asked.


    Azrael had no clue what this guy smoked before his shift, but whatever it was it was strong. Did magic mushrooms exist in this world? How magic would magic mushrooms get in a world with actual magic? Azrael shuddered at the thought.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got an elf sympathiser here!¡± guard two cried, bringing over the last two guards. Amongst those approaching was the man who seemed to be their leader. His levels were higher, his gear was slightly better and the other guards all seemed to defer to him.


    ¡°Where are you from?¡± The guard captain asked.


    Azrael decided to comply. He wasn¡¯t quite sure what was going on, but the faster these guys were happy, the sooner he could get into the city. Either that or the ever-growing line would grow restless enough for another brawl to break out. Already there were growing murmurings of discontent.


    ¡°The End Forest in the West¡± Azrael answered.


    The guard captain looked at him with an unreadable expression.


    ¡°A man in Elven robes, disguised as a beggar, coming from the east, claims to have come from the furthest reaches in the west. You know how that sounds?¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Suspicious.¡±


    The four guards levelled their spears at him, causing Azrael to sigh. It wasn¡¯t as if they would believe him if he told them that he¡¯d been teleported, buck naked, across the entire known world by a god.


    The Guard captain raised his voice for all to hear.


    ¡°By the responsibilities vested in me by the Saintess and the Holy Empire, you are now placed under suspicion of terrorism, falsification of identity and lying to officials. You will not resist and accept a full interrogation and check by the Holy Order, until proven not guilty. Any attempts to resist or escape will be seen as admission of guilt and acceptance of all charges.¡±


    Azrael could only look at the four guards pointing spears at him. Somehow the guards had managed to go from dumb to dumber in the brief span that they¡¯d stopped him for. First, he wasn¡¯t allowed to enter on accounts of being a beggar. Then he was accused of belonging to some sort of elven rebel group and then it went to full blown terrorism!


    Actually, the bigger problem was who¡¯d decided that these guys were in charge??? It was a fantasy game, not some sort of war simulator.


    With a snort Azrael fell backwards, away from the spearpoints, while simultaneously super charging and discharging half of his mana pool. Barely a second later he remerged from a shadow, as a massive explosion of golden fire blew up in the face of the four guards. If they were lucky, they would survive. If they weren¡¯t¡­ well, it was a game, right?


    He was sure that they would be more than happy lay down their lives in order to protect ¡®their¡¯ land.

 Chapter 101 - Battle On The Bridge

    Evening fell as Azrael approached the gate again. After his stunt he¡¯d retreated to a safer distance, using the shadows of the people waiting in line to make a swift escape. Though [Shadow Step] let him traverse through distance at a prodigious rate it was currently still limited to a dozen or a so meters per time. He had confidence that with practice he would be able to travel larger distances through the shadow realm, but at the moment that was his limit.


    Currently, he was securely hidden under a wagon in the line that was waiting to enter the city. Despite it flawlessly working in movies, he wasn¡¯t sure it was going to work for him now.


    ¡°You know this isn¡¯t going to work, right?¡± Sera chided ¡°It¡¯s too obvious.¡±


    Azrael didn¡¯t answer, instead eyeing the ever-decreasing distance to the bridge. There had to be some truth in movies, right?


    Earlier, after his explosion, another ten guards had rushed across the bridge from the city, reinforcing the number at the bridge entrance. Two more people dressed in the white garbs of the Holy Empire accompanied them ¨C a mage and a priest type. This brought the number of potential enemies up to sixteen.


    Unfortunately for him the priest and the mage were too far away for him to use [Lord¡¯s Insight] on them, meaning that he couldn¡¯t glean any information and make a counterplan while he waited.


    The lax attitude of the guards from earlier was gone too, with each of them thoroughly inspecting and interrogating every person, wagon and rider. Once checked the travellers were given a small plate ¨C possibly a city pass. Despite the slower process the speed of the line hadn¡¯t decreased at all, owing to the extra personnel.


    ¡°They¡¯re going to check under the cart¡± Sera warned, fretting for his safety.


    Azrael kept his silence. He was confident in his ability to escape again, but he wanted to get into the city, not constantly be on the run. And to get in he needed to pass all sixteen guards.


    He eyed the priest and the mage. Out of everyone they were the biggest threat, despite the entire group not having the highest of levels. It was more of the fact that those two presented unknown elements. The girl who¡¯s discovered his village, Sophie, had been a priest type. Despite that she¡¯d also had wind mage like abilities and cleansing type buffs.


    The potential for the priest to grant attribute buffs to the guards was a high possibility, while the mage as a pure magic caster presented a possibly larger danger. Depending if he was an elemental, a defensive or a ranged caster the battle could get complicated. This meant that the priest and mage were priority targets if a fight were to occur, not that it should. He hoped.


    One against sixteen were not odds that he liked, especially when entering enemy territory. Still, it was a risk he had to take if he didn¡¯t want to take a detour around the outside of the first ring, which would add on at least another week to his journey.


    When the wagon he was under stopped and submitted itself to a search three pairs of eyes looked out of his ¨C his own, Sera¡¯s, and the eyes of the Beast. One hoped to pass by as quickly as possible, one hoped he would stay safe and the third was just waiting for the fighting to begin. Azrael pulled himself up deeper into the dark shadow under the cart.


    Keeping an eye on the two pairs of guard boots on either side of his field of view, Azrael slipped into [Meditation], letting the comforting breathing patterns slow his breath. At the same time, he drew upon [Calm Mind], letting it cool off some of the adrenaline raging through his blood. He felt the Beast growl in disgust and annoyance as his thinking partially cleared. He smiled. Now that he understood it a little better, he¡¯d realised that in some ways it was very much like an overexcited puppy ¨C though a slightly blood thirsty puppy.


    The wheels of the cart began moving forward again, the guards apparently satisfied that it was clear for entry. Azrael smiled. It had been a few hours since the extra guards had arrived, reinforcing the position. They hadn¡¯t been relieved either. It was no wonder that the guards had grown lax.


    ¡°I told you so¡± Azrael mentally smirked at Sera.


    He¡¯d figured that eventually the guards would begin to relax and skip a full check. Under the cart was too obvious of a way to sneak in, especially for a player. As for an NPC beggar, well¡­ it wasn¡¯t worth the effort.


    Now, the cart clattered forward, moving closer to the bridge. Azrael passed by the guards, all of them oblivious to his position by their feet. He watched the bridge move ever closer. If all went well he would ride the cart into the city, before using [Shadow Step] to drop into the shadow below and hopefully emerge in side alley. A second later Azrael felt that something in his plan had gone horribly wrong, as he felt a gentle force pass over him, soft and intangible.


    A moment later Azrael felt that intangible something snap tight around him, like a snare. Simultaneously, a shrill alarm rang out, filling the air. There was a clattering of boots and the cry of raised voices. The cart came to a rumbling halt.


    ¡°I told you so¡± Sera said, smugly throwing his words back at him.


    ¡°They still haven¡¯t checked under the cart¡± Azrael grumbled.


    He flexed a muscle, noticing that the force didn¡¯t actually stop him from moving. A moment later his attention was focused elsewhere, as several pair of boots stopped beside the cart. A hand gripped under the edge.


    Azrael didn¡¯t bother waiting around to be found and dropped down into the shadow below him. Unlike the previous times where he¡¯d smoothly dived into a shadow there was a sudden lurch, as if he was a fish straining against an invisible line. In the depths of the shadow realm he pulled at it and it snapped. The recoil of that action however forcefully expelled him out from the nearest shadow.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Disorientated, Azrael felt himself suddenly out once again in the real world, hunched over and barely stopping himself from retching. Though the ¡®line¡¯ had snapped, Azrael felt the unpleasant bite of a ¡®hook¡¯ still digging into him. It wasn¡¯t painful, but he felt an intense and immediate dislike at the sensation. The force of the recoil was still tingling through his muscles.


    Around him ten guards pointed their spears around him, while the last four kept panicking people in control. The terrified wagon owner crouched on the ground, his hands over his head. Both the mage and the priest were looking at him and he felt the familiar wave of divine energy washing over him.


    ¡°A copper for a poor beggar?¡± Azrael asked one of the guards with an uncomfortable smile, in the vain hope to defuse the situation.


    The spears bristled and the circle tightened around him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a no¡± Azrael muttered under his breath.


    [Shadow Step] was currently out of commission, due to whatever spell he had triggered. Though the force that had bound him had snapped he didn¡¯t want to risk a repeat and end up debilitated and in a more precarious situation.


    One of the guards, the one with the highest level, stepped forward.


    ¡°Identify yourself and surrender. You are surrounded.¡±


    Azrael had to admit, the situation did look pretty bad. There was only one thing they had wrong. He wasn¡¯t surrounded. He had them surrounded.


    ¡­


    Ok, they did have him surrounded and there was only one of him.


    So¡­ they did have him surrounded. He wouldn¡¯t surrender though.


    ¡°Identify yourself and surrender. You are surrounded.¡± The man repeated again.


    ¡°I heard you the first time¡± Azrael returned wearily, raising his hands into the air.


    It was the mage who noticed what he was doing, but it was too late. He¡¯d already bought enough time. The mana he¡¯d sunk into the ground suddenly made it unstable and ten soldiers sunk into the ground up to their knees. A second later a burst of wind exploded under his feet, launching him towards the priest and the mage.


    In the brief moment that he flew through the air two stone blades appeared in his hands, shimmering softly with the mana of [Reinforcement]. Azrael felt a grin form on his face, his blood pumping. Though he¡¯d wanted to avoid a fight, he would relish the situation to see how what he¡¯d learnt with Mor¡¯s compared to other players. He felt a surge of satisfaction from the Beast, though it was of a darker and more primal kind. It flooded him with its emotion and power, taking the opportunity to push against its chains. He left it for the moment. It was more important to survive this first.


    The priest stepped forward to meet him, undaunted, and summoned a shimmering shield of ethereal silver between himself and Azrael. Azrael didn¡¯t halt his charge, instead kicking off the ground to jump over the shield. With [Dramatic Flair], he languidly flipped over the astounded priest and threw one of his daggers. It struck the priest and he went down. Azrael touched down onto the bridge and broke into a sprint. Briefly he felt the unidentified spell try and re-establish connection by the component that was still latched onto him, but it failed.


    He didn¡¯t care though. He was past! He had¡­ A ball of white fire exploded beside him, sending him flying sideways into the guardrail of the bridge. There was a sharp crack as he felt one of his ribs break, but he didn¡¯t have the time to sit around. He jumped backwards, not a moment too soon, as a second explosion threatened to take off his legs.


    Azrael looked back, just in time to see the mage lob a third ball of blazing white fire in his direction. In the now dusky evening light, it looked like a shooting star streaking right for him. He jumped back. This time though he stumbled, as part of the bridge collapsed and fell into the lake below.


    Resummoning his second dagger, Azrael prepared to charge at the mage with a savage grin on his face. He would appear in front of the man in a second and let his daggers cut through the man. Or else he would burn him to death. His smile turned crueller. A fire mage traumatised by fire.


    He stepped forward, ready to spring at the mage, before halting. He growled in annoyance as he realised that the Beast was trying to influence him. He pushed the Beast back down with another growl ¨C though whether the one growling was the Beast or him he wasn¡¯t quite sure. He didn¡¯t want to prolong the fight, he wanted to get into the city.


    Turning around, towards the city, he found his way blocked. Another twenty guards were jogging towards him, their white and silver armour standing out against the regular drab browns of the civilians on the bridge. A fourth ball of fire rocked the bridge, causing more of it to crumble into the waters below.


    Azrael turned to check on the mage again. He had advanced towards Azrael, the four unburied guards protecting him. Both ways were blocked. Backwards and forwards. Azrael took the only option available to him. He jumped of the bridge.


    Charging a ball of compressed air beneath his foot in mid-air Azrael let it expand just before he touched the water. Charging a second and a third every time he touched the water, Azrael bounded alongside the bridge. It wouldn¡¯t be enough though. His mana pool was bottoming out too quickly for him to reach the city. Direct manifestation of [Elemental Mana] was still too costly, but taking the time to manipulate the element was too slow in this case.


    Behind him the mage advanced with his guards, while the guards ahead would soon be close enough throw their spears at him. He held no illusions that he would be able to dodge twenty spears and a fireball and escape unscathed. Even as he thought another ball of blazing white was roaring towards him.


    Azrael considered his choices, discarding all of them as they came up.


    Reaching the city was impossible. He didn¡¯t have enough mana to sustain his method of travel across the water. Even if he did reach the city there were massive walls to contend with, not to mention the guards.


    Returning backwards was similarly impossible. As with the previous idea he didn¡¯t have enough mana to reach the shore either. With [Shadow Step] still potentially disabled his ability to make a tactical retreat was also inhibited, even if he did manage to safely reach the shore.


    Returning to the bridge would place him in a twenty-five to one battle with little mana. Worse odds than before.


    And escaping out onto the lake¡­ was a sure way to end up nowhere. In the time that it would take to swim to either the shore or the city the guards would have had plenty of time to catch up.


    He considered trying to use bursts of [Air] to jump high in the air, but dismissed that immediately as well. Not only was it more mana intensive than the occasional boost to keep him above the water, he would also be a prime target for the mage.


    That left him only a single option. Azrael laughed humourlessly as he considered it.  He had to be crazy, right? No, the fact that he was aware that he was crazy meant that he couldn¡¯t be crazy. Maybe? Still, all other options had been eliminated and this was the only one left. By method of elimination, this was the right choice, if not the only choice.


    Taking a deep breath to steel himself Azrael dropped both of his daggers, letting them fall into the water. A second later a fireball whistled by him, and he dived to the side ¨C not away from the fireball, but towards it. With a desperate prayer to any god that was listening he applied [Reinforcement] to himself, pushing the skill to the limit with [Overcharge].


    A pillar of scalding steam exploded upwards, sending billows of hot water up into the air and obscuring the vision of all on the bridge.


    In the failing light of evening, the steam shone golden like the burning pyre of a fallen king. All on the bridge, civilian and guard alike, searched the lake for a sign of movement. Eventually though the steam cleared, revealing only the empty surface of the lake and the reflection of the first evening stars.

 Chapter 102 - Making An Entrance

    It was dark, and hard, where Azrael was. He shifted, trying to find a comfier spot in the small space he¡¯d made for himself using [Void Shaping] in the pile underneath the bridge.


    Once he¡¯d realised that there was no way to escape he¡¯d taken the only remaining choice and dived downwards, into the lake. The water had absorbed much of the heat from the fireball, while the steam provided impromptu cover that protected him from the eyes of the guards, thus allowing him to escape under the bridge.


    It was here, that he¡¯d decided to bunker down, shaping the stone to create a hidden room in the stone pile. The only contact to the outside world were little breathing holes, each smaller than his pinky. It was hot, it was stuffy and it was cramped, but at least it was safe.


    After the blanket of steam dispersed, Azrael had heard much shouting from the bridge. From within his hidey hole he could only speculate what was happening. Still, he felt the wave of divine energy sweep over the area twice. It passed over his protected soul and he remained undetected. Eventually they left, concluding that he was either dead or that he had escaped.


    Left with time on his hands Azrael had a decision to make. He could either accept that entering the city was too dangerous, or he could try once more. Though, when he thought about it he didn¡¯t really have that much of a choice. He was going to enter that city, whether they wanted to or not.


    It wasn¡¯t so much that he needed anything in the city, or that he wanted to avoid a longer route. It was the principle of the matter.


    It was like telling a child it couldn¡¯t have cookies and then hiding the cookie tin on top of the cupboard. The child would get in either way. It would find immense satisfaction in outsmarting the adult. The cookies were just a bonus.


    In that same way he¡¯d been denied access to the city. He was going to get in and he was going to get a souvenir. Maybe something important; something that Holy Empire would miss.


    And no, he was not being petty. Again, it was just a principle of the matter.


    With his course charted, Azrael now focused on something that had been bothering him for a while now ¨C the ¡®hook¡¯ left behind from the binding spell at the bridge entrance.


    Gently using [Mana Manipulation] to move his mana through his body Azrael combed through it, eventually finding what he was looking for. To [Mana Sense] the thing looked like a clump of squiggly mana, attached to the outer layer of his skin. While seemingly inert at the moment, it hooked onto him like a briar, if said briar had also been covered in a super adhesive.


    Giving the clump of mana a small shove with his own mana caused him only a little discomfort, but when he tried to forcefully rip it off his body instinctively doubled over in pain, causing his head to bang against the stone wall in front of him. Releasing his grip on the mana clump Azrael felt the pain subside. He waited a while more, before carefully examining it again.


    The clump he noticed wasn¡¯t so much a mess of tangled mana like he¡¯d first suspected, but a close-knit weave of runes. Slipping into [Meditation] he closed his eyes, accepting the greater clarity of the rune weave that the Skill gave him, at the expense of muting his other senses.


    Like a difficult maths problem, the rune weave sat in front of him. By following the flow of mana through the runes he was able to read it.


    Paradoxically however the swirls, lines and squiggles were as confusing to him as they were familiar. His title {Rune Master} helped him parse out the basic meaning of the runes, with the title granting him ever growing clarity and understanding of a rune the longer he focused on it. It was the actual spell and spell structure that he¡¯d never seen before that caught him. In a way it was like remembering bits of a dream. In some abstract way it made sense, but he was continually left doubting himself.


    Even after going through the rune sequence several times Azrael felt he barely understood what was going on. For the most part the spell seemed to be a single IF statement. If a specific rune was in his vicinity, or rather the vicinity of the spell, then the spell would let out a weak pulse of mana. Otherwise it would stay inert.


    Azrael felt it was safe to guess that this rune was tied to some sort of alarm spell, seeing as a magic alarm at the gate had gone off the moment he¡¯d tried to pass over the threshold of the bridge.


    Azrael¡¯s brow creased. How had they gotten the spell on him though? They¡¯d never had the chance to tou¡­ oh. The line.


    There had been a hook and a line in this spell.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    A hook to catch, a line to bind. The line had done more than just bind him in place and restrict his usage of [Shadow Step]. It had bound the hook to him. Azrael frowned. Perhaps net was a better word than line. There had been a net of runes covering the entrance of the bridge, lined with hooks.


    Since he had tried to enter the bridge without a pass ¨C possibly enchanted to let one pass through without triggering the spell ¨C the web had caught him, binding him in place. When he¡¯d torn the rune web by jumping through the shadow realm it had left a ¡®hook¡¯ caught in him.


    The hook was a means of tracking and identifying him with magic. Though grateful that it wouldn¡¯t impede his skills and magic in any way, it was still an unwanted inconvenience.


    With the understanding that the rune structure had to be removed in order to safely pass through the city, Azrael began to explore the structure for how it was secured.


    In the end Azrael managed to puzzle that together, but the answer came along with another shocking discovery.


    Almost half of the runes were superfluous, being there either as place markers or with several large chunks of runes being replaceable by a single more efficient rune. As someone who had studied coding and had managed to make the status plate, such garbled, cluttered, inefficiency was almost a sin. That meant that at least half of the mana powering the entire structure could be better used elsewhere, either to power more complex structures, or saved to make a smaller more efficient rune structure.


    Still shaking his head at the travesty of such a crime, Azrael carefully began tracing along the sequence with his own mana, effectively hijacking the runes and taking over control. With a little bit of gentle easing and carefully applied force he began rewriting parts of the structure, editing some points while inserting the occasional extra rune.


    With a final twist of a single rune the entire rune sequence collapsed, breaking open like a lock. The mana, without the runic structure to keep it together began to disperse, but Azrael controlled it and instead imbued it into the stone wall beside him. With a flex of his will a hole opened in the wall. A notification blocked his view.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For deciphering and disassembling another mage¡¯s runic spell you have gained a level in ¡®Runist¡¯.


    END +1 DEX+2 INT+2 WIS+1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael let a small smile creep up onto his face. It was nice to be rewarded.


    As the wall opened cold night air rushed in, causing Azrael to shiver slightly. He stirred uncomfortably, stretching his limbs, and relieving some slight cramps.


    Outside was dark, the sun having set in the time he¡¯d been hidden away. Azrael judged that he¡¯d been working on the rune structure for at least a few hours, meaning that night had well and truly fallen. It was a good a time as any to start moving again.


    Carefully Azrael slipped out of his hidey hole and took off across the water, towards the city. He didn¡¯t bother closing up the hole he¡¯d slipped out of, preferring to preserve his mana.


    Like a ghost he travelled across the lake¡¯s surface, traveling just alongside the bridge, a phantom amongst the reflected stars. The bridge had few travellers so late at night and the magic lampposts on the bridge only darkened the shadow he travelled along.


    Unseen and unnoticed he reached the island at the center of the lake, huge walls of stone rising straight out from the water to greet him. With how cleanly and flawlessly it rose from the ground Azrael suspected the work of Geomancers or earth mages.


    Azrael summoned an [Earth Spike] straight out of the wall as he approached it. It was only a moment later, when he was perched on the protruding spike that he thought of the existence of possible wards.


    Scanning the wall with [Mana Sense] did indeed reveal lines of runes running across the wall, unseeable to the mundane eye. Some he recognised were made by the same runist that had worked on the spell at the bridge, while others obviously also contributed. Azrael wasn¡¯t sure whether it was the style or the mana that helped him differentiate the different runists¡¯ work, but there was something distinct about each one¡¯s. Distinct enough to another runist perhaps.


    Still, just like the rune spell at the gate the long repeating chains of runes here had flaws in them. They weren¡¯t even that impressive either. All of them were basically just low level detection type spells. They detected extreme impacts, marked individuals and a few other things.


    Looking at the runes he realised that there was no reason really to expect more on the walls. Nova Lux was located at the center of the known world, where the magic levels were lowest. The walls themselves were so massive that any spells more powerful or covering a greater surface than the occasional bit of wall would cost astronomical amounts of power to run.


    Furthermore, most higher tiered crafters would probably be out near the second ring, searching for rare and powerful materials. The final aspect was that not everyone had an infinite library on lesser runes transferred straight to their consciousness to peruse at their pleasure. In a way the precision and scale that these runists had achieved through their own efforts was already amazing in itself. But amazing wasn¡¯t good enough to stop Azrael.


    Drawing upon some of his fairly diminished mana pool Azrael fed it into the wall, carefully avoiding areas that had runic structures on them. Then he used [Void Shaping], supplementing his low mana reserves with the energy of the void. Under his touch the stone wall melt away before him, like butter before the sun.


    The walls were a solid two or more meters thick, draining the last remains of his mana pool. Still, he made it inside uncontested, emerging onto a paved road that ran alongside the wall.


    He looked back, at the massive hole he¡¯d made in the wall. The stars in the lake sparkled mischievously. He had no mana to fill the hole back in again. He narrowed his eyes at the offending cavity, before turning to look up and down the deserted road.


    Hopefully nobody would notice.


    He looked at it again and grimaced. Who was he kidding? Of course somebody would notice.


    He just hoped that he was far enough away by the time it was discovered.

 Chapter 103 - Revenge Is Not a Taste

    Dawn broke upon Nova Lux, rays of resplendent gold cresting the mountains of the first ring and bringing life to the city. Up on one of the rooftops Azrael stretched, awaking from his rest. The roof was far from a comfy bed, but at least nobody would find him while he slept.


    Below him the voices of people broke the silence of the night, like the breaking dawn. Though there were still plenty of players about during the night most of the NPCs adhered to the day/night cycle of the world, with only bars, restaurants and taverns still operating into the night. Now though, carts clattered, people milled, and voices shouted. As much as Azrael disliked such busy and crowded activity, he appreciated the novelty from his rooftop perch.


    With the ever-brightening light of day Azrael got a glimpse of the largest player city in the game, a sight which had been hidden from him by the veil of night.


    Houses, buildings and warehouses sprawled across the entire island, surrounded by tall impenetrable walls. Roads lined with stores spread out from some point at the center, like crooked spokes on a wheel. From these main roads countless smaller alleys split off in maze like branches, meandering amongst crammed buildings with no rhyme or reason.


    In size Nova Lux easily matched any major medieval European city. And it had all been built in a little over half a year by millions of players. Magic, manpower and the dedication of gamers truly was a power to behold.


    There were only a few points of discrepancy between a major medieval city and Nova Lux. The first of these was found amongst the sprawling buildings, where European stone brick architecture met eastern pavilions, African mudbrick and the occasional wattle and daub. Each player brought their own culture into the game, for the most part though magic raised stone walls were the dominant norm.


    The second greatest difference was the large pure white marble cathedral dominating the southern part of the city. The cathedral complex itself claimed most of the southern quarter while the towering cathedral in the center and dominated the skyline. From where he stood its many gothic towers, bridges and gold tipped spires looked like the tines of a hegemonic crown. A hundred or more pennants of purest white fluttered in the slight early morning breeze. On them the symbol of a golden winged sword wearing a crown. It was symbol he was familiar with and one he¡¯d once worn with a sense of pride. It was the symbol of the Holy Empire.


    Azrael dropped down, into the streets, not even needing to cushion his drop with magic. Enhanced stats really were amazing. With little more than a rough sense of where the city center was Azrael headed in the direction.


    He hoped to be out of the city by nightfall, but wanted to visit a certain historic site at least once before he did so. The center of the city was also the center of the island and as such the center of the rings and the game itself. It was the place where the first players entered the game, before anything else was discovered. It was the site of the first spawn and indeed still one of the most popular places to spawn in the game.


    Letting his feet carry him Azrael tried to enjoy the stroll, focusing more of his attention on the many unique buildings around him than the people. Once or twice he took a detour through a side alley when a patrol of city guards approached.


    To his surprise he noted that almost over half of the guards were actually NPCs rather than players. While players made up many of the higher ranking and higher levelled guards that he saw, NPCs fleshed out the majority of their force. And all of them were human.


    Though there was a wide variety of humans, elves, beastkin and dwarves, as well as a few rare dragon kin, all the NPC guards were human. Hiring NPCs was a common tactic in large gaming guilds, so that low level work could be delegated, but while he¡¯d been with Holy Empire employment had been mostly merit based, instead of race based, causing him to be surprised by the lack of other races in the force.


    Still, it was only a minor thought and he didn¡¯t spend much time on it before he entered onto one of the main roads that led to the city center. Here the crowds increased as players and NPCs alike moved to complete their tasks.


    Merchants cried their wares from stores and stalls. Players headed for the gates in glistening armour, robes and leathers, equipped with swords, longswords, bows, axes, spears, staves, wands and every other conceivable weapon under the sun. Their faces were filled with excitement and their heads with dreams of exploring and conquering the world.


    Meanwhile returning players arrived, their weapons chipped, their clothes ragged and their faces weary, but occasionally filled with pride. Those that returned with their head high often also carried hard won spoils hidden in sacks, bags and pouches.


    Walking along the main street Azrael took the chance to gain a greater understanding of other players and player culture. Using [Lord¡¯s Insight] Azrael inspected the people in the crowds, casually glancing through other people¡¯s classes.


    Simple classes like [Swordsman], [Warrior], [Archer], [Healer], [Rogue] and [Mage] variations were the most common. The classes amongst the merchant folk often included things like [Merchant], [Carpenter], [Smith] and [Tailor]. NPCs were more craft focused, while many players had both a production and a combat class.


    Occasionally Azrael would find interesting classes like [Sword Dancer], [Combat Alchemist], [Rune Carver], [Illusionist] and [Blade Master], though he had no way of knowing what tier these classes might be. Most players were around levels 9-17, with only a few outliers. The [Illusionist] had been one such person with a frightening total of 19 class levels. They had also turned to look straight at him as he¡¯d inspected them, causing him to quickly vanish into the crowd.


    It was a wakeup call of sorts that even a powerful skill like [Lord¡¯s Insight], which was born from luck and his own talent, wasn¡¯t undetectable. Azrael assumed that the [Illusionist] probably had a mind type Skill that let him know if someone cast something on them.


    Still, the walk was as enlightening as the thronging crowds were uncomfortable. Still, he pressed on, through the mass of bodies until they suddenly evaporated.


    It wasn¡¯t really that the people around him just vanished, but that the road spilled out into a round plaza so large that it made the mass of people seem almost non-existent. He¡¯d arrived. Officially, this was the center of the known world, the halfway point of his journey.


    At the very center of the plaza stood two ancient pillars of grey stone. They stood tall, as if framing an invisible door way. Both were cylindrical and a little taller than an average person, though one of them had been broken near the top, leaving only a weathered stump.


    Behind them stood a large statue of a winged lady made out of pure white marble. In one hand she held a sword. In the other she held a scale. The towering statue, seemingly carved from a single twenty-meter-tall block of marble was a master piece and it looked so life like that he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if it suddenly started walking around on its own. If that happened, then he would spare no effort to kill it, because the face of the statue belonged to none other than The Saintess, Melissa.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Something hard bumped into his shoulder from behind, almost sending him sprawling to the ground.


    ¡°Watch it beggar.¡± A male voice behind him said ¡°you¡¯ll dirty my gear.¡±


    Azrael turned, massaging his shoulder, to find a large, armoured warrior behind him, with a lady wrapped in each arm. A quick check with [Soul sense] confirmed that both ladies were NPCs.


    The man glared at Azrael as if he were something offensive, and wiped his armour with a handkerchief. He threw the seemingly ¡®dirtied¡¯ handkerchief at Azrael, before leaving with a huff. Azrael simply sidestepped, letting the piece of cloth weakly fall to the ground beside him. Still when the Lv. 11 [Warrior/Tank/Gigolo] left Azrael bent over an picked up the handkerchief. Free stuff was free stuff, and he had an idea. Two ideas in fact.


    Ten minutes later Azrael was resting at the base of the large statue, his head half bowed and the handkerchief laid out on the ground in front of him. A few copper coins were already gathered on the pristine cloth.


    Azrael smiled as another coin dropped onto his donations cloth. If people thought he was a beggar, then a beggar he would be. It was a good way to raise some new funds for the rest of his travels. It wasn¡¯t, in fact, the main reason he was sitting at the base of Melissa¡¯s statue. He could have easily chosen any other spot in the plaza, or simply wandered amongst the crowds to raise his funds.


    The reason he was sitting here was for revenge, as petty as that may have been. The statue of Melissa, larger than life and portrayed as a saintess, had set a slumbering hatred ablaze again. Of everyone he¡¯d ever met she was the furthest from a saintly figure and she was by far the guiltiest for how his life had turned out.


    She¡¯d been the one who had given the command, the one who had made the decision that had ruined his life. It was because of her that he¡¯d been on every major newspaper and news article in the country. It was because of her that he¡¯d lost those that he cared about the most. Even then, as famous as he¡¯d been for a scandal he¡¯d never even been part of he hadn¡¯t been able to touch her. Now, an unknown nobody, a beggar, he took his first revenge.


    Revenge wasn¡¯t sweet. It wasn¡¯t even a taste. It was a sensation. A pleasant tingle that gently caressed him from head to toe.


    As the next coin clinked onto his slowly growing pile Azrael expanded his [Mana Sense] as far as it could go, checking for wards, spells and anything else that might interfere with what he was about to do.


    Under the effects of his skill a world of colours revealed themselves to him. The remnant bits of mana from past spells floated about, while runes lined parts of the plaza and the buildings adjacent; Cleaning runes, anti-theft runes, alarm runes. There were hundreds of little rune spells around, though nothing overly powerful of dangerous. Even the large statue behind him, for all of its splendour, was devoid of anything greater fantastic. The only peculiarity of the stature was the faint presence of divine energy that was infused through it. The energy was similar to the one Sophie drew upon, likely belonging to Purity.


    It was the two stone pillars at the center of the plaza, surprisingly, that caught his attention. Both pillars were brilliant white in his vision, completely saturated with mana. The broken one leaked a little mana into the air from its broken stump, though it was a barely noticeable amount.


    Between the two pillars was what Azrael could only describe as a mana void. Like a two-dimensional doorway, the mana void was like a black gate into the abyss. It was completely dead and devoid of mana to his senses, though he could see the entire ambient mana in the area slowly move towards the two pillars and the gate. The mana vanished into it like light beyond the event horizon.


    Mesmerised he watched for another twenty minutes, but didn¡¯t discover anything more. Even sending in a streamer of his own mana brought no new discovery. The small bit of mana was simply ripped from his grasp, vanishing beyond the mana void. Instead of spending any ore mana on studying the anomaly before him he instead placed both of his hands onto the statue behind him and let his own mana uncurl inside it.


    Minutes passed by, as his mana slowly made its way up the statue. It was slow work and the divine energy in the statue partially resisted his mana, making the task harder. Eventually though, his mana reached the top and he carefully opened up his internal gate to the void as he began [Void Shaping].


    He had been fearful of the possible side effects of the void, but Mors had taught him that a tool was just that ¨C a tool. There was no such thing as a good or a bad tool. What he did with it was his choice. So far, other than affecting a number on his [Status] he hadn¡¯t noticed a change and right now he needed it for his revenge.


    Void energy raced along his mana, like lightning down a lightning rod. He felt want to jump, wanting to arc out of his control, but he held it tight. It was his to control and. it. Would. Obey!


    The turbulent energies stilled, briefly, under his will and rapidly moved to where he directed it. It latched onto the marble, guided by his mana and even the divine energies in the statue stood no chance of resisting as he took control of the statue.


    As if moulded by invisible hands two horns grew outwards and upward out of Melissa¡¯s head, while her serene smile twisted into a grotesque sneer filled with crooked teeth. Like water, her face flowed downwards, aging ¨C sagging and full of wrinkles. A single witch¡¯s wart adorned her nose. It was still recognisably her, though aged another fifty years.


    As an egotistic, narcissistic, self-righteous personality Azrael knew that there would be nothing that infuriated her more than someone messing with her beauty, her statue and her image as a saint. Still, he didn¡¯t stop there.


    Moving back downwards he drew material from her clothes, leaving her in the skimpiest outfit he could imagine and then using the removed stone to form hideous skeletal wings behind her and a demonic tail. A slight bulge formed between her legs as he hid extra material there, before moving downwards to elongate her feet into goat hooves. The scales in her claw like hands were replaced with a screaming head held by the hair. Her pedestal changed from a single block into the mauled, gored and bloody bodies of faceless enemies.


    The process of changing the statue was far quicker than the infusing of mana had been, taking only minutes. Still almost all of his mana had been exhausted yet again, for the third time since he¡¯d tried to enter the city.


    He opened his eyes to silence. Around him countless eyes belonging to hundreds of people in the plaza looked up at the statue. Somewhere a scream echoed out and it was like the breaking of a dam. People yelled, voices were raised, and players rattled their weapons in their scabbards.


    A notification appeared in the corner of Azrael¡¯s vision, suddenly multiplying into two. He let it be, as he picked up his earnings and tried to slip away.


    It was a bad idea to stay beneath the statue in lieu of current events. Still, what he felt wasn¡¯t fear, but a certain thrill and satisfaction. It wasn¡¯t much as revenge, but after so many years if felt so good!


    A troupe of elite guards, accompanied by priests, pushed their way through the crowd from the cathedral, while patrols from all over the city convened in the direction of the plaza.


    A feminine voice raised itself over the crowd, full of doubt, and carried itself to his ears.


    ¡°SAM?¡±


    Azrael turned towards the voice, hearing the familiar name. Was Sam here? It couldn¡¯t be. It had to be another Sam. Still, he stopped his escape in the slim possibility that it was Sam, the Samson that he knew.


    Instead it was a face framed by silver hair and silver fox ears that he saw. Halfway across the plaza the familiar face of Sophie looked at him, her eyes locked on to his and full of doubt.


    Azrael wasted no time and vanished into the crowd. He couldn¡¯t afford to be caught here. Not here. Not now. Not by her.


    Making his way to the edge of the plaza he finally left the crowds and ran down an alleyway, letting the twists and turns guide him further and further away at random. Eventually he stopped, huffing and puffing with a grin on his face.


    Certain that he¡¯d lost his possible pursuer he dropped onto a stair leading up to a door and checked his notifications.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    For defacing a statue blessed by Purity you have been temporarily marked by Purity. All high level priests of Purity can sense you within a certain distance and will hunt you down.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Due to you title {Sinner} your punishment has increased. You have gained the title {Marked by Purity}. All high level priests of Purity that come in contact with you can always tell where you are within a certain distance.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>

 Chapter 104 - Not A Good Day

    Sophie grumbled as she walked through the streets of Nova Lux. Today was not a good day. For all that it had started off well enough.  For the first time in two months she¡¯d woken up in her own bed at the guild headquarters, after having returned from her latest quest. She¡¯d been sent out, off to the south to scout out the Southern world boss ¨C the Earthen Giant.


    After failing her last task of scouting out the rumoured world boss in the west ¨C The Red Dragon of the End ¨C she¡¯d briefly participated in a dungeon and a field boss raid, before heading off again. As important as public image was for Holy Empire, solidifying strength was currently more important for early game.


    Thankfully she¡¯d successfully completed this task, crossing the Southern wastelands to find the titanic world boss guarding a massive pass through the mountains. It was now the third officially confirmed world boss, after the Griffon of the East and the World serpent of the North. Only the Dragon of the West needed to officially be confirmed.


    Having finally returned yesterday Sophie had been looking forward to taking a few days off, maybe logging off for a while and taking a shower in real life or browsing the stores of Nova Lux for any interesting items. Instead, she¡¯d been interrupted while having breakfast this morning and given another task by the Spymaster.


    While their paladin, The Son of Virtue had also recently returned from a crusade against an insurgent group, he wasn¡¯t a good choice when it came to more covert operations, like this one. All other members were currently out, except Melissa, leaving her with the task.


    A breach had been found in the eastern wall. Her task was to find and subjugate the intruder. Despite her grumbling about that being the task of the city guards she¡¯d accepted. If a villainous player had broken into the city, then the everyday people, the new players and the NPCs could be in danger. That was something that she couldn¡¯t allow. Holy Empire was there to protect the people.


    Nothing had gone as expected for the rest of the day.


    The breach hadn¡¯t so much been a breach as a massive hole melted straight through the wall. Not ¡®stone got so hot it melted¡¯ melted, but more as in ¡®solid wall just started melting like butter before a sun and then cooled again¡¯ melted. The other side of the hole was directly connected to the lake. There was no boat.


    If the estimated amount of mana required to achieve such a feat was anything of an indicator about the strength of a player, then they would be a relatively high level and an presented an equally threat.


    Checking the wall with several standard guard issue magic tools, she discovered that whoever had broken in had managed to avoid every and absolutely every single alarm, tracking and identification spell imbedded in or placed on the wall, either through sheer dumb luck or absolute skill.


    She put the magic tools away. They hadn¡¯t helped at all, beyond telling her that the area had a greater than average concentration of magic than its surroundings. This left her with no hints, no clues and no leads about the person, beyond that the intruder could melt walls and possibly walk on water.


    It seemed like a task that she would delegate to the guards later. In all likelihood they would spend a few days pretending to search, before putting the case in a box and storing it somewhere no one would ever find it. One such case was really quite inconsequential in a city full of players, each with their own unique skills and magic.


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


    Using a messaging stone, she contacted the nearest guard station and got them send over two guards and a geomancer or earth mage to patch up the wall. She was about to confirm the location when her call was interrupted by an overriding message. She listened to it annoyed. Someone was messing with the statue of the Saint in the main square. Unfortunately it was not the first time. Some players a month ago had thought it would be a funny idea to graffiti on the statue. It had not ended well for them.


    Sophie knew that Melissa would take out the perceived slight against her on everyone ¨C on her, the others, the guards and the NPCs ¨C even if it was just another player messing around. A shudder ran through her as she sprinted over the rooftops.


    She had to stop whatever fool was putting everyone at risk. Though Melissa moved for the greater good of everyone, she sometimes had bad moments. Very bad moments. Sophie also didn¡¯t want to spend another week blessing a new statue of the Saint, along with all the other clergy of Purity. The first time had been enough.


    Calling forth more winds to carry her she rode through the air towards the main square. Arriving, she quickly saw what all the fuss was about.


    The usually familiar marble statue of the benevolent winged Saint now had horns sprouting out of her forehead, while a haggard face was twisted in a mocking grin. Involuntarily, Sophie snorted as she noticed something ridiculous. Were those buckteeth? It was hard to tell. All the rest of the statue¡¯s teeth were so crooked that it could have simply been accidental.


    Reaching the end of the buildings Sophie dropped down into the main square, just as skimpy clothes replaced the statue¡¯s regal robes. A twinge of irritation and anger blossomed, aimed at whoever was doing this. It was one thing to mess around. It was another to mess with other people¡¯s work. There would also be thousands of online comments regarding this incident mocking and generally making fun at Holy Empire. Rival guilds would undoubtably jump on the chance to tear down Holy Empire¡¯s reputation. She sighed. They¡¯d just fought their last guild war a while back.


    A pair of skeletal wings followed after the clothing change, but Sophie stopped paying close attention, instead focusing on looking for the culprit. She also noticed patrolling guard troops pushing through the crowd converging towards the statue. She followed suite. If a player was responsible for this, then they would probably be relatively close to the statue, as most magic skills required either direct contact with or close proximity to the affected object.


    In the crowd she heard someone laugh and she looked up at the ever-changing statue to find a slight suggestive bulge between the statue¡¯s legs.  Sophie¡¯s lips pulled together tightly. Mellissa would not be happy.


    Pushing past another group of onlookers Sophie managed to finally get a good view of the entirety of the statue, just as statue¡¯s feet curled into grotesque abominations. Like divine prophecy she felt her link with Purity lock onto something. Her eyes followed the link and found¡­ It couldn¡¯t be!


    ¡°SAM?¡±


    The words left her mouth before she even had a chance to think. There was no way that that was Sam. Sam¡­ Sam was dead. His face haunted her sometimes when she slept. His wide eyes, the hand reaching down to her¡­ then the fall. Always the fall and the cold hard water.


    She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She shouldn¡¯t feel this way she knew. Sam was an NPC, a piece of code. She¡¯d checked and checked again with her divine senses. He was without a doubt not a player.


    Still, Sam had had a face. Sam was somebody she¡¯d spent time with. He was someone she¡¯d brought with her and someone she¡¯d left there to die. The likelihood of him surviving the entire trip back was almost non-existent. Yet, she hoped. Those golden eyes. The wavy black hair. The stern face that seemed to light up with a gentle smile when he spoke.


    The figure ran.


    He¡­ ran?


    Sophie gave chase. Was it him? Why did he run? Did he hate her? Was it not him, but someone else? Was it a monster simply taking a form to haunt her? Was it the criminal that had broken in through the wall? Why sneak in and then make a scene though? Was it related to the case on the bridge the other day? She had to know.


    Street after street she followed the fleeing figure, until it vanished in amongst the back alleys, byways and backstreets. Still, she knew where to go. Purity guided her, along with a sense of wrongness that accompanied it. It was the same feeling she got when she encountered a disease with Purity¡¯s divine energy ¨C an affliction that needed to be cleansed.


    She closed in on it. For what they did, whatever they did, whoever they were, she would make them pay.

 Chapter 105 - Can I Eat My Pretzel?

    Azrael crouched behind a stack of empty crates in a small shed. Somewhere on the other side of the wall he knew was Sophie. He¡¯d managed to lose her three times in the past hour and every time so far she¡¯d managed to find him due to him being {Marked by Purity}. It was infuriating!


    He wasn¡¯t above killing her, just to get her to stop, but the fight would be difficult he knew. He¡¯d checked using [Lord¡¯s Insight] and she had gained another seven class levels since they had travelled together, leaving her at a total of twenty levels. She¡¯d also gained a class evolution with [Wind Mage] changing to [Wind Walker].


    Class levels didn¡¯t directly correspond to strength, but she was a Holy Empire elite and had more class levels that average players. She¡¯d also gained a class evolution, granting her more stats per level. [Wind Walker] also manifested itself during this chase as a seemingly unceasing gust of wind that carried her through the air. It was only through strategic use of [Shadow Step] that allowed him to keep his lead. Pseudo-flying was just straight up cheating. The only upside was that he¡¯d managed to lose most of the Holy Empire guards, elite or otherwise, though the occasional patrol squad still joined in the chase.


    Unfortunately, he wasn¡¯t out of the woods, or more accurately the city, yet. Even with the fast paced and chaotic game of hide and seek that the two of them were engaged in, the west wall was fast approaching, cutting off any other chance to flee.


    [Void shaping] another hole into the wall would take too long and leave him without mana. Jumping over with [Wind] would become equally as hazardous, as Sophie had the Class advantage in the air and he wasn¡¯t sure what kind of tricks or spells were implanted above the walls. Surely, they would have a countermeasure to flying and digging tunnels in place? And then, even if he managed to escape, there was the lake. He didn¡¯t have anywhere near enough mana to cross the lake and deter any pursuers.


    In short, he was royally screwed.


    In a desperate ploy to double back unnoticed Azrael slipped into the crowds on the busy road leading to the west gate. The press of people was uncomfortable, but at least they would hide him from searching eyes, even if they knew where to look for him. Briefly he considered hiding in one of the cafes that lined the side of the street, but realised that the streets would probably provide better cover. It was a pity, that cheese and bacon covered pretzel in the last caf¨¦ had looked very good.


    Momentarily distracted he bumped into a woman. The flower seller and her basket of flowers fell to the ground. Hurriedly the lady began to pick up her fragile wares from under the feet of uncaring passer-by¡¯s. Even as apologetic as he was Azrael tried to step around her, aware that he didn¡¯t have much time before Sophie found him again. The flower seller suddenly grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.


    ¡°I think we should have a talk¡± a decidedly smooth male voice said.


    Azrael froze in place and slowly turned around. A trap? He looked back at the flower seller. She smiled at him with a smile that was as familiar to him as it was unfamiliar to her face. Her unnaturally blue eyes sparkled with supressed mischief and a promise of surprise.


    ¡°Trickster¡±


    It was undoubtably The Trickster, God of Mischief.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°In the flesh¡± the deity said smiling, before it slipped from his face and he turned to look down at his body ¡°Well, mostly. I¡¯m borrowing this one at the moment.¡±


    Azrael could only look on as the possessed flower seller straightened and dusted herself off. Around them people passed by, seemingly unaware of what was occurring before them. Their voices were muted, as if coming from a far distance.


    ¡°Do you have a moment?¡± asked The Trickster, before answering it himself ¡°Of course you do!¡±


    The mischievous deity dragged Azrael to the caf¨¦ he¡¯d just been eyeing, two cheese and ham pretzels already served on plates at a table. The god bit into one, his eyes rolling in delight. His body positively radiated that sentiment.


    ¡°These are good!¡±


    Azrael went to pick up his own, but was interrupted by a sudden question from The Trickster.


    ¡°You know what else is good?¡±


    Azrael raised an eyebrow, his hands hovering above the pretzel.


    ¡°That statue! Artistry, pure artistry! Oh, the uproar! the entertainment!¡±


    The Trickster looked Azrael dead in the eye his face serious, despite the mischievous glimmer in his eye.


    ¡°Did you know that you have over 90% of the guards stationed in this city currently looking for you? Two major squadrons of elite have been called back from their crusades. And at the cathedral! I¡¯m not sure who¡¯s angrier between Purity and her leading follower.¡± He gave Azrael a shark like smile. ¡°I¡¯m not actually meant to tell you any of that, but you my friend have a talent for trouble and making enemies.¡±


    If possible, his face became even graver, strengthening the contrast to the sparkles dancing in his eyes.


    ¡°Which brings us to the crux of the problem. Do you know how long it¡¯s been since you caused your last bit of excitement? Half a year. Half a Year! That¡¯s six whole months! Or twenty-four weeks! That¡¯s 168 days of unevent, or 4,032 hours pure agony. That¡¯s 241,920 minutes with no excitement or entertainment, coming to a total of around 14,515,200 seconds of absolute and utter boredom!¡±


    His gaze bore into Azrael, pleading.


    ¡°Do you see the problem here?¡±


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t¡±


    The god pointed his pretzel at Azrael.


    ¡°The problem¡± he said ¡°is that you¡¯re wasting your talent.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it just that you¡¯re bored?¡±


    ¡°Ye¡­ No!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°A little, maybe, but can you blame me? Do you know how it is to be stuck up there, with all the other gods, unable to descend and play pranks on the world below?¡±


    ¡°No? I¡­¡±


    ¡°Exactly! Even the evil gods currently won¡¯t play around with me.¡±


    ¡°Evil gods?¡±


    Azrael¡¯s question was waved away with a pretzel.


    ¡°Irrelevant. What is relevant is that I¡¯m bored and you¡¯re boring. You have a gift for mischief, a poetic soul that speaks to my own. Fortune favours you and misfortune hounds you, followed closely by your enemies. Trickery runs through your veins and chaos in your soul. It¡¯s thrilling! It¡¯s beautiful! Embrace it!¡±


    By now the enthusiastic god was standing, his hands raised in the air, his half-eaten pretzel in one hand. The Trickster sat back down again, suddenly seemingly tired. His eyes flickered between his sparkling blue and the flower seller¡¯s brown.


    ¡°It seems my time is up for today.¡± He said with a sad sort of smile.


    Around him Azrael heard random conversations suddenly gaining prominence again as the Trickster¡¯s power faded from the mortal realm. The god gave him a wink as he left.


    ¡°Good luck.¡± he said, departing.


    The flower seller¡¯s eyes faded from blue to brown and she suddenly jumped up in distress, seeing her flowers partially trodden on by pedestrians. Azrael, didn¡¯t move from where he sat, looking down at his pretzel thoughtfully.


    Would it be that bad to have a bit more fun? To cause mischief? He wasn¡¯t considering doing it just to please a god, but because it was something he had already decided to do for himself. He¡¯d promised his father in his dream to have fun. The only question was how far he should take it. Was he ok with just enjoying the game as it was, or should he try and explore the game for himself? Ever since he¡¯d left his guild, the one before Holy Empire, he¡¯d felt that there had been something missing. He¡¯d had fun back then. It had occasionally been cringeworthy, but definitely fun.


    A hand clapped down onto his shoulder and a female voice spoke from behind him.


    ¡°Found you¡±


    Azrael turned around to look at Sophie, The Trickster¡¯s parting words suddenly gaining a different meaning.


    ¡°Can I eat my pretzel?¡± He asked hopefully.

 Chapter 106 - Pretzel Or No Pretzel

    Sophie felt the force of Purity guide her through the busy city streets, the man she had been chasing vanishing from her sight. Not only had he vanished, but so had the guiding force. Unlike her quarry that had slipped away the to severing of the guiding force had been sudden, like a thread severed  by a pair of scissors. Suddenly amidst a strange crowd, without a purpose, she felt lost.  Hurrying up and down the busy street she felt it slowly returned though, increasing in strength as she moved closer to her target.


    Letting Purity¡¯s will guide her once again, Sophie followed that feeling until she was brough the front of a quaint caf¨¦. Sam, or at least the man she thought was Sam, sat at one of the caf¨¦ tables. An unknown woman rose from one of the chairs crying out in despair and vanished into the busy crowds on the street.


    Sophie didn¡¯t care. She had finally managed to catch up. She placed a hand on Sam¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Found you¡± she said, glad that the chase had finally come to an end. That the guiding feeling had been something real and not simply imagined.


    Sam turned around, his face exactly as she remembered. It was a face that often haunted her dreams.


    ¡°Can I eat my pretzel?¡± Sam asked.


    Whatever response Sophie had expected after the long chase today it was not this.


    ¡°Ah¡­ Uh¡­¡±


    Sophie shook her head, clearing her thoughts.


    ¡°Sam?¡± she asked, ¡°Is that you?¡±


    Sam looked at her confused.


    ¡°Excuse me, but I think you have the wrong person.¡±


    Sophie doubted it. The gold eyes, the wavy black hair, the jaw, the chin, they were all the same. It was understandable that he didn¡¯t want to talk to someone who had abandoned him in the mountains, but she had to know.


    ¡°How did you survive?¡± Sophie asked, ¡°How did you get back?¡±


    Sam turned around, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, but you have the wrong person. I¡¯m just a simple beggar.¡±


    He gestured at his clothes and Sophie followed the movement. His clothes were indeed in tatters. Their colours faded by sun, dust and wear. Their design were distinctively elven, despite their raggedness.


    There was no way logically that Sam had been able to return home from the mountains, travel from the End Forest to the Forest of Origins, and get those clothes and then back to Nova Lux. She could also say for sure that they were not sold anywhere in Nova Lux, by decree of the Holy Empire.


    Had she been mistaken? Was¡­ was this person not Sam? She drew upon a small bit of her divine senses and let them wash over the person before her. He was undoubtably not a player, like Sam¡­ and his features, they were identical. Did the game reuse NPC data? She doubted it. The game was far too complex for something like that. An algorithmic mistake maybe? A genetic coincidence?


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    Sophie frowned. Something didn¡¯t add up. She just wasn¡¯t sure what it was. The only other thing that came to mind when she thought of golden eyes and black hair was from a report she read earlier this morning from yesterday¡¯s scenario at the br¡­ Sophie looked down at the Sam-not-Sam¡¯s clothes. Of course! The beggar at the bridge. His features might have seemed so familiar because she¡¯d had a look at the wanted poster in the report.


    She considered it and it was a strong possibility. Because of the wanted poster her memory of Sam and the image on the wanted poster had overlapped. It would also explain why the person had run.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not Sam?¡± She asked and Sam-not-Sam nodded.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got the wrong man, lady.¡±


    Sophie nodded to herself once, making up her mind.


    ¡°I understand, my apologies then.¡±


    ¡°At least we¡­¡±


    ¡°In that case I¡¯m going to have to arrest you for the vandalism, defacement and desecration of the statue of the Holy Saintess, assaulting and injuring guards of the peace, unlawful entry into the city, fleeing the law and resisting arrest.


    She drew out a pair of enchanted handcuffs and clapped them on him before he realised what was happening.


    *****


    Azrael looked at the handcuffs wrapped tightly around both of his wrists and then up at Sophie.


    The Beast in him raised its hackles, baring its fangs, but he forcefully supressed it.


    That hadn¡¯t just happened. Had it?


    Had he just been arrested? It had all been working out so well just a moment ago.


    When Sophie had arrived, he¡¯d tried bluffing his way out of the situation. There was no way that she clearly remembered and NPC she¡¯d only briefly travelled with. He¡¯d even managed to activate The {Trickster¡¯s Blessing} increasing the likelihood of her believing him.


    Indeed, he had seen the doubt on her face, until she finally accepted his story. Now he sat in handcuffs. He wasn¡¯t sure what had gone wrong.


    He was sure that somewhere up in his godly realm The Trickster was either sitting somewhere with a grin splitting his face from ear to ear, or laughing his head off at Azrael¡¯s predicament and at the turn of events.


    ¡°¡¯Scuse me, kind lady¡± he said, trying to get out of this predicament, ¡°Unfortunately I believe that you really have mistaken me for somebody else. I¡¯m just a humble beggar who arrived in this city yesterday. I have no clue who this Sam you speak of is.¡±


    The accusations she had listed were¡­ technically correct, but she didn¡¯t need to know that.


    She ignored him and spoke something into a communications device.


    Azrael took the chance to try and get out of the handcuffs. He gave them a sharp yank, hoping to break them with his game enhanced strength, but the handcuffs didn¡¯t budge.


    Next, he tried forcing some mana into them, but his mana slid right off ¨C Like water off a duck¡¯s back. He tried again, this time consciously following the mana and guiding it into the metal. He could find no purchase there though. It was as futile as trying to scratch hot metal with butter.


    The clatter of dozens of feet caught his attention and he looked up to find just short of two dozen spears pointing at him.


    Two men saluted at Sophie and briefly consulted before one of them turned to him.


    ¡°Under the law of the Holy Empire, you are now charged with the vandalism, defacement and desecration of the statue of the Holy Saintess, assaulting and injuring guards of the peace, unlawful entry into the city, fleeing the law, obstructing the law and resisting arrest. You will not resist and accept a full interrogation and check by the Holy Order, until proven not guilty. Any attempts to resist or escape will be seen as admission of guilt and acceptance of all charges.¡±


    As ridiculous as it was Azrael realised that he probably wasn¡¯t going to be able to talk his way out of this, so he asked the single most important question that burned at the forefront of his mind.


    ¡°Can I have my pretzel?¡±


    The guard in charge picked up the pretzel, before handing it to one of his men.


    ¡°All personal affects will be confiscated for the duration of the interrogation.¡±


    That sounded a lot like a ¡®No¡¯ to Azrael.

 Chapter 107 - Under Lock and Key

    Ten minutes after his arrest Azrael was escorted by a small platoon¡¯s worth of guards. With the prospect of escape uncertain he had been forced to submit to having a suppression collar put on him.


    The collar suppressed his mana shaping abilities, preventing him from casting any magic, by disrupting his mana flow every time he drew upon mana. It was the equivalent of white noise while trying to find a perfect note.


    So while he still had access to his mana, he was unable to guide and shape it without losing all control. He had to begrudgingly admit that it was a very effective system. Not infallible though. He was sure that with sufficient practice he would be able to remain in control of his mana, despite the disturbance. Unfortunately, he wasn¡¯t at that level at the moment. The same tracking spell from earlier had also been recast on him. Not that it mattered. Between the twenty soldiers, the collar and Sophie there was little chance of escape.


    Instead, he obediently followed his escort through the city, keeping his head up high as passer-by¡¯s pointed at him and whispered to each other. The soldiers might have captured him, but he would escape¡­and get that pretzel. He looked over to the soldier who was carrying his ¡®personal affect¡¯ in a small bag borrowed from the caf¨¦. His eyes narrowed slightly. He would get it.


    In the meantime, he treated his walk through the city as a protected guided tour. He took in the sights that he¡¯d missed when he¡¯d been on the run. Even just looking at the unique shops and people¡¯s get ups was entertaining. At least entertaining enough that he didn¡¯t mind the handcuffs too much.


    The escort ended up leading him down the main road from the west gate back to the plaza, where the chase had begun. Already a perimeter had been set around the statue, which had been hidden from sight by a large scaffold and cloth. Guards stood on the perimeter keeping curious onlookers back, while many white robed figures hurried around behind them. There was a fair bit of shouting and more than a few heads stared at him accusingly as he passed. He smirked and wished them luck with fixing the statue.


    They escort walked right past the statue and entering the cathedral complex behind it. Azrael staggered in shock as they passed the front gate. Despite the white wrought iron gates being wide open he felt like he¡¯d just walked into a suffocating film. The amount of mana from the wards imbued at the front gate caused his skin to prickle uncomfortably, but it was the divine energy suffusing the air that caused him to falter. It clung to him uncomfortably.


    Purity¡¯s presence was everywhere and it was stifling, to the point where he had a hard time breathing. In a lapse of concentration, the soul-ward he¡¯d put up around his divine spark slipped, but he quickly fixed it. This was one of the last places he wanted a slip up.


    He took a moment to admire the cathedral though. Up close it looked even grander than it had in the distance. And more ostentatious. Flawlessly white marble was carved with thousands of reliefs. Carved saints saved the people, while priests fed the hungry and holy warriors defeated powerful beasts. Above them all a deity ¨C Purity, dressed in white and gold, extended her gentle hand down to her believer. Guards and massive statues both lined the outside of the cathedral, guarding it, while priests and other believers streamed in and out of the doors.


    The guards pulled him away from the sight and led him to a cluster of buildings away from the cathedral. The pressure from Purity¡¯s power diminished slightly, but never quite vanished.


    Another effect of Purity¡¯s energy that he noticed manifested itself in the absolute cleanliness of the compound. Buildings, walls, and even the cobblestone paths were all completely free of dust and dirt. Even his own rags seemed to lose some of their dustiness. The entire place was being cleansed through Purity¡¯s power. Handy, he supposed, but bleach probably had much the same effect.


    Finally, they arrived at their destination and entered what seemed to be a guard house. It definitely looked far more militarian than the church.  Inside, a long corridor with cells set on either side ran off a main guard room. When they entered, most of the accompanying guards waited outside, while Sophie and the two patrol leaders continued to escort him.


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    Briefly he considered escaping now, before another restriction was placed on him, but that seemed like simple folly. Forget about escaping Sophie and two guards while in a confined space with his magic sealed, he would also have to deal with the twenty guards outside, then everyone else in the compound and then finally have to escape the city itself. He resigned himself to getting imprisoned and let his captor¡¯s words wash over him. It didn¡¯t matter. All they were giving him was a bit more time to plan an escape.


    In the end he was given a change of clothes ¨C of a simple brown cloth ¨C and placed into a cell with a bunk bed. One of the men said something to him, but Azrael let it fly over the top of his head. Sophie stayed silent, observing him. He ignored her as well.


    A moment later a key clunked in a lock and several bolts rattled across the door. Azrael plonked himself into the bottom bunk. Plan A to escape the city hadn¡¯t worked and plan B didn¡¯t exist. It was time to work on a plan C,¡­ after a nap that was.


    It seemed that he had barely fallen asleep when he was woken again. The key turned in the lock and the bolts rattled before a figure was roughly shoved into the room. They stubbled in, as the door closed, and nearly fell over. A moment later they caught themselves and noticed him.


    ¡°Ah! A fellow companion?¡± They noted ¡°Excellent.¡±


    Azrael didn¡¯t answer and took the moment to observe the newcomer. The person was obviously male, standing at height slightly taller than Azrael¡¯s avatar. Azrael judged them to be around one-eighty-five. They were wearing the same prison issued clothes the guards had given Azrael, meaning that their only overly obvious defining feature was their dark-brown, almost black, hair which threatened to cover their right eye.


    The person noticed Azrael¡¯s lack of response and held out a hand.


    ¡°Alec, Tinkerer, inventor and Golemancer extraordinaire¡±


    Azrael returned the handshake.


    ¡°Azrael¡± He introduced himself simply.


    He took the moment to inspect Alec with [Lord¡¯s Insight], the skill not hampered by the suppression collar.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Name: Alec


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Class: Golemancer (Lv. 5), Enchanter (Lv.4), Tinkerer (Lv.6).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    A quick check with [Soul Sense] confirmed that Alec was undoubtably a player, which caused Azrael some surprise. Alec was the first player that he¡¯d seen that didn¡¯t have at least one direct combat class.


    ¡°Golemancer?¡± Azrael asked curious.


    Alec got a look on his face as Azrael asked him that. It was the same look a nine-year-old got when you asked them to describe their birthday presents.


    ¡°Ah. Golemancy is the art of making golems.¡±


    ¡°The clay dudes with EMETH written on them, or the mechanical kind?¡± Azrael asked, his curiosity winning out over his caution. He figured at least one other player had tried making one somewhere and he could just play off any suspicious questions as having overhearing a few ¡®Chosen¡¯ speaking. The idea of golemancy intrigued him though. He hadn¡¯t even thought of that possibility.


    There were quite a few different types of golems in games, ranging from the kind made from clay to those that were basically pilotless mechas. An alternative was also a summon type golem, though Azrael was unsure where you would summon a golem from.


    Alec either didn¡¯t notice or didn¡¯t care that his audience had briefly lost himself in his thoughts.


    ¡°Neither¡± He pronounced enthused. ¡°The golems I make are the most beautiful fusion of tech, magic and pure passion. They¡¯re the cutting edge of a new science and one day we will rule the world!¡±


    Azrael ignored the last part, having to clear his confusion.


    ¡°I thought technology didn¡¯t work in the game?¡±


    He mentally winced at his phrasing. That one was a little harder to play off.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t. Magitech on the other hand does.¡±


    ¡°Magitech?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. So, conventional methods of power such as gunpowder, electricity, nuclear fusion, and fission don¡¯t work. Coal and steam still do. Why? Because mana interferes with the activation of higher energy levels at a microscopic level, but doesn¡¯t interfere with physical mechanical components. The solution? Replace electricity with mana. Voila! Magitech. By using mana, I can substitute electricity. By using runes, I can substitute circuit boards. And by using mana cores I can substitute batteries!¡±


    Azrael gave up on maintaining an NPC identity. The idea of magitech intrigued him. Afterall, he had his ¡®rune library¡¯, but hadn¡¯t actually used it all that much. Magitech might be a new avenue to explore¡­ if he ever got around to it.


    ¡°So, you build golems and power them with a core and a¡­ runic processing unit?


    ¡°Pretty much.¡±


    ¡°So, you don¡¯t summon spirits from the spirit planes to animate your golems¡± Azrael said in mock disappointment.


    Alec looked at him for moment before suddenly pulling a notepad out from thin air. A charcoal pencil followed a moment later. The pencil moved and he began muttering questions to himself.


    ¡°Summon spirits¡­ elemental? Elemental attacks?... Elemental resistances? Evolution? Sapience?¡±


    Alec finished writing and the notepad and pencil vanished. He turned back, in time for Azrael to ask him a question.


    ¡°How do you feel about escaping?¡±

 Chapter 108 - Breaking Free

    ¡°How confident are you in escaping?¡± Alec asked Azrael, with an excited glimmer in his eye.


    Azrael lifted his handcuffed hands to the suppression collar at his neck.


    ¡°With or without these?¡± he asked.


    Alec briefly glanced up from a tangle of wire that he was fiddling with. Multiple other metallic components lay scattered around him in a disorganised mess.


    ¡°Ah¡± he said, as understanding briefly lit up his eyes, ¡°a mage type. Nice. What classes?¡±


    Azrael hesitated. Depending on how he answered, Alec could realise that he was a player. That was if he hadn¡¯t already. Azrael realised that he might have blown his cover earlier when he asked about the golems. Getting out of here was probably more important than keeping his identity as a player hidden though.


    ¡°Elemental type combat mage, with some runic knowledge¡± he finally supplied.


    Just like for a successful job, it was better to lay the available tools on the table.


    ¡°Primary spells?¡± Alec asked carefully bending wires into strange shaped with a pair of pointy-nosed pliers.


    ¡°Fire bullet, wind burst and earth shaping, though I can also use simple water spells.¡±


    Alec didn¡¯t reply, instead soldering the wires onto a copper plate along with several mana stones. Azrael watched interestedly as Alec flipped the plate over and began engraving runes with a stylus. Halfway through Alec finally spoke again.


    ¡°How long do you think it would take you to get through the door?¡±


    Azrael looked at the cell door. He hadn¡¯t taken the time to really look at it though. He walked towards it and gave it a rap with his knuckles. It was thick, at least ten centimeters, and covered with metal.


    It wasn¡¯t pure metal though. The sound was wrong. The door itself probably had a wooden core, which was then covered in sheets of metal. If his guess was correct, then there were plenty of defensive runes carved on the inside of those sheets. With his mana sealed he could neither confirm the thickness of the door, nor the spells inscribed on it.


    Azrael looked at the cell wall instead. The wall was smooth stone, magically raised and joined without a gap. Undoubtedly, it also had enchantments on it, though they were probably weaker than the door. Stone was, after all, a worse mana conductor than metals.


    A thought presented itself to him and he used a long unused skill, [Craftman¡¯s Eye], on both door and the wall.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Reinforced Enchanted Prison Door


    Crafted by several experts the door has been enchanted with great resilience against attacks of both physical and magical nature. It is extremely fireproof.


    It has absorbed a small part of Purity¡¯s divine energy and will never dent or rust.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Enchanted Prison Wall


    Raised by magic the wall is completely flawless and has been enchanted to resist against attacks of both physical and magical nature.


    It has absorbed a small part of Purity¡¯s divine energy and will never bear a flaw, chip or blemish.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael read through the description, though the information only confirmed what he had guessed. It was unfortunate that the Skill didn¡¯t tell him exactly what enchantments were on the door and wall. Maybe if he levelled the skill up it would become an option?


    ¡°I think we would have a better chance breaking through the wall¡± Azrael answered Alec, after his assessment.


    Alec seemingly registered it, in his own distracted way. Or at least, Azrael assumed that he had heard it, since Alec was bobbing his head. That may have simply been because the contraption he was working on was coming along well though.


    Out of curiosity Azrael glanced at the handcuffs with his [Craftman¡¯s Eyes].


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Mithril Handcuffs


    Crafted from mithril by a dwarven blacksmith, these handcuffs, by virtue of their material, are completely resistant to mana and magical attacks and almost unbreakable.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael looked at the handcuffs with both admiration and horror. He was looking at a mythical metal. A metal that every gamer dreamed of getting their hands on. He wasn¡¯t sure whether he should have been more shocked at the fact that Holy Empire had managed to get their hands on an endgame metal, or about the fact that they had used it for a pair of handcuffs.


    He looked at the description. Mithril in this game seemed to be extremely strong and completely resistant to all forms of mana and magic. Azrael looked at the bright silver handcuffs and considered the use of the metal.


    It would be ideal for armour and possibly antimage weaponry, though it would also have extreme potential for carving rune structures on. Thanks to it resistance to mana, as well as its property of being nigh indestructible, mithril wouldn¡¯t degrade from the constant flow of mana, preventing the rune structure getting damaged. The mithril also wouldn¡¯t absorb any of the mana, meaning that the rune structure would theoretically have 100% efficiency.


    Without anything else to do, or prepare, Azrael settled in to watch Alec¡¯s strange contraption grow in size. By now the mess of wires, metal plates and runic text had lost all sense of order, causing even Azrael with his system enhanced rune reading skills to feel lost. The fact that he wasn¡¯t sure of what he was looking at in the first place made the whole matter a whole lot more complicated.


    Eventually though, after some parts had been scrapped three times Alec held up his¡­ his¡­ his mess of wires and touched it to his neck. A suppression collar, the Azrael had previously missed, opened with an audible click and fell off.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Alec sighed in relief, ¡°So much better.¡±


    Rising from his seated position with a groan he brought the device over towards Azrael¡¯s¡¯ neck. Azrael raised his chin to allow for better access and the suppression collar opened with an audible click. He pulled it off his neck and threw it onto the bed.


    ¡°Thanks¡± he said, rubbing his neck.


    Without the collar he once again regained his sense of mana. He hadn¡¯t even noticed how much he¡¯d missed it; the flow of mana in his core and through his veins, the ambient mana in the air and even the barely perceptible thrum of mana from the runes on the door and walls. Now that he could once again feel mana again he could appreciate the sheer amount of mana that was racing through the wards of the cell. The experience, though brief, had been like losing one of his senses.


    With access to [Stone Shaping] once again restored, Azrael created a rough key which he used to unlock the handcuffs. They fell open as well. He supposed he should be thankful that you couldn¡¯t enchant mithril. Handcuffs that tightened, or heated up when somebody tried to escape would have been a pain. Meanwhile, Alec was storing all his wires and tools away back into his invisible space. As he did so he finally noticed Azrael¡¯s curious gaze.


    ¡°Spatial toolbelt¡± he said with a shrug ¡°it¡¯s a Skill¡±


    Azrael nodded with understanding. That explained all the mysteriously appearing and disappearing items.


    ¡°So, you can just store whatever you want in a small¡­ pocket dimension?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Not quite¡± replied Alec, ¡°I can store tools and basic materials in the spatial toolbelt, but within certain limitations. I can only store things that you would find within a normal toolbelt. This means that I have certain size and weight restriction. It also depends on the item and what the skill recognises as something that belongs in a toolbelt. For example, I can¡¯t put a dagger in there, but I can put a bar of gold in there, because the skill considers gold as a material for magitech, but not the dagger. Despite this I can¡¯t fit a small golem in there, even if it weighs less than the bar of gold. There are actual size and weight limits as well, also based off what a toolbelt would be able to handle. Funnily enough once, when I was a bit absent minded at lunch, I accidentally put my sandwich in the spatial toolbelt, but I couldn¡¯t when I actively tried.¡±


    ¡°So, the game treats it as an actual toolbelt, not just a storage space?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, pretty much¡± Alec answered, while picking up one of the suppression collars and looked at it a bit sadly.


    ¡°I never thought when I built these that I would be on the receiving end.¡±


    He tucked it away into his [Spatial Toolbelt] and went to pick up the other one from the bed, as Azrael registered his words and the implications. Alec never got the chance to pick up the second suppression Collar before Azrael conjured a dagger and held it to Alec¡¯s throat.


    ¡°You did what now?¡±


    Alec froze stiff as he felt Azrael¡¯s blade rest against his throat.


    ¡°Who do you work for?¡± Azrael asked coldly.


    ¡°No one¡±


    Azrael changed tack, spitting out the next question immediately, to try and keep Alec off balance.


    ¡°Did you make these collars?¡±


    ¡°How specific are we getting? These particular ones? Probably not, no, but¡­¡±


    Azrael applied a little more pressure to the dagger and repeated his question.


    ¡°Did you make these collars?¡±


    ¡°Y-Yes¡±


    ¡°When did you make them?¡±


    ¡°One and a half months ago? Two, maybe? Of course, in real time that¡¯d only be¡­¡±


    Azrael applied a bit more force to the blade and Alec stopped his rambling.


    ¡°Did you, or have you ever worked for Holy Empire?¡±


    A tiny trickle of blood ran down Alec¡¯s throat as Azrael unconsciously increased the pressure yet again. He could feel his [Aura] subtly kicking in, bearing down on Alec.


    ¡°W-w-well, technically¡­¡±


    Azrael pushed down with his [Aura], forcefully applying it on Alec. Alec¡¯s voice rose an octave or two as he answered.


    ¡°¡­yes.¡±


    Azrael got ready to end this confrontation when Alec rammed something into his side. His entire body immediately went limp and it felt as if it had been struck by a hundred consecutive bolt of lightning. Alec pushed him away as he collapsed onto the bed behind him.


    ¡°I worked for them, WORKED as in past tense!¡± Alec shouted as he held up his hands defensively, ¡°Otherwise I wouldn¡¯t be in here with you!¡±


    Azrael tried to think, as he recovered. It was slightly more difficult than he might have expected, by virtue of the fact that his whole body was still painfully numb would intermittently twitch.


    ¡°Is that a taser?¡± he asked, looking at the still sparking device in Alec¡¯s hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s a magitech personal safety device¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a taser.¡± Azrael replied flatly, his tongue feeling strangely fuzzy.


    There were a few brief moments of silence before Alec spoke.


    ¡°We good?¡± he asked hesitantly.


    Azrael thought about it and then nodded. Alec hadn¡¯t killed him when he was down, which was usually a good sign. He also needed him to escape. If Alec betrayed him, well, then he would deal with it after they escaped.


    Alec stowed the taser away, before holding out a hand towards Azrael. He pulled it back a moment later.


    ¡°I think introductions are in order once again.¡± He said, ¡°I am Alec, EX-Head of magitech research for Holy Empire, current active member of the player magitech research guild, tinkerer, inventor and golemancer extreme.


    Azrael nodded.


    ¡°So, what are you in here for then Alec?¡± he asked.


    Alec hesitated and glanced at the cell door, before carefully pulling a fist sized orb out of his [Spatial Toolbelt]. The orb was perfectly circular and seemed to be made from a deep clear red crystal, light reflected, glimmered, and flashed, from facets hidden in its depths . Judging from the amount of power he could feel contained in the core and who the person was who held it, Azrael was fairly certain he could guess what the orb was.


    ¡°Is that..?¡± He began.


    Alec nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a golem core¡±


    Azrael held out a hand and Alec hesitantly let him hold it.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful¡± Azrael breathed reverently.


    And it truly was. It was a masterpiece. Upon closer inspection the facets that reflected the light in the crystal were actually countless runes painstakingly hand carved in bands, that miraculously vanished into the depths of the crystal.


    ¡°That, is an alchemically forged golem core, made up of close to 700 D-grade mana stones and the core of the Orc world boss from the first ring. It took twenty-six days to make and is the work of over twenty alchemists, mages, artificers and blacksmiths. It contains fourteen layers of runes and is both a processing unit, as well as a battery. And could be counted as the current greatest marvel and achievement in magitech to date!¡±


    Alec took the orb back and stowed it away into his toolbelt.


    ¡°It just so happened that the management of Holy Empire and I had a disagreement on how the core should be used and how the information of the process should be managed.¡± He looked at Azrael with a grin ¡°Intellectual property, am I right?¡±


    Alec turned to Azrael curiously, ¡°You never said what you were in for.¡±


    ¡°Eh,¡± he said with a shrug ¡°Some people just couldn¡¯t agree with my sense of artistry.¡±


    Alec crossed his arms at his answer and a brief silence ensued.


    ¡°All right.¡± Azrael conceded ¡°I might have messed around with the massive statue of The Saintess in the city square.¡±


    ¡°You what?¡±


    Alec stared at him disbelieving, before he began talking to himself.


    ¡°The guards, no, actually¡­ yes, that might explain a lot¡­¡±


    Alec lapsed into silence and Azrael had to clear his throat to catch his attention again.


    ¡°Ah¡­ Shouldn¡¯t we go before someone comes to check up on us?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yeah. Right¡­ Ready?¡±


    ¡°Ready¡±


    Collecting the handcuffs that he had previously dropped, Azrael turned to face the cell door. He drew upon his mana and activated [Void Shaping] to infuse it with the energies of the void. The unstable energy fought against his control, but he handled it with extreme care and concentration. As cautious as he was with the skill, he felt that now was a really good time to use it. The wall was likely to have safeguards against manipulation, less so against an extremely unpredictable and esoteric power from the other side of reality.


    Placing a hand on the wall beside the door, he flooded it with his mana. The void energies followed a moment after, already warping the cell¡¯s walls. He let the Skill fill out a hole the size of a door before drawing all of his mana together and compressing it into an impossibly small space. The void energies, the stone and the mana from the wards all compressed together into that impossibly small space.


    A round marble fell to the floor, leaving a small dent in the stone where it landed. Azrael cast [Craftman¡¯s Eye] on the marble.


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    Hyper Condensed Stone Marble


    Made through impossible means it is a marble made of hyper condensed stone. It is unbelievably heavy and extremely resistant to both physical and magical force. Despite containing some mana of its own, it is resistant to foreign mana.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He shrugged impressed and gave it a nudge with his toe. It didn¡¯t move. He tried picking it up, but couldn¡¯t even lift it, even with his game enhanced stats.


    As much as he was loath to leave such a unique item, he realised that it was impossible to take it along. He just hoped somebody stubbed their toe on it when they investigated. It might have been a petty thought, but petty revenge was still revenge.


    Azrael turned to Alec with a mock bow and a slightly smug grin on his face. He gestured through the hole in the wall.


    ¡°After you.¡±

 Chapter 109 - Prison Break

    Alec slipped through the hole in the cell wall that Azrael had made and started slinking down the hallway to the exit. Unfortunately, he was about as quiet as an elephant in boots. More fortunately, though, the other cells they passed were all empty and there was no guard patrolling the prison hall.


    Alec stopped at the end of the hallway, a normal ¨C though relatively thick - wooden door blocked their way forward. From passing through earlier, Azrael knew that there was a large room on the other side, which served as both the guard room, the prison¡¯s administrative center and also contained the lockers with prisoner¡¯s possessions. Alec placed a hand on the door handle and pushed it open before Azrael could stop him.


    Two guards dressed in white sat at a table playing cards. They both looked up when the door opened and it took a moment for them both to register that Azrael and Alec were escaped prisoners.


    They rose, dropping their cards and drawing their swords. Azrael raised an arm, prepared to throw a dagger at the closest guard, but Alec beat him to the first move.


    ¡°Zap.¡±


    Small wires flew through the air delivering powerful shocks to both men. Swords and men, both, collapsed to the ground. The men twitched. The swords lay still. Azrael could only look at the two men, while lowering his arm.


    ¡°That¡¯s meant to be a personal protection device?¡± Azrael asked, incredulous.


    The last time he¡¯d checked tasers didn¡¯t actually deliver enough energy to completely knock people out.


    Alec shrugged.


    ¡°I¡¯m safe, aren¡¯t I? I think it counts as a protection device.¡±


    A moment later he added a thought to the conversation, while stowing away his tazer.


    ¡°They might have just been shocked that I entered the room. I have been told that I have an electrifying personality.¡±


    Azrael raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Those puns were re-volt-ing. I¡¯m stunned at the fact that you even tried them.¡±


    ¡°Oh, those? Those were just an apa-taser¡±.


    The two grinned dumbly at each other, before Azrael jabbed a thumb at the large series of lockers on one wall. Each one had a number that corresponded to a cell number.


    ¡°Wire we just standing here? We should get our stuff and go.¡±


    Alec nodded and began reclaiming his stuff. There wasn¡¯t much, probably on account of him having most of his stuff in his [Spatial Toolbelt].


    Azrael checked the bag with his belongings, finding only his rags in there and an empty coin pouch. He left the rags and stuffed the mithril handcuffs into the coin pouch. He then borrowed a belt from one of the guards and tied the pouch to his waist. It was a waste to leave behind precious resources, especially when they almost literally fell into his hands. It did pain him to have to leave behind the ¡®Dense Stone Marble¡¯, but there was no way either of them would be able to carry it while escaping. He would have to make a new one some other time to study.


    Alec stood up, drawing his attention. His fellow escapee was now dressed in his own gear and looked like a proper fantasy crafter now, with an actual toolbelt, though minus a leather apron.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Alec asked.


    ¡°Ready.¡±


    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s¡­ wait!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Alec jerked his hand back from the door leading out, but Azrael wasn¡¯t looking at the door, instead scanning the room. He was looking for¡­ They hadn¡¯t¡­ had they? Where could¡­ There! With a small cry of joy Azrael found what he was looking for.


    Sitting on a plate, as if just waiting for him, sat his pretzel. He walked over to it, and picked it up. He didn¡¯t look at Alec, or the guards. He¡¯d learnt his lesson. There were times in life where you just had to do what you felt like, without a care for others.


    Completely ignoring Alec, he ate the pretzel bite by bite, savouring the salt and the doughy flavor. It had gone slightly hard during the day and was no longer as fresh as when he got it this morning. Despite all that it was good enough to bring tears to his eyes.


    ¡°You OK?¡± Alec asked, when he finished the final bite.


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    ¡°Yeah¡± said Azrael, mock wiping away some imaginary moisture from his eyes ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Two escapees exited the prison dressed in the guard¡¯s uniforms. As a final precaution the two of them had decided to strip the guards and thrown their uniforms on over their own clothes. As it was, the two of them were now strolling across the cathedral compound.


    ¡°Just look natural.¡± Azrael advised ¡°Pretend you actually belong here.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a bit ironic, considering I was the one that was working here until this morning.¡±


    A troop of guards passed them and they momentarily fell silent, before continuing towards the cathedral.


    A loud bell suddenly split the scene.


    ¡°They ringing the bell for worship?¡± Azrael asked.


    ¡°No.¡± replied Alec, hastily pulling something out of his [Spatial Toolbelt]. ¡°That¡¯s the alarm bell¡±


    ¡°Oh, so they¡¯ve discovered that we¡­ Is that a Gameboy?¡±


    Alec held in one hand what could only be a Gameboy, if a Gameboy was made out of copper.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s a- ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s a Gameboy.¡±


    ¡°No. it¡¯s a- ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s a Gameboy.¡±


    ¡°Fine! it¡¯s a Gameboy!¡±


    Alec looked at the compound and watched as priests and guards ran around, some in panic, some with purpose.


    ¡°So, how¡¯s that going to help us?¡±


    Alec pulled a cartridge out of mid-air and shoved it into the Gameboy.


    ¡°That¡¯s because it¡¯s not a Gameboy!¡±


    He pressed a button on the device and it let out a sound.  Azrael noticed a message flash on the Gameboy¡¯s screen, but was distracted by the sound of stone grinding on stone. Four stone statues of paladins guarding the cathedral¡¯s entrance came to life, their eyes lighting up with blue light. All four paladins raised their swords in unison and in unison all four of them swung their swords at the guards now streaming toward the two of them. The guards had less of a chance than bowling pins before a bowling ball.


    ¡°Did you just hack the statues with a Gameboy? So cool!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a Gameboy! It¡¯s a golem remote. Also, I technically didn¡¯t hack them. I built them.¡±


    A figure flying through the air caught Azrael¡¯s attention. Her platinum hair streamed out behind her.


    ¡°Cool, really cool,¡± he said, grabbing Alec¡¯s sleeve ¡°but I think we should really go.¡±


    The two of them raced towards the slowly closing gates, four massive golems following after them. Guards, mages and priests all streamed after them, hot on their tail.


    A large explosion issued out from behind them, and Azrael clearly heard the sound of shattering stone. He didn¡¯t look back though. Escaping was more important.


    The two of them ran through the gate, Azrael blasting the guards that guarded it with [Fire Bullets]. A second explosion echoed out behind them, followed once more by the sound of shattering stone. A chunk of with stone landed beside Azrael, flying in from behind and narrowly missing him. He instinctively turned to see what had happened.


    Behind them, two of the four golems were piles of rubble, shattered beyond recognition. A blue-eyed, blond-haired warrior half dressed in white plate mail stood over one pile of rubble. His large zweih?nder rested on the ground. Azrael recognised the face. It was Holy Empire¡¯s paladin, ¡®The Son of Virtue¡¯. The warrior turned to face the fleeing pair, a half mad grin splitting his face.


    ¡°We have to go. NOW!¡± Azrael shouted at Alec, dragging the poor Golemancer even faster.


    The Son of Virtue being here was Bad news. Capital B. Compared to that battle junkie Azrael was a saint. There was nothing that guy liked more than to take on an interesting opponent. One-on-ones were his preferred method, but one-on-one-hundred also worked. The worse the odds, the more unique the opponent and the stronger his enemy , the greater the thrill of the fight.


    The crazy bas.. son of a¡­ warrior. The crazy warrior always invested heavily in his strength, speed and his constitution. Of all the times that the two of them had fought Azrael had only won twice, both on a technicality.


    Azrael dragged Alec past the still covered statue of Melissa when a third explosion reached his ears. It was close now, so close he could feel the impact of the explosion. Around them, the crowds of players and NPCs ran around. Some of them ran towards the commotion, but the most tried to flee into the surrounding streets.


    The Son of Virtue was closing in on them. Azrael didn¡¯t question their chances of survival in a straight up fight. Not against such a pure combat focused Ranker. He risked a glance back. And nearly swore. Very nearly swore.


    Behind them the paladin had his massive sword raised above his head, the entire blade glowing with a deadly white light. Behind him, in mid-air, Sophie was still racing towards them. Azrael grimaced. Two Rankers, half an army and then some. He would still rather take on the army than the Rankers. At least with the army they had a chance. Behind, the Son of Virtue finished charging his blade and brought it racing downward in a massive arc.


    Exposed in the center of the city square Azrael made a gamble and dove forward, dragging Alec with him. A large gust of [Wind] propelled them forward, sending them flying between two stone pillars.


    A crescent arc of blinding white light raced towards the two of them, sharp and deadly. The mana-soaked attack was ladened with deadly intent. The air screamed and the plaza was illuminated in burning white light. It never reached them though.


    Like light racing towards a black hole, most of the attack was absorbed by the strange ¡®mana-void¡¯ between the two ancient pillars at the center of the plaza. Azrael breathed out, releasing a sigh he hadn¡¯t even realised he¡¯d been holding in. He¡¯d gambled and he¡¯d survived. The entire plaza between him and The Son of Virtue was shattered, a deep trench half his height simply obliterated. Behind him, where the mana-void hadn¡¯t managed to absorb, the tops of rooftops had been destroyed. He gulped, suddenly feeling a lot less confident in his luck.


    Around them people were screaming, though nobody seemed injured. They were all protected by large shield of radiant white light that had been summoned at the last minute. The shield was strained and cracked, but completely absorbed both the remnants of the paladin¡¯s skill, as well as the rubble that exploded into the air from where the flying crescent struck the ground and houses. Azrael looked up, noticing Sophie hovering mid-air, her hands raised to keep the shields up.


    Below her The Son of Virtue raised his blade again, preparing t- The final, forgotten, golem¡¯s body slammed into the paladin with all the force and grace of a thundering rhinoceros. Both man and machine went flying, the force of the charge carrying them across the plaza and smashing into a building.


    Azrael didn¡¯t wait and neither did Alec. The two of them rushed away as fast as they could, ignoring the fate of the valiant golem.


    By the time The Son of Virtue managed to extricate himself from the remains of the golem the two of them had vanished into the fleeing crowds.


    Azrael ran faster as he heard a primal cry of rage.

 Chapter 110 - Riot, Tag and Ropeplay

    Alec and Azrael raced through the panicking throngs, pushing their way towards the western gate. Both were running from the veritable army of white clad figures, and were hoping to reach the gates before Holy Empire tried to lock down the gates. Apparently, everyone else had had the same idea, or at least that¡¯s what it felt like.


    As the two escapees tried to flee from their pursuers they had to constantly fight against an ever growing tide of madness. People, both players and NPCs were streaming towards the gates, pushing and shoving each other to try and be that small bit faster. One thing led to another and soon people were actually fighting each other in their haste and panic, while others made use of the general chaos to break into storefronts and set random carts alight.


    Alec and Azrael soberly and silently pushed past it all, more intent on reaching the gates than on what was happening around them. The ever-growing anarchy around them also made for great cover, people, fights, flames and smoke making a perfect screen under which the two of them escaped. The only problem was that it hindered them almost as much as it helped them.


    The situation at the west gate was worse than Azrael feared. Rioters, fearful citizens and angry players pressed in at them from all sides. Guards stood protecting the barred gate, shields and spears turned towards the jampacked crowd. For Azrael, the situation reminded him of floodwaters trapped against a dam. Eventually the dam would break and the people would flood out. The only problem was that it might take too long.


    ¡°Let¡¯s try another gate¡± Azrael suggested.


    It was more important to get out of the city right now than to use the shortest route home. Alec, though, shook his head.


    ¡°The other gates will be just as bad.¡± He said ¡°Let¡¯s try to get out here. We¡¯re still in guard uniforms and I can probably use my position as the Head of magitech to get us past.¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you arrested?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t know that.¡±


    Azrael could only agree. Alec¡¯s plan was the best that they had so far and what he¡¯d stated was right. There was no guarantee that the other gates were any better.


    Azrael nodded and the two pushed their way through the remaining crowd.


    ¡°Make way! Coming through. Let us pass.¡±


    Azrael moved through the crowd, making way for Alec behind him. There really wasn¡¯t much space between people and more than once he was afraid that someone would start a fight with him because he pushed past them.


    Eventually though, they made it to the front lines, a row of shield bearing guards blocking the way forward.


    ¡°Bit crowded on this side.¡± He joked with the nearest guard ¡°Mind letting us through?¡±


    ¡°Halt! No-one is to pass this line. Any attempt to do so will be seen as obstruction of peace and justice. Offenders will be tried by the Saintess and the Holy Empire.¡±


    Alec pulled out a badge from his [Spatial Toolbelt].


    ¡°Alec, Head of magitech engineering. Let us through.¡±


    Azrael saw the guard do a double take, before starting to sweat profusely. Azrael took slight pleasure out of it. The guard was now probably rapidly trying to decide whether to let them pass, or offend a higher ranking member of the Holy Empire and stick to his orders. Around them tensions were mounting, and this guy was feeling it.


    A figure dropped down behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with it¡± a female voice said.


    Azrael recognised the voice and didn¡¯t wait to see Sophie¡¯s face to appear from behind the guard.


    ¡°THEY¡¯RE GOING TO KILL US ALL!¡± Azrael shouted, while launching a [Fire Bullet] into the air.


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    The present situation around the gate was fraught with tension. Anxiety, fear, impatience; they were all just brush wood waiting to be lit. Azrael¡¯s [Fire Bullet] was the spark that lit the fire.


    Someone screamed and all hell broke loose. From one moment to the next the scene underwent a sudden change. Like fireworks, Skills were used in rapid succession all around him. Mages, Aura users, Swordsmen, Shamans and a whole range more activated their Skills and turned upon each other. Azrael grinned. In a deeply primal way, it was beautiful. The Beast inside also rumbled in approval.


    Ice spells and fire spells flew through the air, while wind and lightning crackled between the crowd. Weapons; Swords, spears, knives, axes, fists, glowed in all colours of the rainbow, coated in either aura or mana. Runes filled the air, some summoning great arcane works, while others exploded or faded when their casters were interrupted midchant.


    Alec, Sophie, and the guard all stood and watched slack jawed, watching both him and the chaos he had just unleashed. Azrael punched the guard in the face. His face was annoying.


    While the guard fell backwards onto Sophie, Azrael grabbed Alec¡¯s wrist and pulled him towards the gate. Already the fighting had broken past the shield wall and the gate was straining from the barrage of spells. Azrael didn¡¯t wait though. Instead, he pulled out a streamer of void energy and blasted it at the gate, forcing it outwards.


    The spell went through the massive gate without resistance. Wood, nails, rune wards and strips of metal were all pulled along by the chaotic energy and blasted outwards.


    Azrael passed through the hole in the gate without hesitation, followed shortly after by Alec and a massive mob of wild players. On the other side, the wood and metal that had formerly been the gate now formed long vicious spikes, ready to impale anyone coming the other way.


    Like a dam breaking, the resistance at the gates gave way to the massive flood of people spilling out, rushing out, onto the bridge. Neither Azrael or Alec looked back, not when others raced past them, nor when the sound of fighting moved onto the bridge, or when the bridge itself shuddered and started to collapse behind them. There was only one single minded focus ¨C the gate at the other end of the bridge.


    They were barely twenty meters away when a  person streaked past them, overtaking them. Azrael didn¡¯t take his eyes off of the gate, but out of his periphery he watched the man race towards the shore ¨C towards safety. He never made it past the arch of the gate.


    As if suddenly caught in a net the man stopped, stumbled and fell to his knees. Azrael used [Wind] to bring himself to a screeching halt. Alec ran past, passing through the gate unhindered. He stopped on the otherside.


    ¡°Why¡¯d you stop?¡±


    ¡°The gate pass. I don¡¯t have a gate pass.¡±


    ¡°Oh, here I have¨C¡°


    ¡°Not so fast.¡±


    Azrael turned around to find Sophie landing on the bridge behind him. Her clothes were singed, ripped and in otherwise tatters, though her hair was immaculate as always.


    ¡°I¡¯m not letting you go again.¡± She stated.


    ¡°Is that a love confession?¡± Alec asked from the background.


    ¡°Alec.¡± Azrael warned.


    Sophie leant to the side, to look past Azrael and at Alec.


    ¡°Head Engineer, Alec. You will also be coming with me.¡±


    Azrael almost blurted out ¡®That¡¯s what she said¡¯, before realising that nobody did that anymore. He could feel Sera facepalm at his stupidity, but he let that slip past his attention as he slowly began weaving his mana into a spell. The problem was he needed more time.


    ¡°So, you catch me again and I escape again?¡± He asked ¡°What will that achieve?¡±


    Sophie narrowed her eyes at him.


    ¡°The last time was an oversight and a lack of attention. This time, Sam, if that even is your name, you won¡¯t escape. Even if I have to watch you personally to ensure that.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯ll watch me personally?¡± he asked, trying to keep the conversation going.


    ¡°If need be.¡±


    ¡°Even when I sleep?¡±


    ¡°If I have to.¡±


    ¡°What about when I change, or go to¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes! If I have to.¡±


    Her face had gone slightly red, but her eyes redoubled their glare.


    ¡°Pervert¡± he stated.


    Her mouth opened slightly, but he didn¡¯t care. He¡¯d completed his spell, the mana framework stabilised in his hand. It wouldn¡¯t hold long without a more stable medium, but he didn¡¯t need it to.


    Azrael took a step backwards and pretended to stumble. Sophie saw her chance and lunged at him. He let himself fall, wincing as he landed on the hard stone, but didn¡¯t have more time to think about it as Sophie came up on top of him.


    She landed full force, aiming the pommel of a dagger at his head. He waited for the briefest of moments before bringing his legs up and using them to throw her over his head. As he did so he grabbed her and tapped her shoulder, applying the spell he¡¯d prepared to her.


    The moment before she went sailing through the air over him he smiled at her.


    ¡°Tag, you¡¯re it.¡±


    Carried by her own momentum and the force of his legs Sophie flew straight towards Alec, the crafter panicking at having a person suddenly flying straight towards him. Sophie never made it that far though, the wards of the gate reacting with the spell Azrael had marked her with. The entire ward focused solely on her, suddenly determining her as the largest threat.


    Invisible ropes raced out, wrapping around her and tying her down. She fell, uncontrolled onto the ground, joining the other bound person from earlier. The person suddenly found the invisible ropes gone from himself and sprinted away.


    ¡°It¡¯s more stuck in the mud than tag.¡± Alec commented, but Azrael ignored him.


    He walked up to Sophie, and leant down, whispering in her ear.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it would have worked out between us.¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I like being on the bottom, and I¡¯m definitely not into rope play.¡±

 Chapter 111 - Man or Monster?

    Azrael raced alongside a road that crossed through a forest, making the best use of [Shadow Step] and blasts of [Wind] to speed along his progress. It had been around three weeks since he¡¯d left behind the chaos of Nova Lux and his use of the skill had grown considerably.


    After escaping with Alec the two of them had decided to part ways, both for practical, as well as personal reasons. Holy Empire would most probably be searching for a golemancer and a mage type combatant travelling together. Azrael also wanted to head West, towards home, while Alec was hoping to visit the largest dwarven city in the south-east. In the end they had parted ways, just after crossing through the mountain pass of the first ring.


    As a farewell present Alec had gifted Azrael a prototype golem core, while Azrael had transcribed sequences of runes from the ¡®rune library¡¯ that his title {Rune Master} granted him. He¡¯d carefully placed the prototype golem core with the mithril handcuffs.


    The core and handcuffs were not the only thing he received out of the entire situation. Briefly after leaving the city he¡¯d recieved a single message.


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    The Trickster wiggles his eyebrows mischievously at you


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    Azrael was most definitely sure that he hadn¡¯t added a messaging system to his [Status], but then again he hadn¡¯t added the notification function either. However, with the Trickster you never knew. It might have been nice if the message had been something useful. As it was, it made for a brief distraction.


    Either way, since leaving the city and parting with Alec, Azrael had travelled both by day and by night. Only briefly would he stop to rest, sleep, eat or log off. He¡¯d checked the game forums briefly, just after he¡¯s parted from Alec, and found it flooded with information and images from the chaos.


    Similarly, on television several different stations were broadcasting videos from the event, starting from his battle at the bridge, his stunt at the statue and finally the riots in the city. Thankfully nobody linked all the events to a single person and there weren¡¯t any overly clear shots of him. He had to admit though, he¡¯d looked very brave and heroic in all the shots though. Holy Empire was withholding an official statement.


    Due to the chaos he¡¯d caused, he¡¯d decided to put as much distance between himself and Nova Lux, in order to escape Melissa¡¯s inevitably furious grasp.  As the journey wore on however, his speed was fuelled by rising excitement and expectation.


    He¡¯d taken slightly over a month to reach Nova Lux, the halfway mark of his journey ¨C that was not including his stay with Mors ¨C and he¡¯d travelled another three weeks since then, meaning that his quite cabin in the woods was less than a fortnight away. Sometimes, when the sun set, he was sure that he could see the looming silhouettes of the mountains that marked the second ring.


    The sound of a tree shattering startled him, causing him to lose concentration and nearly miss the timing of [Shadow Step]. Azrael stumbled out of a shadow, narrowly avoiding tripping over a root with [Dramatic Flair], before finally landing and dropping into [Stealth].


    Again, there was the sound of something shattering, this time decidedly not wood but bone. It was followed a moment later by an extremely loud and pained yelp and the loud baying of wolves.


    It was a distinct difference to the constant monotony of trees and shadows that he¡¯d endured so far and curiosity got the better of him. Following the loud sounds, Azrael travelled in [Stealth] while remaining extremely cautious and ready to run or engage as the situation called for.


    The closer he got, the louder the sound became. There was the crunch of bone, the sound of wolves and the occasional sound of a tree being exploding into shrapnel.


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    Something flew in his direction, a grey ball of fur and muscle. Azrael dodged instinctively, ducking into the nearest shadow and appearing a few meters away. He looked back to find a large wolf looking at him with glassy eyes. Its mouth was wide opened, lined with sharp fangs. Blood dripped from multiple deep wounds, dying its grey coat red.


    Azrael instantly summoned two daggers, layering them with [Reinforcement] and fell into the basic stance for Mors¡¯ [Footwork]. The wolf didn¡¯t move though, unblinkingly eyeing him off, even as its own blood started to form a pool at its feet. Azrael adjusted his grip on one of the daggers, waiting for it to make the first move. It never came though.


    It took a moment for Azrael to realise that it was already dead. The only thing keeping the massive creature upright was the stump of a broken branch impaled through it. The force of its flight had carried it with such strength that it had snapped the branch of the tree it collided with and impaled itself on it. Behind him the sound of fighting continued.


    Azrael shuddered as he imagined what manner of creature could have enough strength to throw a wolf of that size with such force. Still curious, but thoroughly cautious, Azrael crept closer towards the sounds, mindful of any other flying bodies.


    As he moved the trees began to thin out slightly, allowing him a better view of the clearing up ahead. Briefly, he saw flashes of grey as they fought with an enemy. As to what exactly that enemy was Azrael couldn¡¯t see. They were too well hidden by the forest¡¯s undergrowth and foliage. Azrael scaled the closest tree, gaining a better vantage point to watch the happenings from.


    Hoping to peer through the leaves, Azrael crept along a branch. He cast [Search] feeling mana leave him and return with information.


    Ahead of him, in the clearing were five life signatures, with two of them very weak. One of them was larger than the rest though ¨C most probably the wolves¡¯ opponent. Finally breaking through the leaves Azrael had his first glimpse of the battle. The scene was absolute chaos.


    What he¡¯d assumed had been a clearing was actually a large area of devastation, with all the surrounding trees being smashed into splinters. Two large wolves lay bleeding amongst the wreckage, while their remaining three members fought with¡­ a small giant?


    The mountain of a man was unremarkable in most respects, save for his short cropped blonde hair. Dressed in nothing but simple brown garbs his two most defining features were his size and the massive sword he held in his two hands.


    Perhaps sword was too much of a compliment for the weapon. It looked like someone had just stuck a handle into a comically oversized slab of metal. From handle to the end of its blade it was nearly as tall as he was. There was no denying its effectiveness, nor the skill of its wielder, though.


    Even as Azrael watched, the man swung his blade diagonally, leaving a deep gash in one of the wolf¡¯s sides. If it hadn¡¯t narrowly evaded, then Azrael was sure that it would have been split in two. A second wolf lunged at the man, just as he finished the blow, hoping to capitalise in on the man¡¯s opening.


    Its claws found only the cold metal of the sword, as the man used the wide blade as a shield. The third wolf leapt from where it had been hiding behind a fallen tree. The man didn¡¯t miss a beat, his muscles straining and bulging as he swung the massive blade around to catch it in mid-air. He hit it with the flat of the blade, sending it flying into the trees like a ball from a bat. It crashed into a tree and didn¡¯t get up again.


    The blade didn¡¯t stop though, carried onwards by the momentum. It came down like a massive guillotine, decapitating the second wolf that was still recovering from crashing into the blade. The final wolf, realising that it had no chance of victory tried to flee. It leapt over the fallen trees, heading for the forest, but stumbled briefly due to one of its injuries.


    The massive blade came down, impaling it along its spine, as the man cleared the distance in a single bounding jump. The wolf slid down the blade, its legs no longer able to bear its weight.


    Azrael¡¯s breath was caught in his throat. There had been no elegance in that fight, only pure power and savagery.


    The man looked up and scanned the forest, his bright blue eyes seemingly piercing through the foliage and undergrowth. For a brief moment Azrael thought their eyes had met, but then the man continued to scan the remaining forest around the bloody scene of destruction.


    Azrael shuddered, not because their eyes might have met, or that he feared the man, but because the man was smiling. Despite being heavily injured himself and bleeding, the man was smiling while being drenched in both his own blood and the blood of the wolves.


    Azrael recognised him for what he was ¨C a battle craving monster, on par with the likes of The Son of Virtue. The Beast stirred recognising a powerful opponent and it let out a bit of bloodlust, but Azrael didn¡¯t care. He wanted a peaceful life, not one filled with blood and destruction. Battle junkies sought out blood and destruction, so the easiest thing was simply to avoid them.


    Though some part of him was curious about which of the two of them would win in a fight, he suppressed the idea. A peaceful life came first.


    Loosening his grip, Azrael slid down the branch and dropped into the shadow at the base of the tree, before resuming his journey away from the site of destruction. If possible, he never wanted to see that madman again.

 Chapter 112 - An Inn In The Woods

    Night was falling fast as Azrael continued on his way. Despite wanting to push on, he realised that he would probably have to stop for the night soon though. The small sliver of a moon that was rising was not sufficient enough to cast a good shadow to [Shadow Step] through.


    In theory, he figured it was possible to apply the skill to any sufficiently dark surface, but his expertise with the Skill hadn¡¯t quite reached the level required to do so.


    One of the annoying things about unique skills was their lack of level, which meant any increase in proficiency he saw was entirely up to his own practice and judgment. Though, he supposed it wasn¡¯t much different with normal skills, only the game increased the number as he progressed. As it was, he pushed ahead burning through his mana supply at an unsustainable rate. He could recharge while he rested later.


    Though he could have continued with bursts of [Wind] to continue travelling during the night, it was better to get as far ahead as he could using his usual shadow diving technique, before the last of the true shadows merged with the night. There was also the prospect of an inn to spend the night with ¨C if one of the conversations two travellers had had were to be believed.


    Azrael smiled faintly at that memory. It was amazing how much rubbish two people could talk about if they thought that nobody was listening. Those two hadn¡¯t been the only travellers on the road through the forest, with far more players underway than Azrael would have thought.


    Many of them had been discussing a ¡®raid¡¯, though he hadn¡¯t stopped to listen. Raida meant people and people meant rouble. He was just glad that people had stopped talking about the chaos in Nova Lux. It seemed the fiasco was finally dying down ¨C at least for the general players. He was sure that Holy Empire was still secretly searching for him.


    Azrael was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost missed the inn. Built right against the lone dirt road, the inn nestled amongst the trees on the other side of the road. The two-story building was made completely of wood, including the walls, windows, roof and stables. Colourwise, it blended in perfectly with the rest of the forest, especially in the fading light of evening. The only reason he didn¡¯t miss it was due to the scent of roasting meat wafting through the surrounds, enticing hungry travellers. Azrael was definitely both hungry and a traveller.


    He¡¯d hunted on his journey, with no lack of prey in the wilderness, but anything he managed to cook over a fire had tasted fairly bland. Once he¡¯d stopped and joined a travelling caravan of NPCs for dinner, but most nights he went without food. As a player the game conveniently decreased his need for sustenance, as well as his hunger. This ability had only grown along with his stats, giving rise to a suspicion that there was a link he wasn¡¯t quite aware of.


    Slipping out of the tree line, he crossed the road and approached the inn. Two carts were parked alongside the building, while he could hear gentle whickering from the stables. Through [Soul Sense] he registered a little over a dozen people, almost all of them players. He almost triggered [Search] to pinpoint everyone¡¯s location before entering, but refrained in case one of them was more sensitive to mana.


    Gently opening the door, he strode in with enough confidence that nobody would try to pick on him, but without the excess bravado that might cause somebody to take offence or wish to challenge him.


    A few heads turned his way as he entered, the chatter briefly dying down, before returning back to normal volume as everyone continued their conversations. Azrael smelt the air, enjoying the stronger scent of roast meat and ale.


    The layout of the bottom floor was a simple design. Tavern design on the bottom floor, with many tables and a serving bar to one side and a staircase near the back, no doubt leading upwards to rentable rooms. Azrael walked over to the bar.


    ¡°One meal, no ale.¡± He said, to the bearded innkeeper, while slipping a few smaller mana stones onto the bar from the pouch at his waist.


    He¡¯d hunted plenty of beasts, either for dinner or to stop himself from becoming dinner, and had accrued a small sum of mana stones. To his surprise and delight one of the NPC merchants of the caravan he¡¯d spent the night with had informed him that mana stone were also an accepted currency, due to the growing demand from players.


    The innkeeper behind the bar looked up from where he was cleaning an ale mug and gave Azrael an unsatisfied grunt. Azrael correctly interpreted it and fished out a slightly larger mana stone out of his pouch, from beside the handcuffs, and placed it beside the others.


    With a certain sort of practiced skill, the innkeeper swept the mana stones off the bar counter and still somehow managed to continue cleaning the mug. The innkeeper let out another sort of grunt, while thrusting his head in the direction of one of the few remaining empty tables. Azrael wouldn¡¯t have given the man one out of five stars for service, but figured that this far in the middle of nowhere the innkeeper didn¡¯t have to contend with competition.


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    Slightly disgruntled, Azrael went to sit down, taking the table in the corner furthest from the door. The light here was a little dimmer than the rest of the room, making him feel less exposed. Discretely, he observed the other occupants of the room.


    The majority of them were swordsmen, with different styles of blades, though Azrael could see two bows resting against a wall. There were no mages and fortunately no followers of Purity, or members of Holy Empire.


    Letting his head rest against the wall at his back, he closed his eyes and listened in to the nearest conversation.


    ¡°¡­ At least that¡¯s what I heard Janek.¡±


    ¡°Nah, you¡¯ve got it all wrong. I mean it¡¯s undeniable that the Holy Empire was there when they slew the Southern Earth Giant, we¡¯ve all seen the videos, but a friend of mine was there and he told me that it was the Red Sands Guild, along with the Desert tribes, a coalition from the dwarven cities and a whole group of adventurers and free players that actually dealt all the damage. More than half died though. The Holy Empire only really stood there and looked all flashy. Then they tried to steal most of the corpse and claim it as their own. Not only that, but then they took all the credit on the forums and media. A publicity stunt. That¡¯s what it is, a publicity stunt to cover up their big mess in the city. My brother¡¯s shop got burned down in that riot. Bloody incompetents, that¡¯s what they are, bloody¡­¡±


    His friends tried to calm him down and eventually turned to a different topic.


    ¡°What do you think is beyond there?¡± one of them asked.


    ¡°Beyond where?¡±


    ¡°You know, the second ring?¡±


    ¡°Dunno. My cousins signed up for the expedition that they¡¯re launching beyond the southern pass, but I doubt we¡¯ll hear anything anytime soon.


    ¡°At least the World guardian raid in the south succeeded, ¡®cause I heard they got absolutely demolished in the north. The Northern Serpent just smashed through all of their ships.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s what you¡¯d expect from a bunch of fishermen.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I heard that the Pirate King and his fleet joined in, as well as the Diver. They managed to stay alive, but their rep took a hit. Maybe it would have been different if more Rankers joined the fight. If I remember correctly Red Sand¡¯s guildmaster, The Red Duelist was there for the World raid in the south, along with Banditos, and The Heavenly Archer.¡±


    ¡°They say the Blade King was in the area too, but I¡¯m not sure he joined in.¡±


    ¡°That battle maniac? He¡¯s more likely to¡­¡±


    Their conversation paused midway, as did every other conversation in the inn. When it didn¡¯t resume a moment later, Azrael opened his eyes. His meal, roast and potatoes was served on his table, but that wasn¡¯t why everyone had paused. A hulking figure had entered the room, his blonde hair sitting above blue eyes. It wasn¡¯t his size, or his slightly bloody and terribly cleaned clothes that everyone was looking at. It was the massive sword on his back.


    ¡°An ale¡± The newcomer said, drawing his sword from his back.


    Despite the size of the weapon compared to the small room the move didn¡¯t look cumbersome. Those closest to him shrunk back, but he simply lay the weapon on the closest table. In the absolute stillness of the inn, an audible creak sounded out from the table. Azrael was surprised the thing didn¡¯t collapse.


    The innkeeper brought the man a tankard that was almost overflowing with ale and then bowed several times as he accepted the payment. The two players who had been seated at the table hurriedly stood and found another, taking their plates and tankards with them. Completely ignoring them the big man took an appreciative sip of his ale and seemingly relaxed.


    Azrael¡¯s body on the other hand was completely tense, expecting the man to suddenly burst into action. The Beast inside of him strained against its bonds, urging him to strike first. A danger eliminated was a danger solved. He restrained it and took a bite out of his meal with a casualness that he didn¡¯t feel. Despite no doubt being the best food he¡¯d had inn a while (excuse the pun), it was completely tasteless in his mouth. His thoughts were racing so fast that he didn¡¯t have enough mental capacity to take in the flavours.


    He could run. He didn¡¯t want to run. There was no reason to run. He could fight. He didn¡¯t want to fight. There was no reason to fight. Ok, he wanted to fight a little, but that was more his gamer¡¯s soul and The Beast speaking, than the logical part of his brain.


    He cleared that thought away. There was no reason to run or fight. Logically, there was nothing between him and the man. It was only the man¡¯s sudden appearance that had startled him, after he had decided to avoid him. It didn¡¯t mean that the man was here for him or following him. Holy Empire most likely didn¡¯t have anything to do with this either. It was a coincidence that both he and the man were travelling in the same direction. If Holy Empire knew where he was, then they would have sent a greater force than a single man, no matter how skilled or dangerous he might be. He was just hoping to avoid trouble that was all.


    Letting out a quite sigh, he cleared away those thoughts. If he wanted to live a normal life then the best way to act was to be normal. Relaxing his posture, he turned back to his food.


    An empty tankard slammed down hard against his table and a face lowered itself to take up most of his vision. Azrael hadn¡¯t even noticed the giant man move or finish his tankard of ale for that matter.


    The whole inn was holding its breath and Azrael took the moment to inspect the man.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Name: James


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Class: Heavy Swordsman (Lv. 10), Guardian (Lv.8)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    ¡°Fight me¡± James said.

 Chapter 113 - Amongst The Shadows

    ¡°Fight me¡± James said.


    Azrael could only look at the man uncomprehendingly.


    ¡°Pardon?¡± he asked.


    James loom over Azrael, both hands now resting on the table, blocking out the light from the rest of inn and casting them both in shadow. Azrael saw the man grin.


    ¡°You¡¯re strong. Fight me.¡±


    The question was asked with such straight forward factuality that for a moment its contents didn¡¯t register. Or rather, it wasn¡¯t a question. It was a statement ¨C a demand.


    ¡°You¡¯re strong¡± James repeated one more time, as if he hadn¡¯t been heard, ¡°fight m¨C¡°


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°No. I will not fight you.¡± Azrael clarified. His heart was pumping and his larynx seemed to have risen and clogged up his throat. James let out a heavy sigh and Azrael swallowed drily as the giant of a man slowly straightened himself, removing both hands from the table. Rising to his full height James walked around the table, placing himself directly opposite Azrael and¡­ sank down onto the opposite chair, with the air of a sad puppy.


    ¡°Just once.¡± He asked. ¡°Please!¡±


    Azrael looked at the giant puppy of a man for a moment, unsure how to process what he was seeing. The sudden change of demeanour threw him off completely. Was the bloody figure of carnage and destruction he¡¯d seen in the forest really the same person? Was this just a prank or some elaborate scheme to coax him into lowering his guard?


    In the end Azrael decided that inaction was its own form of action and quietly and warily continued his meal, resolving to ignore the big man. It didn¡¯t seem like James would initiate a fight at the moment and if there was no danger, then it was easier just to not think about troubling stuff. Erring on the side of caution, Azrael planned to finish his meal and leave as soon as possible, just in case.


    Like a beast watched by a hunter, Azrael finished his meal bite by bite, the food strangely bland and tasteless under the constant gaze. Each movement of his was slow, deliberate and exaggeratedly casual. Thankfully for him, James stayed silent for the rest of the meal, ordering his own and another tankard of ale.


    He remained at Azrael¡¯s table, leaving his sword unattended in the middle of the inn. Nobody moved to that table, or tried to move the sword, though Azrael doubted anyone could. The massive blade must have weighed more than most men in the room. The only thing that bothered him while he finished his meal was James¡¯ constant gaze.


    Like a hunter, James watched Azrael¡¯s every move. It was as if he was just waiting for the slightest give away of Azrael running away or springing into action. If it wasn¡¯t for the fact that that was exactly what Azrael was thinking of doing, it might have been insulting.


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    Mopping up the last of the juices on his plate with his remaining potato, Azrael placed it in his mouth the same deliberate exaggerated care he¡¯d had throughout the rest of his meal and chewed it, before slowly lowering his empty fork to his plate. James watched as Azrael lowered his fork and opened his mouth to speak. He never got the chance to get a word out.


    As Azrael lowered his fork, he watched one of the patrons opened the door of the inn. Light from inside spilt out into the night and cast the patron¡¯s shadow against the ground outside. Azrael took the opportunity to fall backwards into his own shadow and vanish from the room. He appeared in front of the leaving patron, startling him. Before the man even started his cry Azrael leapt forward like a bolt from a crossbow, vanished into the night swiftly and without a trace.


    *****


    Alena stalked through the forest, shadows wrapping her in their gentle embrace. She was silent, a formless phantom amongst trees, one shadow amongst countless others. Somewhere, she knew, a dozen heartbeats were beating alone, ¨C her disciples ¨C hidden amongst the shadows. She would find them, as she always did, as her Master had done for her. They had gotten better, though still incomparable to her Lord and Master.


    She looked up at the silver crescent moon, its weak light alighting on her face. It would be new moon soon. And soon she would take her disciples to scout the enemy village. They were good enough for the task now. Their stealth was good, their combat less so, but they had grown.


    Ever since her Master had left, she¡¯d been watching the enemy every new moon, watching their encampments and forces grow. It was her disciples turn to take up the guard.


    The enemy village had truly changed in the half year since her master had freed her. The little village that she knew and had grown up in was no more. It now had rising encampments of dirt and stone, mighty towers of wood, as well as great gates made of logs and iron. But just as the enemy had grown, so had their new village.


    A few stragglers, and lost souls had added onto the already growing numbers of their village. Bartlos too had brought people with him from his journeys, along with much needed supplies. Some of these travel companions settled down in their village, each and everyone of them being taught to honor the Lord and never intrude across the lake to his sanctuary. And as the village grew, so did the number of her disciples and information from the outside world.


    Her eyes and ears gathered information from surrounding villages, sometimes travelling for weeks. Information, rumours and stories, all of it was brought to her, no matter how inconsequential it seemed. It was not enough, but it was a beginning.


    A subtle breeze carefully threaded its way through the forest, leaves whispering voiceless secrets that intruded on her thoughts. She did not know what they said, but she knew a secret nobody else in the village knew. Actually, she knew many, but there was one that held prominence above all other.


    Briefly she turned inwards, touching the bond with her Lord and Master. It had been growing stronger for the past few days; a gossamer thread that was slowly filling out to something more substantial. Though she could not feel any emotions across the link yet it was proof that they had not been abandoned or forgotten.


    It had been a relief when she had first noticed, tears spilling uncontained down her face. She had never doubted that he would return. Afterall, he had tasked them to guard the forest for him. Her grip on hope had been slipping though, and it was a relief to feel her hope answered. She let her gaze rest upon the smiling silver moon one moment more, before letting her gaze fall to the shadowed forest below. A dozen disciples, a dozen hidden heartbeats, a dozen prey for her to find.


    Alena fingered her wooden practice dagger and smiled. If her disciples wanted to stand before her lord, then they had to prove that they were worthy of the honour. She already relished tonight¡¯s hunt.

 Chapter 114 - A War Amongst Men

    Azrael raced along the edges of a prairie, the sunny field of windswept grass disappointingly empty of meaningful shadows. Beside him, much to his disbelief and displeasure, James barrelled along, keeping up with him with pure explosive muscle strength. Though agility was the lowest of Azrael¡¯s stats, James¡¯ strength and endurance were nothing to scoff at.


    After having escaped the inn last night, Azrael had resumed his journey for most of the night. Without enough moonlight to cast true shadows, he¡¯d been limited to just using [Wind] as a means of accelerating his passage. Still, after quickly resting for a few hours, he¡¯d woken up to find James resting  against a tree across from him.


    The small giant hadn¡¯t even seemed angry that Azrael had run away from him, not that Azrael had stopped to check. As soon as he¡¯d woken and registered James¡¯ presence he¡¯d taken off again, as fast as he could.


    For a while Azrael had thought that he¡¯d lost his stalker, but when he¡¯d exited the forest a few hours later James had been right there, on his tail. The man thundered through the foliage, leaving carnage in his wake. It had looked like a rhino had charged through, though admittedly, a surprisingly silent rhino.


    Obviously exhausted James had continued giving chase, not that Azrael was any better for wear. His stamina was almost gone and even with [Meditation] he was barely regenerating enough mana to use the occasional burst of [Wind] every now and then.


    ¡°When¡¯s lunch?¡± James complained for the fourth or fifth time in the last hour.


    Azrael just ignored the man that clung to him like a bad smell. Hopefully James would eventually decide to leave of his own volition.


    ¡°I¡¯m bored¡± James complained, followed by what seemed to have become his catchphrase since Azrael had met him ¡°Let¡¯s fight!¡±


    Again, Azrael ignored him, shifting his course slightly more north. He didn¡¯t really have to glance at the sun to get his directions anymore, the bond between him and Alena was growing stronger with every hour that he travelled.


    The weak static of the bond had become a sort of white noise that he¡¯d become used to. Having it grow stronger again was strange in its own way, like having one of his senses returned to him. With the bond he could clearly feel the direction that Alena was in, though simple feelings and emotion currently still alluded him. It would grow again with the ever-decreasing distance, of that he was sure.


    ¡°I¡¯m hungry, when¡¯s lunch?¡± James grumbled once more, sounding very much like a broken record.


    Azrael looked up at the sun. It had been less than twenty minutes since he¡¯d last asked. An unfortunately too short new high record. Azrael let out a sigh, making his next burst of [Wind] a slightly larger one than previously.


    In the end the two of them travelled across the empty prairie, until they reached a small village. In order to follow the shortest possible route Azrael had forgone travelling along roads and tracks, making the emergence of the village a welcome change to the relatively monotone sea of grass that they¡¯d spent the majority of the day travelling through.


    The village itself was smaller than the one he¡¯d attacked at the beginning of the game, with roughly six, seven houses. The buildings were built from the few sparse trees that dotted the plain and a mix of woven grass and mudbrick.


    The most unusual thing about the village however was not the village itself, but the number of travellers camping around the village. Half a dozen wagons sat parked around cooking fires outside the village¡¯s walls, almost tripling the village¡¯s headcount.


    People generally sat laughing around fires, their wagons parked for the night. One group in particular though caught Azrael¡¯s eye. Two shirtless men were wrestling each other in a makeshift ring of onlookers. The crowd of travellers from both sexes cheering the two contestants on.


    ¡°Finally! Civilisation!¡± James exulted as they arrived.


    ¡°Let¡¯s continue¡± Azrael proposed watching the fight, but James shot it down.


    ¡°Nonsense! Food, drink and good fight! What more can a man need?¡±


    Taking a step towards the fighting circle James raised an arm in greeting and hailed the group, along with the entire village.


    ¡°GREETINGS GOOD GENTLEMEN! DO YOU HAVE A SPOT BY YOUR FIRE FOR TWO WEARY TRAVELLERS?¡±


    The two fighters stopped their wrestling and indeed the entire village went slightly silent at James¡¯ voice.


    Taking their silence as consent James walked up to the group, dropping his blade into the ground. The point sunk into the turf without resistance.


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    ¡°A gentlemanly round of sport before dinner sounds exactly like a good way to work up an appetite, don¡¯t you agree?¡± he asked the silent onlookers.


    Nobody moved, either because they were too intimidated by the casual display of strength, or because they were unsure what to make of the two newcomers that had just arrived. It was most probably a mix of both, Azrael mused.


    ¡°You, good sir!¡± James said, pointing to the largest man around ¡°Fight me.¡±


    The man, clad in full medieval plate mail, hesitated. Azrael applauded the man¡¯s sense of preservation. Despite being completely protected in his plate mail James was at least a head taller than the poor challenger and also larger in almost every comparable way.


    A few other people from different camps had begun drifting their way, coming to see who disturbed the evening¡¯s peace. James probably didn¡¯t mind. They were all extra competitors after all.


    When still nobody moved, James took a moment to think, before realising the problem. He began nodding to himself. It was understandable after all.


    Seeing the big man stop and think for a second, instead of charging in caused Azrael to breath out a sigh of relief. Now that James had noticed that the others were unwilling to fight he would hopefully accept the fact and pull back. Otherwise, as things were standing at the moment, James would beat everyone here up and Azrael, by extension as a travelling companion, would become a target for other people¡¯s ire.


    ¡°I understand¡± James said, completely understanding. ¡°You do not wish to get yourself muddy before the evening meal.¡±


    Azrael could only look at James as the muscle brain reached a completely different conclusion.


    Ever undeterred James walked over to the nearest wagon, and despite the owner¡¯s protest dragged out a barrel and plonked it in the center of the crowd. He handled the full barrel with the same ease he had when handling his sword.


    ¡°AN ARMWRESTLE THEN!¡± James proclaimed, raising a silver coin high into the air for all to see, before slamming it onto the barrel before him. ¡°One copper per contestant! Winner takes all!¡±


    A murmur ran through the crowd when people noticed money was involved. A copper wasn¡¯t much and if you won you would increase your wager tenfold.


    ¡°IF ONE MIGHTY WARRIOR BESTS ME BEFORE THE HOUR IS OUT, HE SHALL TAKE THE COIN AND THE GLORY! IF I SURVIVE UNDEFEATED, THEN THE HONOR SHALL BE MINE!¡±


    Suddenly the armoured opponent James had selected earlier looked a lot more confident, flexing his arm and giving it a few experimental swings. Another man, one of the wrestlers from earlier, beat him to the barrel. The confident challenger flicked his copper onto the barrel and held out his arm.


    ¡°For glory and the coin.¡±


    ¡°For glory and the coin.¡± James repeated with an easy grin.


    Both men met on the wooden battlefield, their hands clasped in preparation of an age-old ritual for dominance. Both of them recognised the other¡¯s claim and were ready to fight it out with all their might. Around them the crowd began cheering, several people beginning to stamp their feet against the ground.


    A judge placed his hands on theirs, temporarily stilling the two competitive spirits. The crowd fell silent and the two men¡¯s eyes sharpened like blades, piercing their opponents. Their affable smiles fell like a cover from their faces, revealing controlled features beneath. This was not a game, but a battle, a battle amongst men. This battle, they both understood, was for more than just the sport or the coin. It was for the honour which each man bears within him. It was his claim to the crownless crown, the unspoken title.


    The judge eyed both men, his expression solemn.


    ¡°Ready?¡±


    The two men¡¯s grips readjusted and tightened, their eyes locking onto each other with intense focus.


    ¡°GO!¡±


    In a moment both men¡¯s muscles contracted with an audible snap, like a hundred lines of a ship snapping taut in a sudden wind. The wood beneath their elbows groaned as if having to bear the force of a hurricane, waves of power rippling through their muscles. Veins stood out from both men¡¯s arms, highlighted like streaks of lightnings against their muscles.


    James¡¯ grunted as his hand was slowly forced away from the starting point. His opponent brought all of his strength to bear and it was like the weight of a mountain bearing down on a glacier below, suppressing it with its natural might.


    James grunted again and much to the onlookers¡¯ delight and horror he stopped the downward motion and reversed the flow, slowly inching his way back to victory. There was one thing that James¡¯ competitor had forgotten. A glacier would constantly grind against the mountain until the mountain was naught but a small stone. Given enough time the glacier would always win.


    James¡¯ blue eyes locked onto his opponents one last time and with a final grunt and heave James forced his opponent¡¯s hand to the table, asserting himself as the winner.


    The people around them burst into a wild cheer as the game concluded, the previously silent crowd once again finding their voices.


    James shook hands with his competitor, the man simply nodding before stepping aside to cheer on the next challenger with a newfound passion.


    Another coin was placed on the barrel, another challenger tried to claim the glory and the prize. Another man fell to James¡¯ hand.


    Throughout the next hour over two dozen men and women challenged James, each believing themselves to be stronger, or simply to try their luck. James bore down on them all with the same intensity of the first match, narrowly squeezing out a victory and keeping the crowd entertained.


    Azrael doubted that he actually struggled half as much as he seemed to be, but agreed that it was an effective tactic of keeping everyone interested. Sitting on the edge of the crowd Azrael simply watched as competitors tried various tactics to win, from trying to distract the reigning champion to casting buffs on challengers that glowed briefly as they were applied.


    In the end James retired as undefeated champion with several offers to join different groups and a dragon¡¯s horde of copper coins, most of which he traded for dinner for the two of them and copious amounts of alcohol. Little remained in the barrel when the night was out.


    Azrael settled down at the edge of one of the sleeping rings, leaning up against a wagon wheel and listening to James teaching one of the defeated challengers a drinking song. He doubted a dragon could drink alcohol in half as many creative ways as the song suggested, but it made for an entertaining lullaby.


    With a full stomach and a smile on his face Azrael greeted the calm oblivion of sleep.

 Chapter 115 - A Talk Amongst Men

    Azrael was roused out of sleep by the smell of stew.


    ¡°Wakey wakey,¡± A voice said ¡°time for breakfast.¡±


    ¡°Go away Alena. Five minutes more.¡± He grumbled.


    ¡°Alena, who¡¯s that? Your girlfriend? Do you even have a girlfriend?¡±


    Azrael cracked open one eyes, as he was assaulted by a barrage of questions in a male voice that was most definitely not Alena. James¡¯ massive form loomed over Azrael, the muscle head giving him a goofy grin.


    Azrael wasn¡¯t sure when, but at some point he¡¯d lost the image of a grizzled, crazed battle junkie. James had more of a golden retriever kind of personality, though that image was partially encouraged by James¡¯ blond hair. Azrael opened both eyes and looked up at the massive man¡¯s enthused grin. Maybe a hamster was more of an accurate description. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but he just was.


    ¡°No, Alena¡¯s, my¡­¡± he tried thinking of the best way to describe their relationship.


    Slave? Servant? Maid? Student? The situation was kind of more complicated than he¡¯d ever given it thought. She had been the scrawny annoyance that had slept on his doorstep, then she¡¯d accepted a slave contract that he¡¯d hoped would deter her from visiting. After that, he¡¯d sort of foisted all of his daily chores onto her and then finally he¡¯d accepted her as a student.


    ¡°She¡¯s my¡­ never mind¡± he finished lamely.


    ¡°You want to talk about it?¡± James asked, clearly misunderstanding.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t.¡±


    James passed Azrael a bowl of stew and a spoon, before seating himself besides Azrael.


    ¡°Do you know what I find helps when I¡¯m feeling down?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°A fight. A good old-fashioned fight. One on one, macho el macho.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you know who you should fight?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Me.¡±


    Azrael took a spoonful of his stew. It was left over from last night, letting the simple flavours really soak through.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll pass.¡± He said, declining James¡¯ offer. He¡¯d lost count of how many times he¡¯d been asked to now.


    ¡°Aww, come on. Just once. One good fight? Please?¡±


    Azrael took another sip of his stew, not looking at James. He watched the travellers around them either sitting down for breakfast, or already packing up to leave. It was a stark difference to the rowdy crowd from last night, which had all been eager to arm wrestle James.


    ¡°Why? Why me?¡± He asked.


    James answered without hesitation, ¡°You? You¡¯re strong. It is fun to fight strong opponents. I have a skill which lets me know when there are opponents worthy of challenging me. It is like a trumpet, calling me to battle. You are worthy and if we were to fight seriously and underestimate you, I know that I would be dead.¡±


    Azrael looked at James. The big man looking him with big pleading, and dead serious, eyes.


    ¡°So, fight me.¡±


    Azrael leant his head back, resting it against the wagon wheel he¡¯d slept against.


    To fight.


    He¡¯d fought. He had fought. Fight. It was a loaded word.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    He¡¯d fought to raise money for his father. He¡¯d fought hundreds of monsters for items in games to sell online. He¡¯d fought to live on, he¡¯d fought to survive. He¡¯d fought to protect his peace.


    Azrael looked at his fist. He¡¯d fought to protect his father.


    The feeling of his fist traveling through the air, watching it fly almost against his will, fuelled by a desperate anger, a deep burning rage to protect his father. The feeling of teeth breaking under his fist. The senseless violence, the anger. It was intoxicating. It was frightening. It was powerful and made him feel so out of control and powerless. He¡¯d lost himself in that power, he¡¯d hidden himself away from reality in that anger.


    And he had lost.


    He¡¯d lost his father. He¡¯d lost his mother. He¡¯d lost his friends, his hopes, his dreams, his future and his trust in others. He¡¯d fought and he¡¯d lost. When he¡¯d woken it had been too late. He¡¯d fought and he¡¯d lost. He¡¯d quit fighting, but he¡¯d fought again and lost his peace.


    ¡°Why fight?¡± he asked ¡°Why?¡±


    He hadn¡¯t actually asked James, the question had just slipped out of his inner turmoil. The question hung there, between the two of them. Surprisingly, James answered, though there was a deliberate care there that the happy-go-lucky warrior usually didn¡¯t have.


    ¡°Because¡­ I can. Because it lets me know that I¡¯m alive. It is fun, yes, but it also pushes me to my limits¡­ no, it pushes me beyond them. The only way you can grow is to break past your previous limits. I¡­ I don¡¯t¡­ I want to be more than I am. Everyone has something that they fight for. Me? I fight for the belief that I am stronger today than I was yesterday. But to do that I have to step forward and embrace the risks. Each fight is proof that I can do more, that I am more than I was. It shows me what I am capable of. That I am capable of more today than I was yesterday. So, that at the end of the day, even if I failed, I can say I have tried.¡±


    James let the fire in his voice die down.


    ¡°What do you fight for?¡± He asked ¡°and what did you fight to become as strong as you are?¡±


    Azrael didn¡¯t have an answer, but that was ok, because James didn¡¯t seem to expect one.


    The two of them sat there, Azrael continued to eat his stew, while mulling over James¡¯ words. Neither of them spoke again for the next while, simply enjoying the companionable silence, as everyone else packed up around them. They didn¡¯t need to. There was no reason to.


    In the end the two of them were forced to rise, as the wagon they were leaning against needed to move.


    ¡°Gud Soup!¡± James said to Azrael, gesturing to his own empty bowl with his usual ever-confident grin.


    ¡°Yeah. Good soup. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Will you fight me?¡±


    Azrael laughed, slightly less annoyed at the question than the last dozens of times he¡¯d been asked.


    ¡°Perhaps another time.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a promise!¡±


    ¡°¡­yeah. Sure.¡±


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Oath of Promised Combat]


    A man¡¯s word is a man¡¯s honour.


    You have fulfilled an [Oath of Promised Combat] with the individual ¡®James¡¯.


    There will come a day when blades clash.


    [This oath cannot be broken]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to the influence of {Oath Maker}, the God of Death has presided over this oath.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to the individuals involved interested several Gods have taken notice of this exchange.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael stared in horror at the three blue screens that suddenly flashed into existence in rapid succession. Fortunately James didn¡¯t notice, simply giving him a wave and sauntering off, to return the borrowed soup bowls.


    A single moment of carelessness and the Gods decided to play a prank. It was worrying that they were actively paying attention, whether it was because of his past actions or James¡¯. He wasn¡¯t sure which one worried him more. The only fortunate thing was that there didn¡¯t seem to be a time limit or even a consequence, forcing him to fight.


    Azrael switched his gaze back to the big man and watched him head off, before turning looking westwards. The massive looming mountains were visible from here. They had been for a few days in fact, but there was something about the blue skies, the wide plains and a welling sense of optimism that reminded him of the time he¡¯d first logged on.


    In a way, so much had changed since he¡¯d left, but at the same time it still felt like so little, too little. He was still avoiding people, avoiding strife. It was the same as when he¡¯d first opened his eyes in this world. Except, this time he was returning home. Home, to his peaceful cabin in the woods.


    Alena would be there, the village chief Cairn, Hugh who had made him his wolf figurine, the men and women that he¡¯d trained, the ever critic Nolan, the two dwarves Darj and Durkov and the rest of the villagers who¡¯s names he¡¯d forgotten. They were people who were waiting for him, who looked up to and relied on him.


    The nostalgic feeling of something just starting redoubled, but this time it wasn¡¯t because of the scenery. It was more. He had a chance to stand up and fight again.


    Maybe he would lose, or maybe, just maybe, he would succeed. But at least he could say he tried. He could say that he stood up and took the chance. This time he would make use of this chance. Afterall, he was their [Lord], and a lord was there for his people.


    ¡°Lead on.¡± James said, having returned, ¡°Let us go.¡±


    Azrael touched the soul link, the link that led home.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, ¡°Lets.¡±

 Chapter 116 - A Welcoming Comittee

    Azrael stared out across the sea of grass. A faint smudge of green at the base of the ever-distant mountains was the first sight he got of the End Forest. The first sight of home. There was an almost imperceptible tingle at the edge of his consciousness from [Lord¡¯s Domain], which let him know he was heading in the right direction. He wasn¡¯t close enough to summon the panel for [Lord¡¯s Domain].


    The faint tingle of the Skill, however, was completely overwhelmed by the pure excitement racing across the soul link. Alena projected it with as much force as the distance allowed, though Azrael also contributed to that collective emotion.


    He¡¯d been able to sense her since early morning, the excitement immediately flooding towards him the moment Alena noticed his surprise. Though currently only strong emotions made it across the link, it had grown enough over the day that he could sense a slight undercurrent of expectation mixed in, though that might have just come from him.


    It was two-and-a-bit days since Azrael and James had left the village they¡¯d camped besides. James was still tagging along, though the relationship between the two of them was more amicable than it had been prior to their talk at the village. It did not mean that James talked less, quite the contrary, but James had eased up on asking for a fight ¨C if only ever so slightly. Which honestly, with the [Oath] now hanging over his head, was kind of a relief. Who knew if for some reason it decided to suddenly force him to fight, anything was possible if Gods were involved, or rather especially if Gods were involved.


    It had been a fairly relaxed two and a bit days though, the two of them had had smooth sailing, or more accurately jogging, since they¡¯d left. On the plain it was just the two of the, the local bison like creatures ¨C Bullas ¨C and a whole lot more travellers than Azrael had expected. One night they¡¯d also had some creature come snuffling by their camp, but James hadn¡¯t been inclined to go fight it. He¡¯d kept an eye on it with [Search], but it never got close enough to worry.


    Instead, it was the convoys of travellers that most worried Azrael, though so far none of them had stirred any trouble and Azrael did his best to stay as far away from any of them as possible. Just because he¡¯d resolved to, maybe, allow more human interaction in his life didn¡¯t mean that he would go seeking it out.


    The convoys contained many motley crews, their attires being as diverse as their means of transport. Bards, tattooed warriors, archers, spearmen, monks and mages all travelled west, representing many people, ethnicities and fantasy races. Elves, dark elves, beast kin, cat kin, fox kin, wolf kin, dragon kin, rat kin, dwarves, humans and a singular goblin were but a few that he spotted at a distance. Their means of transport included wagons, horses, travelling on foot, a wolf and velociraptor type creatures.


    It was good entertainment to try and guess people¡¯s skills from their attire, as they were too far away for [Lord¡¯s Insight] to target them. Briefly he considered asking one group that came close where they were heading, but decided against it. Almost everyone was moving more west than his north-west, meaning that they were unlikely to come near his forest. It would be a hassle to have people discover his village just as he returned home. Instead he appreciated the fantasy like entertainment that they presented.


    The longer they travelled, the more unfounded his worries seemed. People genuinely all seemed to avoid entering the forest, earnestly heading west, like a hive mind. Morning turned to noon and noon to dusk by the time Azrael and James pulled up at the edge of the forest.


    The soul link was active, as it hadn¡¯t been in a long time, and far stronger than he remembered it. To stop Alena¡¯s emotions overpowering him and giving him a splitting headache, he tuned it out as much as he could, supressing the link. He didn¡¯t need it as a guide for the moment, as [Lord¡¯s Domain] kicked back in. He would apologise to Alena for blocking her out later. Right now, he needed a clear head to think. He needed to lose James.


    The big man was pleasant enough company and had grown on Azrael in a way he hadn¡¯t thought possible. He wasn¡¯t a NPC though and if there was one thing Azrael valued above all else it was his peace. A player was too much of a variable. Fortunately, he had an answer, though he wanted to avoid it.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Azrael looked at the columns of smoke rising at the edge of the forest, a fortress having sprung up where the village used to be. Even from this distance it was visible, a looming hegemon on the otherwise empty plain. The large walls of stone and dirt rose up against the reddening sky, smoke from cooking fires signalling across the plains that there was civilisation here. With four large stone towers at each corner it really was an imposing structure. It was also enemy territory. Territory that Azrael had good reason to avoid.


    He sighed. The things he did for a little bit of peace.


    ¡°Wanna stop in the fort for the night?¡± Azrael asked James as innocently as he could.


    ¡°The drinks are on you¡±


    ¡°They, well, yeah¡­ I guess. Ok. Drinks are on-¡°


    James put a finger to his lips, stopping Azrael from finishing his sentence. His hand reached onto his back, where he carried his massive blade.


    ¡°Shhhh¡­ they¡¯re here.¡±


    Azrael cast [Search], the skill returning with eight human signatures. One was James, while the other seven made a perfect circle around them. Without him noticing, they had been surrounded.


    He locked on and spoke to the closest signature.


    ¡°Reveal yourself¡± he said.


    There was no response, then a short sharp whistle. Six cloaked figures emerged from the grasses, or from behind trees. Their cowls hid their faces in deep shadows in the uncertain evening light. He observed all of them, both with his eyes and with his Skills.


    All of them wore mottled brown and green cloaks, daggers in their hands. Though their heights varied he could tell that they were all human from the lack of other character traits. Furthermore, they were all NPCs. Not a single one of them held a soul spark. A final check with [Lord¡¯s Insight] revealed all of them had [Scout], [Observer], [Informant] and [Knife Fighter] classes, or at least a mix of those. He didn¡¯t recognise any of their names.


    Still, nobody moved, James and Azrael surrounded by six silent sentinels. James casually held his massive sword slung over his shoulder and Azrael readied his mana. Ideally, he also wanted to summon a dagger, but the observers could take that as an act of aggression.


    At an impasse, both groups stood there, observing each other. Their levels were all lower than his and he was confident that he could take them all on, and he had James, but there was something that was gnawing at the edge of his thoughts. It was like a massive elephant standing right there, except the elephant seemed to be cloaked with an invisibility spell and holding its breath.


    Azrael drew on a bit more mana, spreading it out around them in a circle. If he willed it, it would burst into a ring of flames in an instant or cause the ground to become like quicksand. He was a bit undecided. Still, it would be enough against six opponents. Three for him and three for¡­ Six?


    Azrael cast [Search] again. There were eight signatures, excluding himself. If one was James, then there were seven surrounding them. Azrael began slowly turning his head, trying to find the last hidden person.


    ¡°Do you want to attack, or should I?¡± James asked.


    He never got a reply, as a dagger flew out of the shadows of a tree. There was nobody visible, but both Azrael¡¯s Skill and the weapon¡¯s trajectory aluded otherwise.


    Azrael dodged the first dagger, only just avoiding it by moving his head. The second thrown projectile he blocked with a hastily conjured stone dagger. Forced into action Azrael let the mana he¡¯d built a circle with fade, wasting it. Not getting impaled was currently more important.


    With a burst of [Wind] he leapt forward, letting [Search] guide him towards his hidden enemy.


    A third dagger struck him mid-flight. The only reason it didn¡¯t rip right through him was because he applied [Reinforcement] to his shirt. He¡¯d been preparing to apply it to his weapon. The force behind the projectile would still leave a nasty bruise come tomorrow.


    Guided more by instinct than any of his senses Azrael stopped a fourth dagger from finding his throat. This dagger wasn¡¯t thrown though. A hand gripping it firmly and directing it towards a killing blow. In his free hand he summoned another dagger, pressing it against the throat of his opponent that had revealed themselves.


    ¡°Game over.¡±


    He felt a sense of strong disappointment flash through the muted soul link. He looked at the figure in front of him.


    ¡°Alena?¡± He asked.


    Very slowly and very cautiously the figure nodded, his dagger still at their throat. Azrael slowly removed it.


    Alena peeled away from the tree she¡¯d been blending in with and put her last dagger away. She bowed to Azrael, her hands already signalling words.


    ¡°Welcome home, Master.¡±


    He reopened the soul link, feeling her shame and disappointment and not being able to best his, but also her pride, joy, acknowledgement and excitement.


    Azrael turned back to James.


    ¡°James,¡± He said, intending to introduce Alena ¡°This is¡­¡±


    Around James six figures lay on the ground, clutching their stomachs. Meanwhile, James simply stood there, his sword still slung over his shoulder. James shrugged.


    ¡°They started it.¡±


    Azrael looked at James and his victims. At least they weren¡¯t dead.


    ¡°You know what,¡± he said. ¡°Actually¡­ nevermind.¡±


    He turned to Alena.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±

 Chapter 117 - Home At Last

    Kernak hobbled through the forest, clutching his side. Around him, his fellow shadow guard members did the same. While he was fairly certain that nothing was broken, his whole body hurt beyond rational belief.


    He glanced viciously at the massive blonde-haired oaf who¡¯d wiped him and his squad mates out with his¡­ his¡­ his massive metal bat? Whatever it was, it had been fast and vicious, smashing right through any defence they could put up. He realised that it was a blessing that they were alive.


    Up ahead, leading the group was their ever-silent Shadow Captain ¨C Alena, and the strange man that they had ambushed. Both were communicating in sign language far faster than he could follow, using way more signs than he¡¯d thought even existed. Even with all the diligence he¡¯d put into learning it from the Captain, he only recognised one sign in nine, if he was lucky. And unlike her usual self the Captain was smiling. Captain rarely ever smiled.


    Nothing made sense. Were they enemies, or were they friends? If they were enemies, then why escort them to the village? And if they were friends, why attack them? They were heading to the village, of that much he was sure, even though it wasn¡¯t long since he¡¯d first started living here himself.


    Were they bringing these two men to the Lord? Was that it? Was that the reason why Alena had gathered up all available squad members and set an ambush?


    Come to think of it, he¡¯d never actually seen the Lord in person. Would this be his chance? He¡¯d only ever heard stories and rumours. Most rumours spoke of him as a monstrous demon made of shadow and fire, an unrivalled guardian of the forest. The villagers described him as a king clad in shadows crowned with a wreath of flame. Alena simply described him as ¡®Lord, unbeatable, quick, man, ghost.¡¯ All stories had two things in common. He was powerful and that the forest was his domain.


    Kernak glanced once more at the two strange men. Just who were they?


    *****


    Alena walked beside her Lord and Master, revelling in the feeling of the bond once more between them. She could feel again! A tension, that she¡¯d never realised she¡¯d had, released itself. The constant strain of the bond had affected her more than she thought. It was alright now. The Lord was back.


    She glanced back at the members of the shadow guard, wishing that she could send one ahead to inform village chief Cairn and the others of the Lord¡¯s return. All of them were limping, clutching various body parts. None of them complained though and all of them had managed to hold on to their weapons. It was a testament to their training, not that she would slack off on their training in the future. Now that the Lord was back they would have to prove their worth more than ever.


    She¡¯d thought that the training she¡¯d put in was enough to beat the Lord. It was a foolish assumption. He¡¯d grown stronger, just as she had. The gap remained. It left a feeling of lingering feeling of disappointment in her, but also reaffirmed her belief in her Lord and Master¡¯s strength. Losing against him was acceptable, if unpleasant. Though she would work hard to close that gap. She glanced at the big man who accompanied her Lord, then at the defeated members of the Shadow Guard. Losing against any others was unacceptable.


    All the while, both she and the Lord spoke, her finger-speak far more fluent than when he¡¯d left. It was small talk, neither one yet breaching bigger topics. That was ok though. They would have plenty of time. She wasn¡¯t going to let him leave her like that again.


    At some point his finger-talk faltered, before stopping entirely. She looked up. They had arrived at the village.


    *****


    Azrael halted his conversation with Alena, his full attention on the village, or at least what one was ¡®the village¡¯. Now it was¡­ well, it was still a village, but just a far larger one. What had once been seven houses and some small gardens and fields had expanded to almost thirty houses. Trees had been cleared to make way for gardens, fields and paddocks. All of it was still well hidden within the vast depths of the forest, having barely touched any of the almost infinite green expanse. Unfamiliar faces looked up from their fields, wary at the two new strangers, but smiling at Alena and her scouts.


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    Was this his village? Was he really in the right place? Who were these people? Why were they here? All the while, Alena led him down the main road that led to the village square.


    Two familiar features stood out, definitively marking this as his village. The first was the status plate, embedded in the stone pedestal. As far as he knew, it was the only one that existed, unmistakable. The second feature was the large stone stele, a definitive landmark that bore his name scratched into its base by his own hand. Except, stele was no longer the right term for it. It was a statue, carved from what had once been the stele. It was a statue of him.


    Whoever had carved it had an excellent eye for detail, each feature carved with exquisite care. The large statue of him loomed over the entire village, easily two or three times the size of the surrounding houses. One hand was raised, pointing to the heavens, as if summoning a great power, the other was extended downwards, palm open, towards the status plate, as if giving a gift. A crown of flame adorned his head, the statue¡¯s eyes looking down on the people, stern and regal.


    ¡®Who made, who carved?¡¯ he signed to Alena.


    Her fingers spelt out a name, ¡®D-U-R-K-O-V¡¯.


    Azrael recalled that Durkov had the [Stone Mason] class. He had to give it to the dwarf. It was an amazing piece of work, even if he thought some of the features were a little exaggerated.


    A male voice interrupted his mental critique.


    ¡°L-Lord?¡±


    Azrael turned to face the voice. It was Cairn, the elderly village chief, who had emerged from his own house at the center of the village.


    ¡°Lord Azrael?¡± He asked again.


    Azrael gave him a smile.


    ¡°Hello, Cairn,¡± he said.


    Cairn walked up to him, still obviously not believing his eyes. His hand moved upwards, almost unsure of itself, to touch Azrael¡¯s arm. A moment later tears appeared in his eyes.


    ¡°THE LORD HAS RETURNED!¡± He cried out loud.


    It was a proclamation of such joy and volume that every head in the village turned to face the village square.


    ¡°TONIGHT,¡± Cairn announced ¡°WE FEAST!!¡±


    A cheer went up amongst the original villagers at the first proclamation, with several unfamiliar faces simply turning to look at Azrael, unsure of the situation. More joined in at the mention of a feast. Azrael could relate to those who stood there, looking hesitantly. This was not how he¡¯d expected the village to be like when he returned.


    Azrael excused himself from the over joyous Cairn, only briefly stopping on his way out of the village to greet Hugh.


    He left the village, with Alena and a small contingent of curious people following them. He didn¡¯t care, really. He just wanted to go home, home to his cabin in the woods.


    Through the forest, through the woods. Despite all the changes that had happened in the village, the forest trails remained the same, a little bit more worn, but with all the familiar twists and turns. Despite the wear, they were the same trails he¡¯d walked so many times. Each step brough him closer to the end of his journey, each step closer to his little cottage. He wasn¡¯t sad though. The adventure, however unwillingly he¡¯d participated in it, was over. No man, God or beast would be able to draw him out from his home now.


    With a final few steps, he broke through the forest and out into his clearing. And there it was, his home, serene, unchanged.


    Little bits of moss and lichen had begun to grow at the base of the white-grey stone walls, as if the forest was embracing his home. Though spring had already passed into early summer, small flowers of white, pink and purple bloomed in the clearing, though only within his stone ring. Both the ring and the stone lanterns that stood either side of the paved path to the door were also covered in moss, lending his house a quite air of ancient serenity.


    Walking up to the door, he opened it, finding his house just as he¡¯d left it. Alena really had kept it clean all this time. He turned to her, tears prickling in his eyes. He saw her fingers flash as his vision went slightly blurry from the extra moisture.


    ¡®Welcome home¡¯ she said.


    He smiled at her.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m home.¡±


    It was such a great feeling of joy and relief that flooded through the bond to Alena. The moment was shattered by James. Leaning his massive sword against the wall outside, James pushed into the house, ducking under the doorframe. In his excitement to arrive home he¡¯d completely forgotten the surprisingly silent giant.


    ¡°Ooh, nice house!¡± James exclaimed, immediately setting to exploring the small building.


    He found Azrael¡¯s room quickly, opening the door before either of the two could properly make a move.


    ¡°A bed! Perfect!¡±


    James plonked himself on the bed, the entire frame groaning at his enormous weight.


    He turned to Azrael. ¡°You don¡¯t mind if I crash here for a while, do you? Dibs this bed.¡±


    Azrael speechlessly, looked at the giant of a man, who now occupied his bed, eyes closed. He¡¯d completely forgotten about him.


    James opened his eyes again, turning to Azrael ¡°Got any grapes?¡±

 Chapter 118 -Magic Garden

    Azrael looked down at James, who had claimed his bed.


    ¡°Get out of my bed, James.¡±


    James had propped himself up on one arm, looking at Azrael.


    ¡°Is that a fight you¡¯re asking for?¡±


    Azrael looked at the massive man in disbelief. Sometimes he could be so childish!


    ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    James sighed.


    ¡°Spoil sport¡±


    He rose though, vacating Azrael¡¯s bed, without breaking it.


    Satisfied, he herded James out of the house stoppered the door with a bit of earth manipulation. James could probably force his way in, but not without breaking down the door.


    Satisfied at having secured his domain, he allowed Alena to continue her tour of the house and surrounds. Much had stayed the same, but there were some notable differences.


    The moss and the white and purple flowers outside were one such change and one that he much appreciated. The moss provided a very pleasant springy carpet, along with the grass that made up most of the clearing. He was especially fond of the way the moss grew between the stones pathway to his front door. It truly added to the aesthetic sense he¡¯d been aiming for. Curiously enough, both the moss and the flowers only grew within the confines of his accumulator array. Something to do with mana or mana density, he was sure, but he didn¡¯t know what or why exactly.


    The other change, though just as small as the moss and flowers were the small purple crystals that were growing on the stone inside his accumulator array. This included both the stone ring, as well as the lower parts of his house wall, where the moss grew. Hidden amongst the purple blooming flowers the crystals were difficult to spot at first, but he quickly fond more after he first discovered them.


    The other new addition to the clearing were small broad leaved plants that looked like a mix between sage and baby spinach. What made the plant stand out from everything else though was its bright-teal-coloured leaves. It also grew within the same confines as the crystals.


    [Mana Sight], showed him something truly extraordinary. His ¡®garden¡¯ hadn¡¯t only just come alive, while he had been gone. It had come alive. The sheer amount of mana that circulated in the mana dome that enclosed his clearing was blinding with the skill. Azrael had to dial down the skill a bit, in order to not be overwhelmed by the sheer vibrancy of mana.


    Everything in his garden, his house included was glowing from mana saturation. Neutral mana was funnelled in via the accumulator array, some of it powering the mana dome, while much of it dispersed into the air, both inside and outside the dome. What was lost to the outside was reabsorbed, while what was inside was trapped, building and growing in density. It had functioned the entire time he¡¯d been gone, accumulating a truly horrific amount of mana.


    With nowhere else to go the compressed mana began to seep into the surrounds, the rocks, the plants, the air, the soil, the house and walls. Mana poured through everything, changing as it saturated everything in the domes. The ground and plants readily accepted the neutral mana, converting it, while plants greedily absorbed the surrounding mana. Light, air, wind and earth mana all nurtured the plants, which converted the mana into vibrant life mana. The stones too grudgingly accepted the mana until they were saturated. His entire clearing was saturated with pure mana.


    Amongst the metaphorical aurora of light were bright stars, where mana gathered in far greater concentration. These were the crystals and the teal plants.


    He cut off [Mana Sight], instead casting [Craftman¡¯s Eye] on them.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Pure Mana Crystal


    A crystal made from the natural compression of ambient mana in high mana environments.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Unknown Herb


    An unknown herb with teal-coloured leaves that is naturally saturated with mana.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Huh.


    He cast the skill on the plant again.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Unknown Herb


    An unknown herb with teal-coloured leaves that is naturally saturated with mana.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    That was the first time he hadn¡¯t been able to identify something while using the skill. He cast his skill on one of the stone lanterns at the entrance of the clearing.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Mana Saturated Stone Lantern


    A simple ornamental stone lantern that was enchanted by a beginner craftsman to illuminate a path. Due to being saturated with mana its enchantment will always burn mana to produce light.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The skill still worked. Was it because the plant wasn¡¯t related to crafting? Afterall, the skill was called [Craftmans Eye]. Or maybe it simply didn¡¯t recognise a plant as something ¡®craftable.¡¯ Would that change if he got an [Alchemy] related Skill? He tested the hypothesis by targeting the moss on the ground.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Mana Saturated Moss


    Natural moss that has been supersaturated with mana.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    A no go then. Did the skill description change base off of his understanding? Afterall, he knew that the moss was mana saturated. The Skill didn¡¯t really tell him anything he didn¡¯t know. What about-?


    A hand tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to look at Alena. Her fingers flashed.


    ¡®Time to go¡¯


    Azrael looked up at the sky, realising that several hours had passed since he had arrived home. The sun now was well on its way down, almost touching the tips of the mountains. He frowned. It hadn¡¯t been that long, right? It couldn¡¯t have been. He¡¯d just gotten home! Almost reluctantly he left the clearing. Alena walked beside him, while James roused himself from where he¡¯d been napping by the front door to join them.


    Heading to the village Azrael simply enjoyed the forest. Mentally he was already home again though, planning out the next few days. There was lazing around to do, a little bit of hunting. Perhaps a bit of crafting. He really wanted to update his attire. He¡¯d changed clothes at home to a spare pair, but it was still relatively simple villager attire. Maybe some light armour? Oh, and he wanted to see the extent of Alena¡¯s improvement. From a glance he could see that she¡¯d gotten stronger, surer and more skilled. There was something about the way she carried herself, even the way she projected herself through the soul link. It was a quiet sort of confidence. He glanced at her.


    Alena walked to his right, while James trudged along slightly behind them. The once shy village girl was as silent as one of the forest¡¯s early-twilight shadows, her footing sure and her gaze instinctively roaming to scan the trees around them. Were it not for the soul link he could have been completely unaware that she was there. On the other hand, he was painfully aware of James¡¯ presence, the man¡¯s footsteps crunching loudly through the twilight forest.


    He glanced at the man behind them, the ever-present Zwei hander strapped onto his back. Though the man was a one-man army he was also about as silent as one, and had just about the same amount of tact. Azrael thought back to when they¡¯d arrived back at his house.


    Yeah, he wasn¡¯t going to let the man back in. Ever.


    A few cheers rose, causing to Azrael looked up. They¡¯d arrived at the village and the villagers were waiting.


    Easily forty villagers were gathered to greet him, with Cairn their head. Cairn bowed deeply, with all others following his lead.


    ¡°Welcome, Lord Azrael. The feast awaits.¡±


    Azrael smiled, deciding to play along. Once he¡¯d thought of Cairn as irritating and clingy. Now, he could only look at the man fondly. After dealing with more people than he was comfortable with, while often on the back foot it was good to see a familiar face in a familiar place.


    ¡°Rise, Cairn, Proxy of the Lord, Chief of the Village. Rise villagers, both old and new. Despite my absence the village stands proudly, and so should you.¡±


    Cairn rose hesitantly, as did the villagers. Many of them had never met him yet and were unsure whether he was someone that they should bow to. Azrael decided to dispel their doubt.


    With the briefest of thoughts, Azrael twisted a ring of mana around his brow, letting it feed into itself, before igniting it. An instant later a circlet of golden flames flickered and danced above his head, drawing gasps of awe and appreciation. He felt Alena straighten proudly beside him.


    Azrael raised his voice ¨C like a king returning to his people ¨C for all to hear.


    ¡°Lead the way Cairn, for there is a feast to be held!¡±

 Chapter 119 - A Lord Of The People

    Azrael raised his voice, for all to hear.


    ¡°Lead the way Cairn, for there is a feast to be held!¡±


    And what a feast it was. Though Azrael had been surprised at what the village had managed to prepare for the winter solstice festival, it looked meagre compare to this ¨C despite having less than a day to prepare.


    Bowls and plates of roast meat and vegetables ladened tables that were set up around the village square, while loaves of bread that were still warm from the oven sat in wicker bowls. Salads were squeezed in between the gaps, with compotes and spreads squeezed into the few remaining gaps. There were even young cheeses. The crown of the feast though, was a whole roast Bullas, slowly cooking over the fire on a massive spit.


    The smell of roast beef filled the entire village square, leaving his mouth watering.


    Cairn gestured towards a raised dais, overlooking the fire pit. He smiled. They¡¯d put the throne back there, complete with wolf pelts, pillows and crowned with two wolf skulls at the top. It was one of the most ridiculous chairs he¡¯d ever seen and it was his. He settled in proudly, feeling very much like a tribal war chief.


    James, it seemed, picked up on a similar vibe.


    ¡°Looking good, Chief.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Hey, if I beat you in a fight, can I be the new chief?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not fighting you, so no.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s how it works, Chief.¡±


    ¡°I does now.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because, I¡¯m the chief.¡±


    Thankfully, he was saved from any more of James¡¯ attempts at a fight, by Cairn. Hugo stood beside the village chief. Cairn addressed the gathered villagers.


    ¡°Tonight, we gather here to celebrate the return of our Lord and Saviour, Lord Azrael. Many of you are new to this village, but you have no doubt heard the stories that we have shared.¡±


    There were nods all around at this.


    ¡°The forest is our home, the forest is his domain. We stand guard in this, just as Lord Azrael stood guard for us. We were weak, but no more. We were lost, but no more. We were without purpose, but no more. We stand together now! With Strength! With Pride! And with Purpose!


    There was a cheer all round and in the next instant people were flowing between tables, as the feast began.


    Unfortunately, Azrael never got the chance to so much as to stand up and get some food before he was beset on all sides by familiar faces welcoming him back.


    Nolan and the rest of the spear group that he had trained were the first ones to arrive. Nolan stood there, slightly aloof as the rest of the group pestered him for stories. A few new recruits had joined since he¡¯d left and Azrael made an attempt to greet them too. A quick glance with [Lord¡¯s Insight] showed him that everyone had gained impressive levels in [Spearman], while a few had gained [Hunter] classes as well. Three classes that stood out particularly were [Wolf Hunter], [Herbalist] and Nolan¡¯s impressive title [Spear Captain].


    As they spoke James left, heading straight for the massive roast in the center of the village. Alena also abandoned him for food, though he noticed her constantly glancing his way, as if she he were going to vanish once again. He sent a wave of reassurance down the link, before he was peppered by more questions from the quickly gathering crowd.


    Thankfully, Hugh came to his rescue, along with a plate of food. Eating side by side they made small talk, just things about the village in general. The village, Azrael learnt, now had a population of 47 villagers, not including him and Alena. It was mainly fed by their harvests from their fields, as well as dairy products form the Bullas. The Spear squad ¨C when they were not training or patrolling the forest ¨C also went on regular hunting sessions, through which they supplemented the daily diet with some meat.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    A roar of laughter momentarily drew Azrael¡¯s attention and he found James chugging something ¨C probably alcoholic ¨C out of a massive mug, while surrounded by a group of dwarves. Darj and Durkov, were naturally there, while three more unfamiliar dwarves joined in in cheering James on. Their presence sparked a question Azrael had had.


    ¡°Where do all these people come from?¡±


    Hugh looked at him and took a moment to consider an answer.


    ¡°Some come with Bartlos when he passes by; people in trouble, people that have lost everything they¡¯ve had and have nowhere else to go. Some heard stories about our village and wanted a better life. Others ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Stories?¡±


    ¡°Ah. Many of them have lost homes to the actions of the Chosen. The People of the Land cannot wield magic in the same way that the Chosen do, nor do they have the same strength. We are simple people, not fighters. But, when Chosen fight¡­¡± he sighed, ¡°There is a story of a village, hidden deep in the End Forest. A paradise for the people, guarded by a mighty and noble guardian, who rules from the shadows and who¡¯s wrath is the heavens¡¯ fire.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ this village?¡± Azrael guessed.


    ¡°Correct¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m¡­ the mighty and noble lord guardian of the shadows?¡±


    ¡°Correct again.¡±


    ¡°Eugh...¡±


    Azrael looked out over the village square, as the people enjoyed the feast. A safe haven for the weak and the lost. He smiled; it was almost apt in a way. When he¡¯d first started the game, he¡¯d felt weak and lost himself, simply looking for a way to escape reality ¨C a second start in another world.


    Now, he was sheltering those who needed help in the same way that he had. But, when he looked at the villagers, all gathered around the village square of a village they had constructed with their own hands, eating food that they had cooked for themselves, from ingredients they had grown and raised, he didn¡¯t see the weak or the lost.


    He saw the proud, the happy and the capable. He was sure that all other sentient life could vanish off the face of the earth, and life in the village would still go on. They were strong, independent people, who had weathered hardships in life and had come out stronger for it. Though honestly, these people were hardy enough that they probably would have found a way to survive and thrive without him. They should be proud. He was proud, both of himself and of them, but mainly of them.


    Carried by that feeling of pride Azrael rose from his throne and raised his voice.


    ¡°People.¡¯¡±


    Many heads turned to him and he momentarily reconsidered his decision, but pressed through, despite his anxiety.


    ¡°People of this village, both old and new, I thank you for coming tonight.¡±


    Azrael realised that he really didn¡¯t have a clue how to begin this and was regretting it immensely.


    ¡°To those of you who first came to me and founded this village¡­ when I first saw you, you were weak. You were weak, lost and without a home¡­ and quite honestly, you were pitiful.¡±


    Quite a few heads looked down in shame at this, while Nolan openly glared at him. It was true. They were doing fine and would have probably done fine without him, but they¡¯d taken the easy route out, laying their problems on somebody else. He felt bad saying it like that, but it was true. Thankfully, their heads raised somewhat over his next words.


    ¡°But, you did not let regret hold you back. You did not let the past stop you from having a future! You took it into your own hands. You made a new home, a new village; you learnt, you adapted. And while I was gone, you protected the village. You used your own strength to build and grow this village and look at you now.¡±


    He swept a hand over the village, the feast and the crowd.


    ¡°You are no longer pitiful. You are no longer weak.¡±


    He turned his gaze to another part of the crowd.


    ¡°To those of you who are new, you may have come here after losing everything. You may have come here alone, or with others. You may have come because you were escaping, or because you had heard stories of a safer place. I have seen how you have worked. I have seen how you have helped grow the village. And I am proud to welcome you to the village as people of this land!¡±


    He paused, momentarily catching his breath.


    ¡°Each and every one of you should be proud though. Proud of yourselves, of those beside you and of everyone in this village. Because, when I look at you I see proud, happy, capable people. People who are strong and who are ready to do what they need to, to face tomorrow! As your Lord! And as guardian of this forest, I welcome you!¡±


    Azrael finished, his arms in the same pose as the statue in the village square, feeling rather silly, but a moment later the applause started rolling in. Almost fifty people applauded him as he sat back down. As he did so, a notification popped up in his vision.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For inspiring your people you have gained a level in ¡®Lord¡¯


    WIS+3, END+2, STR+2.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>

 Chapter 120 - Technical Innovations

    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For inspiring your people you have gained a level in ¡®Lord¡¯


    WIS+3, END+2, STR+2.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael sat back down in his throne, thankful that the falling of night hid his red face in shadows. The large fire was the only illumination in the entire village, shining upon the villager¡¯s revelry. Or, at least, it was the only source of light in the village, until one of the villagers ¨C a young boy ¨C began walking around the village with a stick. One by one, lights appeared in the village ¨C lanterns illuminating. Attempting to distract himself from the reverent gazes of the villagers, Azrael watched the boy with curiosity and focus.


    The boy would walk up to one of the unlit lanterns, reach up with the long stick and then continue on to the next one when it started emitting light. The longer he watched though the more confused and the more curious he became. The lanterns were by no means lit with fire. Though lantern was possibly the wrong word. They were just flat stone plates. There was no wick, no fuel and most telling of all though was that the light did not flicker, much like the light of his own stone lanterns at home. It was almost as if it was¡­


    Azrael turned to Hugh, who still sat beside him.


    ¡°What are those?¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Those lights?¡±


    ¡°Ah, those my lord are Kalen and Elana¡¯s mana lights. The children and indeed the entire village is quite proud of them.¡±


    Azrael watched as the boy ¨C Kalen ¨C lit the last of the mana powered lanterns. He had been right, they were powered by mana.


    He scoured through his memory, trying to match the name¡­ Kalen¡­ Kalen¡­ Kalen! Kalen was the young boy he¡¯d given one of the runic spinning tops to, at the winter solstice festival. Elana was most probably his sister.


    However, that didn¡¯t really explain the existence of the mana lights in the village. It was highly unlikely that Kalen had discovered the rune for ¡®light¡¯, though, admittedly, it was one of the simpler runes. There was no way that Kalen had managed to learn runes from his spinning top. Even if he had, there was no rune even vaguely similar to light in their construction. Did Alena lend them her pocket torch? Would she have done that? He knew how hard it was for her to part with the item. Maybe they¡¯d gotten some runes off of his stone lanterns? How had they powered them though?


    Disregarding the fact that one needed mana to power the rune, in order to prep a rune the entire runic structure needed to be carved out using mana and then completely flooded with mana in order for it to function. Could Kalen use mana? He thought a [Villager] couldn¡¯t use mana. Just how had he done it?


    ¡°Would you like to ask him yourself¡± Hugh asked, and Azrael realised he¡¯d spoken that last thought out aloud.


    Before he could say anything Hugh had already called Kalen over, the boy leaning his long stick against a house wall and rushing over.


    ¡°M¡¯L-l-l-lord¡± The boy stumbled out in his haste ¡°You called me?¡±


    ¡°All good, Kalen.¡± Azrael waved away, ¡°It was nothing, just a bit of curiosity.¡±


    ¡°Lord Azrael was inquiring about your mana lanterns.¡± Hugh supplied the uncertain youth.


    ¡°Ah. Ah! Of course, my Lord! It¡¯s still nothing compared to your great skills! Forgive me for assuming-¡°


    ¡°Kalen.¡±


    ¡°-it was wrong of me to assume that I could even compare to your great-¡°


    ¡°Kalen.¡±


    ¡°-Of course, I couldn¡¯t resis-¡°


    ¡°KALEN!¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Just stop and take a breath.¡±


    ¡°I apologise my lord, forgive me for-¡°


    ¡°Kalen!¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    Alex stared at the uncertain and nervous youth before him. A few heads had turned toward their direction, but Azrael ignored them. They were currently not important.


    Focusing on Kalen again Azrael studied the youth before him, noting with some surprise that he was probably even younger than he¡¯d first though. Most probably even younger than Alena. Village life had given him a slightly harder look, but even so he still retained a lot of features of youth.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    With a careful application of mana, Azrael levitated a bench up onto his raised dais, setting it down just behind Kalen, without the boy noticing.


    ¡°Sit.¡± He said, gesturing at to the bench.


    Kalen jumped high enough that Azrael was worried he might sustain fall damage on the way down. Luckily it wasn¡¯t so and the boy recovered from his surprise rather quickly. He was still plainly very nervous, but there wasn¡¯t much he could do about that. The only small mercy he could grant the boy would be to finish this as quickly as possible. After all, he was very curious.


    ¡°Kalen, tell me about your lanterns, will you?¡±


    ¡°Uhhh, ¡­ um¡­ uh, well¡­ um.¡±


    Azrael smiled calmingly. Hugh began to open his mouth, but Azrael gently shook his head. He didn¡¯t need Hugh to chastise the boy for not answering.


    ¡°What did you make the lantern out of? How did you make it? How does it run?¡± he prompted.


    ¡°Uh, um¡­ so¡­ well. Well, yeah.. um.. the lanterns. They¡¯re madeofstone.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Thelanternsaremadeofstone.¡±


    ¡°I see, so how do you make them?¡±


    ¡°Well, so¡­um¡­ we¡­ uh, my sister and I, we carved out the rune into stone.¡±


    ¡°Where did you learn the rune?¡±


    Kalen looked up alarmed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, please forgive me. I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯msorryI¡¯msorryI¡¯msorryI¡¯msorr-¡°


    ¡°Kalen. It¡¯s ok. It¡¯s all good. You¡¯ve done nothing wrong. I won¡¯t punish you. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. That¡¯s the way. Deep breaths. Now, again. Where did you learn the rune? Take your time.¡±


    Seeing Kalen visibly relax allowed Azrael to let out a tense sigh of his own that he¡¯d been holding. Kalen¡¯s nervous energy was tough to handle. He was here to play a game, act a bit as the lord and have a good time, not help children cope with anxieties. Anyway, he was here now.


    ¡°Uh, so¡­ Alena¡¯s torch stopped working while you were away and she came to the village to see if our spinning tops were still working, which they were. And I sortagotcuriousandmighthaveactuallytriedtohavealookathertorchandImighthavesortadroppeditanditmighthavebrokenandImighthavealmostdiedIthinkandIgottheruneformthereandI¡¯msorry.¡±


    ¡°Ok¡­right. So, that¡¯s how you got the rune, how did you make the lanterns. That wasn¡¯t enough was it?


    ¡°Uh, so¡­ when it broke. I didn¡¯t break it! It fell! It was an accident! I promise!¡±


    ¡°Kalen. It¡¯s Ok. What happened when it fell?¡±


    ¡°Uh, right, so when it fell, the mana crystal also fell out. I tried to put it together again, but it didn¡¯t work. Alena was going to murder me. She¡¯s scarier than Mum. And I promised her I¡¯d fix it, so she wouldn¡¯t kill me. So, um¡­ I tried fixing it, but that didn¡¯t work, so then I tried making a new one. That didn¡¯t work either. So, I only tried drawing the rune again and again, but that didn¡¯t work either. So, I though ¡®what if it has to be carved into something?¡¯ Hugh helped me a lot and we worked together, but that didn¡¯t work either. Durkov and one of the other dwarves helped me carve it into stone, but that didn¡¯t work. Nobody wanted me to die though, and I didn¡¯t want to die, so I kept on trying things. I tried carving using the old mana stone, because I though maybe you need that for the magic, but that didn¡¯t work either, except it sorta did. The mana stone broke when I was carving and the rune that I¡¯d carved out with the mana stone sorta glowed for a few seconds.¡±


    ¡°So, the rune glowed while you were scratching it out with the mana stone, or when the mana stone broke?¡±


    ¡°When the stone broke. Except Alena was angry again and I didn¡¯t want to die, so I begged for one off the hunting group and tried again. This one didn¡¯t break though. I still have it. Anyway, the rune didn¡¯t glow again, so I asked Elana to help me and we went around the village asking people about magic and new people were coming in, so we hoped someone knew something. The old Granny did. She came from another village and they used to have a shaman. She bakes us nice treats. Anyhow, she and Elana figured something out and Alena brought some weird blue magic herbs the next day and Elana and I played around with them. In the end Alana boiled the herbs with some mana stones and some shiny purple crystals and the crystals dissolved and we poured that on the rune and it worked, until we poured in so much that the rune overflowed.¡±


    ¡°So, you made a mana fuel?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, Alana did. Wood didn¡¯t work because it soaked up all the herb juice, but stone was good. I couldn¡¯t make a torch, but Alena didn¡¯t kill me, so I guess that¡¯s ok.¡±


    Azrael replayed the conversation in his head, discarding a lot of the irrelevant information.


    ¡°So.¡± He said, trying to sum it up ¡°you carved the rune into stone with a mana crystal, then pour this crystal and herb¡­ juice into the rune and it works?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    Azrael stared at the fire thoughtfully. It made sense, sort of. Kalen had substituted for his on lack of magic by utilising the magical properties of other materials. First was the mana stone, where instead of passing mana through a stylus, he¡¯d used a naturally magical mana stone as the stylus. As he carved away, microscopic bits of mana stone dust would grind off, lining the rune. Next he replaced the actual mana required to activate and maintain the rune with what sounded like a crude alchemical solution. The blue herbs and purple crystals were no doubt the [Unknown Herb] and [Pure Mana Crystal] from his house. Both would warrant a further exploration of uses.


    Azrael smiled and looked up from the fire.


    ¡°Well done Kalen. Thank y-.¡±


    He looked around. Kalen was gone. Hugh watched him amused from where he was seated beside him and chuckled.


    ¡°He took off as soon as you got lost in your thoughts.¡±


    Azrael just nodded, accepting it. He could understand it perfectly. It was almost exactly what he would have done. Promising himself to check in on both Kalen and Elana, and their project, in the next few days, Azrael turned his attention back to the villagers.


    It was a quieter mood now, some time having passed during his conversation with Kalen. A few of the younger, or elderly, had retired for the night, but most were still caught up in the festive mood. Azrael relaxed back into his fur-lined throne, simply enjoying the moment.


    He let his gaze wander across the remaining people. Most of the younger hunters were in a group by the fire, drinking, while Alena and the chief were playing chess. A few people formed other, smaller groups and one couple were simply sitting on a bench leaning against each other. It stirred a feeling somewhere in him, but he left it. It was just one of those things.


    Distracting himself from the pair, Azrael looked over to the largest group. Centered around James, all the dwarves and a fair few of the men were next to the statue in the village square. James had just finished arm-wrestling against all those gathered around him. Unsurprisingly, he¡¯d won all of them, though there were a few close calls with the dwarves.


    Azrael watched James finish a conversation, before looking for something else to do. His gaze landed on the stone pedestal in front of the massive statue. Azrael realised a second too late what James was thinking. Everything went in slow motion from there. James turned and Azrael rose from his chair. In the time it took for James to take the step closer to the pedestal Azrael had crossed most of the village square, passing straight through the fire. James¡¯ hand came down on the stone plate, just as Azrael arrived by his side.


    A blue screen flickered into existence, hovering above the status plate for all to see. If James was surprised, he did well in not showing it.


    All he said was ¡°Well Damn.¡±


    Azrael could only agree.

 Chapter 121 - A Night Of Status

    A blue screen hung suspended in mid-air, drawing the attention of everyone present. Despite giving off no light of its own everyone could see it with perfect clarity. It was undeniably a status screen. In this case, James¡¯.


    ¡°Well Damn.¡±


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: James


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Class: Heavy Swordsman (Lv. 10), Guardian (Lv.8)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 450/450


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 250/250


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 39


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 45


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 28


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 21


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 25


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 22


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Frozen Survivor}, {Resistant}, {Tenacious}, {Slaughterer}, {Wandering Swordsman},


    {Sword Adept}, {Defender}, {Saviour}, {Giant Slayer}


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Touch Of Frost], [Last Stand], [The Blood Of My Enemies], [Sense of the Apex].


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Strong Arm (Lv. 16), Cold Resistance (Lv. 27), Ice Resistance (Lv.6), Heat Resistance (Lv. 21) Fire Resistance (Lv.5), Blunt Resistance (Lv.7), Fist Arts (Lv. 23), Rage (Lv. 11), Heavy Swordsmanship (Lv. 39), Fatigue Resistance (Lv.9), Sword Spirit (Lv. 13), Alcohol Tolerance (Lv. 26), Poison resistance 12).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael, along with many others could only look at the screen. Word like ¡®ridiculous¡¯ and ¡®monstrous¡¯ came to mind, along with a slew of other similar ones. What was with his massive endurance and strength!? As ridiculous as the stats were, accompanied by the titles James held, they told a story that even Azrael had to admire. James¡¯ unique skills sounded just as ridiculously powerful as the man¡¯s stats and titles! [Last Stand]? [Sense Of The Apex]? What even? And all of that was without even looking at James¡¯ skills. The man had so many passive resistances that coupled with his endurance score and his titles he might as well have been a walking tank. Actually ¨C Azrael looked at the status again ¨C the man was a walking tank. A truly ridiculous walking tank with a massive sword.


    ¡°I see¡± said James, his obnoxiously calm statement breaking the silence.


    Behind them chatter broke out as the villagers exclaimed over the displayed status. There were cries of shock, awe and surprise from all around. Only Azrael stayed silent. Inside he was slightly dying. Another player had found out about the status stone. Was it a mistake putting it in the middle of his village? It probably was, but he wanted his villagers to be able to see their own growth. James scrutinised his status again, before turning to Azrael.


    ¡°What about you?¡±


    There was a gleam in James¡¯ eyes that Azrael wasn¡¯t sure he liked. It was the same look he imagined a child got when it discovered a new toy. Azrael considered the merits of showing off his status and was about to refuse when he saw the gazes of the villagers.


    ¡°I suppose this lord can let you glimpse at his majestic power.¡± Azrael smirked back at the big man.


    Azrael pressed his hand to the stone plate and the blue screen briefly flickered before the information updated.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.5), Sorcerer (Lv.6), Lord (Lv.5), Thief (Lv.1)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 410/410


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 400/400


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 28


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 41


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 32


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 25


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 40


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 44


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}, {Teacher}, {Oath Maker}, {Void Touched}, {Trickster¡¯s Blessing}, {Void Walker},


    {Marked By Purity}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana], [Lord¡¯s Insight], [Aura], [@#%& Self], [Shadow Step], [Footwork]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.16), Spear Arts (Lv.20), Mana Sight (Lv.26), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 35), Soul Sense (Lv.15), Mana Control (Lv.32), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 11), Stealth (Lv. 24), Calm Mind (Lv. 21) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 2), Leadership (Lv.6), Void Shaping (Lv. n/a), Reinforcement (Lv.24), Dagger Arts (Lv.32), Meditation (Lv.34), Mana Transfer (Lv.5), Craftsman¡¯s Eye (Lv.1), Intimidation (Lv.6), Search (Lv.10).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Generally, Azrael wasn¡¯t someone to flaunt stuff. Show off occasionally? Sure. But in general, he was someone who would rather conceal, than reveal, his strength. Still, it felt good to show off to his people, even if a player was present. He hadn¡¯t actually had to many chances to show off in this game, so it felt doubly good. Thankfully the status plate didn¡¯t display his ¡®Human¡¯ percentage. He wasn¡¯t sure what was up with that, but it was a bit of information he¡¯d rather keep hidden.


    As for the rest of the changes to his status they were minimal, a few points to strength and endurance, due to his constant pushing of himself on his way home. It was mainly his magic stats ¨C intelligence and wisdom ¨C that had gotten the largest gains all up, due to him constantly spamming [Wind] and [Shadow Step]. This was reflected by the minor increases in [Mana Manipulation], [Mana Control] and [Meditation]. His largest gripe was that his agility stat hadn¡¯t actually pushed past 25. He recognised that the game rewarded achievements more than repetition, but still¡­ he had been doing a lot of running.


    Everyone¡¯s else¡¯s silence as they looked at his status was quite refreshing though. The range of emotions that he saw in people¡¯s eyes was varied. Alena, who had pushed her way through the crowd, had respect and determination in her eyes. Hugh had appreciation, while between the rest of the villagers there was a mix of awe, shock and blinding reverence. James too looked at the status, his eyes wide. They narrowed, however, as he turned to face Azrael and Azrael saw that they were calculating and competitive.


    ¡°You truly are worthy to be my opponent¡±


    Azrael pulled his hand off the status plate and the blue screen flickered out of existence. James¡¯ wasn¡¯t finished though, but his tone took on a confused note.


    ¡°But why do you use daggers if you are spec¡¯d as a mage?¡±


    ¡°It happened.¡±


    ¡°But why are you so weak?¡±


    Azrael mentally compared their strength stats.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s just you.¡±


    ¡°And your endurance. For a squishy mage it¡¯s too high. Did someone beat you up a lot?¡±


    Azrael thought of Mors and their ¡®training¡¯ sessions.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s¡­ uh¡­ a long story.¡±


    Fortunately, Azrael was saved from any further questions by Alena. Completely unexpectedly Alena pushed past both Azrael and James, a determined look in her eyes. She slammed he hand down onto the status plate, as if she were challenging the gods themselves to a duel.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Alena


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Villager (Lv.3), Shadow Scout (Lv. 4),


    Spy Master (Lv.2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 250/250


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 240/240


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 23


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 25


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 28


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 19


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 24


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 21


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Azrael¡¯s Oathbound}, {Silent Hunter}, {Trainer}, {Observer}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique Skills:


    [Status], [Shadow Cloak].


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Dagger Arts (Lv.28), Meditation (Lv.14), Trap Making (Lv.19), Stealth (Lv.24), Housework (Lv.23),


    Leadership (Lv.12), Intimidation (Lv.17), Tracking (Lv.17), Hunter¡¯s Intuition (Lv.6).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    If nobody was watching, then Azrael would have facepalmed. Ignoring the fact that he was quite proud of Alena¡¯s growth, she was giving away a tactical advantage. With her status for all to see it would be obvious to James that something was strange about the village, the status plate and Azrael.


    Firstly, there was the status plate. As far as he knew nothing like it existed in the entire game. Secondly, Alena had [Status] as a unique skill and lastly, Alena was {Azrael¡¯s Oathbound}. It wouldn¡¯t be too hard for anyone with two braincells to figure out that there was a link between Azrael and the status plate.


    ¡°Interesting¡± James murmured, and Azrael braced himself, ¡°It seems this village has many interesting people.¡±


    Azrael inwardly sighed. Yeah. There was no way James hadn¡¯t noticed.


    ¡°Fight me.¡±


    Azrael paused. What?


    James was looking at Alena, who still had her hand on the status plate.


    ¡°Little shadow lady, you interest me. Fight me.¡±


    Alena¡¯s fingers flashed and Azrael translated.


    ¡°She says ¡®gladly¡¯.¡±


    James nodded.


    ¡°Good. I like her.¡±


    Azrael looked at the two, who were staring off and grinning at each other. Had James really not noticed, or was he pretending? James retrieved his massive sword from where it rested, causing Azrael to re-evaluate the situation. Nope. James was just a battle junkie. He¡¯d overlooked everything else in order to look for an interesting fight. Azrael put a hand between the two of them.


    ¡°Another time. Don¡¯t fight while everyone¡¯s celebrating.¡±


    ¡°But what¡¯s a good party without a fight?¡± James whined.


    ¡°You had your arm wrestling earlier.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a fight!¡± he complained ¡°That¡¯s a manly challenge.¡±


    Alena fingers flashed something at James and derision flooded the link between them. Azrael decided some things were better left untranslated. Escalating the situation would not help.


    ¡°Another time guys. Another time. Not now.¡±


    Neither of them moved.


    ¡°Weapons away. Now!¡±


    Reluctantly, both of them took a step back and Azrael breathed out a sigh. It was mirrored in the collective, as many of the villagers had backed away, expecting the two to suddenly start fighting. Azrael noticed a lot of those villagers who¡¯d backed right away were new faces. They were most likely those who had lost something or someone to a ¡®Chosen¡¯.


    Now though, the tension slowly ebbed and people began moving in again. People, all of a sudden, were eager to show off their own stats, jostling with each other to get a spot in the line. One by one, the remaining twenty or thirty villagers stepped up to the status plate, showing of their stats, skills and titles. Titles were few and far between amongst many of the villagers and there were no unique skills.


    While Azrael was mildly irritated at the carefree attitude the villagers displayed with revealing such personal information, it was also interesting to witness. The status was a cumulation of a person¡¯s history and achievements. [Lord¡¯s Insight] only revealed a person¡¯s name and classes, so seeing peoples skills and matching it to their stats and faces was¡­ very educational as their lord. Many skills were generic [Villager] type skills, however practical they might be, but a few still caught his eye. This was either because of the skill itself, or the level a person had cultivated the skill to. He made a mental note to check in with those people in the coming days.


    He¡¯d have to talk to the villagers about disclosing personal information to outsiders, but that was a problem for another time. For now? He decided to just enjoy the remaining festive atmosphere.

 Chapter 122 - Hidden In The Shadows

    Azrael woke, bleary eyed and stared up at the ceiling. His ceiling in his house. A satisfied smile crept onto his face as the realisation sunk in. He was home. And in his own bed. James had crashed at one of the dwarves¡¯ house.


    In the living room, Alena was already putting together a breakfast made from leftovers from the feast. He poked them with his cutlery, before taking a small bite. It was edible, a vast improvement from when he¡¯d left. He looked to Alena, who was watching him with expectation.


    ¡°Well done.¡±


    Relief and pride blossomed from the soul link and he saw her cheeks slightly blush. He had a feeling she¡¯d practiced a lot while he¡¯d been gone. Though, that wasn¡¯t the only thing she¡¯d apparently kept practicing while he¡¯d been gone.


    Drawing on the soul link he summoned Alena¡¯s status.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Alena


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Villager (Lv.3), Shadow Scout (Lv. 4),


    Spy Master (Lv.2)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 250/250


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 240/240


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 23


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 25


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 28


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 19


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 24


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 21


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Azrael¡¯s Oathbound}, {Silent Hunter}, {Trainer}, {Observer}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique Skills:


    [Status], [Shadow Cloak].


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Dagger Arts (Lv.28), Meditation (Lv.14), Trap Making (Lv.19), Stealth (Lv.24), Housework (Lv.23),


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Leadership (Lv.12), Intimidation (Lv.17), Tracking (Lv.17), Hunter¡¯s Intuition (Lv.6).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    In everything that had happened last night he hadn¡¯t gotten a chance to properly appreciate Alena¡¯s growth. Compared to the other villagers, she had had the largest growth in terms of skills, titles and stats. She almost rivalled James - a player - in terms of mana and she¡¯d even gained a unique skill of her own [Shadow Cloak]. Both of those were fairly a monumental feats, especially considering this game''s discrimination against the first tier [Villager] class.


    He started by looking at her two newest classes, [Shadow Scout] and [Spy Master]. [Shadow Scout] made the most sense. She¡¯d already had the [Scout] class when he¡¯d left. [Shadow Scout] was undoubtably influenced by her unique skill [Shadow Cloak], though whether she¡¯d gotten the skill due to the class or the other way around wasn¡¯t something he could figure out. Since [Scout] was a third tier class, the [Shadow Scout] was almost guaranteed to be a fourth tier class. [Spy Master] on the other hand was a bit of an unknown anomaly.


    Azrael wondered whether there was a problem with the system, or whether that was simply the closest representation that it could find for a class. Did Alena get it for stalking prey, or for observing game. Wouldn¡¯t it be [Tracker] then, and not [Spy Master]? Either way it was another class and meant more stats. Due to the name, he guessed that it was most probably either a second or third tier class, with a slim chance of being fourth tier.


    In terms of stats Alena was fairly balanced. She had ample strength and endurance, no doubt from hunting in the forest, but her highest stat was undoubtedly her dexterity. [Dagger Arts], [Trap Making] both relied heavily on this stat, as did most likely [Cooking] and [Stealth]. Her magic related stats were also reasonably high, at least higher than most of the other villagers. Due to this he believed that [Shadow Cloak] was most likely a mana reliant skill.


    Azrael closed the Status window and looked at Alena.


    ¡°What¡¯s [Shadow Cloak]?¡± He asked. ¡°How does it work?¡±


    Alena paused, momentarily considering. Finally, she stopped what she was doing and tugged at his sleeve.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you. Outside.¡±


    Azrael rose and followed her outside, to just beyond the clearing.


    Once there, Alena dropped into [Stealth]. Since he¡¯d been watching her as she¡¯d fallen into [Stealth] it was nowhere near as effective as it could have been. Her high proficiency in the skill offset that somewhat, but their soul-link overwhelmed even that advantage. Alena began to move around and he shut off the soul-link between the two of them, finding it just that slight bit harder to follow her with his gaze. Still, he was aware enough of her position that he would have been able to do damage to her with a [Fire Bullet]. Then, she vanished.


    Sure, she¡¯d already been slipping from his perception with [Stealth], but it was as if she had just vanished from existence. There was no trace of her. He could only surmise that she had activated [Shadow Cloak].


    Extremely curious, he activated [Mana Sight]. One by one he blocked out the various mana flows, ignoring them. Plant, earth, air, life and water mana. He ignored them all, focusing solely on the pools of shadow mana, as well as antithetical streams of light mana that filtered through the forest canopy. However, upon first glance he could see nothing wrong.


    Light mana streamed down, being absorbed by, and absorbing in equal measure, shadow mana. The shadow mana formed viscous pools, sticking to the trees, undersides of leaves and patches of the forest floor. Unable to find Alena, he re-opened their shared soul-link, letting it guide him to her position.


    Now, with the soul-link counteracting Alena¡¯s [Stealth], Azrael could pinpoint her general position. A quick blast of [Search] further narrowed down her exact position. [Stealth] and [Shadow Cloak] kept her hidden from his mundane sight and greatly hindered even his magical Skills, but due to now knowing where to look, he knew where to focus on with [Mana Sight].


    In one pool of shadow, draped against a tree, shadow mana was actively drawing in light mana. That in itself was not so strange. It was the fact that streamers of light mana warped themselves around the pool of shadow, letting it blend in naturally.


    He smiled.


    ¡°Found you.¡±


    Disappointment and irritation filtered into their shared link.


    ¡®Cheat¡¯.


    Alena dropped her stealth, letting her figure fade back into his conscious thought and view. [Shadow Cloak], however, was still active. The inky drape of unnatural darkness covered most of her form, hiding it from view. The pure darkness amongst the dappled shadows of the forest mad it hard to look at directly and he found his eyes naturally slipping off of it, as his mind tried to ignore the mind-bending illusion. It was even stranger at the edges of the cloak, where shadow and light mana mixed and merged in smoky streamers. It was disconcerting, as if she wasn¡¯t there, but at the same time was.


    ¡°Impressive.¡±


    Alena¡¯s fingers flashed.


    ¡®Thank you¡¯


    Azrael grinned.


    ¡°Now let¡¯s see what else you¡¯ve practiced.¡±


    He tapped her on the shoulder.


    ¡°Tag. You¡¯re it.¡±


    Alena responded by drawing her ever-present daggers, but Azrael used a gust of [Wind] to jump backwards. Leaves exploded upwards in the sudden wind and by the time they touched the ground again Azrael had long vanished into the forest, dropping into stealth.


    Alena grinned. It was time to hunt.

 Chapter 123 - Hunting and Hunted

    Alena stalked through the forest, wrapped and safely hidden in her cloak of shadows. She and her Master had been stalking each other already for the past half day, taking it in turns to track and ambush the other. She was tired and more than a little bruised from their past encounters, but the thrill of the hunt kept her alert and engaged. Despite having done this drill with her students many times there was an extreme difference in knowing that her prey could actually fight back.


    The forest around her was deathly silent, all wildlife already having run off, or been threatened into silence, during their past clashes. She knew that her Lord and Master was here though. [Tracking] had led her here and her [Hunter¡¯s Intuition] alerted her to the fact that her target was close. She wasn¡¯t sure where exactly though. Was it behind those bushes? In the shadows of that tree? Or the one next to it? It was hard to tell.


    Her master¡¯s [Stealth] was well practiced and both of them had blocked off their soul link. The only thing she could feel through that was that he was alive. She fixed her grip on her daggers. This would be the final clash. She knew it and so did her Master, probably. Her mana reserves were slowly trickling dry to maintain her [Shadow cloak], despite constantly using [Meditation]. Her body was weary and her daggers heavy. A minute more and she would be at her limit. It was not a condition that she would advise anyone to fight in, but she steeled her resolve anyways.


    Taking a deep breath she peeled herself away from the shadowed side of the tree, her cloak straining itself until it ripped free, the ragged edges of midnight trying to reconnect to the darkness she left behind. She ignored it and followed the last remains of her master¡¯s tracks. The reason she¡¯d halted her [Tracking] was because they suddenly stopped in a space between three trees. Now, she resumed her [Tracking], trying to piece together where he had gone.


    Based off of what she knew, her Master has used a burst of air to fling himself off the ground. The only question was, which way? Was it forwards, between the trees? Was it backwards, to backtrack? Maybe he¡¯d just dodged sideways, and she¡¯d be able to pick up his trail again. The leaves and ground that had been scattered by the blast of air made it difficult to tell in which direction he¡¯d pushed off.


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    She bent down to try and get a better look. As she did so she heard the gentle rustle of leaves. It could have been the wind, or a small bird taking flight. It could have been nothing, but in this deadly silent forest it could be the difference between life and death.


    Dropping down onto her back Alena brought a dagger up, just barely blocking her Master¡¯s. Her Lord and Master had dropped down on her from the canopy above and she recalled something he¡¯d once said to her; ¡®People rarely look up¡¯. With him forcing his entire weight down on her she didn¡¯t have the time to mentally kick herself. Instead, she kicked him, making use of his still unsure footing. He fell forward and she slipped under his legs, redirecting the weight of his strike to help her escape. All of this happened in a bare handful of seconds.


    Forcing her body up, she kicked off the nearest tree, instantly redirecting her momentum. Her Master was ready, his conjured stone daggers already snaking towards her. She pushed forward. This was her last burst, her last gamble. The first dagger she parried, the second she dodged, the blade just barely missing her torso. She couldn¡¯t avoid the knee that rammed into her though. With a sudden expulsion of breath, her momentum came to a sudden halt, before being reversed.


    Alena felt herself flying backwards from the force of the blow, one of her daggers slipping out of her grasp as she momentarily lost control of her body. Her Master watched her fall, his eyes ablaze with the hunt, but in the last moments she saw shock, pain and¡­ worry? All she felt was anger though. He didn¡¯t need to worry. You worried about people that were helpless, but she wasn¡¯t helpless.


    With fierce desperation, surpassing her limits, she managed to grab onto his still extended arm. Her momentum pulled them both down, but she twisted so that they would fall together, instead of one on top of the other.


    In a tangle of limbs they fell, the forest floor catching them. It was hard to breath in her winded state, even harder still when the ground drove what little remained of her oxygen out of her lungs. Despite that he forced herself onwards, bringing her free arm with the dagger around. It was aimed for his neck.


    Something sharp pricked her stomach and she paused, looking down. A dagger was resting on her stomach, ready to rip her open.


    She looked at her dagger, the point resting just above her Master¡¯s neck, ready to end his life.


    She looked at her Lord and Master. His eyes were wide and he was breathing heavily, but she savoured the look of surprise on his face.


    ¡°A draw¡± he said.


    And a draw it was. She had proven to be his equal. She felt a smile form on her face, even as the last of her reserves, stamina, mana or otherwise, ran out.

 Chapter 124 - Fantasy Staples

    Azrael carried Alena through the forest towards the village, stumbling a bit every now and then. Yes, he was stronger than an average human thanks to his stats, but they¡¯d been constantly engaging in combat all day. He was tired, sore, exhausted and covered in dirt and most of all he was worried about Alena.


    Thanks to the soul link with Alena, as well as the [Status] he¡¯d granted her as {Master of Status}, he was able to see that she was suffering from mana overdraw. No doubt her exhausted stamina also played a large part in her current state, but he remembered his own experiences with expending all of his mana ¨C or rather, lack of, considering that he was unconscious afterwards.


    So, while he was worried, he wasn¡¯t too worried. He was going to take her to the village though. It was currently closer to their position, than his own cabin, and he wanted to see if any of the villagers had a way to help her regain consciousness. For all he knew mana overdraw was fatal for non-players.


    At the edge of the village, the first person he met was the old matron. She was working in the fields with a hoe, but stopped when she noticed him exit from the forest.


    ¡°My Lo¡­¡± she began to greet, before noticing Alena in his arms.


    Her brow furrowed as she took in the situation. Him, holding Alena. Alena still clutching her dagger in a death grip and both of them caked and covered in dirt, soil and leaves. A stranger might have drawn a different conclusion, but she just sighed and turned to walk towards the houses, leaning her hoe against a wooden post.


    ¡°Follow me.¡± She said, without offering him another glance.


    Her attitude irritated him a bit, but at the same time he was impressed. Out of all the villagers, she was the only one who didn¡¯t treat him as the Lord ¨C as someone special. While his pride was slightly offended, he couldn¡¯t help but hold some measure of respect for her. Despite being one of the first villagers and having witnessed his destructive capabilities, his magic and his might, she did not back down or change her attitude. Noticing that she¡¯d already covered a fair distance he hurried after her, careful not to step on any of the planted crops.


    To his surprise though she did not lead him to her house but to a different, slightly larger one. She knocked, before stepping back.


    It was Kalen who opened the door, the budding artificer glancing at him and the matron nervously. She either ignored his anxiousness or didn¡¯t notice it.


    ¡°Is Elana home?¡± she asked.


    Kalen nodded his head quickly, still too nervous to be able to bring out any words. He opened the door to allow them in and as the Matron strode past him he finally noticed Alena in Azrael¡¯s arms. His mouth made a shape of surprise, before he hurried in after the Matron in an effort to get out of Azrael¡¯s way.


    ¡°Elana!¡± he called through the house, ¡°It¡¯s Alena. She¡¯s fainted again.¡±


    ¡°Again?¡± Azrael wondered. Still, he followed Kalen down a narrow corridor into what he could only assume was Elana¡¯s room.


    He hesitated at the doorway. Not because it was a girl¡¯s room, but because of the overpowering smell of dried herbs and woodsmoke.


    ¡°Get in¡± the matron commanded, pulling him in by his arm.


    When she realised that she wouldn¡¯t be able to move him like that she pointed to Elana¡¯s bed.


    ¡°Put her on that.¡± She ordered. ¡°You look like you¡¯re about to drop her.¡±


    Azrael put his apprentice onto the bed, before sitting down next to her and taking the chance to properly take in the room.


    The room was relatively small, built completely out of wood. Wooden walls, wooden door and even a raised wooden floor ¨C instead of the usual hardpacked earth that most of the other houses had. For a ¡®medieval¡¯ villager¡¯s house it was probably extremely extravagant. The fact that Elana had a raised bed, a wooden bench and a single wooden stool in her room made it doubly so. Though his villagers took care in building their houses, this was no modern society. Most homes had a main room and a side room. As such it was unusual that Elana, as a child, had her own room. Kalen no doubt as well.


    What made Elana¡¯s room stand out wasn¡¯t the raised wooden floor and wooden desk though. It was the dozens of bundles and pouches of dried herbs that hung on a rack on her ceiling, as well as the mortar and pestle and small clay brazier.


    Right now Elana was opening a small wooden box that she¡¯d stored under her bed and taking something out with care. It was a single small broad, bright teal coloured leaf. He recognised the unique leaf instantly. It was the one that grew in the clearing around his house.


    Azrael opened his mouth intending to ask what she was doing with it. Instead, a different question slipped out.


    ¡°How do you have that?¡±


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    Elana suddenly looked very afraid, perhaps realising that the item she held was something that was only attainable at the very place he¡¯d forbidden them to go. While he didn¡¯t feel as strongly about it now as he might have when the village was first founded, he didn¡¯t like the idea of people snooping around his house, much less while he was away and unaware of their presence.


    It was the matron who stepped in, placing herself between Azrael and Alena. In the small room it put her right in his face.


    ¡°Alena gave it to her, so sit down and let the girl do her job. It¡¯s no use worrying over everything like a worried parent.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ I wasn¡¯t¡­ urgh.¡±


    Azrael tried to defend himself, but something about the older woman made it really hard to keep up the image he wanted to project. Whether it was because she was old enough to be his grandmother, or because of her no-nonsense attitude, he didn¡¯t know.


    In the end he stepped aside to let Elana do whatever she needed to do and seated himself at the foot end of the bed. In silence, he watched Elana grind up the single leaf in her pestle, before scooping out the crushed leaf and mixing it in a cup with some water. Carefully, the young girl brought it to Alena¡¯s lips, before stopping and looking at him fearfully for permission. He nodded.


    Based off what Kalen had called out to Elana earlier, this wasn¡¯t the first time Alena was here due to overdrawing her mana. If that was the case, and nothing had gone wrong the first few times, he doubted anything would happen here. Still, he was curious about what they were doing. A way to counteract mana overdraw was probably something he might need in the future.


    ¡°How does it work?¡± he asked the matron.


    It was Elana who responded.


    ¡°Alena and I found that by eating spirit mint ¨C¡°


    ¡°Spirit mint?¡±


    ¡°T-the, uh plant.¡±


    Azrael cast [Craftman¡¯s Eye] on one of the leaves in the small wooden box.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Partially Dried Spirit Mint


    A partially dried teal coloured, mint flavoured herb that restores a small amount of mana when ingested. Due to the crude drying process it has lost part of its efficacy.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael frowned, recalling what [Craftman¡¯s Eye] had previously shown him.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Unknown Herb


    An unknown herb with teal-coloured leaves that is naturally saturated with mana.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Was it because he now knew the name, or because he was examining a partially refined material, instead of the growing plant that the information had changed? Realising that Elana though he was frowning at her he quickly asked the next question, skipping most of her explanation.


    ¡°How did you know that it helps mana overdraw?¡± he asked. Overdraw and restoring mana were similar, but there was still a leap of logic required to jump the gap between the two ideas.


    This time it was the matron that replied.


    ¡°When I was a child there used to be a shamanness in our village. She used to grow a few sprigs of spirit mint in her garden, feeding it with her mana. Whenever she got really exhausted from her workings she would eat one of the leaves and it would help her. I¡¯d seen Alena and Elana testing the herb at the status plate when Alena first got her [Shadow Cloak]¡±.


    During the explanation Elana had finished feeding Alena the spirit mint water, but his apprentice still wasn¡¯t stirring.


    ¡°Did it fail?¡±


    Elana shook her head.


    ¡°Usually, it takes a while. Especially when she¡¯s kept up her [Shadow Cloak] for a long time.¡±


    Azrael nodded, and settled back down on the bed. To avoid the awkward silence he turned to observing the small wooden workbench, taking in the tools, the herbs, the mortar and pestle and various containers out of ceramic or wood. One small container especially ¨C a ceramic vial ¨C caught his attention. The vial itself was stoppered, but [Craftman¡¯s Eye] let him see the contents.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Novice¡¯s Crude Mana Potion


    This liquid has been boiled with mana rich substances, imbuing it with a small amount of mana that can be absorbed when ingested. It has been made by a novice alchemist and has lost a lot of its potential potency.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael didn¡¯t care much for the description, instead focusing on one part of the name ¡®Mana Potion¡¯.


    He rose from the bed, almost stumbling in his haste. His inner gamer was squealing with glee. A Mana Potion! In a world where there¡¯s mana, there had to be mana potions. It was a fantasy staple!


    Walking over to the table he summoned several wisps of flame in the air, the mostly uncontrolled mana burning in ever-shifting golden veils of flame. Elana and the matron both let out small squeaks of surprise as the sudden heat and light. He ignored them, watching his mana tick down in his [Status]. Finally, after he felt he¡¯d expended enough he unstoppered the vial and sniffed it. It smelt of mint. He tipped it into his mouth, Elana making a sound of protest. It was too late though, the minty liquid rolling down his throat. He kept his [Status] window open and watched his mana.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    MP: 390/400


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    MP: 391/400


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    MP: 392/400


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    MP: 394/400


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    MP: 395/400


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He could actively feel the mana flowing through him and into his reserves, however faint it was. It did however only top up five of his total four hundred points in his mana pool. Still, five was a tenth of his mana pool when he¡¯d started the game.


    Azrael looked at the empty vial for a moment longer, before turning his gaze, and [Lord¡¯s Insight] onto the dismayed young girl.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Name: Elana


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="301">


    Class: Villager (Lv. 3), Herbalist (Lv.2), Alchemist (Lv. 1).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    ¡°How did you make this?¡±

 Chapter 125 - A Little Bit Of Alchemy

    It took Elana a few more moments before she turned her dismayed gaze from his lips to his eyes.


    ¡°Did you just drink the last of the lantern fuel?¡± she asked, her voice strangely quiet.


    ¡°lantern fuel?¡±


    Wasn¡¯t it a mana potion? At least that¡¯s what [Craftman¡¯s Eye] had told him. If that was fuel why did it taste so minty?


    ¡°That was meant for the lanterns tonight.¡±


    Lanterns? What was up with¡­ Oh. The lanterns. The stuff he¡¯d just drunk was the alchemical fuel for the rune lanterns Kalen had made. And apparently, he¡¯d just drunk the last of it.


    A tear hit the floor and Elana sniffled. Azrael looked up surprised and found Elana with red eyes, while the matron glared at him reproachfully.


    He stepped back defensively. How was he meant to know that that was lantern fuel, let alone the last of it? It was made from stuff that grew in his clearing, so wasn¡¯t it technically his anyways? What was wrong with children? There was no use crying over a cup of spilt milk, or drunk lantern fuel in this case.


    The matron continued to glare at him, wearing down his mental defences. There was just something about the way she held herself, as if it was all his fault. He turned his head away from her glare. Not because he was feeling guilty or anything! It was just so she would stop looking at him.


    He did however kneel down beside Elana, to apologise. He was surprised at just how small she was, until he realised that despite her achievements she was still just a child.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡± he said, gently placing a hand on Elana¡¯s shoulder.


    Elana¡¯s sniffle¡¯s reintensified, leaving him feeling awkward. He¡¯d never had a younger sibling and he¡¯d never really interacted with younger kids much. He glanced up to the matron for guidance, but she had her back turned and was tending to Alena. Great.


    ¡°Ah.. Um. Do you want to make another one. I mean, do you want to show me how you make the lantern fluid?¡±


    Elana peeked out from where she¡¯d buried her face in her hands. Her eyes were red. She shook her head vehemently.


    ¡°Please? I would really like to know how you made it¡±.


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    And he did. He was honestly curious as to how she¡¯d managed to make a mana potion. If he could just tweak and improve the recipe, then he would be able to replenish his mana even faster during combat. [Meditation] was good, and sure it was getting better, but it was not instantaneous. Mana potions could and would give him that extra edge in combat.


    It took him a good two minutes of coaxing until Elana finally stopped sniffling and agreed to show him how she made the alchemical solution. During the whole ordeal the matron had ignored both of them, instead of helping him calm the girl.


    Having resolved the unexpected issue Azrael now found himself watching Elana as she ground the remaining leaves of spirit mint in her mortar.


    ¡°¡­and that¡¯s how we found that it works best if you mash the leaves to a pulp, so that you can get the most juice out.¡±


    She scrapped the mashed up wad of leaves into the small pot of water that was boiling above a small brazier.


    Azrael just nodded politely, his mind coming up with ways to improve the process. Already he was noticing inefficiencies. Just watching Elana lose almost half of the squeezed out liquid from the spirit mint because it seeped into the rougher parts of the mortar hurt. He didn¡¯t say anything though. The fact that the girl had made the first mana potion that he¡¯d seen was impressive enough in and of itself.


    In the boiling water the wad of leaves unfurled itself, slowly dyeing the water light aquamarine blue. Elana dropped in three small purple mana crystals and sat back to watch the entire mixture boil.


    One minute passed, two, five, ten. Eventually though the three mana crystals all seemed to dissolve, while the mint leaves were almost bleached white. Their colour seeped into the solution, turning it a slightly darker shade of aquamarine.


    Eventually, satisfied that it was done, Elana extinguished the fire and moved the pot onto a stone plate for cooling. Azrael inspected it.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Novice¡¯s Crude Mana Potion


    This liquid has been boiled with mana rich substances, imbuing it with a small amount of mana that can be absorbed when ingested. It has been made by a novice alchemist and has lost a lot of its potential potency.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Crude was the right word. It was basically just throwing stuff together and hoping for the best. That was of course how the entire field of chemistry had started off, with medieval alchemists throwing things together. All that was left was to refine the process.


    A quite chuckle drew his attention to the bed behind him. Alena was awake, telling a story with very simple sign language and overexaggerated hand gestures. The matron politely listened, while Kalen was carving out a rune plate. He hid himself as well as he could behind the matron when he noticed Azrael¡¯s attention on him. Azrael let him be. Kids. What could you do about them?


    Actually¡­ Azrael gazed at the three youngest members of the village. His apprentice, Alena, who could fight a player to a draw. Kalen, who¡¯d discovered a method of substituting natural mana in engraving runes and the youngest, Elana, who¡¯d discovered the recipe for a mana potion.


    Now that he thought about it. All three had achieved something amazing. Kids, they were terrifying!


    At least he didn¡¯t have to worry about the village¡¯s future. If nothing else happened then these guys would all grow up to bring the village prosperity.

 Chapter 126 - Magical, Alchemical Science

    That evening Azrael was working on the table in his own house, still reeling with the realisation of how terrifyingly talented the three youngest members of his village were. On his desk lay a collection of items. Alena, silently watched from the side.


    The items included a writing tablet, a mortar and pestle, a pot, a jug of water, a knife, a chopping board, several magically crafted stone vials, a bundle of ghost mint, six mana stones and a small pile of the pure mana crystals from the clearing.


    He made an effort to keep the mana stones and mana crystals separate, as they were quite similar. The mana stones were purple and crystalline, as were the mana crystals. The mana crystals, however, looked clearer. The mana stones were also slightly darker in colour. Alena had used mana crystals, but he wanted to test mana stones as well, as she had mumbled something about the two as he¡¯d left.


    Placing the pot on the kitchen stove he poured in some of the water from the jug. Without an accurate measure he eyed it. In the end it was about one cup worth. He could have used more, but since he was experimenting, he was going to try and create several small samples. Covering the pot with a lid he set it to boil.


    Next, he gathered around ten fresh leaves of spirit mint. Elena had used roughly that many and so he wanted to use the same amount as a starting point for his experiment. The only difference were that his were fresh. Alchemy was good. Science was better. Magical, alchemical science was best.


    Placing the leaves on the chopping board he began cutting them into the smallest pieces possible, before throwing them into the mortar and mashing them into a paste with the pestle. This way he could guarantee to be able to squeeze as much of the mint leaves¡¯ juice¡­ oil?


    Carrying the mortar over to the now boiling water Azrael shaped the mortar to be completely smooth, letting the blue-white paste slip into the pot. He used the pestle to give the mixture a stir, breaking up the paste. The water immediately gained a blue tinge.


    Next, he dropped in three medium sized mana crystals. It was roughly the same amount as Elena had used for hers. Though, whether her ratios were a matter of experimentation or simply ratios born from limited supply or intuition he didn¡¯t know. Still, for a first test run it served as a good marker (especially because he¡¯d made sure to get as much of the ghost mint¡¯s oil into the mixture as he could, whereas Elena had lost almost half).


    Letting the two ingredients boil, Azrael prepared the vials for the first finished batch, as well as preparing the ingredients for his second experimentation ¨C this time with a doubled amount of ghost mint and mana crystals.


    For the next hour or two Azrael began experimenting with different ratios and methods of preparation. He tried doubling, tripling and even quadrupling the amount of ingredients compared to the water, or else changing the ratios of ghost mint and mana crystals. He also tried with normal water and conjured water. On a whim he tested the results between cut and whole ghost mint leaves. In one experiment he also substituted mana crystals with the mana stones, curious if there would be a difference. Due to his low quantity though, he followed Elena¡¯s original recipe when using them.


    It was a productive night, with Alena curiously and silently watching his experimentation. In the end though, after several repetitions she left him to it, deciding to have an early night. It had been a long day after all.


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    Azrael continued on, with all the determination of a stat boosted gamer. His intention was to keep experimenting as long as there were materials. Of course, fate often had other ideas, especially so when people were experimenting with things they didn¡¯t completely understand. Doubly so for when working with alchemy and magical materials.


    Placing a mana stone into the mortar Azrael raised the pestle to try and smash it. When previously making a mana potion with mana stones he¡¯d noticed that unlike the mana crystals, which completely dissolved into the potion the mana stones simple lost colour, as if the mana was leeching out. He¡¯d ended up with three slightly opaque purple tinged mana stone, looking a whole lot like cloudy stained-glass shards.


    This phenomena, this difference, between the mana stones and mana crystals interested him and it sparked the question of whether crushing a mana stone down into a fine powder would affect the final outcome of the potion. Would the mana seep out better if the mana stone was broken?


    The pestle came crashing down onto the mana stone, before suddenly coming to a full stop. Azrael raised the pestle again, this time increasing the force he used. The table rattled and there was a distinct ¡®crack¡¯. It wasn¡¯t however the mana stone, but the mortar fracturing from the blow. It had a distinct crack running through it. The pestle also had a chip split off. The mana stone lay there unharmed.


    Raising his arm a third time Azrael applied [Reinforcement] to the pestle, completely ignoring the cracked mortar. It would crack again and he would have to fix it later anyways.


    The pestle came down, an arbiter of destruction. The mana stone cracked, then shattered in an ear-splitting explosion. Light flashed and the table shattered. Shrapnel exploded outwards.


    Alena arrived a moment later in sleepwear, with her dagger drawn and ready. She threw open the door and in the same moment took in the broken table, the shattered mortar and Azrael on the ground. She lowered her dagger, glared at him accusingly for disturbing her sleep and closed the door again, leaving him with the aftermath.


    He sighed, picking himself and several larger bits of stone off the floor. Fortunately, the mortar had broken into several large chunks, instead of exploding into smaller shrapnel. With the amount of force that the shattering mana stone had released it could have been deadly. Luckily none of the large chunks had struck him either.


    As for the surviving vials ¨C only three had shattered ¨C he placed them on the kitchen bench, before using the broom to sweep up the remnant shards of the mortar. The lonely pestle, the chopping board, knife and note block all found a spot on the kitchen bench, leaving the shattered table.


    Azrael glanced at it appraisingly. The explosive force of the mana stone shattering had discharged energy in every direction, with the mortar taking the brunt of it. Still, the table had snapped in half. With many large, jagged pieces being snapped off close to the small explosion. Azrael sighed, infusing the broken parts of the table with mana, before letting some void energy flow out. As wary as he was of both this unpredictable energy and its subsequent risks, nothing had actually happened¡­ so far.


    Despite his ¡®Human¡¯ level currently sitting at 78% nothing had changed. He hadn¡¯t grown horns, tentacles or a third eye and as far as he was aware the change didn¡¯t affect his emotions or cognitive ability. For all intents and purposes it was just a game design that had implemented itself in his status. For all he knew he was turning into a gnome, or an elf. Hehe. Gnelf.


    Using the void he quickly fixed the table, fusing larger splinters that had sprung away back onto the table. The repair destroyed the pattern of the grain, but it was an acceptable trade-off for having a functioning table again.


    Setting the table back into place Azrael glanced at his now cool and drinkable potion vials. Three had shattered, but nine had remained intact. These were the potion using Elana¡¯s ratio, one with double, one with triple and one with quadruple the amount of ingredients to water, one with double water, one with the ghost mint leaves uncut, one with an increase in ghost mint, one with an increase in mana crystals and one made with mana stones. Packing them safely into the pot Azrael called it for the night and went to bed. Tomorrow he would test the potions and hopefully get some results.


    That night Azrael dreams of himself running through Nova Lux, throwing exploding mortars at holy knights, while a certain kitsune chased him with a pestle.

 Chapter 127 - In The Name Of Science!

    Morning broke with the sun¡¯s ascent, the birdsong breaking Azrael free from his twisted nightmare. Saved from Sophie¡¯s wrath and a horde of blue skinned paladins Azrael rose.


    Outside Alena was once again practicing her blade skills, as she did every other morning. He did notice that today she was a fair bit slower, no doubt hampered by sore and weary muscles. His body was equally fatigued, despite a player¡¯s enhanced regeneration. Leaving her to her practice Azrael turned instead to the surviving potions from last night.


    Picking up the first vial he expended mana to make a mortar. Afterall, even if he needed to empty his mana it was good to use for something useful. Placing it down on the table, he lifted the vial to his lips and drank the entire vial.


    Next, he picked up his stone writing block and checked which recipe he¡¯d used for this vial. It was the first one, using Elana¡¯s ratios. He opened his status and watched his mana tick up; one, two, three¡­ seven, eight.


    The first potion replenished eight units of mana. That was three more units? Three more mana? than Elana¡¯s potion, meaning that there was probably some correlation between the amount of ghost mint oil and the resulting efficacy of the potion. He scribbled he results down onto his writing block, before grabbing the second vial. This one had been made with double the ingredients, but the same amount of water. He let the minty flavour roll down his throat and waited, watching his status.


    One, six, twelve¡­fifteen. Fifteen mana. Almost double, but not quite.


    He downed the third potion, with triple ingredients. Twenty-one mana. Again, an increase just short of proportionate to the increase in ingredients.


    He downed the fourth potion, the one he¡¯d brewed with the most amount of ingredients, quadruple the original ratios.


    Twenty- five mana.


    Azrael frowned.


    Twenty-five? Shouldn¡¯t it have been slightly under thirty-two, if it was following the same pattern as previously? He jotted the results down with the rest of the results. Had he somehow brewed it wrong? He shouldn¡¯t have. He checked the rest of his notes. There were no mistakes.


    Slightly baffled Azrael picked up the next potion. This one followed Elana¡¯s ratio of ingredients, but with double the amount of water.


    As he drank the potion Azrael noticed that the minty flavour was significantly weaker, diluted with more water. The potion¡¯s effect were equally weak, restoring only four mana. Compared to his original base of eight the twofold increase in water seemed to dilute the effects by an equal amount. It wasn¡¯t unexpected, but he couldn¡¯t help but frown. He¡¯d hoped that all of the water would turn into a weak potion, so that he could mass produce them with lower material costs. It was a pity that magic was actually realistic in this game.


    His next two potions though, one with a twofold amount of ghost mint and one with a twofold amount of mana crystals showed interesting results. The first, with a doubled amount of ghost mint replenished 16 mana, while the increase in mana crystals only increased the mana potion¡¯s effect by one, bringing it up to nine compared to the one made with the base ratio.


    From these findings Azrael could conclude a few key points. Firstly, increasing the amount of ghost mint and the mana crystals increased the efficacy of the potion, though with diminishing returns. At some point there may be a cap, based off a criteria that he hadn¡¯t yet discovered. This was represented by the quadrupled potion. Of course, only one of each potion wasn¡¯t enough to formalise a proper set of rules. That would be¡­ unscientific.


    As to the last two potions he¡¯d tested they revealed an interesting relationship between the two ingredients. The increase in ghost mint had resulted in an equal increase in the potion¡¯s efficacy, while the increase that occurred by doubling the mana crystals didn¡¯t result in any significant change.


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    From this he could begin to conclude that the ghost mint acted as the binding agent for the potion, with the increase in ghost mint resulting in an equal increase in the potion¡¯s amount of mana. The test with the mana crystals revealed that there was in fact a wastage of mana, as the ghost mint was unable to bind everything to the potion and so much of its potential was lost.


    Of course, there was the potion where he¡¯d doubled the amount of water. The weakened efficacy of the diluted potion simply went to prove that there was a correlation between ratio of ingredients to the amount of¡­ water.


    Water?


    The thought sparked another and Azrael began to think of the ¡®failed¡¯ fourth potion. Was the reason that it had such a drastic decrease in efficacy be because there wasn¡¯t enough water? Could that be the reason?


    If the ghost mint acted as the binding agent to bind the stored mana in the mana crystals to the potion, then did the water act as the ¡®container¡¯ for the mana? Azrael knew that you could saturate water with sugar or salt to the point where it didn¡¯t accept any anymore. Was that what was happening here? Did the water of the fourth potion reach a saturation point?


    Azrael checked the pot he used. He¡¯d eyed out the measure for the water, but it had always been roughly one cup. Assuming that the amount he¡¯d used was one cup, or roughly a quarter of a litre, then the saturation rate of mana was approximately one mana to every 10ml.


    Azrael ran through all his notes again and found that his theory checked out. He would of course have to run another series of trials, but it was a beginning.


    Letting out a satisfied huff he let his note block fall back onto the kitchen bench. His gaze fell onto the final vial ¨C the one brewed with mana stones. Honestly, he was a bit wary of this one, though he wasn¡¯t sure why. There was just something about the thought, something maybe from the depths of his subconscious that might have been warning him. Of course, maybe and might weren¡¯t enough to stop him from downing it. After all, it was all in the name of science!


    Letting out a short burst of mana to replenish his once again topped up reserves, Azrael picked up the vial and gave it one last cautious sniff. Mint. How unexpected. Open the hatch and down it goes!


    The minty blue brew ran down his throat, just like all the other potions. Like all other potions he felt it slowly replenish his mana, all six of it. Unlike all the others he received two notifications.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Due to intaking a small amount of tainted mana the stability of your internal mana will be impacted until it is purged or assimilated!


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Due to replenishing over a quarter of your natural mana capacity through external means, within a short period of time, your natural mana regeneration will be stunted for a period of time!


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael paused when he noticed the two notifications, reading both with care. He took a deep breath in, before letting it out and dropping into [Meditation], letting his awareness expand outward through his body. Like the notification had stated there was a turbulence in his usually calm and controlled mana stream.


    Where his mana usually flowed smoothly from his core throughout his body, it was now agitated, jumping around as if charged. It wasn¡¯t by much, but even this little bit of agitation caused him to have difficulties gripping and controlling his mana. Over and over his mana flow jumped around, trying to rip itself apart in an attempt to either purge or assimilate small streamers of tainted mana.


    He tried summoning a flame, unsuccessfully drawing mana to cast a flame three times, before finally managing to let it ignite above his hand. It jumped and fluttered, almost guttering out a few times. Before raging up uncontrollably as the internal turbulence of his mana influenced his control. He dismissed the flame, letting his hold over his mana go.


    He noticed that he¡¯d managed to purge a small part of the foreign mana, but the large majority remained stubbornly interfering with his own mana. Letting out a sigh, he habitually continued [Meditation]¡¯s breathing patterns, before realising that his mana wasn¡¯t replenishing, or rather it was replenishing extremely slowly. It was still far faster than when he¡¯d first started the game, but after getting used to a higher rate of mana regeneration, plus the added bonus from [Meditation] he could acutely feel the difference.


    A knock sounded from his front door, and he looked up, expecting to see Alena¡¯s lithe form. Instead, the open doorway was filled with James¡¯ massive form. His body was slightly bowed to allow for his massive blade to pass through the door.


    ¡°Morning, Boss.¡± He said with an easy grin, as if he wasn¡¯t just intruding into Azrael¡¯s house, ¡°Some lads and I are heading off to explore down river. You wanna come?¡±

 Chapter 128 - Row Row Row Your Boat

    When Azrael and James rocked up at the village, James¡¯ ¡®some lads¡¯ seemed to mean the entire village. Almost everyone that had been at the celebratory banquet had rocked up to the lake shore, making Azrael wonder if there wasn¡¯t another some other celebration he¡¯d missed.


    As the two of them arrived, the gathered crowd let them pass, revealing three wooden crafts. The first two were small fishing boats that Azrael had occasionally seen on the water, but not paid much attention to, but the third was one he hadn¡¯t seen yet before. It was larger than the two small fishing boats and had a flatter hull ¨C more of a small barge than a boat. All three were obviously prepped for the expedition with food, water, blankets and miscellaneous supplies.


    Though there was some bowing, it wasn¡¯t as tedious and longwinded as usually, due to the general excitement. This suited Azrael very nicely and within twenty minutes Azrael, James and seven others were on the water.


    They¡¯d decided to travel with a smaller craft in front and behind the barge. Nolan and one other newer villager sat in the front craft, while Kaira and Rudy ¨C both of whom Azrael had trained with a spear ¨C brought up the rear. As for Azrael, he was on the barge with James, Durkov and two other dwarves. Honestly, if it wasn¡¯t for James¡¯ massive frame and his ridiculous sword there might have been space for another person. Each ship let the strong current of the waterfall carry them across the lake to where the river started, using oars to gently correct their course.


    Azrael away from the still waving villagers and turned his gaze to the lake, watching streamers of morning light spear downwards, before becoming lost in the deep below. He still held his suspicions about having a hidden aquatic monster slumbering at the bottom, but if it existed it hadn¡¯t shown itself or harmed any villagers ¨C yet.


    Late morning passed into early noon when Durkov guided the barge towards the left riverbank, which made Azrael extremely glad. Somewhere along the line the excitement of exploration had worn off, quickly lost to the monotonous sight of tree lined riverbanks and he¡¯d come to realise that the gentle rocking of the boat made him slightly queasy.


    Though the oars were out, speeding along their journey downriver, there wasn¡¯t actually a proper need for rowing. This allowed Azrael to just zone out and focus on the water rippling out from the side of the boat in an attempt to control the feeling. The breathing technique for [Meditation] had also helped him somewhat, but now, with the chance to get back onto solid ground again. He took it.


    Making it to the riverbank before James stepped off and rocked the boat, Azrael was surprised to see that there were signs of habitation and work. Trees had been felled to make a single sturdy cabin, while the stumps had been pulled out to make a clear path between the river and a small quarry. A fire pit was just beside the cabin, looking freshly used.


    ¡°Beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡±


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    Azrael turned to find Durkov standing beside him, though whether he was referring to the cabin of the quarry he wasn¡¯t sure, He was fairly certain though that he wasn¡¯t refering to the firepit. Durkov either didn¡¯t require an answer or politely ignored Azrael¡¯s silence, before turning to the rest of the disembarking crew.


    ¡°We¡¯ll break here. Half an hour.¡± He said with authority, before remembering who was standing beside him. ¡°With the Lord¡¯s permission of course.¡±


    Azrael smiled.


    ¡°Permission granted.¡±


    It was afterall Durkov¡¯s expedition and, as it turned out, his quarry.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good spot¡± Durkov spoke as they sat down for a short midday meal. He pointed at the quarry with one hand ¡°No cracks or faults, just good solid rock. It¡¯s a tad denser than the stuff near the village, but easier to get at and also a wee bit tougher, but not too hard to carve with proper tools and technique. Good colour too.¡±


    The other two dwarves nodded in agreement and Azrael decided to follow suit, acknowledging the dwarf¡¯s words. It wasn¡¯t like he was gonna ask for a in-depth explanation of what made a good rock a good rock. And if a dwarven [Stone Mason] said it was good enough, it was good enough. Like, what even was a good rock colour?


    Later, when they pushed off again and resumed their journey, Azrael realised that the existence of the quarry also explained the existence of the barge, as well as why all the oars in the craft were dwarf size.


    The rest of the day¡­ well, it honestly made Azrael wonder how the early explorers did it ¨C sitting in a boat all day.


    The monotony of trees was one thing, the rocking of the ship was another. While the monotony was something he could deal with and it was often broken up by the occasional sighting of deer, boars, birds and other wildlife, the queasiness was slightly more difficult to manage.


    Despite it being a barge, when James moved the barge moved. Big boat moves when big man moves ¨C physics. And James, it turned out, moved a fair bit when animatedly singing and swapping drinking songs with the dwarves.


    It got bad enough that Azrael actually decided to just run alongside the boat, under guise of ¡®exercise¡¯. He was glad nobody commented and everyone simply seemed to accept his statement.


    Near sunset, they made camp at a random spot, tying the boats so that they wouldn¡¯t float off in the night. The camp itself was simply a set of outdoor blankets and sleeping rolls set around a central fire.


    Currently, the fire was being used to cook dinner. Earlier in the day a boar that Azrael had stumbled across had decided to charge at him. There had been something strangely nostalgic about the situation ¨C until he¡¯d speared it with a quick [Stone Spike]. Now he was watching Kaira and Rudy prepare it. After a day of travelling he was ready for it to cook over the fire and charge right into his stomach.


    And when the boar eventually finished cooking on make shift skewers, it vanished faster than he¡¯d believed possible. Yes, James might have gotten slightly more than his fair share, but a quick use of [Lord¡¯s Insight] revealed that Kaira¡¯s skills as a [Herbalist] worked wonders in combination with her experience as a [Field Chef]. He was almost tempted to hunt a second boar, just to be able to taste it longer.


    It was late though, so he grudgingly put the idea aside and rolled up in one of the blankets, leaning against a tree near the fire. Having drawn the third watch he let the crackling sound of the fire lull him to sleep.


    It seemed he¡¯d barely closed his eyes when the night was split by the sound of shattering bones.


    His eyes flashed open just in time to watch James smash his sword through a skeleton. The shattered bone shards sprayed everywhere, landing back in the dark forest. At the edge of the dim firelight, several other white figures approached, clattering.

 Chapter 129 - Spooky Scary Skeleton

    For a brief moment Azrael wondered whether he was dreaming. Afterall, it didn¡¯t make sense for them to be attacked by skeletons. Slimes, wolves, dragons? Sure, they made sense, they were all living.


    It was only when James smashed through his skeletal opponent and half a skull landed in Azrael¡¯s lap that he properly woke, immediately summoning his familiar twin stone daggers. Around the camp others were also woken by the noise, grabbing their weapons and immediately forming a protective circle around the fire.


    A third, fourth and fifth skeleton appeared from within the night, their teeth clacking in malice. James¡¯ sword smashed through all of them unfeeling, but the bisected undead continued on relentlessly, dragging their shattered bodies with their arms.


    Azrael summoned a streamer of mana, looping it back onto itself and igniting it. Mana fed into mana and flame into flame, until a halo of golden flames illuminated the camp, revealing a seemingly endless horde skeletons that emerged from the darkness. Already the group were slowly being surrounded.


    ¡°Aim for their heads!¡± James cried, bringing down the tip of his sword down to crush the skull of a skeleton that was crawling towards him. The rest of the animated bones fell apart and ceased moving. Though nobody answered, Azrael was sure that everyone had heard. It was hard to miss James¡¯ booming voice.


    On one side of the circle, Kaira and Rudy showed exactly what they were capable of, using broad sweeps of their spears to shatter bones, while precise strikes targeted joints to disable their opponents. Finally, when their opponents could offer no resistance, they would step in and destroy the skull, before engaging their next undead opponent.


    Durkov and the other dwarves were similarly handling their situation. The three of them worked together, shattering first the legs of their taller opponents to bring them down to their height, before immobilising the arms and then smashing their skulls.


    Azrael turned to the other two villagers, finding the two men struggling with a lone skeleton that had managed to slip past James. Both of its arms were shattered, but it used the splintered stumps to great effect, trying to impale its opponents. Already one of the men was bleeding from a jagged gash to his side.


    Azrael rushed over, a well-placed [Stone Bullet] causing the skull to crack, before the second one shattered the skull completely. The skeleton crumbled, whatever was holding the bones together disappearing. Two more skeletons came to replace their fallen comrade.


    It was an endless onslaught, an undying horde against nine mortals. Granted, one of those mortals was James, but despite his overwhelming strength and the extra reach with his blade he couldn¡¯t be everywhere. Everyone was fatiguing fast, the unending fighting and the seemingly endless line of opponents wearing on both body and spirit.


    Though Azrael wasn¡¯t exactly struggling against the skeletons he realised that if this turned into a battle of attrition, then it wouldn¡¯t be one that they would win. [Stone Bullet] was relatively effective against the undead, with two of them being enough to shatter a skull, three if he was off center. Other elements weren¡¯t effective either. [Fire], [Water] and [Air] weren¡¯t concentrated enough to deal any visible damage.


    Azrael fired off another [Stone Bullet], following it up with a quick jab of his dagger, before dodging half a flying skeleton that Jams had sent in his direction. He brough the pommel of his dagger down, smashing through its skull and right through the one he¡¯d just been fighting. Both of them fell apart, adding to the ever-growing pile of bones on the ground.


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    He engaged his next opponent with purely his daggers. His mana was finite and his mana regeneration wasn¡¯t keeping up in this fast paced fight. Just mowing them down with spells wasn¡¯t an option.


    Looking around the clearing in a rare moment of respite, Azrael noticed that everyone was faring worse than he¡¯d imagined. Rudy¡¯s left arm was limp, while Kaira¡¯s spear had snapped. She was now using both halves to fend off attackers. The dwarves similarly looked exhausted, while Azrael was surprised that the two other villagers weren¡¯t already dead. Only James seemed in his element, swinging his greatsword with a massive grin. Around him the ground was white, each of his heavy steps crunching bones underfoot. He did however have a layer of heavy perspiration and his swings were smaller now, though still ladened with deadly force.


    A glint of gold flashed through the trees, drawing Azrael¡¯s gaze. There was something amongst the horde, hidden in the dark. He wasn¡¯t able to pinpoint it, but he kept checking that direction as he fought. Twice he thought he saw it again, though in vastly different spots. On the fourth occasion the golden glimpse finally revealed itself, manifesting itself as a half-rusted sword held in the bony hand of a black skeleton. The blade had caught the light of his slowly dying halo of fire.


    James noticed it when he did, body slamming into the horde in order to reach the new threat. With great force the massive blade came up and with greater force it came down, ready to cleave the black skeleton in two.


    The sword sunk down into the forest floor, buried almost halfway to the hilt. The skeleton clacked it teeth mockingly as it sidestepped. It stabbed forward with its sword, with far more coordination than all of the others they had fought so far.


    James stepped back, forced to let go of his sword. For a moment Azrael thought that he had successfully evaded, but almost immediately he saw spatters of red fall onto the white ground. The skeleton clacked its teeth, its skull caught in an eternal grin.


    James roared, balling his hands into fists and letting loose a flurry of blows. On caught the skeleton in the ribs, snapping two off. The next caught the skeleton in the jaw, sending it staggering back. The third sent it flying into the skeletons behind it. It regained its balance, raising its sword.


    James¡¯ blade smashed into it from above, snapping its sword in two and bombarding it with clods of rich soil from when he¡¯d ripped it free. The next blow smashed through its side, snapping both arms and its spine. The top half of the bisected skeleton fell at his feet.


    For a brief moment Azrael felt the air around James gain a sudden sharpness, before James¡¯ heavy blade dropped right through the black skull.


    Both sides fell silent for a brief moment, the ferocity of the sudden battle drawing all eyes. Mortals took the moment to take a gasping breath, while the undead stared at the spot where their leader had fallen. Then came the clacking.


    If the sound of a hundred rattling bones had been bad before, now they were an almost physical force. The skeletons looked away from where James¡¯ sword was planted and back to their living opponents. Azrael raised his daggers, only to almost drop them in surprise. Two more black skeletons emerged from the horde. On with a shield and another with a sword. Their positions coincided with where he had previously seen the two flashes of light. James¡¯s downed opponent hadn¡¯t been a leader Azrael realised, but an elite. He made a decision.


    ¡°Retreat!¡±


    Rudy and Kaira got what he meant before he next spoke, while James too disengaged with his opponent.


    ¡°Everyone to the boats! James, help me hold the back!¡±


    Abandoning their sleeping rolls everyone streamed towards the boats, pushing them off with all their might.


    Azrael turned his attention the other way, not sparing his already meagre supply of mana to summon one [Earth Spike] after the other. Within a few moments his mana hit rock bottom, but now a barricade of sharp stone stood between them and the greater part of the horde. Leaving James to take care of those who tried to clamber over the barricade, he took care of the few stragglers who made it around the side. Further back, Rudy and Kaira were covering the boats as everyone made ready.


    A call from behind and both James and Azrael turned and made for the already floating boats. Despite the situation they were in James managed to find a moment to turn to Azrael with a grin.


    ¡°This is great.¡±


    Azrael didn¡¯t answer, instead launching himself off the riverbank onto the barge. James landed a moment later and the boat rocked so hard that he almost fell off the other side. Honestly, he was surprised that the boat didn¡¯t snap in two. Fortunately, the boat managed to withstand the force that was James and nobody ended up in the water.


    On the riverbank a horde of skeletons clacked their teeth as the expedition pushed out their oars and rowed into the night.

 Chapter 130 - Old aquaintances

    On the boats it was all oars out, everyone making as much headway as they could. James was laughing, using his massive blade as a paddle. An extra dwarf manned the oar opposite James to make sure the ship still went straight. If it wasn¡¯t for the fact that they had narrowly escape with their lives and that several of them needed medical attention, then Azrael might have even found it funny.


    As it was, he simply felt tired. Tired and frustrated. His night had been cut short, they¡¯d had to run from a fight and worst of all the one thing he¡¯d relied on as a trump card, as an ace in the hole as a final finisher ¨C his magic ¨C had barely been more effective than his dagger. He¡¯d thought that he¡¯d been strong, and while he was objectively unimaginably stronger than he¡¯d been when he started, James had been mowing them down with a smile by the dozens, while he¡¯d needed several shots to take one down. Rationally he knew that it wasn¡¯t that he was weak, but that it was a bad matchup. It still didn¡¯t make the sting to his pride any better. The fact that he should have¡­ could have detected the problem beforehand made it worse.


    Still frustrated at himself, Azrael sat down on the deck, giving himself a few moments to calm down. He let himself slide into [Meditation] the familiar, calming breathing patterns helping release some of his inner tension, while also replenishing his spent mana.


    Azrael pulled in all his other sense, trusting the others to rouse him should they face sudden danger, before slowly letting them expand back out again ¨C focusing solely on the mana around him. Relying purely on his [Mana Sense], he felt the world around him. Mana touched everything. It was in the air, in the water, in the leaves and in the trucks of the trees. Everywhere his [Mana Sense] touched, either side of the river, he could sense it.


    Amongst this diffusion of mana there were eight stars, where mana gathered. Amongst them James was by far the brightest. Azrael ignored them, instead focusing on breathing in the mana around him, drawing it in from the air. He pulled it, gathered it, and funnelled it into his core. There it settled, slowly filling up his reserves.


    He didn¡¯t let it stay there long though, instead letting it flow through him again when he had gathered enough. He cast [Search], letting the net of mana expand outwards. Where it touched other mana it deformed, bouncing away, diffracted, deflected or broken.


    He accepted it as it returned, building a picture of the world around him. Again, he gathered mana, drawing back the metaphorical line, before casting again and again and again. Repeatedly he cast [Search], letting it expand further with every cast, refining the threads of mana that made up the spell and every time gaining greater distance and clarity.


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    He felt something twinge at the edge of his consciousness, but it wasn¡¯t due to [Search] so he let it go. Instead, he repeatedly cast and refined the Skill, confirming that there were no skeletons chasing them or other midnight horrors ready to ambush them. He¡¯d failed to make use of his skillset once. He wouldn¡¯t repeat that mistake again, at least not tonight.


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    Azrael broke two hours¡¯ worth of silence as [Search] finally picked up something suspicious. Only briefly had they stopped rowing to bandage wounds, but otherwise they had continued on. This was the fourth hour since they had escaped the skeletons. Barely anyone had spoken during their brief rest breaks, still high strung from the ambush.


    Now, as he spoke, everyone was immediately on high alert, oars drawn in and swapped out for weapons. There was only the sound of the water lapping on their hull as it quietly carried them downriver. Azrael himself kept his eyes closed, having enough mana to cast a [Search] with [Overcharge]. He never reached that point, before there was a surprised cry from the boat ahead, one of the villagers scrabbling at his face with suddenly bloodied and lacerated fingers.


    In the time it had taken Azrael to open his eyes James had already leapt across the gap between the two wooden boats, narrowly preventing himself from capsizing the smaller craft. The blade came down slashing at the invisible enemy with his blade. The grown man fell to the bottom of the boat clutching his face and sobbing.


    James raised his blade into the night and spoke solemnly, as if issuing a declaration.


    ¡°There is no hope, no light, no life. The end has come.¡±


    He breathed out, letting ghostly veils of cold air drift from his mouth, as his outstretched weapon glowed with a ghostly chill. Azrael felt mana flow in James¡¯ direction and take shape.


    ¡°[Touch of Frost]¡±


    Like watching a timelapse, silver lines of ice spread out from the point of the point of James¡¯ sword Those lines become a dozen, two dozen, one hundred and more, until they covered the entire region spanning the river between the trees.


    Azrael let out [Search], deciding to not [Overcharge] the spell in favour of a faster cast time. It was then, when [Search] came back with multiple responses from within the trees, that Azrael realised it wasn¡¯t a hundred lines of ice that emanated from the sword, but a layer of frost that had spread to cover a hundred hidden threads. He called out the real threat to the others, even as he heard the enraged scurrying of hundreds of chitinous legs.


    ¡°SPIDERS!¡±


    Azrael let a half mad grin slip onto his face, his mana already flowing towards his fingertips as he prepared to cast. He was tired, hungry, slightly motion sick and above all still frustrated about having to run from a fight earlier. He recognised that perhaps he wasn¡¯t in the most stable frame of mind, but he didn¡¯t really care. He was just itching for something to take his frustration out on. Mana swirled and he pulled upon his half-replenished mana pool to fire off the first shot.

 Chapter 131 - And Unwanted Help

    Azrael leapt off the prow of the barge, summoning a swirling vortex of golden flames around him. He¡¯d managed to replenish almost half of his mana since their last fight, or rather their flight.


    The anger and shame of having to run burnt though him, all bundled up in frustration. He¡¯d received four notifications during the last few hours, three for [Search] and one for [Meditation]. The fact that they were first notifications he¡¯d received in a long time just went to show how comfortable he¡¯d gotten with his current strength. And how little he¡¯d done to further his growth since returning. Hadn¡¯t he just complained about his slow growth a few night ago? What had he done about it? Nothing.


    It was perhaps a wake-up call, a reminder for him. James eclipsed him in many ways, while his only point of pride - his magic ¨C  was ineffective in their last battle. His mana pool had not been enough, his spells lacked diversity and a lot of those that he did have lacked the power to actually do anything. In the end they had to flee.


    It all grated at him. Always when he promised to become stronger, always when he thought he¡¯d become stronger, when he felt he¡¯d grown, he became too comfortable, too used to his strength. It was no wonder that The Beast inside of him was laughing right now, straining at its bonds as it sought to take control.


    It promised him power. The power to fight, to protect himself, to protect them both, to protect them all. He was tired, hungry, worn, dirty, his nerves strung high, angry and whatever else. He blamed it on all of those factors and let the chains slip free. It was so much easier. The last thing he did was call out to the expedition as his flames took on the form of a golden spear of fire.


    ¡°Keep Rowing!¡±


    Azrael metaphorically fell into the backseat, as the golden flames around him coalesced into a singular spear of golden flames. His arm launched the blazing projectile down river, [Spear Arts] helping steady the aim.


    The flaming spear cut through the heart of the webs, shattering and melting the ice, sending the fine webs ablaze. Flames raced up webs like fire along a fuse, until nothing remained blocking their way. Spiders fell into the river shrieking, their spun supports burnt away from underneath them. The Beast ignored them, deftly landing on the tip of James¡¯ blade and dancing off into the night. It was a {Predator} and {Protector}. It was finally free; free to fight, to run, to hunt. The spiders were prey and none would deny it.


    Landing on the riverbank, amongst fallen spiders the Beast grabbed the first one that jumped at him, ripping off its two armoured front legs. Its head was the size of his fist, its eight eyes gleaming in the burning remnants of the destroyed webs. It shrieked as he stabbed its own legs through its black carapace. Blue blood sprayed out, coating his hands.


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    A second spider latched itself onto him, sinking its fangs into his left arm. He ripped his grotesque weapons out of the dead spider and plunged one into another offender that tried to do the same, while blocking another two with the one attached to his arm. It cried out as its two kin ripped into it in their frenzy to reach him. It fell shrieking, his blood staining its mouth red. He released his grip on one blood-stained leg, using the remaining one to punish the arachnid for what it had done. Blue and red mixed.


    Across the other shore The Beast saw the other warrior, the one with the large-claw-that-strikes-hard battling against his own horde of foes. It approved. He fought well, without holding back. Most importantly though, he did not interfere with its fight.


    More spiders swarmed towards it, racing across the ground, or leaping down from trees. They never made it, as dozens of thin stone needles lanced out of the ground, piercing through them. They screeched, blue blood rolling out from their wounds. They were not dead, but they would be soon.


    Finally freed from having to stay in the same spot to cast such a spell it burst into movement. Snapping a [Stone Spear] from where it protruded it stabbed through three further arachnids.


    The boats had moved far during the foray and it followed, racing through chitinous bodies. Already the majority of the spiders was targeting the boats, re-weaving their webs across the water in a great net to catch prey. It bared a smile and summoned another globus of fire, unleashing it on the newly constructed webs.


    A second later The Beast dropped through a shadow, dodging a crafty spider that had dropped down from above. As a reward he summoned a [Stone Dagger] and launched it, embedding the blade to its hilt.


    More spiders came, more fell. More bled. He bled. They died. They shrieked in pain. He screamed in defiance, revelling in the battle, even as his left arm went limp. It burned with a thousand molten needles, but The Beast laughed. Its steps faltered, many smaller bites and wounds accumulating, along with the fatigue. It kept on fighting. It had been supressed so long, supressed by fear. Fear of what it was doing, what it could to. Life was so simple. One simply had to stop fearing.


    A spider latched onto his boot, his other foot slipped in a pool of blue blood. He fell, leaves embracing his face. The smell of loam greeted him. A spider dropped on him even as he tried to rise. He pushed it off with his only functioning arm, incinerating it with a blast of gold. His smiled wavered as Azrael began to realise he was reaching his limits. The Beast shrugged it off, grinning. It knew he couldn¡¯t truly die. Death was not the end. He stumbled up, falling into a shadow to avoid the gathering horde that had begun to focus itself on him. Once, twice, thrice he jumped, heading towards the boats.


    The boats themselves were already much farther, past the webs, breaking free of the ambush. Azrael clamped down the urge to turn and fight, realising that he was nearing his end. He ¨C no, The Beast ¨C didn¡¯t want to run away again. The Beast begrudged him, but he pushed it away. With a burst of [Wind] he barely made it to the barge, where James was already resting, his sword pristine, despite the mix of blue and red covering him.


    Dropping down beside him Azrael gave a weary grin, before his whole world dropped into darkness.

 Chapter 132 - A Lesson In Spellcasting

    When Azrael came to again it the sun was already high in the sky. His wounds were healing ¨C faster than was usually humanly possible, but still far too slow for him to be able to move around properly. He felt unwell. Some of it might have been remaining spider poison, some of it was definitely the constant rocking of the boat, and some of it was possibly due to his restless sleep.


    Most of the time he¡¯d been blacked out, Azrael had been¡­ well¡­ blacked out. Here and there though, there had been snippets of memory ¨C Someone screaming, James raising his blade in proclamation, a spider biting him, him cleaving a spider in two, the feel of legs as they scuttled across his body and the feel of him breaking through hard spider carapace like a fist shatters bone.


    He shuddered, leaning over the side of the barge, feeling ill. Fortunately, what little dignity remained to him amongst the crew was retained by him not being violently ill. Trying to find something to distract himself with, Azrael half turned to James.


    ¡°James?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°That ice magic you did? How did you learn that?¡±


    ¡°[Touch of Frost]?¡± James asked, naming the unique ability he¡¯d used earlier.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Azrael still remembered the way the mana had flowed when James had used that ability. It was as if the world was obliging James¡¯ command, helping him ¨C mana feeding in to augment James¡¯ own. It was different to Azrael¡¯s own spellcasting.


    ¡°I learnt it in a blizzard.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    This world had blizzards? It did explain James¡¯ {Frozen Survivor} title, as well as his levels of [Cold Resistance] [Ice Resistance].


    James gained a reminiscent look in his eyes.


    ¡°It wiped out everything else and I decided I liked it, so I picked it up.¡±


    Azrael was now completely turned, looking at James with an incredulous look on his face.


    ¡°You picked up magic from a blizzard. How does that even make sense?¡±


    James just gave him what Azrael was slowly beginning to realise was James¡¯ signature grin for when he was going to say something typically James.


    ¡°I like sword ¨C I pick up sword. I like blizzard ¨C I pick up blizzard.¡±


    Azrael didn¡¯t even pretend to understand. James just did as James did. Sometimes it was best if you didn¡¯t think too hard about it.


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    ¡°I guess you like sounding like a kid with eight-grader syndrome, by chanting like that too?¡±


    ¡°No, that actually makes it stronger. But yes, it is cool.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, of course you¨C ! It makes it stronger?¡±


    James stuck his hand overboard, one finger in the water. With [Mana Sight] Azrael watched mana flow from James¡¯ core to his fingertip. A moment later, small streamers of ice crystalised next to James¡¯ finger, only to be ripped away by the river.


    Next James opened his mouth, solemnly proclaiming words to the river.


    ¡°There is no hope, no light, no life. The end has come.¡±


    Under [Mana Sight], Azrael watched streamers of the world¡¯s mana flow towards James. As if ordered by James¡¯ proclamation it merged with his mana, augmenting it. Mana flowed the fingertip into the water, rapidly cooling, shifting, freezing and ice began to rapidly form. One hand¡¯s width, two, three, four, five. A sheet of ice spread across the surface of the water, spanning five of Azrael¡¯s hands. James removed his finger from the ice sheet, letting it drift away. It smashed against the barge¡¯s hull, shattering into smaller bits. Azrael watched it float away, until it vanished from sight. James settled back down, noticing that Azrael was lost in thought.


    Inside Azrael¡¯s head the gears were whirring in overdrive. There was a way to enhance spells ¨C one that didn¡¯t require extra mana. [Overcharge] was useful, but expensive. Its efficiency also decreased with increased mana charge, giving it a theoretical cap. James¡¯ method was¡­ revolutionary in some ways. The only things he had to figure out was how it worked. James didn¡¯t have a skill that would aid in ¡­ spellcasting? Azrael decided to use that word. Chanting a spell was similar to ¡®traditional¡¯ spellcasting at least.


    The biggest questions were how did it work, followed closely by was it exclusive to James, his unique ability or maybe to unique abilities in general.


    Azrael summoned a wisp of flame, watching his mana trail from his core to his fingertips. It was wholly his own mana. The heat it gave off affected the surrounding mana, giving off both heat and light mana, while also setting wind mana into motion from the resultant rising heat. Other than that there was little to no interaction between the surrounding ambient mana and his. He twirled his finger, creating a mana loop, where fire mana fed into fire mana. He shut off his connection to it, watching it burn on its own until eventually it burnt out. He smiled. The mana loop was a trick he¡¯d picked up from the walls in Nova Lux. It was handy, but still not what he was looking for.


    Azrael pictured James raising his sword. His solemn words echoing in the night.


    ¡°There is no hope, no light, no life. The end has come.¡±


    Then, the way the mana rushed to meet his own, as if following his order, as if eager to fulfil his¡­ intent. Intent!


    Azrael thought back to one of his first breakthroughs in understanding skills and magic at the start of the game. The system recognised action and intent. Memories of spearfishing and crying out spell names came back to. He smiled. It felt so long ago and so much had changed since then. The system, however, was still the same. Action and intent. What he did, how much he did it and what he was trying to achieve.


    His action was casting the spell. His intent was¡­ also casting the spell. How he cast it? What he was casting? Summoning a [Fire Bullet] and chanting an ice related chant probably wasn¡¯t going to do anything, since his action and intent didn¡¯t match up¡­ would it.


    Azrael raised a hand, letting mana flow into it. He stirred it up, feeling it warm up. Under his breath he slowly began to chant.


    ¡°There is no hope, no light, no life. The end has come.¡±


    Mana burst into flame. Warm, hot, bright, golden, shining flame. It danced and it sparked. Yep. Nope. Didn¡¯t work.


    James burst out laughing and Azrael¡¯s head snapped up, finding James with his eyes twinkling with mirth.


    Right there and then Azrael wished he could just shrink into himself.

 Chapter 133 - Poetry and Spellcasting

    Instead of spending the rest of their journey hanging over the edge of the boat feeling sick, Azrael devoted himself to the single simple task of poetry ¨C or rather formulating a chant for one of his favourite spells ¨C [Fire Bullet]. He was, however, very careful to not allow anybody to hear what exactly he was saying, but from some of the glances he was getting they probably all thought of him as a mad man muttering under his breath. At least they were all good enough to generally leave him alone.


    ¡°¡­ blazing and¡­no. Ugh.¡±


    Azrael revised his phrasing for the x hundredth time. It just wasn¡¯t quite flowing how he wanted.


    Originally, he¡¯d tried just using some generic phrasing, before he¡¯d considered the imagery for [Touch of Frost]. James had picked a very specific aspect of ice ¨C its deadliness. The image was of a world so completely frozen that nothing could grow. It was a world devoid of anything that could produce heat or light ¨C no sun, no fire ¨C no hope of surviving. It was the end. It was absolute zero. His [Firebullet] was a bright, flashy projectile.


    At the beginning he¡¯d considered dragon¡¯s breath, meteors, shooting stars and a whole host of other ideas, but none of them seemed to fit. In the end he¡¯d tried to decide on aspects that he wanted to include, jut like [Touch of Frost] had its own. The three he had were; ¡®fire¡¯ (obviously), ¡®flying true¡¯ and ¡®pierce¡¯. The last one was more of a test on whether he could get the system to ¡®imbue¡¯ an additional aspect into his spell.


    ¡°Heed me¡­ no¡­fly fast? Strike fast?... uh¡­ burn¡­ burning? Burning bright?... blaze and burn?¡±


    Azrael scratched the side of his head, chewing on the side of his lip as he considered.


    ¡°Come forth and burn bright¡­ nope. Definitely not. Uh¡­ Bippity, boppity, boo. Fire bullet, I choose you!¡±


    He sighed. Nothing was really ¡®clicking¡¯. Bullet was a hard word to rhyme with, as was pierce. If there were words, then he couldn¡¯t recall them. He decided to drop pierce. [Fire Bullet] was more of an impact spell anyways. Keeping a chant short was better in combat situations anyways.


    There was one intro that he was sort of fond of though. He felt it just rolled off the tongue.


    ¡°Know my name, hear my call¡­¡± he tried thinking of what might come next ¡°Uh¡­ Know my name, hear my call, Burn strong, burn bright¡­ nope.¡±


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    Should he just use the one he¡¯d made earlier? He tested it out.


    ¡°Hear me and heed me, born of blazing fire, let everyone fear me, pierce like a bullet ¨C Fire bullet¡±


    No. Still a no. There was no rhythm, nothing.


    He collapsed against the ship¡¯s side in despair. How hard could it be? Should he just do a James? No rhyming or anything. He imagined himself pointing his finger at an opponent.


    ¡°You fill burn, you will suffer, you will die in hell ¨C fire bullet.¡±


    ¡°Hell on earth, burning purgatory ¨C fire bullet.¡±


    ¡°Be cleansed in flame ¨C fire bullet.¡±


    No, no and no. None of it gelled. There was no theatre, no drama. A fireball was basically the smallest derivative of a games¡¯ most powerful creature¡¯s ability ¨C dragon breath. There was a level of standard that needed to be uphel¡­ wait? Fireball? At the edge of his consciousness he felt something tapping him on the shoulder.


    Suddenly, Azrael felt something stood up in a flash of clarity. Something fell over and he heard someone curse close by, buy he didn¡¯t want to lose the moment.


    He raised a finger, pointing it towards the sky in proclamation.


    ¡°Know my name, hear my call, burn bright, fly fast, [Fireball]¡±


    Nothing happened and for a moment everyone held their breath. There was nothing. Why didn¡¯t¡­ oh¡­ Azrael spoke again, this time forcing his intent upon the world.


    ¡°Know my name¡­¡±


    There was a sudden twist in the air, his voice taking on another tone. Despite his voice seemingly still sounding the same, there was a resonance with the world around him.


    ¡°¡­hear my call, burn bright, fly fast.¡±


    [Fireball]


    The world responded. He felt it shift, he felt the mana around him move to accommodate his request. It accumulated at a single point, struggling with the immensity of his image, with the intent hidden beneath those simple words ¨C power and fire.


    The mana bubbled and boiled, it shifted and it roiled and in a single moment it ignited ¨C sending a second small sun roaring into the sky. Gold flames burn against the blue sky, blindingly bright and blisteringly hot. Like a comet, it raced upwards with great force, as if to challenge the sun. By the time it vanished, everyone on the expedition was trying to blink spots out of their eyes.


    Azrael had spoken and the world had responded.


    He grinned, finding a new skill add itself to his [Status]


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For vocalising your intention to the world, while spellcasting, you have gained the skill [Chanting]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Chanting]


    My words are my will.


    You are able to better manifest a spell, by properly vocalising your intent to the world.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>

 Chapter 134 - Treasure At The End

    Everyone on the expedition felt their eyes drawn upwards by the roaring ball of golden fire. Someone whistled. It was big, bright, hot and above all extremely powerful. Eventually it died out, its mana expended. A momentary hush fell over the group, broken only when James clapped a hand on Azrael¡¯s shoulder. Azrael staggered, his knees threatening to give away, his collarbone groaning from the pressure.


    ¡°I knew you could do it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks¡±


    ¡°Fight me¡±


    ¡°No¡±


    James grinned broadly.


    ¡°Ice against fire. Will be good fight.¡±


    ¡°No¡±


    ¡°Then later.¡±


    A polite cough from beside them interrupted the two and Azrael found a dwarf standing beside them. The dwarf looked at him with respect, awe and a bit of a stink eye.


    For a moment Azrael looked at him blankly, before realising that earlier, when something was tapping him on the shoulder it wasn¡¯t metaphorical, but quite literally this dwarf trying to get his attention.


    ¡°My Lord, it seems we have arrived at the end of the journey, unless you wish to continue?¡±


    Azrael turned to the front of the boat and saw that the dwarf was right. The river ended. Not literally, but figuratively. The singular river highway they had followed up until now split into hundreds of smaller branches, enveloping marshy islands growing tall with reeds. The river had become a swamp. To the west the ever-present mountains met the endless swamp in domineering cliffs.


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    ¡°Charming¡± Azrael commented.


    ¡°I wonder if there¡¯s anything worth fighting in there?¡± James asked, as conversation started back up amongst the expedition. Some were still putting away weapons that they¡¯d drawn when Azrael had suddenly stood up.


    Azrael wasn¡¯t particularly inclined to find out, but apparently Durkov thought differently, steering the barge into the largest channel with a weary grin.


    ¡°Only one way to find out.¡± The dwarf said with a grin.


    Durkov, it seemed, had taken Azrael¡¯s silence as permission to do as he chose. Azrael didn¡¯t comment. Afterall, he was just piggybacking off of their expedition.


    Ten minutes in and Azrael was regretting not saying something. It stunk. Honestly, he¡¯d expected swarms of insects to be the most annoying thing that they¡¯d encounter, though images of giant mosquitoes, submerged vine monsters and hostile lizard people did cross his mind.


    Instead, it was the peaty smell of decomposing reeds and plant matter that got him. Monsters he could handle. They would at least take his mind off his ever-present motion sickness. Instead, the nauseating smell only compounded to make his situation worse. Rotten eggs was the closest smell he could think of, but even that didn¡¯t fit quite right.


    There was a rustle to their left, the reeds bending unnaturally. Azrael held his breath, silently signalling to James and one of the other dwarves. They readied their weapons.


    The movement paused, before there was a quiet *plop* sound, halfway between a wet squelch and a bubble popping. The movement continued, bending reeds as it slowly made its way towards them. James stabbed his massive sword into the marshy island, pushing the barge a little further away. The movement paused, taking a second, then resuming again. Azrael thought he saw something green, though whether that was the green reeds, the green grass that grew on the marshy islands, or a green hostile opponent he wasn¡¯t sure. It was too small to be a lizardman, so he imagined a poison wielding marsh goblin slowly trying to sneak up on them.


    The reeds parted and he held his breath, ready to strike.


    With a final roll and a wet squelch a gelatinous mass of murky green gently rolled itself out of the reed. James brought down his blade.


    ¡°WAIT!¡±


    Solid metal and pure force were stopped dead, mere centimetres from the top of the creature¡¯s head.


    ¡°We¡¯re keeping it¡± Azrael proclaimed as he beheld the glorious sight. The others gave him quizzical looks, while the expedition members on the other boats had all risen, weapons raised and were wondering what was going on. Azrael didn¡¯t care, his gaze focussed purely on what was in front of him.


    It was a slime!

 Chapter 135 - Homeward Bound

    Come evening, Azrael and the rest of the expedition found themselves once more homeward bound ¨C though currently camped on the riverbank for the night. Beside him the slime was happily feasting on plant matter that littered the forest floor.


    ¡°You sure you want to keep that?¡± James asked, handing Azrael a hot skewer.


    ¡°It¡¯s cute!¡± Azrael answered defensively, accepting his dinner.


    James made a noncommittal sound, settling himself in beside Azrael. His greatsword was on the ground beside him. In fact, everyone in the party had their weapons close by. Though they hadn¡¯t encountered any further troubles as they headed down river, everyone was tense when they were camped on unfamiliar ground.


    Azrael shifted, moving a stick away that poked into his backside. After the night raid by the skeletons they had lost their bedrolls, their supplies and most of their cooking gear. Hunting was a good way to replenish their supplies, but they rarely stopped on shore long enough to hunt properly. Their supply of seasonings had also been lost to them, leaving whatever flavour they had in their meals to Kaira and her [Field Chef] class.


    It meant that evenings were tense, food was bland and occasionally meagre. Coupled with the increased strain of now having to row back upstream, Azrael felt that it was more of a slog than an adventure now. Still, they made better progress than he had thought they would. Having strong dwarves and hunters man the oars made a big difference.


    Finishing his last bite Azrael chucked the wooden skewer at the slime and rolled over to sleep. James likewise finished, but rose instead to take first watch. Azrael¡¯s watch was in the early morning and he planned to get as much sleep as possible. If the hard forest floor allowed him too, that was. Eyes closed, he fell asleep to the sounds of fire crackling, hushed voices and an inquisitive slime exploring a skewer stick.


    Morning came with the sound birdsong, as Azrael stood on watch. He and¡­ uh¡­ one of the villagers, whose name Azrael had either forgotten or never learnt, were on duty, though James¡¯ snoring had probably scared off any creature that was in the vicinity. Somehow the dwarves slept through it, though Kaira and Rudy were awake and once more stoking the fire.


    Suddenly Azrael felt an intense spike of almost wild panic surge through his link, sending him stumbling to his knees. Whatever Alena was feeling it was overwhelming, causing him to have a physical response. The panic redoubled, coupled by extreme feelings of hopelessness and fear. It was the kind of fear that paralysed, freezing the breath in his lungs.


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    Then, they heard it ¨C The roar.


    It was far, far away, but the dragon¡¯s roar still carried with it the threatening rumble of power and dominance. Azrael felt it resonate in his heart, even his mana responding. He wasn¡¯t the only one. Kaira and Rudy froze. The dwarves woke, eyes wide in panic and James¡­ James was somehow already awake, his sword gripped in both hand and its blade coated in a deadly pale blue light.


    Hearts hammered, breaths were short and weapons were raised. For several minutes they stood there, still and silent like statues, before Azrael felt relief flood through Alena¡¯s link, relieving much of his tension. He sent reassurance through the link, distant though she was. All he got in return was worry, gratitude and resolve. Whatever had happened it was most likely sudden and overwhelming, but she was alive. For now.


    Azrael made a decision.


    ¡°To the boats. Now.¡±


    Everyone scrambled to the boats, gathering what few items they had onshore. Kaira kicked dirt onto the fire that she had just stoked, but James simply froze it. Everyone rushed to the boats, setting out all oars. It was only by stroke of luck that Azrael remembered to pick up their newest crew member ¨C the slime. He scooped up the gelatinous mass, throwing him into the barge, before helping push the large craft off the riverbank into the water. Despite the hurry that everyone was in it all seemed too slow to Azrael.


    The feeling pervaded the rest of the day, although Azrael could see everyone doing their best. The pace was faster, the rests shorter and conversation was short or clipped. Still, it wasn¡¯t enough. When one of the villagers that was manning one of the smaller boats began to flag and they had to slow to swap him over with a dwarf Azrael almost snapped. Slow. It was all too slow. He was restless. His mana was useless in speeding up the craft and all he could do was swap out as a spare rower.


    Inside of him The Beast was equally restless, pacing in time with his heartbeats. Its home was under attack, Alena had been in danger and who knew what had happened to the rest of the villagers. The dragon had attacked the village and he hadn¡¯t been there. Unfortunately, he wasn¡¯t close enough for [Lord¡¯s Domain]. While he was {Lord of the End Forest} and it was unbroken forest from the village to here, the system didn¡¯t seem to acknowledge this section as under his control.


    All in all Azrael found himself constantly tense. Tense, restless and extremely irritable. When they finally saw the great billows of smoke, what little veneer of control he had vanished. The entire horizon on their way home was covered in great billows of grey smoke.


    Azrael addressed the expedition, exercising his right as Lord. His sentences were terse and clipped.


    ¡°James. With me. The rest of you, ditch the boats, ride the barge.¡±


    All of them would fit into the barge and more oars would make them travel faster. It would also allow for two oar teams, so they could travel without needing to stop.


    Azrael hopped off the boat, landing on the riverbank. James landed beside him with a heavy thud. Behind them the expedition regarded them with grim faces. Nobody said a word.


    Azrael exhaled.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡±

 Chapter 136 - Where Theres Smoke

    ¡°Rise up and bear me, far and wide, veiled and gyres.¡±  [Wind Stride].


    Azrael reapplied the small vortexes of [Wind] to his feet. With [Chanting] what had simply been an ad hoc solution to Sophie¡¯s [Wind Mage] speed buff was now an extremely powerful movement spell. The small vortices of wind, which previously had occasional streamers of [Wind] drift out of his control, now swirled focused and controlled under his feet. It was like going from gel jogging shoes to jet thrusters.


    [Chanting] not only made the spell more economical ¨C mana wise ¨C but also made it efficient. Azrael kicked off, marvelling at the massive increase in both speed and jumping power. The only problem was that [Wind Stride] wasn¡¯t exactly a subtle spell. Due to the increased force of the [Wind] around his feet, every step sent leaves, sticks and loose dirt flying.


    Behind him James was only just barely managing to keep up, making Azrael concede that perhaps there was a second problem and that Sophie¡¯s buff was superior for groups. He still hadn¡¯t figured out how to anchor the spell to somebody, without it needing him to control it. [Chanting] made it require less concentration, with the system using his intent to shape and control a part of it, but it was a spell not a buff. At this point though? Azrael honestly didn¡¯t care. His priority was Alena and the village. If James fell behind, so be it. He would arrive at some point, at which point either Azrael and the village were alive, or they were all dragon food.


    The worst part though was that Azrael couldn¡¯t use [Shadow Step], due to the sun¡¯s position. The already setting sun cast shadows towards the east, while he was running south. It made entering and exiting any shadow extremely awkward, though he still used some of the larger ones, weaving through them like a dolphin.


    Night fell and Azrael kept going. His mana pool was already spent several times over, replenished through [Meditation] and short breaks. Mainly he¡¯d been relying on simply his physical strength and some deliberate use of [Footwork]. Though Mors¡¯ skill was more suited for smaller, more precise movements, he¡¯d been butchering it for speed. His current lack of mana meant that he wasn¡¯t able to use [Wind Stride] to propel his journey. This in turn gave James a chance to catch up ¨C just in time for the two of them to charge through a bunch of spiders.


    A few survivors had been working on re-weaving their webs across the water, though their numbers were far fewer than they had been. Azrael torched them. It wouldn¡¯t do for Durkov and the others to be caught without them.


    He mildly regretted leaving them, but rationalised it against protecting the village. It was flimsy logic he knew, but it was either that or let guilt plague him. At least his link told him that Alena was alive.


    On and off during the day he¡¯d had various emotional spikes from her. Shock, resolve, determination, worry, angst, she¡¯d experienced it all, sending their emotional link for a roller-coaster ride. He¡¯d tried to dampen their link a bit, sending reassurance whenever her panic spiked. He never completely shut off the link, worried that something might happen while he did. His worry might have bled over, because at those times Alena would send a brief pulse of reassurance, before some new worry of her own sent her thoughts and emotions into renewed turmoil.


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    Halfway through the night Azrael could smell it ¨C the acrid scent of smoke, carried on the wind. His legs were burning, as were his lungs. His mana pool felt strained by the amount of times he¡¯d refilled it. It was a novel, but extremely uncomfortable, experience.


    Beside him James wasn¡¯t faring much better, the usually stoic warrior was huffing and panting like he¡¯d just run a marathon, which ¨C to be fair ¨C he had. That and then some¡­ and then some more. They both had.


    ¡°Break¡± Azrael called, while slowing down.


    James didn¡¯t respond, instead simply slumping against the nearest tree. Azrael could relate. He could barely feel his legs and his own breath was coming out in gasps.


    ¡°We gonna kill the dragon?¡± James asked after a long pause.


    Azrael¡¯s mouth became a thin line, his lips white, as he considered the implication.


    ¡°If we have to.¡± He replied in an almost detached manner. He was mentally exhausted, having to juggle between [Wind Stride], [Shadow Step], navigating the forest, dodging trees and monitoring Alena¡¯s mental state through their link. In all honesty though, between the destruction of the village and killing the dragon, there was little to consider.


    James nodded, as if Azrael had simply commented on the state of the weather.


    ¡°You¡¯re insane. I like you.¡±


    Azrael didn¡¯t comment, his mind becoming more active, as he considered the implications. To kill a dragon would be¡­ Azrael wasn¡¯t even sure what it would be, let alone how to go about it. The idea had always been there since he¡¯d gone to search for it with Sophie. No, it was there even longer ¨C right from the moment he¡¯d first laid eyes on the powerful monster. The task simply seemed¡­ impossible. Any plan that he could come up with required preprepared tactics, items and time to set up. None of which he could prepare before he got to the village.


    Azrael mentally shook himself.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡±


    It was a problem for later.


    Almost an entire day later the two of them stood side by side.


    ¡°That looks like a problem.¡± James commented.


    Azrael could only agree, as he called upon [Lord¡¯s Domain]. The two of them had finally entered the range of what the system considered to be under Azrael¡¯s control.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Lord¡¯s Domain]


    The people are a lord¡¯s power.


    This skill provides you with a passive, low level awareness of your domain.


    Current Additional benefits:


    <u>Harrowed:</u> Everyone in your domain has experienced great trauma. Productivity will be strongly decreased.


    <u>Frightened</u>: All your people have their confidence greatly decreased.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael¡¯s lips thinned to a narrow line, as he considered the message. For people to be frightened and traumatised they needed to be alive. A small blessing. His lips twisted into a crooked grin. ¡®additional benefits¡¯ indeed. At least the system had humour.


    He looked up. Ahead of them, the sky was gray, covered in smoke and illuminated by the red glow of fire. It seemed that within the next hour Azrael would discover the fate of the village.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

 Chapter 137 - Theres Fire

    Azrael raced towards the village, dreading the worst as he neared the village. The air was visibly tinged white-gray, while flakes of ash gently raining down in a mockery of snow. It was hard to breath, the smell of smoke overpowering all else, filling his lungs and leaving him short of breath. From ahead shouts and screams could be heard, carrying across the lake, only to be lost amongst the many trees of the forest. Azrael redoubled his pace, weary though he was. Behind him James stalwartly followed.


    There was a red glow above the tree line and red gold sparks raced towards the heavens like angry bees. Struggling to breath Azrael gave a final push, breaking into the land that had been cleared for fields around the village.


    It was chaos, but at least it wasn¡¯t hell. Not quite, anyways.


    Some trees were ablaze, their leaves dried by the long summer, burning with hungry flames. Sparks floated down into underbrush, igniting similarly dry bushes and a carpet of early autumn leaves. The village was mostly intact, though the air was stiflingly hot and hard to breath.


    Some Bulla were loose in the village, trampling fields, fences and anyone who stood in the way of their panic. Out in the fields villagers were digging firebreaks with hoes and spades and picks, ruining almost harvestable crops in the hope of saving their village. Behind them, in the distance, great billows of white-gray smoke rose up to smother the heavens, blocking out the sky and making the air hard to breath.


    The plains were on fire. The entire tree line to the west was awash with a red glow, blazing sparks dancing in columns of hot air, which carried flame and smoke upwards.


    James crashed through the tree line behind him, collapsing onto his knees. Azrael left him an strode towards the village. Any other situation and he might have allowed himself to feel some smugness as seeing James¡¯ infallible stoicism to hardship falter.


    In the village men women and children were all shouting to be heard above the terrible crackling of fire. Some had cloth bound over their mouths and noses, others carried buckets, pots or bowls of water ¨C anything that could carry water, in the slim hope of dowsing stray flames. They splashed the forest, the fields, their houses and in some cases each other.


    As much as Azrael wished to check on Elana, he realised that the priority at this moment was protecting the village and all its inhabitants. Crossing the fields, Azrael walked towards the largest of outbreaks, one which threatened to jump from the forest to one of the nearby houses, simply due to its sheer size. As he neared it, he reached into his meagre mana pool, drawing out and shaping his mana. He felt for the feel of water mana, letting his mana flow between his hands as he shaped it.


    He frowned as he neared the blaze, sidestepping a villager that had just emptied a bucket of water onto the flames. Not only was it hot here, his clothes visibly heating up, but the bucket had barely made a dent in the total flames. Still, he had to try.


    With a flick of his wrists he cast out his mana, like a fisherman casting a net.


    ¡°Dowse, drown, dampen, extinguish ¨C [Water Net]¡±


    Thick tendrils of [Water] flew out, seeking to cover and extinguish the blistering flames. Some mana flowed into his spell from the surroundings, but barely bolstered his already underpowered spell. Whether it was due to him lacking conviction when [Chanting], or the lack of ambient water mana in the currently fire mana saturated environment, he wasn¡¯t sure.


    As it was, the majority of the [Water] was evaporated by the heat of the flames, before it landed. There was a massive hiss and sizzle, with steam exploding upwards. The spell had been far from enough to put out the blaze, but it was enough to lower the amount from threatening to merely concerning.


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    At another section of the field, James was also trying to help. Frost covered a part of the field, spreading out and climbing across burning leaves, bushes and trees. However, even as he watched Azrael saw the edges melt, turning into steam. The fire was slowed, but not overly impeded ¨C merely delayed. James also seemed to realise the problem, changing tactic.


    Moving his massive blade to one side, Azrael watched as James¡¯ sword gained a light blue aura. With a mighty bellow James swung his sword, in a massive feat of impossible strength. A crescent of blue energy burst out, drawing an arc that flew through the forest. Wind roared in its after wake and trees cracked as they were suddenly bisected. Fire was whipped out of existence by the pure force of the wind and a moment later five trees toppled over.


    There was a small cheer and the defenders rushed to put out flames in other areas. Only Azrael and James were left to watch as the sparks that had been thrown up with the sudden wind came falling back down, landing on the extinguished trees and coaxing new flames. It was an uphill battle, without end or victory in sight. Looking at the rest of the village Azrael considered calling everyone to abandon the village and head for the lake. His side of the lake was still free of flames. Some things would be lost, but the people would be safe.


    But, even as he watched, he saw the villagers struggle to protect their village. They doused their houses, called to their fellow villagemen and rushed about the fields. Azrael had a brief moment of realisation as he watched. It was their village. Their fields. If they retreated he wouldn¡¯t lose anything. They would lose everything.


    A ¡®boom¡¯ exploded to his left and Azrael spun around startled, watching as chunks of sod, rock and dirt flew into the flames at the forest¡¯s edge ¨C smothering them. James¡¯ blade was once more glowing light blue, a crater at his feet. With a second swing more earth went flying, extending the crater. No, Azrael realised as he watched James and the villagers in the fields working together. Not crater ¨C firebreak. There was no way to stop flames from jumping, but they could stop the fire from spreading along the ground. By now all the houses were properly doused, their wood and thatch rooves soaked and steaming in the ever increasing heat.


    Azrael wiped away sweat and turned to the ground in front of him. He was out of mana and there were no hoes. Still, he turned to the best tool he currently had ¨C magic.


    Extending out a tiny tendril of all the mana that he could muster, he sent it into the ground before him, letting [Mana Sight] fill his vision. He often had it toggled on, but held at extremely low strength. Now, he let it fill his vision properly.


    Fire mana was dominant, the trees blazing with it, while tendrils of fire mana danced through the air, heating up the surrounds. Light mana clung closely to the fire mana, but gently suffused everything and eroding the darkness that nightfall was bringing with it. Azrael ignored it, just as he ignored the fleeting water mana in the forest¡¯s trees. All he focused on was the earth mana in the ground.


    He manoeuvred his tendril of mana through it, feeling it, sensing how it bound itself with the dirt, rocks and soil. Just like fire was more than fire mana and light was more than simply light mana, all the earth below him was more than simply earth mana. But despite all that they were linked ¨C inexplicably bound together. He had seen it when Elena had used her [Shadow Cloak]. The shadow mana hadn¡¯t created shadows, it had drawn them to her, cloaking her in them.


    Azrael continued searching, feeling a growing pressure. He wiped sweat out of his eyes, moved his sweat soaked hair away from his face and briefly frowned hen he touched his face. It was almost too hot too touch. Around him others worked. Someone hurried past, dousing him in water and he watched steam come off his clothes. Elsewhere, James swung his blade again, extending the firebreak and smothering the flames with dirt. People shouted, cussed and dug ¨C Together.


    Something clicked. Azrael wouldn¡¯t have been able to say what it was, but there was some fundamental change in how he viewed mana, even if it was at a subconscious level. A blue screen flicked into existence, dismissed before he even looked at it. No time. With a flex of his mana and an almost physical heave with his muscles he manipulated a chunk of earth far larger than his mana should have allowed him. With a grunt he ripped it free, forcing it towards the forest. His control was crude, but with great satisfaction he watched it rip itself out of the earth, building a wall against the flames and leaving behind a hollowed-out ditch for the firebreak. Sinking in another tendril of barely recovered mana Azrael repeated the process.


    For the rest of the night Azrael and the others toiled amidst blazing flames and night-spun darkness.


    When dawn came, Azrael found himself atop of a partially intact wall, his voice ringing across the mostly intact village with conviction.


    ¡°I will SLAY THE DRAGON!!!¡±

 Chapter 138 - Procalamation Of A Hunt

    The night was long, perhaps the longest that Azrael could remember. There was fire, flames, darkness, shouting, screams and heat. So much heat. At some point his actions became rote memory, repeating themselves over and over again, as he struggled to continue in the seemingly eternal hellish loop.


    Over and over he raised and ripped earth from the ground, building the firebreak. Occasionally, when he had gathered enough mana he would try to summon water to douse larger blazes, errant field fires or the occasional house that had dried out in the heat and caught alight. Once he even had to douse a villager who¡¯s clothes were burning.


    His lips dried and cracked, the saliva in his mouth dried out, making it harder to breath. Elena visited him twice, bringing water. As relieved as he was to see her, they didn¡¯t have time to talk. There were more pressing problems.


    At some point villagers began to falter, collapsing in exhaustion. Some shed tears seeing their crops and houses burn. Others were too dehydrated to even shed tears, staring lost into the flames. Even James faltered, his sword¡¯s aura flickering, faltering and finally falling away. He continued on, working side by side with dwarves to try and alleviate the areas where exhausted villagers fell away.


    On and on they worked. On and on the night went. On and on they despaired. And amidst it all Azrael felt an endless anger well up. When dawn came, Azrael looked at the charred and smouldering remnants of the forest and village.


    The forest was smouldering, the ground cover was burnt away leaving ash covered ground. The trees were black, thin streamers of smoke rising from cracks in the charcoal. Tongues of flame still snapped at the air, here and there, as if tasting for more food. Some patches of trees still stood covered in green gold foliage, saved from the fire by some miracle. In the far distance Azrael could see billows of grey smoke, where the grass fires on the plain still burnt.


    He turned his gaze to the village, taking in the damage. The crops were as good as gone, the bullas had knocked down fences in their frenzy to escape the flames. Some houses had sustained damage, either from animals ramming into them in frenzy, or from errant fires started from drifting sparks. The air itself was heavy with smoke, the sky red with the first morning light. And in the center of it all, his statue stood alone and aloof, one hand pointing to the sky, the other to the village, as if to proclaim that this was heaven had allotted to them ¨C that this destruction was its gift to them. In the background the waterfall roared its displeasure.


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    Azrael listened to its roar, feeling it answer something inside of him, something that burned deep within himself, something that had slumbered and had awoken now anew, called forth by the destruction and fire. In the far distance Azrael heard a roar from the mountains. He felt his face twist into a grimace. He strode towards the village and a few weary face turning to look at him, their eyes dull and their faces covered in soot, dust and ash. These were people who had lost everything and then lost everything again. These were his people.


    He took one shuddering breath ¨C steadying himself ¨C and pushed his own weary and dust covered body onto a topped stone wall, because despite everything that had happened he saw these people still held onto something ¨C hope. Hope in him. Hope in their Lord. It hurt. He felt he had done nothing for them, nothing to deserve this amount of trust in him. Perhaps it was time he started.


    ¡°People. MY PEOPLE!!¡±


    A few heads turned.


    ¡°Tonight was long.¡± He paused, looking at the faces of the gathering crowd ¡°We have lost much. Our village lies broken, our fields and forest burnt. Many of you came here with nothing. Many of you have already lost much before coming here. And once again the heavens have sought to rob you.¡±


    Most of the village had gathered by now, dusty, tired, dehydrated and broken. Some were held by other, some supported each other. Others sat on the ground, too tired to even stand. Many eyes were blank, but in a few Azrael saw hope and in some he saw blossoming sparks of anger.


    ¡°All of you came here in the hopes of escape, of freedom, of safety. Others may claim that it is because you were weak, that you were running from the past.¡± He paused, watching eyes widen in realisation, turn to shame and then blaze with anger.


    ¡°But last night you have proven that you are not afraid! That you are not weak! Each and everyone of you have fought for your village against an unslayable foe. And! Against all odds ¨C you have prevailed. This village stands, here and now, because of you! Because of your efforts, because of your friends¡¯, your neighbours¡¯.¡±


    Azrael watched anger fade to pride. Heads lifted, blank faces had the corners of their mouths uplifted and eyes no longer blankly stared at the ground.


    ¡°WE will rebuild this village! Because it is our village! It is the village of survivors, of warriors. Beyond the plains they will spread stories. ¡®Did you hear about that village?¡¯ They will say. ¡®What village?¡¯ another might ask. ¡®The village that fought against a dragon¡¯s flames and SURVIVED!!!¡±


    There was a loud cheer, from the crowd. Hope and pride shone from dusty faces in full force. Azrael smiled, watching a new life breath into the hearts of the villagers. They had direction again, a will. Now it was time for him to play his part, both as a player and a Lord.


    ¡°BUT¡± people stilled ¡°As your Lord, I cannot allow this to happen again. So long as the dragon lives, we will live in its shadow ¨C in fear that it will once again take what we have worked for.¡±


    People stilled, mid jubilation.


    ¡°So¡­¡± Azrael smiled mirthlessly ¡°I will SLAY THE DRAGON!!!¡±


    The cheering redoubled, James¡¯ roar drowning out all other.

 Chapter 139 - Why Bandits? Where Dragon?

    ¡°Yer valuables, or yer life!¡± the bandit cried, pointing his sword at Azrael and James.


    The two of them had left the village as soon as they could, taking only the bare traveling essentials. Alena had wanted to come along, as had a few villagers, but Azrael had refused. They were now probably still fixing the aftermaths of the fire.


    As for the two for them, he and James had been making good time along the route he and Sophie had taken seemingly a lifetime ago. They had avoided the scorched plains, travelling through the forest. Occasionally they would have to either make a detour, or charge through flame covered forest. This happened often enough that Azrael gained another two levels in one of his newest Skills ¨C [Heat Resistance] He had earnt one skill and two resistances to be exact, during the fight against the wildfire.


    His [Heat Resistance] was currently at level 13, its level having skyrocketed after a night fighting the forest fire. It was still nowhere near the 21 levels in [Heat Resistance] that James had shown on his Status. How he had gotten his that high was a mystery to Azrael. Azrael¡¯s [Fire Resistance], however, had passed James¡¯, sitting at level 7. Both of James¡¯ resistance had probably grown during the fire though, so he was probably still behind.


    That being said, his most important gain was neither of those two. Amidst the chaos of the night, with barely any mana, Azrael had been forced to stretch the limits of what he thought possible with magic, uniting his own mana pool with the mana around him.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Mana Mastery]


    Many learn magic, few master it.


    You are able to use all forms of mana.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    [Mana Mastery] had replaced both [Mana Manipulation] and [Mana Control] in his [Status], uniting the two of them into something greater. The levels from both skills had been subsumed into [Mana Mastery], but [Mana Mastery]¡¯s level only reached 5. The Skill¡¯s low level, as well as its lackluster description might have disappointed some, but Azrael could feel the Skill¡¯s potential.


    ¡°I SAID YER VALUABLES, OR YER LIFE!!¡±


    The shouting voice broke Azrael out of his musings. He¡¯d sort of dismissed the bandit, expecting James to take care of it. Two more bandits stood behind their leader uncertain. Azrael turned to James, finding the big man deep in consideration.


    ¡°You not going to take care of it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to decided.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Does my sword count as a valuable?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know? Probably?¡±


    Azrael watched the big man, unsure why he wasn¡¯t just swinging his sword at them. That¡¯s how he¡¯d dealt with the last ¡°bandit¡± that they had come across. One menacing swing of the sword and the lone highway robber had scampered back into the forest.


    Azrael looked behind them, the long trail of dirt road carving through the trees ¨C back the way they had come. Obviously, the countless caravans of travelling users that he and James had seen crossing the plains had passed this way ¨C if the deep ruts in the ground were anything to go by. Azrael wasn¡¯t sure why they were all heading this way, but he thought he had a suspicion. At least the road made it easier to travel.


    Azrael looked up, finding the bandit leader practically pulling his hair out in frustration, as James continued his musings. He was however, too afraid to actually attack the big man. To be fair, James did make a pretty imposing sight.


    In the end James figured out how to resolve his dilemma.


    ¡°Do you want the sword?¡± he asked the bandit.


    ¡°Yes. YES. Yes!¡±


    At this point the bandit leader was almost at a breaking point. Azrael doubted that anyone had humiliated this man as badly as James. Not only was James not cowering, he was barely even paying attention to the man, or the sword pointed at his face.


    James nodded, lifting his sword, as if to give it to the man. Then, after a brief moment of reconsideration he casually threw it. The sword travelled a casual arc in the air, belying its enormous weight. The bandit leader realised far too late and didn¡¯t even have enough time to turn to flee, before the mass of metal smashed into him. Sword and man both went down and Azrael heard a sickening crunch.


    The remaining two bandits drew their weapon, pointing them at James.


    James shrugged, the very picture of innocence.


    ¡°He asked for it.¡±


    A moment later his coin pouch went sailing through the air, striking one of the remaining bandits. The man went down without a sound, the pouch letting out a muffled jingle when it landed.


    Realising that he was completely outmatched, the remaining bandit began to run. James checked his body, trying to find something else valuable. When he didn¡¯t he turned to Azrael with a big grin and a twinkle in his eye. Azrael learnt just how quickly the big man could move, again, when he was picked up and thrown at the final bandit.


    ¡°Yeet!¡± James yelled, with a maniacal laugh.


    Azrael flailed in mid air, briefly managing an awkward flip, which allowed him to springboard off the final bandit¡¯s face. The man went down, Azrael landing softly beside him. Azrael turned and glared at James.


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    ¡°What was that for?¡±


    ¡°He asked for my valuables!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not some object you can just throw around!¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re valuable to me.¡±


    ¡°Never again.¡± Azrael stated, turning  away, ¡°Or I might just aim for your valuables next time.¡±


    Leaving James to pick up his sword and coin pouch Azrael briefly pulsed [Search]. There were no more bandits around, but he did score a few coins hidden in the closest bandit¡¯s clothes. James had already rifled through and looted the other two with a professional ease. A pickpocketing warrior and a magic casting rogue. Quite the duo.


    - ) 0 ( -


    ¡°Halt! Leave your valuables, if you value your life!¡± the bandit cried, his axe levelled at the two. Behind him stood a further three bandits.


    Azrael refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose. This was the third? Fourth? bandit group they¡¯d encountered on their trip and the line was getting old. Was there a book on bandit lines somewhere, or were they all so unoriginal for a reason?


    Azrael had to give this bandit credit though, as he cast [Search]. Unlike the previous louts, this guy and his crew actually had the [Bandit] class, meaning the system rated them as successful enough to qualify for the class. They had also managed to secure a good spot ¨C namely the ravine, where Sophie had fallen.


    The little goat track had been reinforced and expanded by passing players, becoming wide enough for a wagon to comfortably pass along. On one side was the steep cliff and on the other the deep ravine with the torrent of snow melt. Unless a player could fly, they were practically trapped. Escape back down wasn¡¯t an option either. [Search] alerted him to four archers hidden in the cliff above them. It seemed Azrael found the reason why the system had given them the [Bandit] class. They were well prepared. It seemed this wasn¡¯t their first rodeo.


    James levelled his sword at the bandit.


    ¡°Counteroffer. Your valuables or your life.¡±


    Azrael actually had to stifle a laugh at the bandit¡¯s momentarily confused face. So far James had found a different way to mess with each bandit group, right before their imminent defeat.


    Azrael figured that James had this group of bandits well in hand and turned his effort to spreading his mana up the cliff walls, towards the hidden archers.


    In the meantime, the bandit leader somehow managed to regain his confidence. He swung his axe casually, letting everyone hear it whistle as it cleanly cleaved through the air.


    ¡°Now now. That¡¯s not how things work around here.¡± He smirked.


    Azrael guessed that his confidence probably stemmed from the fact that if James were to make a move, then the archers would back him up instantly ¨C riddling the big man with arrows. None of the bandit were aware that James could probably squash them flatter than a pancake, before any of them could react ¨C that and the fact that Azrael¡¯s tendrils of mana had already reached the archers, sealing their defeat.


    James lowered his sword, seemingly resigned, resting the sword¡¯s tip against the ground.


    ¡°I see. It seems you will not hand over your valuables to me.¡±


    ¡°Smart lad. Now, I¡¯m a man of my word, so if you hope to make it out of here alive, I¡¯d advise handing over your valuables.¡±


    James looked at the man solemnly.


    ¡°There is no hope, no light, no life. The end has come.¡±


    Azrael took his que, turning the stone beneath the archers into quicksand, before resolidifying it. As one the archer gave cries of alarm, drawing the bandit¡¯s gazes upwards. They never noticed the tendrils of frost spiderwebbing their way between the two parties. Within a moment the bandits and the hidden archers found themselves trapped within ice and stone, respectively.


    Azrael looked at James with a critical eye.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be faster to just sweep them off the cliff? Why play games? You¡¯re strong enough to beat them all in a flash any ways.¡±


    James, in true James fashion looked suitably horrified at the though.


    ¡°No, no, no. You don¡¯t understand. It¡¯s exactly because I can that I don¡¯t. Where is the fun in that? That¡¯s like gambling and always knowing the winning numbers, or going to fight this dragon knowing that we¡¯re going to win. There¡¯s no fun, no¡­ suspense.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well you¡¯re wasting time we could be using to go kill this dragon.¡±


    James just looked at Azrael blankly, before sullenly trudging forward and sweeping his sword one handed across the path. Hit with the flat of the blade, all four bandits were smashed out of their frozen coccons. They fell into the ravine, to the sound of screaming and tinkling ice.


    Azrael leant over the edge, the bandits having vanished into the torrent of rushing water. It brought back a memory, of almost this exact view. For the first time in a while, he thought of Sophie again. He wondered what she was doing now.


    ¡°Happy?¡± James asked, not turning around.


    ¡°I thought you wanted their valuables?¡± Azrael asked.


    ¡°I said ¡®their valuables or their life¡¯. They kept their valuables and if they¡¯re lucky their life. I¡¯m a man of my word. Besides, you¡¯ve taken all the fun out of it anyway.¡±


    Azrael followed behind the sulking warrior, feeling a little bad. He was just frustrated, and a little nervous, about the dragon. The constant attempts at banditry really wore on his nerves as well. He looked up, the mountains looming larger than he had them in memory. They were close, and so was the dragon.


    Behind the travelling duo, the cries of trapped archers were soon drowned out by the thundering torrent of water.


    *****


    Sophie walked through the End Forest, followed by forty knights in service of Purity and the Holy Empire. They marched in two columns, their trained, even strides carried them at a brisk pace. Sophie and Orlando ¨C Justicar and Commander of the Holy Knights ¨C lead the columns.


    It had been a while since she¡¯d been here and she had hoped to visit the hidden village again, though in her own time. Firstly, she had hoped to check her growth, with the [Status] plate, and secondly she had  to know whether Sam from the village and the person who looked exactly like him and had humiliated her and thrown Nova Lux into absolute chaos were the same person. The city still hadn¡¯t recovered from the chaos when she had left on this new mission.


    Purity had even deemed him such a threat that she had marked him, allowing Sophie to feel his presence if he was within a certain radius. How large that radius was, she wasn¡¯t sure.


    As it was, the entire group had been forced to escape the burning plains by hiding within the outpost of the Free Sheep ¨C a vassal guild to Holy Empire. The fire had delayed them far longer then she would have liked, but it also took her close to the village. Unfortunately, she didn¡¯t receive any reaction from Purity¡¯s mark and she didn¡¯t dare sneak out for a night time reconnaissance. Justicar Orlando was a stern man and a stickler for rules and order.


    Sophie swore that someone had teemed him up with her, just to take all the fun out of everything. That and to keep an eye on her for this mission, due to her currently less than stellar performance record. How hard could it be! All they had to do was retrieve a dragon¡¯s corpse or kill a greatly weakened dragon, after it wiped out all the players.


    Sometimes she wondered if they purposely set her up to fail. The Heavenly Archer had failed to properly take part in the World raid on the Giant of the south, only barely managing to claim the corpse and she¡¯d had at least twice her number of Holy Knights to support her.


    As for the failed Expedition on the North Serpent, The Alchemist, along with two other rankers and an entire flotilla of player ships had been completely wiped out. Sure, they got chewed out, but she¡¯d probably get it worse.


    Why not send the Sun of Virtue? She¡¯d heard rumors of the Blade King heading west, after the giant raid. Why couldn¡¯t golden boy take her place and fight him. He¡¯d done enough tearing up Nova Lux¡¯s main square. All he was doing now was building up some good publicity by taking down rebellious guilds, as if that would make up for his unwarranted destruction.


    The Lightning Witch was apparently also taking part, though fortunately the Bloody Baron was staying back to protect the city of vampires they ruled co-jointly. Alec ¨C The Tinkerer ¨C had also fled west in the aftermath of Nova Lux¡¯s chaos and there were more rumours of other rankers and troublesome individuals floating around.


    She reapplied the speed buff to the entire group, with a sigh. Why could things never be easy?

 Chapter 140 - Not Quite Dragons

    Azrael felt that they were close to the end of their journey. The unnaturally tall mountains that marked the end of the known world were now raging up into the sky before him, massive stone peaks covered in perpetual snow, seemingly holding up the sky itself. Indeed, they were so tall that barely two hours after midday the travelling duo were once more cast in shadow, the sun hidden beyond the massive snow-covered peaks. It was, however, not the closeness of the mountains which convinced Azrael that they were nearing the end of their journey, but rather the ever-increasing signs of human activity.


    Sure, the path that he and James had travelled the past two weeks had been expanded and reinforced by players, but the road here was properly supported. Caves carved into the ravine wall with magic increased with size, as greater and greater numbers of players moved towards a final goal. Here and there were occasional steps carved into the ravine¡¯s side, leading upwards and the ravine itself was widening out as the cliff walls grew less tall.


    Noticing a potential ambush point up ahead, Azrael began drawing upon mana to cast [Search]. The spell had been refined, its level increasing due to frequency of use and its range increasing to almost triple its previous size after Azrael had figured out how to include environmental mana into his spell. At present the spell gave him a basic insight of his surroundings within almost 50 meters of himself.


    Azrael cast, as James raised his hand, signalling a stop. He froze and the big man slowly reached up, gripping his sword hilt. [Search] came back with a negative result, but Azrael followed James¡¯ lead, drawing upon mana, ready to cast a spell or summon a dagger.


    The two of them stood in silence for a few moments, Azrael noticing faint vibrations through his feet. Steadily, the vibrations grew, shaking loose small peddles, but whatever was causing it was still some distance away.


    ¡°Bandits or Goats?¡± Azrael asked, to break the silence, despite knowing that neither were anywhere close to them.


    The massive mountain goats that roamed the mountains and ravine ledges were almost been more of a hassle than the bandits, in part due to the fact that James wanted to pet each and every one of these ¡®woolly cuties¡¯. Neither of them had posed a threat so far and indeed the duo had passed the entire journey mostly unchallenged.


    However, since entering the ravine Azrael had come to accept two things. One, James had a terrible misconception of what was cute, and two, he ¨C unsurprisingly ¨C had a fantastic sense for danger and the possibility of a fight.


    James relaxed, releasing his grip on his hilt.


    ¡°Neither¡± he said with a grin, before bounding forward with one massive stride. The grin remained firmly fixed in place.


    Azrael applied [Wind Stride] to himself, racing after the madly grinning madman. Whatever it was that James had discovered Azrael wasn¡¯t too worried. Afterall, the man was still grinning ¨C bounding along the ravine with strides heavy enough to shake the road.


    Azrael briefly reconsidered. James had been grinning when he¡¯d mentioned killing the dragon. Perhaps his sense of ¡®fun¡¯ and ¡®ok¡¯ were just as skewed as his perception of ¡®cute¡¯. For all Azrael knew, James could be grinning at the possibility of the entire road collapsing from his reckless actions.


    Azrael decided to try and overtake the grinning maniac, before he actually did collapse the path.


    Racing after James, Azrael felt the vibrations growing ever stronger. It was mostly uniform, but every now and then there was a greater tremor, sending rocks tumbling down from above. The further they ran, the closer they got, and the closer they got, the worse the tremors were.


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    Barely two minutes later and the tremors were so intense that Azrael swore there was a battle going on. Dust, sand, stones and man-sized boulders were raining down, forcing Azrael to deftly dodge them, or else press close the cliff in order to avoid being squashed. The chunks of rock smashed into the path, sending massive sections tumbling into the ravine below. It was only thanks to Mors¡¯ [Footwork] and [Wind Stride] that he managed to keep his footing.


    James on the other hand was having fun, smashing through small boulders with his sword, while avoiding the larger ones. His blue-glowing blade sent rocks flying in every direction with each swing, adding to the chaos.


    Then, suddenly the road ended, the returning into a goat track. Azrael skidded to a halt. Barely stopping himself from tumbling down into the ravine. The largest tremor that he¡¯d experienced chose that exact moment to strike. From behind him James called out a warning, diving for Azrael.


    Azrael looked up.


    A boulder, far larger than any he¡¯d seen so far was coming down.


    On two sides was ravine, on the third a sheer cliff and on the fourth was James, hurtling towards him, and the remains of what had once been a road.


    James caught Azrael in a full body tackle, slamming into him all the tender gentleness of a goat hauling a cart load of bricks and sending them both flying towards the cliff. Despite having all his breath knocked out of him, Azrael braced for impact with the cliff.


    It never came, the two of them flying far beyond where the wall should have been and landing roughly on the ground. Sent tumbling, Azrael felt a jarring sensation as James dug his sword into the ground, followed by another short flight through the air as he was ripped from James¡¯ one handed grasp by the remaining inertia in his body. He flipped, [Dramatic Flair] catching him in a somersault, then fell backwards as he stumbled over something. For the second time in unimaginably brief moments he felt the wind knocked out of him. A throbbing pain in his head and his suddenly blurry vision confirmed a concussion. Everything was fuzzy, it hurt to breath and there was a ringing in his ears. Concussion and a cracked rib.


    He saw a silhouette ¨C James ¨C rush over, bending down to check on him. He swore he heard people shouting, but amidst the shaking of the ground and the ringing in his ears he wasn¡¯t sure. His vision dimmed and slipped for moment and James wasn¡¯t there. In his periphery he thought he saw something ¨C no, several somethings ¨C flash. He heard James¡¯ distinct laugh from somewhere beyond his vision, when another blurry silhouette entered his view. It was male, but it wasn¡¯t James. They bent down and spoke, raising their hands. There was a glow of magic and he felt his vision and hearing clear. The pain in his side subsided.


    Azrael blinked, looking past the person that had just healed him and processing the scene. Seeing that their patient was moving the person that had just healed him rose and rushed away, seeking other injured people on the battlefield. And a battlefield it was. People of all races; humans, elves, dwarves and beastkin were fighting massive bronze scaled lizards, amongst what could only be called a tent city.


    Rampaging through the tents and carts in a stampede, the lizards spread chaos wherever they went. Their reddish-brown metal scales protected from both blade and magic, causing spells and weapons alike to bounce off.


    Even as he watched ¨C recovering ¨C a smaller lizard charged towards him, followed by a swordsman. Azrael didn¡¯t hesitate, summoning an [Earth Spear] under the charging monster. The smaller, potentially juvenile, lizard didn¡¯t stand a chance ¨C its own momentum impaling it.


    The swordsman arrived barely a moment later, poking the dead lizard with his boot.


    ¡°Neat trick¡± he said between gasps. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen you before. You new?¡±


    Azrael answered with a single nod. Even as another explosion occurring somewhere.


    ¡°Good. The south side needs back up. The bronze-scales broke through¡±


    He saw Azrael¡¯s confused look.


    ¡°The lizards. The left.¡± He said, pointing with his blade.


    A moment later he was gone, just as fast at the healer. In a battle every moment of inactivity was a moment wasted.


    Azrael pushed himself off the ground, summoning two stone daggers and layering them with [Reinforcement]. It seemed he was going to get some practice hunting lizards ¨C bronze-scales ¨C before he hunted a dragon. He sprinted to the south side of the camp.


    They weren¡¯t quite dragons, but that was always the way with games. You had to hunt the mobs before the boss.

 Chapter - 141 - Stampede

    Lilith ¨C a Ranker more often referred to as The Lightning Witch ¨C was fighting at the head of the defence against the copper-scale stampede. Dressed wholly in black she thrust forward, lightning shooting down her silver rapier. It burst forth, striking an oncoming monster. The monster faltered mid stride, paralysed. Another user delivered the final blow. Seeing a copper-scale aim for a weak point in the defence she charged up a stronger strike, which shot, followed by a muted rumble of thunder. The strike hit the opportunistic lizard in the side. It collapsed, smoke coming out of its mouth. Turning back to the stampede, her rapier flashed once more.


    Outwardly Lilith was calm and composed, leading the players in the camp defence, but inwardly her thoughts were racing. Oh, how she wished that her partner in crime, Sam the Bloody Baron, was here with her. His skills were better suited to taking down large amounts of enemies, without affecting allies. In her case, the lightning would indiscriminately jump to the weapons of allies, electrocuting friend and foe alike. As it was ¨C with metal scaled lizards and players using metal weapons - she was left with only being able to use controlled single target attacks.


    She struck left and right, lightning flying around, striking copper-scales and filling the air with the smell of ozone. Other players left a large berth around her avoiding what had effectively become her kill box. She ignored them, venting on the lizards, even as their charred bodies began to pile up around her. At least the constant lightning strikes made an impressive site. She would edit it after the later and post a clip of the stampede on her channel.


    Still, no matter how impressive the footage might be, she lamented that the dragon raid was not going how she had planned. At first things had been ok. A message here, a post there, a little bartering of information and a small exchange of a favour and she had the barebones of a raid ready. As a player without a guild she turned to the community, inviting players to the raid. Enough had responded that she felt confident. In fact, several guilds had even offered to be part of the advance party to forge a track for other players. It was a boon.


    Then things went sideways, because guilds. It was always guilds. That was the very reason why her partner wasn¡¯t here ¨C because he had to stay back and defend their city from the attacks of guilds.


    As it was, after clearing a hidden plateau for a camp and covering it with illusions and protective enchantments they¡¯d turned to scouting the dragon and dragon lair. Within a few days they had enough info to form a battle plan. Their opponent, previously a fearsome legend of myth had turned into an red dragon with old battle scars and a damaged left eye, which lived in a massive cave and slept for the majority of the time, only to go out roughly once a month to eat. One of the guild leaders had the clever idea that his thirty-six members were enough to take down a ¡°crippled old lizard¡±. He and his guild had snuck out of camp at night, on the pretext of hunting one of the larger mountain goats that roamed the surrounds to ¡°feed the incoming players¡±.


    Two other guilds used that same pretext to leave the camp, stating that they had their ¡®pride¡¯ as guilds to uphold and then all went off on a trumped up competition to hunt the biggest mountain goat.


    Only later did she find out through the forums a leaked video that these two guilds had made a secret alliance to kill-steal the dragon. What all three guilds had forgotten in their ¡®pride¡¯ was that a dragon, no matter how wounded or narcoleptic was still a - mother fucking - dragon!


    Complete wipe, that¡¯s what it was. It was a complete wipe ¨C almost a skilled players wiped out. She felt here eyelid twitch at the memory of being woken to the roar of an enraged dragon and hundred missing raid members.


    The dragon had flown around, trying to find their camp for three days, before going off on a rampage ¨C torching the surrounding mountains and the plains below. It was only after almost a week after the failed raid that the dragon had returned, exhausted.


    Many of the voices that suggested they raid the dragon while it was weakened and exhausted were quashed, due to the monster stampedes that followed the dragon¡¯s rampage. A lot of monsters were caught up in the aftermath of the dragon¡¯s rampage. With whole packs, groups or herds wiped out the power dynamics in the mountains shifted. Some were annihilated, some found their hunting and foraging grounds decimated and others suddenly found themselves as the strongest power in the area, the dragon having wiped out or weakened their competition. The camp had spent a month fending off roaming monsters. Mostly stragglers of defeated monster packs. This copper-scale stampede was the largest threat they had to fend off so far.


    A copper-scale collided with her side, sending her stumbling. She frowned, knocked out of her rhythm and stabbed the offending lizard. Her enchanted silver-alloy rapier pierced through the scales. It struggled and gurgled, before joining the mountain of corpses.


    Pulling her weapon free, she took a moment to assess state of the camp¡¯s defence. The center, where she and most of the stronger players were stationed, took the brunt of the stampede. They¡¯d held on well, but gaps were definitely showing.


    To her left, hordes of newly animated undead copper-scales fought with their confused still-living kin. She smiled. Some players had problems with necromancers, which was why she had stationed them on the far north wing of the camp. She didn¡¯t have the same problems. Afterall, her partner was a vampire lord. Plus, she¡¯d always had a fond spot for the darker classes¡­ well, most of them. Hopefully this showcase of the necromancers¡¯ use and power would help in quieten some of the louder voices.


    Satisfied with the northern defence, she turned to her right, observing the south wing. Honestly. It was a mess. The south held most of the unaffiliated latecomers who had decided to try the luck in the raid, but had come late. With most of the camp already claimed, these latecomers all had to squeeze in near the ravine entrance of the camp. At least what they lacked in firepower they more than made up for in numbers.


    She supposed she was glad that the stampede had only occurred now and not a month earlier. The forty members who had remained of the original advance party wouldn¡¯t have been able to handle this many monsters. Now, after a recent influx of players, their numbers were up to around two hundred. It was still barely enough for what she considered a ¡®proper¡¯ raid, but it would have to do. Maybe she¡¯d give everyone another week, before she initiated the raid. It was a fine balance between waiting for more players and waiting too long. Too long and the present players might decide to leave. Some of them had already been here for over a month.


    A shout went up and she turned her head from the south wing back to the front, just in time to witness two large forms crest a pile of boulder. Accompanied by the sound of metal scratching against stone two massive copper-scales slowly approached the camp. Each was the size of a car.


    ¡°Here¡¯s Mommy and Daddy¡± she joked, eliciting a few nervous laughs from players around her. If she was actually streaming she would have probably tried for something more witty. As it was she just wanted this battle to be over. She could voice edit it later. Still, a performer¡¯s gotta perform. She adopted a fencer¡¯s salute, rapier held pointed upwards in front of her.


    ¡°Lady of sea and storm, I seek thee; as the lightning seeks the earth and the waves seek the sky. Grant me your protection; as the sea grants its bounty and the storm its wonder. Let your grace not be forgotten and let your fury once more rain upon this earth to smite those who forgot your wrath.¡±


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    Lilith felt her patron Goddess answer her prayer and felt power flow into her. Rarely did she call upon her temperamental patron, but each time the feeling of raw power filling her was exhilarating. It was the sparking of lightning, the deep rumble of thunder and the unstoppable, inevitable force of an ocean. She took the briefest of moments to admire her rapier which glowed and sparked with white hot lightning, before she levelled it at the largest of the copper-scales.


    ¡°Lightning¡¯s Judgement¡±


    Despite the distance between the two of them, her spell took effect. There was no flash, no lightning arced between the two of them and indeed, for the briefest of moments it seemed that it hadn¡¯t taken effect. But then, the entire world darkened and in a blinding flash of light a pillar of lightning, almost as wide as the large monster itself descended on the world.


    Thunder roared across the entire battlefield, crashing into and knocking over players and beasts alike. The world shook and stones bounced. Tent poles snapped from the pressure and the lightning became the only the thing that people focused on. Nobody moved. Nobody could move. So great was the shock. Blinded and shocked battler and beast alike waited for it to past.


    When it finally did past the world was muted and in monochrome. It was as if even reality itself shied away from the devastation that had just occurred.


    Where the lightning bolt had struck lay a molten heap of glowing red metal. The ground around it was charred and cracked and the air was filled with the overpowering smell of Ozone. Beside the devastation the remaining copper-scale leader let out an ear-splitting wail, mourning its dead partner. Its scales were glowing red hot, some of them melted and residual sparks danced across its body. Other than that, however, it was very much fine. Fine and angry. Lilith felt the last remnants of her patron¡¯s power leave her and she collapsed to one knee, her own mana and stamina spent.


    ¡°Fuck¡±.


    She hadn¡¯t seen who said that, but she wholeheartedly agreed.


    The copper-scale locked eyes with her and roared. From somewhere to her right there was a responding roar. She turned her head in panic. There was a third? There was no way that the camp would be able to deal with that. Once again, she lamented the fact that her partner wasn¡¯t here. Without him she was the only Ranker here.


    As momentous as a world raid was, the End Forest and End Mountains were, quite literally, at the end of the world. For hardcore Rankers time was growth. Wasted time was wasted growth. And not all Rankers were combat-focused. The few she was in contact with were busy with their own projects. The fact that the Holy Empire had hosted a world raid on the Sea Serpent of the North at the same time and offered incentives for Rankers to join hadn¡¯t helped. Still, she got a small pleasure out of the fact that the raid had failed, even if it didn¡¯t change their current predicament.


    Watching a massive form rushing towards them she felt her heart sink. Its form was obscured by dust raised by the fighting, but she could tell it was fast and powerful. The form barrelled through smaller copper-scales, sending them flying through the air. It wasn¡¯t a copper-scale, she realised, slight hope returning. Whatever it was, hopefully it would fight the copper-scale leader and the players could pick off which ever beast survived.


    Around her combat had started up again, though many of the beasts had fled after the massive lightning strike, but just as many players were watching the incoming dust cloud. Even the massive copper-scale had turned towards this new threat, its eyes defiant.


    As the figure got closer she noticed that it wasn¡¯t a beast, but rather a large man completely covered in the metallic- red blood of the copper-scales. The copper-scale roared, charging at him, as it recognised the blood of its fallen kin. The man roared back, briefly pausing his charge to launch himself upwards. At the peak of his leap he raised his sword ¨C a massive zwieh?nder almost as massive as he was ¨C and brought it down with the force of an avalanche.


    Copper-scale and sword met and the air was filled with the sound of screeching metal. Metal met metal, Metal bent, metal rent, and in the end the weaker metal gave way. The sword struck the copper-scale, sinking halfway into the copper-scales head. The blood-covered warrior let go of his sword, rolling across the back of the copper-scale to break his fall. The massive-beast was dead before it even lost momentum. It crumpled and came to a stop, the sword sticking out of its head like a horn. The warrior rose and pulled out his sword from the downed beast¡¯s head. Red footsteps showed where he had walked. Around her players started whispering. She knew why.


    Lilith turned to one of the players beside her.


    ¡°Inform Guild Leader Marco and Zion that there will be a meeting in the command tent in ten. Oh, also, get that man some water to wash with.¡±


    Lilith smiled. It seemed things were looking up. Another Ranker was joining the raid.


    ***


    Lilith rested her hands against the table in the center of the command tent. Marco, the leader of the only guild remaining from the advance party was there, as was Zion the spokesperson for the necromancers. Several other unaffiliated players, recognised for their ability to contribute to the raid were also present. This included a new face.


    Lilith thumped her right fist against her left shoulder twice.


    ¡°I greet the Sword King.¡±


    The gesture itself was an old one adopted in VR games as a way of greeting players that one recognised as strong or worthy of respect. It originated from some old movie and only a small group of gamers actually used it.


    The Sword King responded in kind.


    ¡°Sword King greets Lighting Witch¡± he said with an easy grin.


    ¡°I would like to thank you for your earlier ass-¡°


    The flap of the tent burst open, revealing players winding down after the remaining monsters fled. She turned to the intruder ¨C Kariss, the sole diviner at the camp. Usually, Kariss would be included in meetings. Her role in determining the dragon¡¯s habits and scouting out the cave, without risking players¡¯ lives had been instrumental in forming their strategies, but Lilith had tasked her with a different task - checking their surroundings after the stampede. For someone who liked to act mysterious to drop their persona it was serious.


    ¡°Trouble?¡± Lilith asked.


    Kariss nodded, readjusting her comically large glasses.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got incoming. Fifty players.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not trouble. That¡¯s¡­¡±


    Lilith faltered. Kariss was level-headed. There was a reason she was barging into the command tent like this. Kariss confirmed her worries a moment later.


    ¡°It¡¯s Holy Empire.¡±


    ¡°Rat¡¯s Arse.¡± Lilith couldn¡¯t help herself. It was an old habit she¡¯d picked up from an good friend.


    Instantly mutters sprang up amongst occupants in the room. Lilith raised her hand, silencing them. It was one of the benefits of being a Ranker.


    ¡°How long do we have?¡±


    Kariss considered.


    ¡°A day? Maybe more, maybe less?¡±


    ¡°Kariss.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. A day. They will be here tomorrow.¡±


    Lilith turned to the assembled group.


    ¡°Make the announcement. We¡¯re moving at daybreak.¡±


    ***


    Azrael was wandering around the camp with a newly acquired jacket. He¡¯d received it for saving a merchant¡¯s cart from a copper-scale that found his booze. Azrael had defeated that and several more, leaving them for the merchant. Honestly, the copper from the scales as well as the lizard leather was probably worth more than a single jacket, but he didn¡¯t have any use for either. Also, the nights up here got cold. He appreciated an extra layer. The biggest plus however was the hood. The jacket had a hood! A medieval jacket, with a hood!


    After slaying several copper-scales and helping out a few players during the stampede, he¡¯d noticed quite a few players whispering and pointing him out to their friends. Only one or two had tried approaching him, either to thank him or to try and recruit him into their groups. He¡¯d declined of course, but the attention was making him a bit self-conscious. He hadn¡¯t really been in this big of a crowd since¡­ well, since those times, before the incident with Holy Empire. He pulled the hood lower, almost missing James who approached.


    ¡°Little man, I did not see you in the fight.¡± James mocked, placing one hand on Azrael¡¯s shoulder.


    Azrael brushed it off.


    ¡°I fought. I don¡¯t see any spoils of the battle on you¡± Azrael said, pointing to his jacket ¡°It seems you could use one too.¡±


    James looked down, examining his clothes, then back at Azrael.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see the problem?¡±


    Azrael sighed, his gaze resting on James¡¯ clothes. The big man had obviously tried to wash out blood ¨C with poor results.


    ¡°Come on. I think I know someone who will lend us some soap. We also gotta find someplace to stay until the raid.¡± His stomach growled ¡°And dinner.¡±


    James¡¯ stomach growled.


    ¡°Dinner I can agree to. Don¡¯t worry about where to sleep. I managed to borrow a tent for tonight.¡±


    ¡°What about after that?¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t need it. It seems the raid will start tomorrow.¡±


    Azrael stopped and looked at James.


    ¡°Finally.¡±

 Q + A

    Why the username Azrael?


    Well, previously our main character Kade Evans used the name ¡®Cain¡¯ as his in game name, due to his former gaming buddies always claiming he caused ¡®trouble¡¯ or rather that he and trouble seemed to go hand in hand, whether he was the one who caused it or if he went out of his way to find it. (For explanation: To raise Cain means to raise trouble).


    For Kade, New Earth is a new start, so he decides to use the name ¡®Azrael¡¯ (from the Archangel of Death) to symbolically show the death of Cain and the start of a peaceful new beginning in a game.


    What was the time dilation ratio for New Earth?


    The deep sleep technology of the full-dive VR gaming capsules have a time dilation of 1:4, meaning one real world day is four days in game, with six hours for each in game day and three months for a full in game year.


    Why do players chant before casting spells?


    In New Earth ¡®intent¡¯ is very important. Players gain and level up skills by doing or repeating actions with an ¡®intent¡¯. This also applies to magic. Unlike a skill, such as [Woodcutting], where the intent is demonstrated through the action, players use verbalisation to state their intent when manifesting magic. Players might also be verbalising their intent in order to borrow power from their patron deity. Another way of showing intent is through the use of runes when casting magic. Players might be able to minutely influence what magic occurs when using runes or chanting, but wouldn¡¯t be able to force the spell in a completely different direction (such as a fire rune or chant casting an ice, earth, lightning or water spell). It is possible to cast magic without the use of chants and runes, but this is often slower and less powerful, as it takes the game more time to recognise players¡¯ intent and as a consequence more mana is wasted.


    Can players can stream?


    A good question. At the beginning of the story it was mentioned that due to the dangers of connecting the vast intelligence of the network running the game to the internet it was accessible only from the gaming immersion capsules. In the last chapter it was revealed that Lilith ¨C The Lightning Witch ¨C is a streamer. (The definition of streamer becomes a little blurred here, since a live stream is impossible due to the time dilation between the game and the real world). So, while yes it is possible for players to get video footage of them playing, there is a process where they have to request the video files from the game company. This will also be elaborated on further in the story, at some point.


    Why are there not more Rankers participating in such an important raid?


    Well, as was previously established ¡®Ranker¡¯ is an unofficial title given to players recognised by the anonymously owned OneWorldGaming website. There are several criterion to being recognised as a Ranker, such as combat strength, wealth (in-game and in real life), popularity, technical skill and connections. Most importantly is recognition from the player base of that game and a moniker. Being good isn¡¯t enough. You have to stand out to be recognised. Generally, you have to stand at some peak in the game.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.This however means that not all Rankers are combat specialists. You also have artificers, potion or poison specialists, alchemists, bankers, information brokers, artisans, smiths, chefs, explorers, priests and so on, alongside your mages, swordsmen, spear users, archers, assassins, necromancers, trap experts or whip wielders. So, while most Rankers will have a means of fighting or defending themselves (be it leading 100 men, hiring 100 men or being as strong as 100 men) not all Rankers fight. Of those that do fight, some may feel that the raid is too far away, some might be busy with other things, be uninterested or feel that they can increase their strength more efficiently doing something else.


    Where is Sera?


    Unfortunately, as much as I love and loved writing Sera and the interactions between Azrael and Sera, I felt that her constant presence as an assistant AI took away from Azrael¡¯s in-game engagement. It was difficult balancing her being there and Azrael having moments to himself. I recognise that this is in part due to my own inexperience in writing such a companion character and hope that when I (If I ever do) edit and rewrite the story I can bring her in with the role and recognition she deserves. Until such a time, unfortunately, she will be silently letting Azrael live his journey. (Unless of course the readers go on a massive strike).


    It''s a Full-Dive game, but why doesn¡¯t Azrael/Kade ever log out?


    Azrael still does go out, as he needs to change out nutrition pouches in his capsule. He also still goes out for his regular jogs. I have, however, had difficulty finding chapters for him to log out, as I felt they interrupted the flow of the story. Working on this is one of my goals for part 2, as I don¡¯t want to neglect such an important part of the world setting. So, we¡¯ll probably see Azrael log out a little more often from here on.


    Why does a former pro sometimes act so unprofessional??


    A few readers commented that they felt Azrael could act too flighty sometimes and were confused. I thought I¡¯d clear it up here. Firstly, Azrael has been out of the gaming scene for a while before New Earth. Not for an overly long period, but even before while he was part of The Holy Empire he was relegated to supporting roles and his actions were quite often dictated by either the advertisement part of the Holy Empire Guild or by Melissa, meaning his direction was quite often determined by them. Now, he¡¯s taking the chance to explore and enjoy everything New Earth has to offer, especially since it¡¯s the first full-dive VR game that replicates all five senses ever made. Similarly, due to having played both combat and crafting classes extensively in other games he has an interest in both. As a writer, I feel that Azrael is slowly growing into his interests and they are beginning to round out.


    What happened for him to leave Holy Empire? Why isn¡¯t it properly explained?


    Well, originally I wanted to drop hints and have the player piece it together themselves, before it was revealed, but I got so into the rest of the story that the hints almost got buried. The reveal is still going to happen, though as to when I can¡¯t say.


    What is The Beast that Azrael mentally struggles with?


    I had some readers quite curious about the ¡®Beast¡¯. As was mentioned early on in the story Azrael¡¯s father was seriously injured by some muscle hired by loan sharks. Azrael fought back sending one of them to the hospital. It was his first time participating in violence in real life. His father never recovered from the injuries and died.


    For Azrael, who enjoyed the excitement of fighting and action in game this was quite a shock, especially when he noticed that violence had extreme repercussions.


    The ¡®Beast¡¯ is a form of disassociation, which Azrael uses as a coping mechanism, to split the two parts of him ¨C the one that enjoys the thrill of combat and the one who pulls back and avoids confrontation. When The Beast takes over, it¡¯s still Azrael, but he¡¯s sort of ¡®tuning out¡¯, as if he¡¯s watching from afar.


    The game, which operates on the basis of ¡®intent¡¯ has picked up on this, giving his ¡®alternate¡¯ combat loving half a self. It doesn¡¯t only hold the part of him that loves combat though, but also the part that is willing to step up and physically protect what it cares about.

 Chapter 142 - Here Be Dragons

    Two-hundred players gathered at the center of the raid camp, having been woken at dawn. The gathered players did last minute checks on their equipment, a mix of excited and apprehensive, because today was the day they would start the raid against the world guardian of the End Mountains ¨C The Red Dragon of the West.


    Azrael stood somewhere at the edge of the gathering masses, avoiding the crush of people. Though he¡¯d gotten better at being around people, he still preferred to avoid crowds and crowded places. Besides him, his travelling companion James towered over most players by at least a head, his equally massive zwei-h?nder strapped to his back. Having joined Azrael at some point in his adventurers, the massive swordsman ¨C though an enigma and a bit of a battle maniac ¨C was at least a familiar face amongst these crowds.


    Having received news that they would be starting the raid at dawn last night, Azrael had started his preparations by logging off. With the fourfold time dilation, that only allowed him two hours to log out of the game, before he had to log back in. Forgoing his usual log out routine of going for a jog, he simply changed out the nutrition pods in his gaming capsule, to ensure he could stay logged in for the maximum possible amount of time, before hopping back in and getting as much sleep as he could before the big day.


    Now, Azrael¡¯s preparations mostly involved pulling the hood on his head further down, to avoid having to look at anybody. Occasionally he would check his belt, making sure that the satchel holding his crude mana potions was safe. Also packed into a small satchel were a handful of the unique magical leaves from which the potions were brewed.


    As a rogue-type spellcaster, mana was one of his most valuable resource in a fight, alongside stamina. He paused and reconsidered. The fact that he summoned his daggers meant it was probably his most valuable.


    Checking his satchel for the twentieth time he turned his attention outwards, listening in to some of the chatter from nearby players or listening to them sharpening their already sharp blades. Their conversations weren¡¯t that interesting, being things he either knew ¨C such as the Holy Empire guild being less than a day away, ready to steal either the dragon corpse or the final kill ¨C or false bravado of players trying to ease their anxiety by lightening the mood.


    Neither he nor James joined in. Despite his usual easy-going attitude James stood like a sentinel, waiting for the battle. Azrael himself had neither the interest in joining in in other players¡¯ small talk, and he didn¡¯t have a need to prepare or sharpen a weapon, due to the fact that he summoned his daggers using [Earth] magic, one of the elemental forms of magic he had access to. Still, preparing for combat couldn¡¯t go amiss and he took the moment to summon a [stone dagger].


    Drawing out some mana from his core he let it flow into his hand and shaped it. It was a familiar action and he¡¯d never actually put much effort into an expendable dagger, but with nothing else to do he took the time to shape and sharpen the blades to perfection. Then, with precise control, he manipulated his mana ¨C slowing it, reinforcing it ¨C until it manifested and turned to stone. He gave the dagger a flip and nodded ¨C satisfied ¨C then summoned a second with equal care.


    Beside him James stirred and Azrael directed his attention forward, carefully placing both daggers in his belt. From somewhere at the far front he heard a female voice speak ¨C amplified by magic. It was the voice of the Ranker Lilith ¨C The Lightning Witch ¨C who was acting as the leader for this raid. Almost subconsciously he fell into the familiar breathing patterns of [Meditation], feeling mana flow in to refill his reserves. He listened to The Lightning Witch speak.


    ¡°Players, Adventurers, Heroes, soon to be Dragon Slayers..¡±


    A huge cheer went up, forcing her to pause.


    ¡°¡­as you know the Holy Empire is marching towards us as we speak, ready to steal our dragon¡­¡±


    A round of booing and angry shouts.


    ¡°¡­ to steal our glory¡­¡±


    The booing and shouting redoubled


    ¡°¡­ and to steal our victory.¡±


    The crowd almost lost it ¨C two hundred proud gamers shouting at the top of their lungs. They¡¯d all risked their lives through uncharted forests and mountains to participate. The people here were either the strong, the determined or the lucky. Many of them were independent players with an innate distaste for guilds and now one of the largest guilds in the game were coming to encroach on their raid. Azrael had to give it to the Lightning Witch as she continued her speak. She really knew how to motivate these players.


    ¡°¡­ but we will emerge victorious! We will prevail and when the time comes we will be the pioneers who opened up the world to new frontiers!¡±


    At the end of her speech the crowd went wild, their combined voices echoing through the mountains, as loud as a dragon¡¯s roar. Azrael hoped that they didn¡¯t actually wake the dragon. The last time players had disturbed the dragon it had burnt down a large swathes of the plains at the base of the End Mountains, as well as sections of the End Forest. The village whose [Lord] he was didn¡¯t come out unscathed either.


    Apparently, The Lightning With also realised that waking the dragon was a possible danger and swapped to a more mundane topic ¨C the organisation of the raid. Now, Azrael didn¡¯t want to admit to letting his mind wander, but when the entire convoy of battle ready players marched through the mountains under protection of sound-blocking and illusion spells, he realised he didn¡¯t actually have a clue where he was expected to fight. He shrugged. Plans mostly fell apart in all but the most professional of raids. This was 200 mostly independent players ¨C far from professional.


    ***


    Late mid-morning, all players quietly filtered through a dragon-sized cave in the mountain side. The going had been hard, but with the aid of some minor buffs from numerous spell casters, the group of players had made good time. Now, they were quite literally entering a dragon¡¯s lair. The lair itself was fairly easy to spot, sun-bleached and fire-charred bones of unfortunate prey marking the entrance. The necromancers ¨C he¡¯d been surprised to learn that there were necromancers in the raid ¨C were having a good time, raising bone monsters or complaining at the terrible state of some of the bones. Some stood by, deciding to stick with the shambling bodies of freshly raised copper-scales. The entire group was given a wide berth by the regular players.


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    Azrael left them outside and entered the lair, following other players through the long passage into the mountains. The stone floor was worn flat by the passing of the dragon, countless times, but as they continued in it became harder and harder to make out details as the sunlight from the cave entrance failed to reach as far in.


    To alleviate some of the darkness he summoned a flame, noticing that it sprang into existence far easier than he recalled. He frowned, activating [Mana Sight]. He¡¯d noticed that the amount of natural mana in the air had increased as they¡¯d walked closer to the edge of the known world, but that didn¡¯t explain why it was easier to summon a flame. At most it made it easier to replenish mana.


    He looked around, noting that shadow mana was extremely abundant in the dark cave, but that was expected. What was unexpected was that there was far more fire mana than there should have been. It streamed out from further in, flowing towards the players. It danced around players¡¯ torches and mingled with light mana to illuminate their passage, but for some reason didn¡¯t dissipate, even when it left the flames. It was unnatural.


    Eventually he realised why, as he and the players round him began to sweat. It wasn¡¯t fire, but heat mana. Usually hidden and overpowered by the vast quantities of other mana types in nature he¡¯d never noticed it, but here there was barely any light, no plants, no water and the earth mana was mostly contained within the walls. It was denser here too, but still contained, leaving shadows and heat to dominate the cave.


    And the further it got the warmer it became, until the cave path they followed opened up into a wide cavern, far larger than he¡¯d thought possible to exist within the mountain. Azrael¡¯s jaw dropped, as did many others¡¯. It was magical and it was massive! When people mentioned dragons¡¯ lairs they thought of piles of gold coins and jewels. There were no coin piles, but crystals grew in multi-coloured clusters from the floor and walls, shedding some light and reflecting and refracting the player¡¯s light sources to further illuminate the cavern. The domed roof of the cavern was so far up that it was lost in the darkness. The heat and the amount of mana in the cavern weren¡¯t a joke either. Neither was the sleeping red dragon right in the middle.


    The massive creature was as majestic and intimidating up close as it was from a far, if not more so. Taller than a house, even when it slept, its form dwarfing all the players. The torchlight from the players torches caught on its countless red scales ¨C red as blood and undoubtedly as hard as or harder than steel. Most eye-catching though was the large scar running down its left side, starting from its left eye and continuing down almost its entire left side, running across both its left foreleg and left wing. A past wound. It was likely far wilier and more ruthless to have survived this long, but it also provided a possible opportunity.


    Apparently, he hadn¡¯t been the only one to think that. There was a fresh wound by its blinded left eye, the snapped haft of a spear still embedded and encrusted with dried blood. It was no doubt the only evidence that remained of the guilds that had thought they stood a chance against the dragon and caused the dragon to rampage in the plains below. His fingers clenched and then slowly unclenched. He hoped they had suffered, because his villagers certainly had. The dragon was dangerous and it had to go. He had promised his people as their [Lord].


    Briefly he considered inspecting it with [Lord¡¯s Insight], but stopped himself. He knew from experience that powerful people could feel it when he did that. It was highly likely that it applied to powerful creatures as well.


    With considerable effort he forced himself to look away and move on into the cavern. Around him the raid slowly took shape. Players moved into groups. There were dedicated squads ¨C healers, tanks, long range damage dealers ¨C and there were parties groups of three to ten that positioned themselves around one of the sides of the cavern.


    In the half dark of the cavern it was hard to make out who was where, but Azrael distinctly saw the newly raised undead on the furthest possible part of the left wing. The Lighting Witch was probably near the center, ready to command the raid.


    He himself had followed James, taking the right wing. In position, James drew his massive sword and turned to give Azrael a solemn nod. It was somewhat ruined by the excited grin plastered all across his face. Azrael smirked on the inside. Battle Junkie.


    Making sure that he himself was ready for the imminent battle, Azrael checked his satchel, his potions and the mana imbued ghost mint leaves. Satisfied that they were still there and within easy reach he flicked open his [Status].


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.5), Sorcerer (Lv.6), Lord (Lv.5), Thief (Lv.1)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Race: Human (78%)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 410/410


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 400/400


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 28


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 41


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 32


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 25


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 40


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 44


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}, {Teacher}, {Oath Maker}, {Void Touched}, {Trickster¡¯s Blessing}, {Void Walker},


    {Marked By Purity}.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana], [Lord¡¯s Insight], [Aura], [@#%& Self], [Shadow Step], [Footwork]


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.16), Spear Arts (Lv.20), Mana Sight (Lv.26), Mana Mastery (Lv.5), Soul Sense (Lv.15), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 11), Stealth (Lv. 24), Calm Mind (Lv. 21) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 2), Leadership (Lv.6), Void Shaping (Lv. n/a), Reinforcement (Lv.24), Dagger Arts (Lv.32), Meditation (Lv.34), Mana Transfer (Lv.5), Craftsman¡¯s Eye (Lv.1), Intimidation (Lv.6), Search (Lv.24), Heat Resistance (Lv.13), Fire Resistance (Lv.7).


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Checking his [Status] wasn¡¯t really vital, more of a precombat ritual than anything else. He pleasantly noticed that [Search] had levelled up to 24 from its constant use on his journey here, right onto the cusp of the first advancement.


    Now, feeling as prepared as he could be, he carefully drew his two daggers and turned his gaze to the dragon. Around him whispers quietly echoed around the cavern. There was a tension in the air and everyone felt it. Unbeknownst to him there was a huge grin spread across his face.

 Chapter 143 - Dragon Raid

    Talahria, Personal Shadow of the Lightning Witch and Third Shadow of the vampiric city of Elcifer, lay hidden in her mistress¡¯ shadow. Around her, players prepared for the upcoming raid, completely oblivious to her existence ¨C as they should be. She was proud of her skills in the shadow arts, her vampiric heritage no doubt giving her a strong affinity with the dark element.


    She doubted her mistress was aware of her full talents, just like she was unaware of Talahria in her shadow now. Despite this being her usual station, Lilith had ordered her to return and report the desertion of the guilds back to The First Shadow of Elcifer ¨C The spy master working under both her and her and The Bloody Baron. As a player Talahria didn¡¯t mind the sudden increased risk of death and so took the easiest and simplest option  - logging out and messaging The First Shadow.


    Despite the game¡¯s best attempts and punishments doled out by various Gods for doing so, players found the temporary inconveniences imposed by the game to be worth it. Richer players hired artificers to make communication devices or paid players with specialised skills and spells to send messages long distance. She shrugged. It wasn¡¯t her problem. The Fist Shadow was the one receiving the information. He could deal with the consequences. Besides, it wasn¡¯t anything major.


    Now, she watched Lilith signal other team leaders with small short flashes of lightning. Tahlaria settled in for the show. She wasn¡¯t meant to be here and as such wasn¡¯t meant to do any work. As president the largest of Lilith¡¯s fan clubs and a long time fan, there was nothing better than to watch her long time hero and role model from the front seat.


    *****


    Azrael noticed someone sending out signals from the center of the cavern. It wasn¡¯t morse or any other signal language he recognised ¨C just three brief flashes. An easy recognisable signal, visible from every part of the cave. Having missed most of the briefing in the plan and not being privy to the conversations of the leadership he was curious as to what the battle plan was.


    As the games evolved so did the possible strategies. The greater the freedom afforded to players, the greater the number of strategies. Numbers and raw damage were replaced by tactics and teamwork. Skillsets, items and terrain also played an increasing part. Technical skill and awareness was always a large part. When games went virtual, terrain became three dimensional. What forty players in full gear could achieve, three players with a specific skillset or items could also achieve. When virtual games approached an almost free sandbox like quality the option expanded a hundredfold. Were it not for the fact that the dragon guarded one of the passages through the mountains Azrael would have suggested burying it. Effective, but the aftermath would be disastrous. The cleanup would require a proffesional group of dedicated earth mages, but if such a team existed then they wouldn¡¯t have to fight the dragon in the first place. They could bypass it.


    This plan however did not involve a group of professionals, rather a mostly ragtag bunch of players, a guild, some strong players and Ranker. There were rumours that there was another Ranker here ¨C The Sword King ¨C but Azrael hadn¡¯t seen anybody stand out. Still, as he watched dark shapes move towards the dragon, silently moving in the dark vastness of the cavern, he briefly turned to look at James. The massive swordsman for a change was not grinning, looking in the direction of the command with the air of a seasoned warrior.


    A second later and there was a massive flash filling the cavern. Not another signal, but an actual flash of lightning, crashing straight into the dragon. He doubted it was the strongest that the Lightning Witch could cast, but the light was blinding and the thunder was unbelievably deafening. While it wasn¡¯t the strongest, it was no doubt an extremely powerful and mana costly spell.


    In that briefest of moments that signalled the beginning of the raid several things happened. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed and the figures, he corrected himself ¨C undead ¨C that had been sneaking up on the dragon attacked, biting and tearing at its scaled body trying to find a gap in its legendary armour. While the undead were mostly ineffectual, the massive chunks of rock that fell from the ceiling were far more effective. Knocked loose by the lightning and subsequent thunder they tumbled from far above to come smashing down onto the dragon below. Smaller ones bounced off, larger ones smashed through scales and three or four sharper ones pierced deep into the dragon¡¯s flesh.


    In the sudden darkness left in the wake of the lightning there were screams and shout along with the clanging of metal and chanting of spells. They were all drowned out by the absolutely, impossibly deafening roar of a raging dragon awakening to find itself in pain and intruders in its home.


    Azrael keeled over, the sound a physical force. He dry retched, his ears booming like a drum, but the world otherwise silent. A few blue screens flickered into existence, almost hesitantly, as if they were afraid to appear.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    You have experienced a dragon¡¯s roar and have been afflicted with [Dragon Fear]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to the aspect of <u>Defiance</u> in your [Aura] you have managed to mitigate [Dragon Fear]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    Due to the difference in power you have failed to mitigate all effects of [Dragon Fear]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He mentally flicked the notifications out of his vision, trying to instead focus on calming down his suddenly rapid breaths and stop the uncontrollable shaking of his knees. His only solace was that players didn¡¯t need to go to the toilet and his pants were dry. A moment that seemed both impossibly long and yet too short passed and he found his breath steadying, his control over his body returning.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Through regaining rationality during an impossibly extreme situation you have gained three levels in [Calm Mind].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    A dragonflame of brilliant gold, tinged with white and blue, pierced the darkness randomly scorching a large section of the far wall, but still managing to take out a swath of unfortunate players. Their screams were short lived, through the cries of many others filled the cavern.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Through maintaining rationality during an extreme situation you have gained two levels in [Calm Mind].


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael ignored the new notifications as they popped up, checking his body. He was fine, physically, though his health had dropped by a few points. His hearing was still out, trampled torches and newly summoned mage lights casting eery shadows and sending flashes through nearby crystal clusters. He tilted his head and felt something slide across his ear. He checked, his finger coming away sticky and warm. Blood.


    A second burst of dragonfire incinerated all the zombies around it, giving players a brief view of the massive scale of the now risen beast. Wreathed in flames and surrounded by burning corpses, the dragon towered far, far above what he had thought it would. He cast [Lord¡¯s Insight] upon it, the single blue box impossibly luminous even in the dark.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Lesser Red Dragon (Banished)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    His breath shuddered, involuntarily. Later he would attribute it to the [Dragon Fear]. This was a Lesser red dragon? What was a normal, or even a greater one like? The banished status seemed to indicate that dragons lived in some form of shared community, this one most likely banished due to its wounds. Azrael dismissed the window, sparing a single moment to examine the dragon.


    Its single undamaged eye glared at the players balefully and Azrael felt a brief flicker of doubt flitted across his mind. Was it actually possible to slay a dragon? The World Raid on the World Serpent of the North had failed. Were there some things that were simply meant to be left alone? Azrael found his faith in the raid plummet, his stomach sinking. Still, the sight of blood on the dragon¡¯s right wing brought back some of his faith. He shook his head to clear it, blood flying outwards from the movement. One of the falling boulders from the initial attack had punctured its wing membrane. The dragon could be wounded, and what could be wounded could be killed.


    Around him, he noticed other players doubt and fear. Some tried to run, stumbling and flailing as they did so. Many more stood shocked, still locked by [Dragon Fear]. It was a rare few that actually did anything.


    From the center of the raid, near where The Lightning Witch was a flare of magical light floated upward, stopping at the ceiling and illuminating the entire cavern. From somewhere behind him a player finished a chant, white light with the smell of sunshine and fresh grass enveloping Azrael, James and many other players. Slowly sound returned, along with the screams, shouting and clamouring of many unprepared players. The dragon roared again. Thankfully not with the same intensity, but still uncomfortably loud. James grinned and returned with his own roar, his massive blade gleaming ghostly blue. Without a second through James charged in, leading the start of the second attack.


    Azrael shook his head, sending the last droplets of blood flying from his ears and pushed mana through his daggers, casting [Reinforcement] on both of them. Then, he and somewhere over a hundred more players charged towards the dragon. It was most likely a suicide mission, it was an adventure, it was a raid and Azrael loved it.


    And indeed some of them never made it halfway to the dragon, dragonfire leaving molten stone and black corpses in its wake. A few players managed to hold out for a second or two by erecting magical barriers, but they shattered leaving players at the mercy of the flames. The necromancers, having lost a large portion of their troops in the opening went to work on their fallen allies, bringing them back to fight even after death.


    Still, players and their attacks did make it to the dragon. Spells of all kinds flew towards the dragon through the air, impacting against it. They splashed, fizzled, sizzled and broke against its red scales. Arrows, enchanted and enhanced with skills rained down, clattering off ineffectually. Yet, a few lucky ones managed to find gaps in the scales. Some players with a little more foresight aimed for the wounds and broken scales, doing damage where they could. Others tried to attack old wound, to varying degrees of success.


    Amongst the melee players, swords, spears, daggers and axes rose and fell. Like with the projectiles, there were many that simply attacked, lost in the mindless exhilaration of the situation. Calmer veterans aimed for gaps in the scales, piercing the hide beneath and drawing blood ¨C hot blood, which steamed as it left the dragon¡¯s body.


    Amongst all those players nobody was more effective than James, his massive blade swinging with unstoppable force and sending long streaks of light blue energy streaking across the dragon¡¯s front. The swing cut deep, drawing a line of blood from its left breast. The dragon roared, with both pain and anger and reared up. James took this as a chance for a follow up sweep, another powerful swing opening up a large cut in the dragon¡¯s softer exposed underbelly.


    It came crashing down, its front legs crushing players, while its wounds spattered survivors with boiling hot blood. Another bout of dragonfire wiped out another party or two.


    Azrael dodged the dragon claw coming down, sliding between the legs of a heavily armoured tank who thought he could block the blow. Azrael wished him best of luck and even summoned a host of [Earth Spear]s to aid him, hoping that even if the lone man couldn¡¯t block the blow the dragon would pierce its foot on the sharp stone.


    There was a crunch and the earth shook, and when he looked back neither the stone spikes nor the man were to be seen. The dragon, unfortunately, didn¡¯t even seem mildly inconvenienced. Azrael changed tack, swinging back to continue attacking the dragon. He plunged his dagger under a scale, forcing it in and summoned another one, adding it to the ten others already sticking out. He grinned fiercely as blood flowed out of the wounds and singed and soaked his clothes. The dragonscale, larger than his head, would make a great trophy.


    And yet, despite the vigour of the initial charge, the battle seemed to enter a stalemate. There was no great strategy, no powerful items, no preprepared great magic or even a proper combat plan. There was simply carnage. Players attacked and were attacked in turn. The dragon, once so annoyed at the pests that dares harm and wake it, began to calm down and realise that these pests not only dared to annoy it, but also view it as prey. Despite this realisation, it was outnumbered and the wounds on its body kept accumulating.


    Its body bore massive cuts (mostly courtesy of James), but was also filled with countless arrows that protruded from the gaps between the scales. Spells had managed to shatter more scales and blood flowed freely from cuts, further draining its strength.


    Its front legs and flanks were the worst off, having borne the brunt of the players¡¯ attacks. Scales were cut, cracked and chipped, blood pooling in steaming pools at its feet.  And despite all that only a fool would have thought that the players were winning. Their once great force was reduced to fifty, or rather fifty and almost the same number of freshly reanimated undead.


    While its breath attacks hadn¡¯t been continuous and became less frequent as the battle prolonged a dragon¡¯s whole body was a weapon. Claws swiped at overzealous players, sending them flying and striking the spellcasters at the back. Others found themselves flatter than pancakes on a Sunday morning breakfast as the dragon brought its weight to bear down on them. For those that tried to run a worse fate awaited, as the dragon began to take full advantage of its tail, spinning round with massive force.


    The first time it did that it cut down their then remaining forces by almost a third. Despite its wounded wing it also brought them into play, flapping them to create buffeting winds that showered the unfortunate with scalding blood.


    The few times that it did manage to produce enough energy to release dragonfire on the players, Lilith redirected it, by striking the dragon¡¯s head with lightning. It effectively locked her out of the battle, being relegated to keeping the remaining players safe from the dragon¡¯s most potent attack.


    Having just failed another breath attack the dragon roared, a wall of the cavern glowing red with rapidly cooling molten stone. The cavern was hot, but each breath of dragon fire increased the heat again, making it harder to breath and harder to move. Amongst other [Status] notifications [Heat Resistance] was definitely rising with the greatest consistency.


    The dragon, annoyed that it had been thwarted its rightful barbeque, raised itself up, its wings flapping and unlike the first few times James didn¡¯t take advantage. Its underbody was cut, but James¡¯ seemingly constant barrage of glowing blue attacks had dwindled as the fight continued, the glowing blue aura now restricted to the edges of his massive his blade. Whatever skill it was the fight had taxed it.


    Bracing against the once again rising winds, Azrael caught himself on magically earth-shaped handholds, while James simply stabbed his sword into the ground, taking the wind and boiling blood as they came. A few mages in the back erected shields, but many more players were sent flying. The undead were also rapidly diminishing in number, dead bodies being smashed, crushed or rent beyond salvageable use.


    Sixty,


    fifty,


    forty.


    Azrael watched as the numbers of surviving players dwindled to dangerously low numbers. These were the stronger, skilled and more disciplined players. Either that or plain lucky. The weak and unlucky had been weeded out long ago. These were also players that had been fighting a relentless, unyielding and seemingly undying beast of myth and legend for more time than Azrael cared to count. The beast was wounded, but they were exhausted. Each new wound on the dragon was another life sacrificed. It wasn¡¯t even a proper battle of attrition anymore.


    The dragon, though bloody and wounded, seemed to have reached the same conclusion and let out a second challenging roar.


    Still stuck in the ground, the aura around James¡¯ blade flickered, finally winking out.

 Chapter 144 - Survivors

    Azrael watched the light around James¡¯ massive blade flicker and blink out. James¡¯ face was flushed, sweat running down his face and dripping off to fall on scorched stone. Despite the big man¡¯s tenacity, he was nearing the end of his endurance. They all were. Of the once two-hundred strong raid team, barely forty of them remained. The dragon itself, though bleeding, wounded and reaching its own limits, roared again ¨C so sure of its own victory. It¡¯s roar was no longer ear-splitting, though still loud ¨C a testament to its own exhaustion.


    Nobody disputed the dragon¡¯s claim to victory, neither did he. He felt more like a survivor than a mighty dragon slayer. Beside him James stood, his oversized sword still stabbed into the ground. They were the only close combatants left standing from their flank. On the other side one or two necromancers remained, controlling charred corpses and crumbling skeletons. Behind him, in the center, The Lightning Witch stood half slumped from exhaustion, protected by the shields of the only participating guild. They made up the majority of the survivors, despite having lost half their number and all their close combatants. The ranged mages and archers hadn¡¯t fared much better, picked off with dragon-breath and shattered fragments of crystal.


    Forty exhausted survivors against an exhausted dragon. He felt that there was a joke there somewhere.


    The dragon opened its maw, fire mana once again coalescing in preparation for its breath attack.


    Behind him a male voice called out ¡°Shields!¡±


    He heard metal clanking as the guildmembers formed up to protect The Lightning Witch. He hefted his own daggers, ready to once more dive into the fray. He¡¯d faced worse odds, though he wasn¡¯t sure when.


    Fire flashed, lightning struck, thunder rumbled.


    Lightning hit the dragon¡¯s head ¨C redirecting the dragon¡¯s breath ¨C a little too late. The dragon¡¯s head whipped sideways, fire flying off target, but not far enough. There were screams and then silence as it hit the edge of the group.


    Azrael ignored the fate of the unlucky few men, instead charging in. His mouth was set in a grim line. Even Lilith, the raid leader was faltering ¨C taking longer to cast her spells. She was the sole reason the dragon hadn¡¯t managed to burn the entire raid to a crisp.


    He jabbed a dagger underneath another dragon scale, summoned a second, applied [Reinforcement] and jabbed that underneath as well. He¡¯d managed to pry around six loose by now, the area around its front left wrist soaked with steaming blood. At first he¡¯d started the task as a way to claim a trophy. Then he¡¯d continued prying them loose as a distraction to create openings for James and some others. Now he was just continuing in the hopes of exposing enough that they could deal some serious damage. He had a few ideas, each a situationally unlikely as the last.


    About to stab a third dagger under the scale, he noticed the entire leg shifting. He jumped back, dropping onto his back and sinking into the ground with [Earth] magic as the massive claw whistled past. Blood splattered, the dragon growled and he felt some of his hair flutter down onto his face ¨C cut by a passing claw. He gulped, glad that he¡¯d sunken into the earth, rather than simply fallen to the ground. Ideally, he would have used [Shadow Step] to escape, but with the crystal clusters reflecting and refracting light through the cavern, there were no shadows large enough for him to dive into.


    Four arrows flew, drawing the attention of the dragon and Azrael took the chance to move, dashing away while the dragon¡¯s attention was directed. As the dragon took out its wrath on a group of zombies, Azrael took the moment to reach into his pouch and pull out two mana potions, downing them both. His mana was roughly at a quarter, despite not having cast any major spells. Summoning daggers and using [Earth] shaping had taken up the largest part of it ¨C even with [Mana Mastery]¡¯s efficiency.


    As for most of his repertoire of magic, he hadn¡¯t been able to use much, for fear of hitting fellow players. His more direct spells were also fairly useless in this situation. Earth Spike and even its enhanced version Earth Spear simply shattered against the dragon¡¯s scales. Fireball, despite being naturally enhanced by the mana in the dragon¡¯s cave splattered off the scales. And Wind Stride had been too disruptive to fellow players, whipping up and throwing steaming blood in all directions.


    Now? Now though, it was really only him and James on the front lines. Azrael looked around. Where was James? Lilith was still where she was, supported by a figure in a purple robe. The Guilders were forming up for an assault and the necromancers were pulling back what remained of the zombies that had attacked the dragon. Were it not for some of the scales on their side looking half rotten and kind of cursed, Azrael would have claimed that they were ineffectually sending the zombies to die¡­ again.


    The dragon twisted, letting out what sounded like a surprised whimper. Then, Azrael heard James¡¯ laughing, as the big man ran along the underside of the dragon, drawing his blade across its soft belly. The whimper turned into a roar of anguish as James continued his suicide mission. Behind him blood poured out like molten lava, raining down from the red line he was drawing.


    The dragon flapped its wings, trying to fly upward, forgetting that one of its wings had been damaged in the original attack. It rose, then half fell, half flopped back down, allowing James¡¯ blade to reach deeper. It moved ¨C twisting ¨C trying to get away from the creature that caused it such intense pain. In total panic, it spun, its wings and tail moving with it. Scorched rock, jagged crystals and steaming blood were sent out in all directions.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    The Guildleader, charging in with his team barely had a chance to shout ¡°Shields!!!¡± and brace for impact. The next moment two dozen players were sent flying. Some managed to brace themselves with their shield and a Skill, but others weren¡¯t as lucky, being thrown against the far wall of the cavern. Most of them didn¡¯t survive and of those that did survive over half were too wounded to continue.  The last remaining healer in the raid rushed to their side, his legs shaking and the book at his side hanging heavy.


    James never stopped, his blade soaked red and his body splattered with steaming blood. A normal person would have been on the ground screaming in pain, but James was laughing. Only a madman would laugh at the current situation, but they were all madmen for challenging a dragon anyway.


    Reaching the front of the dragon¡¯s chest, James stopped laughing and turned to survey his handywork. He never got the chance, the dragon vengefully batting him with all its strength. James barely managed to raise up his sword to block, before he went flying, a surprised look plastered on his face.


    In an epic collision he smashed through a crystal cluster with enormous force, throwing crystal shard in every direction, before continuing through a second one. He tried to stop his momentum by planting his sword in the ground, but it was ripped out of his hand and he was sent rag dolling across the stone floor with all the grace of an elephant trying to do cartwheels. Finally, he came to stop, groaning.


    James had cuts and gouges across his entire body and was definitely bleeding from at least two dozen different places, though Azrael had no idea how much of the blood was James¡¯.


    The big man lay unmoving, blood slowly pooling around him.


    Satisfied the dragon finally noticed Azrael, with its one good eye. Azrael involuntarily gulped as the angry dragon stared him down. He¡¯d tried to stay out of its sight, making the use of its wounded eye. Now it turned its attention on him.


    Then his dagger.


    Then its left claw, where his daggers sat embedded under its scale.


    Then back at him.


    It opened its mouth, showing off multiple rows of wickedly sharp teeth. More terrifying than that, however, was the coalescing ball of fire and mana in its maw. It was preparing another breath attack.


    Panicking, Azrael briefly glanced at The Lightning Witch, only to see her still slumped against her the robed figure. She struggled to raise her arms, mana gathering at her fingers. He admired the fact that despite definitely being exhausted beyond belief she was trying. Only it was slow. Too slow. It was far too slow. The breath would be ready before she finished.


    He raised his own hand, almost unthinkingly calling upon his most familiar spell. In desperation he also started [Chanting], the Skill¡¯s power adding to his own.


    ¡°Know my name¡­¡±


    Slowly, far too slowly, mana gathered in the palm of his hand. The fiery light in the dragon¡¯s mouth was growing larger and brighter by the second.


    ¡°¡­hear my call¡­¡±


    The surrounding ambient mana also got drawn in, attracted by both his mana and [Mana Mastery]. It swirled together with his own mana, building the power of his spell beyond what it might have normally been.


    ¡°¡­burn bright, fly fast.¡±


    Azrael had to turn his gaze away from dragon, the light in the dragon¡¯s mouth too bright to look at. Trusting his judgement he directed the mana in his spell towards the dragon and released.


    [Fireball].


    The [Fireball] roared from his fingers, crossing the distance between them. Like a golden sun it lit up the cavern, lighting up and bringing day to the large cavern beneath the earth. The shadows, once so dominant in the vastness of the cavern reaches slunk back, hiding in the nooks, crannies and people¡¯s shadows. And as it continued the [Fireball] drew in more [Fire] mana, growing in size and power and majesty.


    Then, in an epic collision it struck the dragon in the head, sending the dragon staggering. It crashed onto one shoulder, the force whipping its head sideways. Crystal clusters shattered as its large frame crashed into the earth and the cave shook. Dust rained down from above.


    The Lightning Witch slowly lowered her arms and the remaining players held their breath in anticipation, for the dragon hadn¡¯t made a sound as it fell. There was no earsplitting roar like there was during James¡¯ attack and for a moment Azrael dared hope that it was over.


    But then the dragon raised its head from where it had struck the ground and turned to look at him with a wicked grin. It opened its mouth, revealing a glowing sphere of white flame.


    ¡°Rat¡¯s arse¡± was all Azrael could mutter before it unleashed its breath.


    Like hell¡¯s wrath, white flames spewed across the distance between them. Stone cracked and melted where it passed and crystals shattered from the heat.


    Azrael let himself fall backwards. This was it. No wall of stone, no matter how large he made it was going to stop that fire. There was no plan. They had done well. He corrected himself. He had done well. Perhaps the second raid would succeed.


    Behind him he noticed James sluggishly drag himself towards his sword. How the big man was alive he had no clue. Maybe this would be the last time they would see each other, the big man probably wandering off for another adventure after this one. Despite how hard he had tried to ignore and ditch the big man at every turn, there was some part of him that would miss him.


    No, there was still an {Oath} between the two of them, one that the impartial God of Death presided over. He internally sighed. He was probably going to have to see James again at some point.


    He just hoped Alena would forgive him. As his {soul bound} she would die together with him. There lives were linked, except he was a player. He could respawn. She couldn¡¯t. One life¡­ and she¡¯d bound it to him. A tear fell and evaporated in a single moment.


    He prayed she wouldn¡¯t, but Death was an impartial God. Azrael promised himself he would do his best to bargain, even if he had to die again. The little mute girl he¡¯d rescued had grown into a fine chef and an even better leader and combatant. Despite his best attempts, he¡¯d become attached to her.


    Unfortunately, there was no way he could escape the roaring flames. James and Lilith were still alive, along with a small handful of others. They would have to avenge him. Him and his village, that the dragon had torched. The dragon in question was currently down, giving them a chance.


    This might be the end of the raid for him, but there were still survivors. He wished them luck.

 Chapter 145 - Amongst The Shadows

    Azrael fell backwards, dragonfire inexorably racing towards him. The bright flames roared and rushed, descending upon him like a shooting star ¨C wonderous, bright and slightly surreal. Even behind shut eyes he could not escape it, the light of the fierce flames banishing the shadows that usually hid there. He could imagine the shadows fleeing behind him, stretching from the base of his feet to the wall of the cavern behind, in a desperate bid to escape the raging torrents of flame. They too would be subsumed in time, as the fire turned him to ash.


    Unless he wasn¡¯t.


    He hit the cavern¡¯s stone floor hard, the stone was hard and unyielding ¨C painful ¨C but the shock of pain shook an old forgotten memory loose. The stone was blissfully cool compared to the warm air of the cavern and the blazing flames and he instinctively tried to push himself further - not into the earth, but into his own shadow.


    He fell ¨C sinking ¨C and the fire roared through the space he had occupied moments ago, the formerly cool stone rapidly expanding, cracking, glowing red and finally melting into a pool of molten lava.


    Azrael didn¡¯t notice, not from where he was hidden ¨C drifting ¨C in a realm of swirling shadows. Here it was blissfully dark and blessedly safe. His skin no longer felt like it was melting and his eyes no longer felt like they were being stabbed with blazing daggers. Here, there was no light, no heat and no cold. If he had to compare it to something, he would have compared it to being underwater, with no proper up or down. There was no fire here, no light, no direction and no gravity. There was nothing but shadows. Even space seemed to avoid this place, distances deceptively close and strangely far at the same time.


    However, even here the light of the dragonfire seemed to touch, shrinking the shadows around him into narrow paths. These paths constantly moved as the dragon¡¯s breath moved, casting and banishing shadows as it illuminated the cavern. Were it not for the unnaturalness of the realm ¨C devoid of sound, sight and sensation ¨C he might have been tempted to stay here. As it was, he quickly felt the need to return to reality, like a diver needing to return to the surface. This shadowy realm wasn¡¯t a place people were meant to stay in for long.


    Seeking a shadow to exit from he trusted his intuition to guide him, only to discover something he¡¯d never experience before. One of the shadows was blocked. There was something there¡­ he felt it shift and two eyes turned towards him. He shivered, suddenly eager to be out and quickly racing to pop out of the nearest shadow.


    Emerging with a reflexive gasp for air, Azrael hid behind the fallen boulder whose shadow he had just emerged from. A shudder went through his body and he forced himself to regain control. He felt [Calm Mind] work in overdrive. His breath caught, staggered and laboured, before slowly evening out. That thing in the shadows had him spooked. The shadows had previously been his safe space to escape to. Now he had learnt that there was something else there. Not something else, he corrected himself as he rechecked the brief memory ¨C somebody else. Someone else who knew how to walk amongst the shadows.


    For an eternity and a half, he just lay there, his heart beating overtime. Between the dragonfire and the mysterious entity he felt like he¡¯d brushed too close to death. Far far too close. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool stone. He was alive. Alena was alive. A half-sob of relief escaped his lips.


    From somewhere in the cavern there was another scream. Another person down. Another person not alive. That could have been him just then ¨C burnt to a crisp until not even ashes remained. Even his shadow would have been erased. It would have been like he¡¯d never existed. And Alena would have vanished from this world along with him, no word, no warning.


    That was the power of dragonfire. It erased. Just like it almost erased his village. Like it almost erased his people. They were his people, despite his best attempts to distance himself from them Despite his best attempts to push them away. They relied on him. They trusted him. And he¡¯d promised that he would protect them from the dragon. That he would kill it at all costs.


    ¡­at all costs.


    And yet, despite his best efforts¡­ no, despite the best efforts of two-hundred players, it still stood.


    Indeed, the dragon had now righted itself, blood pouring from its head, where it had impacted the ground. Blood poured from its stomach. Blood poured from its flanks. Blood poured from hundreds of tiny wounds.


    And yet¡­ it still stood.


    They had thrown everything that they had against: swords, spears, arrows, magic. And yet, it still stood. He¡¯d thrown everything in his arsenal against it¡­ and yet¡­ it still stood.


    Almost everything.


    There was one Skill. One Skill that he¡¯d avoided. One skill he¡¯d feared to use. He let out his last shuddering breath and righted himself. He pulled up the Skill in question from his [Status] ¨C the Skill he¡¯d gained from surviving an encounter with the Primordial of the Void.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


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    [Void Shaping]


    Even the eternal, the infinite, the unbreakable and the impossible can change.


    By drawing on the power of the void you may exert influence to change the form of physical matter.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The skill allowed him to draw upon the unstable energy from the other side of reality. It allowed him to draw upon the very same energy that had almost killed him. It was powerful. He¡¯d experienced its effects on himself. It had ripped apart his whole existence ¨C both mind and body ¨C warping, shredding, twisting and piercing everything that made up him. He had survived. He had willed himself to survive, but a scar remained. It had marked him.


    It was dangerous.


    He feared it.


    He needed it. It had saved him before.


    It changed him. How, he didn¡¯t know, but he was afraid.


    He was afraid to use it. He was afraid to fight a dragon without it.


    All power came with a price.


    All responsibility came with a price.


    He wasn¡¯t sure he could afford to pay the price.


    He wasn¡¯t sure he could afford not to.


    Azrael balled his hands into fists and then opened them. His hands were shaking. He balled them again and sought the point within his soul, where he was linked to the Void. It sat there, upon the ruined remains of one of his skills, a bleeding scar ¨C a gate ¨C upon a warped pedestal. He mentally reached out, feeling the Void respond to his touch and then he drew upon it, slowly and carefully coaxing it with his mana.


    Someone, somewhere, screamed. He ignored it, drawing out and leading the unstable energy like he was leading the child across a tightrope. One mistake was all it would take for him to actually end up dead. He would never forget the feeling of his existence ripping apart, or the sights void energy bursting uncontrolled into reality.


    He swallowed, his mouth dry and pulled the unstable energy into reality. It strained, rolling and roiling, testing his control and slowly eating at his mana. He fought to keep it under control. It was hard. What come next was harder. Like the Skill¡¯s description said, the violent energies of the void interacted with the physical world. What he wanted to do was something else. He wanted to purposely create a Skill. He didn¡¯t even know if it was possible. But he had seen things when his body and consciousness had been ripped apart in the Void. He had seen things that a mortal mind couldn¡¯t properly comprehend. Amidst the destruction and rebirth of entire galaxies, he¡¯d seen matter and mana move, meld, clash and create.


    This cave was full of [shadow] mana, just as much as it was full [fire] and [heat] mana. They were two opposites, existing in equilibrium. Fire chased away shadows, shadows swallowed fire, but fire also gave life to shadows. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow. It was a truth. [Void] would let him take this truth to the extreme.


    Even if [Void Shaping] didn¡¯t recognise [Shadow] as something to interact with, it would ¨C soon. He would make it, because as the skill said ¡®Even the eternal, the infinite, the unbreakable and the impossible can change.¡®


    It was impossible to have a cloak of shadows. He had seen Alena do it.


    It was impossible to ¡®make¡¯ a new skill. He would do it.


    The void only affected matter. He had felt it rip apart his mind.


    This game worked with intent. He intended to make a skill. He intended to succeed.


    The only thing was, despite being able to use [shadow] mana he¡¯d never learnt how to do it himself. The game had gifted it to him, through Alena. She was the one who had acquired [shadow] mana. Not him. Not yet. Yet he needed it. He needed it now. So, he did the last thing he thought he would do. He settled into a position for [Meditation], drowning out the clash of metal on scales and the shouting of people fighting for their lives. He let it all fade away, just like it faded away when he was in the shadow realm. He held that image, the misty swirls of silent greys and subtle blacks.


    And then he wove.


    Streamers of shadow materialised as he plucked them out of the air. They were soft intangible wisps, yet they stuck together like tar ¨C unwilling to separate. They flowed together, but each strand remained its own, held together by [Void], mana and his will. They shifted, they strained and they flowed. They shrank from the light and they drank it in greedily. They evaporated and the coalesced, trapped between the intangible and the tangible ¨C the untouchable and the touchable.


    And at some point the cloak simply¡­ was. Blue screens had flashed in his vision, but he ignored them, unable to afford losing concentration. They were dismissed, for another time.


    Now, he threw the finished cloak of shadows across his shoulders and it draped itself comfortably across his shoulders ¨C almost weightless. A further twist of mana and a touch of void and a suddenly brilliant crown of blazing gold flames hung above his head, casting shadows and feeding the cloak. He pulled up the hood of his cloak, the crown and cowl working together to obscure his face. Only his eyes ¨C as golden as the flames themselves ¨C were recognisable from under the shadowed cowl, glowing as he continued to burn mana.


    Harnessing the powers of the void required little energy on his part, but keeping it controlled required mana. Even now the ever changing, unstable energies sought to tear into everything that made up reality. He pulled up a single section of his [Status]


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    Race: Human (78%)


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    He let out a sigh of relief. It hadn¡¯t changed. He¡¯d managed to be careful enough.


    He turned to the battlefield, watching the Dragon forcefully bat someone away. Another one down. They were less than ten now, including him. He downed his last three mana potions, dismissing the expected [Status] message that popped up.


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    Warning!


    Due to replenishing over a quarter of your natural mana capacity through external means, within a short period of time, your natural mana regeneration will be stunted for a period of time!


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He strode back onto the battlefield, his partially refilled mana ticking down like a timer.

 Chapter 146 - Lord of Shadow and Flame

    Azrael strode onto the molten battlefield confidently, cloaked in shadows and crowned with fire. Right at this moment he wasn¡¯t Azrael, the player. He was Azrael, the [Lord of the End Forest]. There was a confidence in his actions that he¡¯d thought he¡¯d lost. He wasn¡¯t just confident in his abilities, but also in himself. Even the way he breathed felt confident, cloaked as he was in power and mystique.


    The Dragon, this Dragon, had dared to lay fire to his village. With a confidence he hadn¡¯t felt at the time, he had sworn to slay it in front of the entire village. As a [Lord] he was honor bound to slay it. As a player he lived for such challenge and glory.


    He took another step and stumbled. Hoping nobody had noticed due to the distance between them he continued on, now acutely aware that his legs were still somewhat shaky and that his hands were slightly clammy. Despite his confidence in himself, he had just narrowly escaped death by dragonfire ¨C a dragon he was calmly walking towards right now. Despite all his confidence in himself, a dragon was still a dragon. Still, the fact that he was currently wielding a power that could tear through the very fabric of reality helped a lot to sooth his nerves.


    Resolving himself he let his [Aura] leak out, allowing it to cloak him. The three aspects of his Aura, {Defiance}, {Intimidation}, and {Authority} drew the attention of everyone in the cavern, even if it didn¡¯t quite reach them. Even the dragon turned to take note of him. With all the eyes on him, he felt [Dramatic Flair] act up, adding to his visage.


    A non-existent wind caught his shadowed cloak. Streamers of shadowy mist swirled around him, rolling off and sinking back into his cloak. Golden sparks dripped and flashed from his crown, quickly fading as they drifted and fell. {Trickster¡¯s Blessing} also acted up, strengthening his act and unifying the magics cloaking him. Shadows grew darker, melding in with the rest of his clothes, while his crown of flames became a richer gold. His [Aura] swelled, growing not in strength, but in presence.


    Like a warrior king of shadow and flame, Azrael confidently continued to stride onto the battlefield, as if the cavern were his by right. He summoned a dagger and coated it with the energy of the void, raising it up to point at the dragon in silent challenge.


    There was a glow, a spark and then once again dragonfire was growing deep in the dragon¡¯s gullet, as it took offence at his challenge. This time Azrael didn¡¯t intend to avoid it. He intended for the cloak to work and work it would.


    The dragon¡¯s fiery ire raced towards him and he brought the void covered blade down. Reality screamed and fire split, cut in two. It was short-lived, the force of the dragonfire barrelling forwards, more furious than he¡¯d anticipated. He forced more [Void] into his dagger, the blade slowly disintegrating as he lost control of the fickle energy and it lashed out. The stone dagger in his hand bubbled and then turned to dust, destroyed by the chaotic powers of the Void. He hurriedly dropped it, cutting off the flow of energy to the ruined blade. Suddenly free from control the remnant forces of the void lashed out and the dragonfire nearby froze, cracked, and shattered into countless shards of blazing crystal.


    And yet the fire went on, the dragon wanting to eradicate him. Perhaps it sensed the dangerous power he was wielding or perhaps it simply wanted this new intruder gone. Either way, Azrael bore the full brunt of the dragon¡¯s fury.


    Or rather his cloak did.


    Flames licked at it and light pierced it, but the void refilled the shadows of the cloak as it hungrily drank from the dragonfire. What was burnt away was replenished, what was destroyed by light was recalled. Just like feeble shadows could not smother a sun, the dragon¡¯s fire was no match for an embodiment of the shadows. Even his crown of golden flames drank greedily from the dragonfire, drawing it in and making its light and heat its own. Blue screens flashed like warnings, but he had his eyes closed against the brightness of the blaze. He felt his feet slide, his whole body being pushed back by the force of the attack.


    Then, it stopped.


    He stood, shrouded in shadows and fire, like before. The dragon stood puzzled and the players looked at him in awe.


    If he wasn¡¯t suddenly frozen in fear at the absolute stupidity of what he had done and incredibility of that he¡¯d actually survived, he might have said something grandiose, maybe even jumped up and down in childish amazement. As it was all he could do was stand there passively, his cloak silently waving around him.


    From somewhere near Lilith, he heard James laughing. He smiled, feeling some tension drain from his shoulders. The dragon looked at him and its shocked expression brought laughter to his own lips.


    Like two madmen he and James laughed, while surprised players and a shocked dragon watched him. He raised his right hand high above his head, revelling in the feeling of being undefeatable. He stopped laughing, though the smile remained on his lips.


    Instead, he started [Chanting], relishing how the mana came and curled around his fingers. Flames sparked into existence, tinged a prismatic black due to the trickle of void energy he was carefully feeding into the spell.


    Around the cavern the few remaining players sensed the end of the battle drawing near. A mage raised his staff high, the crystal at the end shining brightly as it channelled every last bit of his mana. Lilith had her rapier drawn in a fencer¡¯s salute, her lips silently chanting words only she could hear. The healer was kneeling, his hands clutched around his God¡¯s holy symbol. James hefted his sword and the Guild Leader with the last three remaining members of his guild took combat stances, ready to fight or die trying. Of all the preparations, however, the most eye catching was that of the two remaining necromancers.


    They had their hand around an item of some kind and whatever ritual they were doing Azrael felt it across the cavern. Energy pulsed and swirled, centered around them, before exploding out in a massive blast. It wasn¡¯t mana, at least not any he was familiar with, but the effects were dramatic.


    Around the cavern almost two hundred ghostly figures rose from fallen bodies, crushed corpses and bloody remains. The regretful spirits of downed warrior rose once more as a horde of vengeful ghosts. They opened their mouths, shouts starting off as a whisper that grew into a roar that filled the cavern. It was a call for vengeance. It was a call for blood ¨C dragon blood.


    And yet, as he watched, some of them winked out ¨C whatever energy that had called them here unable to sustain their fragile existence. The spectres that vanished did so with a bitter howl. One in ten, two in ten, four in ten, five in ten¡­ their numbers kept falling until only sixty or so remained.


    With the ball of fire above his head Azrael let more of the void energy under his control bleed in, the already prismatic black flames deepening into a shade of darkest midnight.


    If Sam were here they would have shared a smile and Sam would have said his trademark line, while another friend of theirs ¨C Leila ¨C would have been ready to catch their antics for her stream. It hurt thinking about them, but as it was he still heard Sam¡¯s voice in his head ¨C clear even after all these years.


    ¡®It¡¯s Showtime!¡¯


    Azrael unleashed the spear of ravenous black flames he had hovering above his hand, the projectile racing towards the dragon. James charged, the guild master and his member moments behind. The mage was still channelling, while the healer was still praying. Instead, sixty vengeful ghosts charged in, spectral weapons raised. Spectral arrows flew, vanishing through the dragon¡¯s scales and striking deep inside. Spectral blades cut through scales, leaving no trace, but eliciting a roar ¨C a roar which grew louder as Azrael¡¯s spear of void tinged flames struck the dragon¡¯s wing.


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    The dragon, cautious of the last time it had been downed raised its wing to shield it from the projectile of flames. What nobody, not even Azrael could predict was that the flaming black lance would pierce straight through the dragon¡¯s wing and cut a deep gouge into its flesh, just behind the head. It left black flames where it struck, before finally colliding into the far wall and digging in deep.


    The healer¡¯s voice rose in a final cry, before he collapsed ¨C spent. His prayer answered, light rose from the dragon, before scattering and impacting the remaining players. Azrael felt his wound heal. Cuts, scrapes and bruises vanished off all players, though deeper wounds remained. The dragon on the other hand suffered, within seconds minor wounds became major and major wounds became worse. It sagged.


    It let out a weak roar, no longer as confident as it had sounded minutes earlier. It knew its end was coming¡­ but not without a fight. Bringing its tail around, it swept through at least twenty ghost warriors while aiming for the remaining guild members and James. The spectral warriors died a second time, with only a sigh to mark their second passing. Of the two necromancers one collapsed, a further ten ghosts vanishing with them.


    As for the unfortunate fighters, the guild members rallied around their leader. With a cry the members briefly glowed and then collapsed before the tail hit them. Their leader gave a cry of his own, hefting up his shield. He glowed with the power of his fallen allies and a massive shield of energy superimposed itself over reality. The dragon tail struck with the force of an avalanche and the shield cracked, but it didn¡¯t break. The force pushed the guild leader back a further ten meters, before the shield flickered and shattered into glittering motes of energy. The man collapsed onto his knees ¨C spent. Only James ran on unscathed, making it to the dragon. His sword swung, shattering scales every second or third blow, before striking at unprotected flesh below.


    Beyond the dragon tail¡¯s range, Lilith¡¯s eyes finally flashed open, the final syllable falling from her lips. Here eyes were filled with sparking lightning. The same lighting flashed along her rapier up and down her black clad body. He saw her take a breath to steady herself and then she took a step and was gone, racing along the dragon¡¯s tail.


    Lightning flashed with every step she took. Thunder rocketed through the cavern with each stride. Where she passed lightning arced for a few seconds, eagerly running across scales and searing unprotected flesh.


    She raced along its back, avoiding pools of congealing blood and patches of arrows. Ever onwards, ever upwards she raced. Azrael saw the lightning on her rapier grow in intensity. The dragon, having begun charging a breath attack to get rid of James, began to turn to face her, before she reached the base of its neck.


    Below, the mage finally finished channelling. His staff flashed, his crystal audibly cracked and the cavern was suddenly filled with more light than it had ever seen. Somewhat protected by the shadows of his cloak, Azrael watched the dragon rear up, blinded. Blinded and distracted. As the fire died in its throat Lilith took the moment to aim for the still flaming wound behind its head. She lunged.


    Lightning slashed and another peal of thunder echoed through the cavern, but only Azrael saw how her foot slipped in blood from the wound, the strike going wide. It pierced deep, exposing bone, but ultimately failed.


    Lilith fell. The light faded.


    The dragon came crashing down again, keening. Crystals shattered from the shrill frequency.


    The mage collapsed, his staff ruined, his energy empty beyond belief.


    The person in a purple robe who had been standing besides Lilith for the battle collapsed bleeding, as her crystal ball exploded. The final necromancer reeled back, the item they had used to channel the ghosts also exploding. With a wounded cry they reeled back, but spread out their arms to the sky in ritual, saving a final twenty ghosts from oblivion.


    Even James faltered for a moment, narrowly avoiding the dragon that came crashing down.


    As for Lilith, something twisted in her shadow and she was gone, saved from death by collision.


    This was it. The end. And all he had was a fancy cloak and a final reckless gambit. He pulled upon his mana, recklessly channelling it as he ran towards James. He shoved it into the ground, drawing upon the natural [Earth] mana contained in the ground with his [Mana Mastery]. [Chanting] aided guiding his intent and he felt a certain sense of vindictiveness as he chanted.


    ¡°Rise up earth dragon, fang and claw,¡­¡±


    The earth buckled as he ran and he noticed bit of it bubble, flake, melt or crystallise and he briefly lost control of his hold over the void energy. He¡¯d never multitasked this much, the effort causing his concentration to slip. He clamped down on the leaking energy, continuing to chant like his life depended on it ¨C which it quite probably did.


    ¡°¡­to bite and pierce...¡±


    James saw him coming, but Azrael had to momentarily ignore the big man as he directed his mana towards the patch in the dragon¡¯s wrist, where he had cleared away all the scales. He pumped almost his entire remaining mana pool into the spell, causing it to [Overcharge]. Mana ripped through him, the void energy it had been controlling being dragged with it. It hurt, feeling like acid coursing through his veins. He both the pain and the blue boxes that popped up, uttering the last of his chant.


    ¡®¡­Rise up!¡±


    The earth, previously bucking underneath him now actively surged upwards, jagged point rising up to pierce soft, bleeding, unprotected flesh. It pierced through, shearing through flesh and bone. One jagged stone spike, enforced beyond normal means.


    [Earth Spear]


    The twisting energies of the void, finally free from his control took on the intent of the spell and the [Earth Spear] exploded with a hundred stone barbs, lodging itself in the dragon¡¯s wrist and binding it to the ground. With a twist of void mana he anchored the last of his mana pool into the spear, strengthening it with [Reinforcement]. It wouldn¡¯t hold long. Already the chaotic energies of the void that were running rampant through the [Earth Spear] were eating at it, just like he felt them eating away at him.


    The pain made it hard to think, but almost upon James, Azrael shouted out the only word he had for this plan.


    ¡°YEET!!!¡±


    He crossed his heart and hoped the big man was dumb enough to understand him.


    Without waiting he jumped, adrenaline and boosted stats making it far greater than he¡¯d ever jumped before. It was still nowhere near enough to reach his target ¨C the gruesome wound on the dragon¡¯s nape.


    He reached the apex of his jump, his momentum dying and gravity getting ready to take hold once more. He closed his eyes in resignation. The dragon was roaring in pain and straining against the [Earth Spear] that bound it. This was their only remaining shot. It would free itself in a minute. His only consolation was that it would die if he failed. There was no way it could survive such a wound. There was no way anything could survive such a wound and live. Yet, the dragon was still somehow alive and thrashing. The dragon had surprised him more than once today and he hadn¡¯t wanted to risk the chance of retribution. The Holy Empire would probably kill it, he mused. He hated the thought, but it was a small consolation that the village wouldn¡¯t have to fear the dragon ever again.


    Gravity took hold and he fell. He would make a run for it when he reached the ground ¨C if he didn¡¯t collapse from the pain first. Maybe he could get out and escape before the Holy Empire arrived.


    Something touched the balls of his feet, sending spikes of pain through his entire body. He looked down, having expected the ground to be a little further down. Instead, he saw the smiling blood-drenched face of James, who had jumped up. With a grunt, the big man hefted the sword that he had positioned under Azrael and sent him flying with a grunt. Like a ball from a baseball bat Azrael flew upwards. Below him James was forced back to the ground and Azrael heard a very enthusiastic ¡°YEET!!!¡±


    Reaching the apex of his arc at the wound, Azrael ¨C devoid of mana and pretty much everything including stamina ¨C did the only thing he could. Taking hold of the remnant void energy rampaging through his body he channelled it into his hand and plunged it into the wound that was still burning with black flames.


    The flames burnt, but the pain from the void energy burnt worse. He screamed, but even his voice chords seemed to be in agony, emitting no sound. The air around him shimmered and cracked. His cloak twisted, melting into him and his crown melted into his brow like warm wax.


    It was agony. It was an eternity. It was a moment.


    With one final push he purged the remnant energies into the dragon. It gave a single jerk and shudder, before the willpower that kept driving it faded from its eyes. It sagged and suddenly Azrael was falling. He didn¡¯t notice though. He had blacked out, his body unable to cope with the pain.


    A single blue screen popped up, unseen by anyone.


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    Congratulations!


    You have achieved a monumental feat by slaying a World Guardian, the Red Dragon of the West!


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    It was promptly followed by a whole host more, all equally unnoticed.

 Chapter 147 - Spoils Stolen and Earned

    Talahria slipped out of Lilith¡¯s shadow, where she was hidden. This was the second time she¡¯d done so this raid. The first had been to catch Lilith when she failed to deliver the killing blow and fell. Her mistress had been visibly surprised and understandably annoyed, as well as equally grateful for Talahria¡¯s assistance in catching her midfall. Fortunately, she was too professional to start questioning Talahria¡¯s on her presence while in the middle of a raid. The fact that she had collapsed moments later from overdrawing her mana may have also helped. Talahria left her mistress in the care of Karris, the diviner, to catch the enigmatic shadow cloaked warrior that had delivered the final blow in such a dramatic fashion.


    She had noticed their arrival in the realm of shadows, being there one moment and then gone the next. It was hard to see in the shadow realm and harder yet to move, but this figure¡­ this person? (It was hard to tell, wrapped as they were in shadows), but this person had looked her way, their gaze and intent drawing her own. Even more shocking was when she noticed that they jumped out of a shadow that was far away from their original position. She knew it was possible, but to her best knowledge and despite her best efforts, only The First Shadow of Elcifer had that skill. She herself was locked into the shadow she entered, though greatly protected and immune to most damage.


    This figure cloaked in shadows and crowned in fire had caught her interest, as well as no doubt her mistress¡¯. The power that they had displayed was also awe-inspiring. They had walked through dragonfire unscathed and single handedly locked the dragon to the ground. To top it off their javelin of fire had completely pierced through the dragon and embedded itself in the wall. They were no doubt a powerful mage and a tri-caster at that, capable of wielding the elements of earth, fire and shadows. She jumped upwards, catching the falling body draped in shadows. She smiled. Helping somebody at a moment like this was an easy way of getting into their good-


    She dropped them and pulled back almost as soon as she touched them, her arms burning as shadows hungrily ate into her flesh. The figure fell heavily onto the ground, their fall barely somewhat slowed due to her aid. She didn¡¯t notice due to the pain.


    Talahria scratched at her arms, trying to get rid of the black wisps of shadow that clung to her and burned her unprotected arms. She didn¡¯t notice the person¡¯s crown flickering eerily between white and gold as it melted into the ground. She didn¡¯t see the shadows that formed the cloak billowing inwards and outwards, as some seemingly melted into the person, while others sought their freedom and dispersed in wispy black streamers that faded into nothingness. All she noticed were the dark tendrils that clung to her arms and hands like tar, burning at her skin like acid. She didn¡¯t even notice the falling sparks that drifted downwards, having trailed after the figure when they fell. She only noticed them when they landed on her arms. They stuck to the shadowy tendrils and sunk in, like burning stars on black tar. She screamed out loud as the pain redoubled.


    The shouts of men echoed through the cavern, coming from the winding cave that led into the dragon¡¯s lair.


    In pain and in panic she dove into the nearest shadow.


    ***


    Sophie passively watched as Justicar Orlando commanded forty Holy Nights to enter the dragon¡¯s lair. They had reached the raid camp late afternoon, arriving both earlier and later than she had expected.


    Since early morning they had been hearing the dragon¡¯s roars and the occasional explosion of thunder. It echoed through the mountains, causing Orlando to spur on already weary knights. They marched faster, without complain, fuelled only by divine buffs and strong willpower forged through strict training. Despite this they arrived after their predicted time, having to fight off or avoid fleeing mountain goats, copper-scales, iron-scales, silver-scales and more.


    When they reached the camp Orlando had wished to wipe out the heathens in the name of the Goddess ¨C opportunistic merchants, and shocked, pale-faced players. Deserters, no doubt. She had barely managed to convince him that the dragon was of greater importance and that time was of the essence. Purity¡¯s brand on Sam had been growing unbearably strong since yesterday, weakening somewhat in the morning and growing stronger since they¡¯d resumed their journey. It added to the urgency she felt.


    Fortunately, had passed through the camp without much trouble or opposition ¨C save a reckless group of independent players who realised why they were there. No doubt every person in the camp had known why they were there, judging from their judgmental gazes. It was only the small group of fools, that had stood up, that made the mountain their grave. They had fled death, only to die here anyway. She hadn¡¯t been able to meet their judging gazes as Orlando and two knights cleared their path forward. For them it was a game. For her it was a job. Nobody liked their job.


    Now, she was walking down the dark cave, holding up a mage light. As the only proper mage in the group she had been relegated the duty of torch bearer, though several others had their swords lit up with Purity¡¯s divine light. The column moved in relative silence, save the clanking of armour and the occasional whispered prayer or wisecrack. There had been a roar moments ago and then silence. While the roar had been terrifying, the silence was foreboding. The ever-growing oppressive heat didn¡¯t help either.


    The smell of blood and burnt flesh came first, followed moment later by her mage light rising higher as the cavern opened up. The whispers stopped.


    It was dark in the cavern, her light so seemingly insignificant in the vast darkness. She poured in more mana from her already diminishing pool, watching as it lit up the small part that they were in. She reeled back from the burnt corpses, glad that the minor benefits she gained from being a kitsune didn¡¯t include enhanced sense of smell. Even the better trained knights took a step back. Some of them raised their swords in preparation. The corpses didn¡¯t move.


    A little further, in the light scattered by crystals and illuminated by pits of molten stone, lay the massive corpse of the dragon. It was large. Far larger than she had imagined. It was easily the size of a house. And despite the bleeding wounds and the massive pools of blood that flowed from its flanks, it was majestic.


    She doubted that anything less than the full might of the Holy Empire would be able to defeat it. How two hundred rag-tags, a guild and a single Ranker had managed to take it down she had no clue. She was simply glad that they hadn¡¯t had to fight it. Of the two hundred players, there were none left standing. If they had had to fight it, even wounded, she doubted she, Orlando and the forty holy knights with them would have been enough.


    ¡°Spread out. Squads of four.¡± Orlando commanded.


    Despite technically serving under her, she let the man lead. It was far easier to deal with him when he felt he was in control. She just had to make sure they succeeded the mission.


    ¡°Tess, Oren, Fis, Ren, with me¡± she commanded, picking four knights.


    Nine squads split off to search the cavern. She and Orlando and the four knights approached the dragon.


    A cry to her left drew her attention. A squad had discovered something.


    ¡°Survivors! Three down. One hostile!¡±


    ¡°Eliminate Hostiles!¡± Orlando commanded.


    ¡°Capture! Do NOT kill!¡± Sophie overrode. She disliked killing and would be able to justify her action under the guise of prospective interrogation.


    Orlando glared at her balefully, but didn¡¯t say a word. Though he was arrogant, he was not a fool. He knew who was really in charge.


    A second squad raced to reinforce the first, allowing her to once again restart her journey to the dragon corpse. She would deal with the captives after that. Purity guided her steps, compelling her forward. The compulsion was strong, driving her forward. Beside her Orlando walked with urgency in his own steps.


    ¡°And there it is¡± Orlando whispered, reverently, as he looked up at the bloodied body of the dragon ¡°Finally.¡±


    Sophie agreed with his sentiment, though her eyes weren¡¯t looking at the severed head of the dragon, but at the human-shaped bundle of shadows that lay on the ground. A faded and melting crown of flames slowly sunk into obscurity, slipping off the figure¡¯s head.


    ***


    Azrael woke with a pounding headache and feeling woozy and light headed. His muscles were beyond sore, but surprisingly he didn¡¯t notice any broken bones ¨C as far as he could tell. Maybe his entire body was simply too sore to notice. His eyes were dry, as was his mouth. He tried to wet it with spittle, but his tongue felt like sandpaper. Meanwhile, while his entire skin prickled like he¡¯d actually been pulled over sandpaper.


    Groggily, he tried to open his eyes, but saw only more blackness. He knew it was dark in the cavern. But somehow, instinctively, he knew there was light. He could feel the shadows ¨C as strange as that sounded.


    On instinct he tried to raise a hand in front of his face, only to find it bound. Both of them were. So were his feet. Somewhere there were voices, but they were far away. Or not. It was hard to tell with his current state. They felt far away. He frowned. Maybe he was in a worse state than he felt.


    On an almost delirious whim, he activated [Craftman¡¯s Eye], the resulting blue screen seemingly far too bright in the darkness. The writing was somewhat blurry to his sight, but he managed to make it out.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Crude Blindfold


    Made by ripping a strip of cloth off of a cloak, this blindfold hinders sight.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    A blindfold then.


    A blindfold, a mouth gag and bindings at both his wrists and ankles. Kidnapped. Not what he¡¯d expected waking up to. Not that he¡¯d actually expected to wake up. Surviving was slim possibility, far outweighed by being eaten, clawed, crushed or flattened to a pancake by the kinetic energy he accumulated as he fell.


    Mentally, he opened his [Status], scanning through the multiple ignored notifications that had popped up since this morning. It was only when he found a specific one that he felt unknown tension drain out of his body.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have achieved a monumental feat by slaying a World Guardian, the Red Dragon of the West!


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    They¡¯d done it. He¡¯d done it. He¡¯d kept his promise. The dragon was dead.


    Relieved, he turned his attention to the long list of other notifications. Far too many. A moment later they condensed, as he gave a mental command. It was still a lot, but instead of reading each increase individually they¡¯d all been tallied together. He shifted them around a bit, making them easier to read through, but taking them out of chronological order.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to spending a continued amount of time in an extremely hot environment you have gained levels in [Heat Resistance]


    [Heat Resistance] (Lv.13) advances to [Heat Resistance] (Lv.31)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For withstanding flames you have gained levels in [Fire Resistance]


    [Fire Resistance] (Lv.7) advances to [Fire Resistance] (Lv.12)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    These two notifications were entirely expected. He would have been more surprised if he hadn¡¯t gained any levels in these two resistances. What did surprise him though was the next message.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For surviving dragonfire unscathed [Fire Resistance] has evolved into [Fire Immunity]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    It was a pleasant surprise, but not wholly unexpected. The game did reward players for putting themselves out there and achieving things. Unfortunately, the description wasn¡¯t exactly clear.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Fire Immunity


    Some people learn to live with fire, yet few forget to fear it


    You are immune to any fire damage, with heat scaling with the Skill¡¯s level.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    From what he understood the skill negated damage caused by fire, such as burns, up to a certain threshold. The higher level the skill the hotter the flames he could withstand. Idlily, he wondered what would happen if he decided to take a bath in lava.


    The following few notifications were a little more clear cut.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Stolen story; please report.


    You have masterly fought against a vastly superior foe and have gained levels in [Dagger Arts]


    [Dagger Arts] (Lv.32) advances to [Dagger Arts] (Lv.39)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have kept calm under extreme emotional duress and have gained levels in [Calm Mind]


    [Calm Mind] (Lv.21) advances to [Calm Mind] (Lv.32)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have kept your center during extreme combat and have gained levels in [Meditation]


    [Meditation] (Lv.34) advances to [Meditation] (Lv.41)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You used the skill to great effects and have gained levels in [Reinforcement]


    [Reinforcement] (Lv.24) advances to [Reinforcement] (Lv.27)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have learnt how to make the mana of the world your own and have gained levels in [Mana Mastery]


    [Mana Mastery] (Lv.5) advances to [Mana Mastery] (Lv.9)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael frowned. He realised that [Mana Mastery] was most likely a skill of extremely high tier, but he felt that compared to some of his other skill gains it was a little on the low side. To be fair, he hadn¡¯t actually used much mana in the first half, save for creating and reinforcing his daggers, but [Meditation] had levelled up to 41! That was only nine levels away from the second advancement! [Reinforcement] had also passed level 25, crossing the first advancement. Compared to that [Mana Mastery] felt far to low level to be part of his usual skill set.


    Next came a skill he¡¯d expected to get far earlier.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For enduring through pain greater than imaginable, you have gained the skill [Pain Resistance]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    What doesn¡¯t kill you makes you stronger


    You are able to endure and function properly through great pain


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The quote made him smile. He wondered how often he¡¯d heard that one. Though, considering the amount of growth he had witnessed during this fight, there seemed to be some truth to it.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have pushed through greater pain and have gained levels in [Pain Resistance]


    [Pain Resistance] (Lv.1) advances to [Pain Resistance] (Lv.6)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The next two gains were somewhat surprising.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have woven something using previously unseen methods and have gained levels in [Weaving]


    [Weaving] (Lv.2) advances to [Weaving] (Lv.16)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have brought into being items from folk lore and have gained levels in [Crafting]


    [Crafting] (Lv.16) advances to [Crafting] (Lv.29)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    [Weaving] and [Crafting] were his two oldest skills, both of them having been mostly unused. He hadn¡¯t expected them to level up during a dragon fight, or that they would level up so much. It made sense when he thought about it. He had woven a cloak of shadows and crafted the crown of fire, but for two skills to gain 14 and 13 level respectively, was amazing. Admittedly, they were both relatively low levelled and the game no doubt considered mana and void energy to be ¡®high¡¯ tier crafting materials. He already knew that it was easier for Skills to gain levels at the beginning, before becoming increasingly harder, but it was still shocking.


    He noted that the notification for [Crafting] actually referenced ¡®folk lore¡¯, no doubt referring to the rumours of the Guardian of the End Forest, who was described as king clad in shadows and crowned with a wreath of golden flames. The irony in that was that the folk lore referenced had originated from one of his earliest stunts in the game. He had finally become the legend. A flame-crowned, shadow-cloaked protector of the forest. One who had just slain a dragon.


    If the mouth gag wasn¡¯t bound so tightly across his mouth people would have seen a big grin spread across his face.


    The next notification wasn¡¯t as surprising,


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have successfully enraptured an audience to great effect and have gained levels in [Dramatic Flair]


    [Dramatic Flair] (Lv.11) advances to [Dramatic Flair] (Lv.15)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Not a large gain compared to some others, but the most he¡¯d ever gotten for it in one go. He wondered whether it was due to the complexity of his crown and cloak, or due to a higher levelled audience. Possibly both.


    He was starting to realise that rarity and strength, whether it was a target or a material greatly impacted a Skill¡¯s gains. His next notification clearly expressed this.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have landed a blow against a stronger foe and dealt impossible damage and gained levels in [Spear Arts]


    [Spear Arts] (Lv.20) advances to [Spear Arts] (Lv.26)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael had thrown exactly one spear of void-touched flames at the dragon, unless the game was counting his final [Earth Spear] as well. One spell and he¡¯d gained six levels, while also bringing the skill over the first advancement. Amelia, the assistant of the elven Ranker ¨C Zen the Sylphian Acher ¨C had mentioned that passing an advancement was a sign of mastery, requiring knowledge, dedication and a little luck. He felt that his luck was slightly overshadowing his knowledge and dedication for this skill. Still, he appreciated it and instead turned to the next section of his notification.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For showing masterful skill in combat you have gained DEX +2.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For pushing your speed to the limit you have gained AGI +2.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For Enduring past your limits you have gained END +3.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For Pushing yourself beyond your physical capabilities you have gained STR +1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For masterfully applying knowledge and Skills you have gained INT +5.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For showing masterful insight you have gained WIS +2.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Growth. Blessed growth, after months. It had been relatively easy to increase his stats early on in the game, but repetition only got you so far. He¡¯d realised that he¡¯d have to push himself into new and dangerous situations to continue the growth that he¡¯d had, but was still conflicted on the type of life he wanted to lead. He wanted to be strong enough to protect himself and the village, but he also wanted to simply enjoy the solitude of the forest.


    Maybe, he decided, he would do a bit of work around the village once he got back. It had been strongly impacted by the dragon¡¯s attack. And honestly, the thought of having to be around the villagers didn¡¯t seem as bad as it used to. It wasn¡¯t that he¡¯d grown fond of them. They¡¯d simply grown on him. It wasn¡¯t his fault.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For gaining an understanding of mana beyond the basic elements ¡®Sorcerer¡¯ has been upgraded to ¡®Magus¡¯. ¡®Sorcerer¡¯ levels will be carried over. You have gained a level in ¡®Magus¡¯ INT+2 WIS+3 END+1.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael noticed with some delight that his third tier [Sorcerer] class had evolved into a fourth-tier class, giving him a point more in intelligence. The effects of higher tier classes were compounding, with higher tiers giving more stats with each level. Over time this difference would grow, creating a gap between classes. Of course, training, equipment and knowledge also played a part. Even at level 10 a first-tier class like [Villager] would lose against a fifth-tier class like [Lord], without fail. Of course, a higher tier class was also harder to level, though he seemed to have struck jackpot with this dragon raid.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For freeing your people from the dragon¡¯s shadow and fulfilling your promise to the people you have gained a level in ¡®Lord¡¯.


    WIS+3, END+2, STR+2


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    And with that he¡¯d gotten to the end of the main section. What remained was a bit of a mixed bag.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You reached a pinnacle of humanity.


    For gleaning wisdom beyond mortal ken, you have gained the title ¡®Observer¡¯


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®Observer¡¯


    Observation, not age, brings wisdom.


    You are more likely to notice subtle details in the world around you


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    A ¡®pinnacle of humanity¡¯, Azrael smiled. The title itself didn¡¯t seem that impressive, but it was no doubt more useful than it seemed. What was most interesting though was that the notification popped up, just after his Wisdom stat passed 50, due to the increase from gaining another level in [Lord]. It was his first and only stat to do so.


    The next notification drew his attention before he could ponder it much further.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You have achieved a feat spoken of only in legends!


    For slaying a dragon you have gained the title ¡®Dragon Slayer¡¯


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®Dragon Slayer¡¯


    For gold and glory, immortalised in song


    Dragons will instinctively fear you, while people will instinctively sense your greatness


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    The people and the world acknowledge your existence.


    You have received the right to the moniker ¡®Shadow King¡¯


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to your moniker you have gained the unique skill [Royal Regalia]


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Royal Regalia


    For I am cloaked in shadows and crowned in fire


    You may summon your royal regalia instantly.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to your Moniker your skill [Aura] aspect of Authority has grown to Majesty


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    Due to your Moniker your skill [Aura] aspect of Intimidation has grown to Dominion


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    [Aura]


    Some kings wear their power as a cloak.


    Those around you will be affected by your aura. This effect increases the stronger you are.


    Current Additional Aspects:


    <u>Defiance:</u> You are more likely to resist negative status effects from stronger opponents


    <u>Dominion:</u> You may exert pressure upon all those within the skill¡¯s radius.


    <u>Majesty:</u> Others are more likely to inherently obey you.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    For achieving a legendary feat and stepping into the realm of myths, you have gained the title ¡®Fantasy Touched¡¯


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Fantasy Touched


    Myths know their own


    You are more likely to attract and be attracted to things of fantastical nature.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Azrael was speechless. What was there to even say? It was a lot to take in. Unfortunately, the final two messages dampened any joy he¡¯d just found.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Warning!


    You have been strongly affected by unstable energies from the Void!


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    A lump formed in his throat as he felt it slowly sink to his stomach.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Race: Human (58%)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    There was a sharp kick in his side, which sent him tumbling over. At some point the voices had gotten closer.


    ¡°Wake up!¡± a male voice barked.


    He only caught a glimpse of his [Status] before the blindfold was roughly yanked off.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Status


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Name: Azrael


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Class: Runist (Lv.5), Magus (Lv.7), Lord (Lv.6), Thief (Lv.1)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Race: Human (58%)


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    Moniker: ¡®Shadow King¡¯


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    HP: 470/470


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    MP: 97/470


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    STR: 31


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    END: 47


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    DEX: 34


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    AGI: 27


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    INT: 47


    </td>


    <td style="text-align: center" width="298">


    WIS: 52


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Titles:


    {Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}, {Teacher}, {Oath Maker}, {Void Touched}, {Trickster¡¯s Blessing}, {Void Walker},


    {Marked By Purity}, {Observer}, {Dragon Slayer}, {Fantasy Touched}


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Unique skills:


    [Status], [Elemental Mana], [Lord¡¯s Insight], [Aura], [@#%& Self], [Shadow Step], [Footwork], [Royal Regalia].


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="2" width="597">


    Skills:


    Weaving (Lv.16), Crafting (Lv.29), Spear Arts (Lv.26), Mana Sight (Lv.26), Mana Mastery (Lv.9), Soul Sense (Lv.15), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 15), Stealth (Lv. 24), Calm Mind (Lv. 32) Lord¡¯s Domain (Lv. 2), Leadership (Lv.6), Void Shaping (Lv. n/a), Reinforcement (Lv.27), Dagger Arts (Lv.39), Meditation (Lv.41), Mana Transfer (Lv.5), Craftsman¡¯s Eye (Lv.1), Intimidation (Lv.6), Search (Lv.24), Heat Resistance (Lv.31), Fire Immunity (Lv.12), Pain Resistance (Lv.6)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>

 Chapter 148 - Stand Off

    Azrael¡¯s head jerked forward as the blindfold was roughly pulled off. It was bright, far too bright for the underground cavern and definitely brighter than what his eyes could take after the dark of the blind fold. Azrael squinted, noticing that the light seemed to originate from glowing rods. Glowing swords {Observer} corrected, the skill unobtrusively pointing out the pointed tips of the swords and the armoured knights that held them. Figures moved around in front of them, cast as silhouettes. He didn¡¯t need {Observer} to point out that he was in quite a pickle. Even with a quick glance he knew that there were more than he could fight in his current state.


    One of figures stepped in closer, blocking out most of the light and allowing Azrael to open his eyes up a little further. It was a man dressed in white and gold plate armour. On his left breast, equally wrought of gold, was the symbol of the Holy Empire. There was a little symbol underneath, which pointed out his position ¨C A Justicar. The man towered over him, the blindfold clutched in his hand.


    ¡°Name and affiliation¡±


    There was a tone in his voice that expected to be obeyed, but Azrael noticed it wasn¡¯t the tone of a seasoned leader, rather of the narcissistic kind. It was the same kind of voice Melissa used, though entirely lacking her surety of being obeyed.


    If it wasn¡¯t for the mouth gag that the man had forgotten to take out, Azrael probably would have said something stupid. Instead, his eyes flicked downward, towards his gag. They flicked back up and looked at the man smugly. An armoured fist flashed towards him, roughly ripping the gag off.


    Azrael smiled, spitting to the side. He already felt his lips swelling where the gauntlet had clipped him.


    ¡°Eat slugs¡± he said with a smile.


    The gauntlet came back down, striking the side of his head and sending him sprawling onto the hard stone. Stars danced. He felt blood. He¡¯d probably lost a few health points as well.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to get along swimmingly¡± he slurred, as he metaphorically slipped into darkness for the second time that day.


    *****


    Sophie stood by the felled dragon and rubbed her temples with both hands, as she looked over to The Lightning Witch, who was currently being guarded by ten holy knights. One of her fox ears twitched with annoyance. Nothing was ever easy.


    She turned away and ran one hand against the dragon¡¯s red scales, feeling their texture. They were somehow rough and smooth at the same time, somewhat like what she imagined animal horn to feel like, but beneath that there was a metallic sturdiness. In the sun they would probably shine, but here in the cave they were dull, scratched and scarred from battle. She paused and looked up at the felled creature. Its eyes were unseeing and even as she stood there she the warmth of its body was fading.


    Soon they would be cutting it apart, taking all that they could carry. Scales, claws, fangs, its eyes, its blood and most importantly its heart. Perhaps some of its bones if they could cut far enough. They would take as much as they could ¨C as much as fourty men could carry. And yet, so much would be wasted.


    Forty men could not carry a dragon the size of its house, so they would desecrate it with their holy blades, cutting away what they could take and wasting what they could not. Perhaps the opportunistic players back at the camp they had passed would take some, but there would still be more left over.


    She turned her head and looked away, looking back to where their eight prisoners were being guarded. Despite having healed all of them, six of them were still unconscious. Two of them ¨C both women ¨C weren¡¯t. Both were more trouble for her. A necromancer and a Ranker, and not just any Ranker, but Lilith ¨C a well known streamer and a staunch opposition to the Holy Empire.


    Orlando was for killing all eight. Purity demanded that the necromancer and Sam died. She herself didn¡¯t want to kill anybody. The reality was they would likely kill everybody except Lilith. Death wasn¡¯t permanent and Lilith no doubt had a few more lives to spare, but a Ranker wasn¡¯t somebody you simply ¡®killed¡¯, especially one who was no doubt recording their every action.


    Lilith looked in her direction and smirked, as if sensing her dilemmas. Sophie steeled herself and turned away from the dragon heading towards Lilith. If they were going to kill everybody, then it would be better to try and get Lillith to leave, so she didn¡¯t catch that on camera. Holy Empire¡¯s reputation would undoubtably take a hit for their actions today, but their PR people had most likely calculated the risks and benefits already. There was no need to add another variable to the mix.


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    ¡°And so we are graced by your presence¡± Lillith smirked when she was within earshot. Her arm was casually rested against the hilt of her rapier. Nobody made a move to try and confiscate it.


    Still, eight holy knights had their hands hovering nervously near their swords. Each and every one of them was ready to draw their blades the moment Lilith made a hostile move. It did not ease tensions when everybody present knew that only Sophie and maybe Orlando stood a chance in combat, should Lilith try anything. Lilith was strong ¨C strong enough to break out of her ¡®captivity¡¯. The only reason she didn¡¯t do so was because she was likely low on mana.


    ¡°I apologise for the inconvenience¡± Sophie said, smiling professionally.


    She hated this bit, but it was part of the job description.


    ¡°How sincere.¡± Lilith drawled sarcastically ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you would give us our dragon back, would you?¡± she asked, nodding in its direction. Sophie looked back, seeing thirty holy knights starting the dissection.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I can.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunate.¡±


    ¡°Quite.¡±


    ¡°I can however allow you peaceful exit from this cave. You have my word for that.¡±


    Lilith looked at her with a flat stare. Filtering her words for what was unsaid.


    ¡°And the others?¡± she asked.


    Sophie stayed silent, causing Lilith to raise an eyebrow at the unsaid implications.


    ¡°You do know I am recording ever moment of this, right?¡± Lilith asked.


    ¡°I am aware.¡±


    ¡°And you are aware of exactly how many people are going to see this exact footage, and let me tell you, it¡¯s not looking good for you right now.¡±


    ¡°I am a- ¡°


    A slap resounded through the cave, followed by a dull thud. Every eye in the cave turned to Orlando.


    He was standing over an unmoving body dressed in tattered and bloodied rags.


    ¡°I said heal the hostages, not beat the hostages¡± Sophie said, raising her voice. She was already storming towards Orlando before she¡¯d finished. Lilith followed, curious, and her guards nervously followed. Nobody tried to stop her. The necromancer stuck close to Lilith¡¯s back.


    ¡°You were supposed to heal them and tell me when they were awake¡± she lashed at Orlando, already drawing upon Purity¡¯s powers of healing.


    ¡°He insul¡­¡±


    Sophie blocked the rest of whatever out, focusing solely on guiding the mix of divine power and mana through the slumped figure¡¯s body. She frowned, something was wrong. She felt like she wasn¡¯t concentrating properly, half her power slipping through like the person wasn¡¯t there. She tried to drown out everything, only to find she couldn¡¯t. Surely Orlando¡¯s voice wasn¡¯t that annoy¡­ she looked at the person¡¯s face and in a moment realised why her she had trouble guiding her power. It was Sam-maybe-not-Sam. Purity¡¯s mark on his soul was quite literally screaming at her to kill him ¨C to cleanse him from this world. It was then, as half her power slipped out of her grasp, that she made her second discovery, one she¡¯d sought and now inadvertently found a different answer to. Sam had a spark. He was a player.


    His eyes snapped open. She staggered back, in surprise.


    ¡°Sam?¡± she asked.


    Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lilith¡¯s head suddenly swivel, before coming to a stop.


    She sent a cautious pulse of divinity out. The spark flickered and vanished from her senses. Had she imagined it? No. It was there. It had been there.


    ¡°Prioress?¡± Orlando asked, his face scowling at Sam.


    It..no..she¡­she needed space. She needed a moment to think. Orlando wasn¡¯t helping the situation. Neither was having Lilith, the necromancer and ten holy knights standing around, all looking at her.


    ¡°Dom, Tristan, guard the other prisoners. Orlando, and the rest, please escort Ranker Lilith to the exit.¡±


    His scowl deepened, but he made to follow her command. Lilith didn¡¯t.


    ¡°I will be taking the others with me as well¡± she said ¡°all of them¡±.


    ¡°I can¡¯t allow that.¡±


    ¡°What? So you let me go, because I¡¯m a Ranker.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I could hold you hostage instead and organise a ransom with the Bloody Baron¡±.


    Lilith scoffed ¡°You might as well let the rest go then as well.¡±


    She pointed at one of the unconscious prisoners ¡°See that guy? The big lug with the big sword? Sword King. Ranker.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t only Sophies eyes that opened wide in recognition of the name. But Lilith wasn¡¯t finished yet.


    ¡°See the lady in the purple robe? She¡¯s the number one divinations expert of Unity. The guy with the shattered shield? Guildmaster of Crimson Bulwark. Not too sure who the healer is, but the light mage is current seventh place in the unofficial illusionist rankings.¡±


    ¡°So, the filthy necro beside you is just a nobody, right?¡± Orlando drawled, his stance copying Lilith¡¯s, with one hand casually draped across his hilt.¡±


    Sophie felt his mean streak coming out. Sam had probably said something that riled him up and Orlando felt Sophie had stopped him from having his rightful revenge. Instead, he was taking it out on the necromancer who was hiding behind Lilith. The Ranker Lilith.


    Lilith took a casual step towards Orlando. Ten hands grasped the hilts of their weapon, but she ignored them seemingly at ease.


    ¡°You are aware of who I am, right?¡±


    ¡°I-¡±


    Lilith cut him off.


    ¡°And you are aware that my partner is the ruler of a city full of vampires and undead, right?¡±


    ¡°I d-¡±


    ¡°So, I believe it might be¡­ shall we say¡­ prudent, no not use any slurs while in my presence¡±.


    Sophie saw Orlando snap, but didn¡¯t move fast enough. His blade passed straight through the necromancer girl¡¯s chest, Purity¡¯s holy light burning away at her. A moment later his cruel and satisfied smirk turned into a gasp of shock, as Lilith¡¯s rapier found a spot in his throat. Lightning sparked and two corpses fell to the ground. Both were black ¨C one from divinity and one from lightning.


    The surrounding holy knights all drew their blades, encircling The Lightning Witch.


    Sophie felt the comings of a migraine.


    There was only one call she could make.

 Chapter 149 - Sam or Not Sam

    ¡°Stand down¡±


    Azrael woke up ¨C his world sideways ¨C to a standoff. There were two people dead on the floor and The Lightning Witch was surrounded on all sides by holy warriors with their blades drawn. Azrael was glad to see that one of the dead ones was the guy who had knocked him out. Lilith¡¯s silver rapier dripped red, while small sparks danced up and down the blade, uncontrollably ¨C as if to set off the already volatile situation. Azrael was surprised that she still had mana to spare. His had barely regenerated after the fight, though his health was somehow recovered. Someone must have healed him. Seeing as Lilith looked better than when he¡¯d seen her at the end of the fight, he guessed that she was probably in the same state, healed and using what little mana she had left to make a stand.


    Fortunately, she didn¡¯t have to.


    ¡°Stand down¡± Sophie repeated, stressing her words. Her silver fox ears were flexed back in warning.


    Azrael hadn¡¯t expected Sophie here, though in hindsight she was the one who had been scouting the dragon for Holy Empire. Apparently, she was also in charge, because the ring of holy knights all lowered their weapons ¨C even if somewhat unwillingly. Lilith¡¯s rapier stopped sparking a moment later, her shoulders almost imperceptibly slumping from exhaustion.


    ¡°Lady Lilith, I once again apologise for how things worked out¡± Sophie said. It words sounded as if they had been read from a script, and Azrael was surprised when he realised she actually meant it. ¡°I also apologise for our Commander¡¯s behaviour. He will be strongly reprimanded and I hope he has learnt some¡­ prudence.¡±


    There was a hint of humour in her voice, as is the two of them were sharing a joke. Azrael didn¡¯t quite get how anything in this situation could be funny, especially with two corpses lying on the ground and a dozen armed knights still ready to pull out their weapons at the slightest notice.


    Sophie¡¯s voice took on a sharper, different tone and spoke to her guards.


    ¡°Please escort our guest to the exit.¡±


    Lilith looked back at the rest of the still unconscious ¡®guests¡¯. Sophie saw her gaze.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t worry. I will consider your advice and will take it into consideration.¡±


    What advice that might have been, Azrael had no clue, however it seemed to be enough for Lilith. Flicking her rapier free of blood she sheathed it and let a dozen holy knights escort her to the exit.


    Before she left though, she turned back.


    ¡°Keep an eye on him¡± she said, looking at Azrael. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about this later¡±, she added and then turned and continued, until she left their line of sight.


    Sophie didn¡¯t acknowledge that she heard, only watching her until she was out of view and then turning to look at him.


    ¡°Sam¡±


    Azrael looked to either side of himself, wondering whether there was somebody else next to him that he hadn¡¯t noticed. A moment later he dimly realised that that was the name he had given her, when they first met. Sophie hadn¡¯t missed his movements.


    ¡°I can call you Sam, can¡¯t I?¡± She asked, a dangerous glint entering her eyes.


    He swallowed. Their past encounters hadn¡¯t exactly been peaceful, but there was more to this situation than that. {Observer} drew his attention to her tensed shoulders and her white knuckles gripping the daggers at her side. Her silver fox tail swung behind her like an angry metronome. She looked tense and ready to snap.


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    ¡°Yes?¡±


    Now, Azrael wasn¡¯t going to admit that he was feeling nervous, but he was bound and right now she felt dangerous. The fact that there were to still warm corpses barely two meters away really didn¡¯t help.


    ¡°You are called Sam, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    He hesitated. The knuckles around the hilt of her dagger were whiter ¨C if that was even possible. And then she released a deep breath, her knuckles slowly peeling off her dagger. A calm seemed to wash over her and when she spoke again it was without the previous tension. He wasn¡¯t sure which was version was scarier, the one who was ready to flip or the one that suddenly did a 180.


    ¡°I have¡± she said quietly ¡°a goddess screaming at me to kill you.¡±


    She paused, letting that sink in.


    ¡°I have orders from the High Priestess of the Holy Empire to and I quote ¡®torture and then kill you, in the most painful way possible¡¯ for the desecration of the statue of the Saintess and the chaos you caused in Nov Lux. Over a hundred people were killed, close to four hundred were badly injured and the main square, alongside the west main road were mostly destroyed. To top it off you also broke out of prison, freed another prisoner who stole valuable knowledge and resources and¡­¡±


    Her voice turned to ice


    ¡°¡­ you left me bound on that bridge for two hours. Two hours, until an artificer could safely make their way through the chaos you caused.¡±


    She pulled out her dagger, examining the sharp edge of the blade.


    ¡°Give me one good reason that I shouldn¡¯t kill you, right here or now.¡±


    Azrael watched her play with the blade and reconsidered his opinion of her. Maybe she wasn¡¯t as na?ve as he though. While her earlier conversation with Lilith felt forced, she wasn¡¯t acting now. She was angry and she meant every word. He reconsidered his situation.


    He was still low on mana, with Sophie herself in front of him with a weapon and two groups of knight in the cavern. One of those was working on the dragon, while the other was escorting The Lightning Witch out. He shuffled, repositioning his bound hands and sighed.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not Sam.¡±


    Azrael felt something welling up from within him as he saw her face flicker through two emotions ¨C confusion and determination.


    ¡°Then who are- ¡°


    ¡°I am the Lord of the End Forest!¡±


    His arms whipped up dramatically, and he fell backwards, towards his shadow with a smirk. His smug satisfaction practically bubbled out of his chest. There was nothing like a dramatic exit. It was too bad he didn¡¯t have much mana and already had to use some of it on freeing his bindings.


    Azrael hit the ground hard, his shadow physically denying him his dramatic escape. He tried pushing harder with [Shadow Step], but found his usual path to the shadow realm blocked. The skill was active, but something was stopping him.


    He turned to Sophie, his eyes narrowing.


    ¡°How are you doing this?¡±


    ¡°When did you get free?¡±


    ¡°Azrael?¡±


    Azrael and Sophie¡¯s heads whipped to the side.


    James had gotten up and was rubbing his neck. His face had been washed, but he was still completely covered in dried blood. As for his characteristic sword it was nowhere to be seen, most likely still lying somewhere on the battlefield, too heavy for the knights to move.


    James casually walked towards the two of them.


    ¡°Mind being a little quieter?¡± He asked, ¡°It¡¯s hard enough for a guy to get some sleep on this rocky ground, without people yelling.¡±


    Sophie looked past James, finding him to be the only one of the unconscious prisoners to have awoken, and turned to search for who was responsible for guarding them. All she found was the four unconscious, currently unguarded prisoners.


    The eight Holy Knights that had been guarding The Lightning Witch and the two who had been on guard duty with the now dead Justiciar were currently escorting Lilith to the mouth of the cave. The other thirty were over by the dragon. She was now outnumbered two to one.


    ¡°Knights! To me!¡±


    Azrael took the moment of distraction to step towards her, stepping onto her shadow. His foot sunk in slightly with [Shadow Step], before being jerked to a stop. It was as if his own shadow was pulling him back, refusing to enter.


    A dagger came flashing past as Sophie registered his movement towards her as an attack and he awkwardly dodged, his foot still stuck in Sophie¡¯s shadow. James charged with a roar and Sophie turned towards the sound. Azrael took the chance to escape. There were thirty Holy Knights now rushing towards them. As wrong as it felt leaving James to fight Sophie he doubted the big man would die. If a dragon couldn¡¯t kill him, he doubted a few knights could.


    Making a break, Azrael aimed for one of the spires of crystal just outside the radius of the mage light hanging above Sophie. He managed to make it out of Sophie¡¯s line of sight, before a thought hit him.


    There was nowhere to run to. Despite his fortuitous escape, he was trapped.


    From ahead, the sound of many metal-clad feet running across stone echoed throughout the chamber.

 Chapter 150 - A Second Stand

    Azrael sat crouched behind a partially shattered pillar of crystal, his heart hammering ridiculously loud. James continued his charge towards Sophie, either not caring or not realising that Azrael had left him. It did make Azrael feel bad, but he rationalised it with Alena¡¯s life. James could revive if the two of them died. Alena couldn¡¯t. He wasn¡¯t willing to lose her, after barely managing to hang on to their shared life.


    ¡°Wind Prison!¡±


    ¡°Holy Chains!¡±


    ¡°Bind!¡±


    ¡°Smite!¡±


    ¡°Bind!¡±


    ¡°Silence!¡±


    Seemingly within moments of Sophie¡¯s call, half a dozen spells flew through the air to strike James. Glowing with holy power the spells raced past Azrael¡¯s hiding spot, briefly illuminating the crystal spire he hid behind. A heartbeat later, James was immobilised, his speed sapped and his movement slowed ¨C slowed, not stopped. Even the half a dozen spells binding him with all their might couldn¡¯t completely stop the unstoppable force of nature that was James.


    Azrael tried to [Shadow Step] again ¨C this time a little more cautious ¨C but found his exit once more blocked. He hadn¡¯t realised how much he¡¯d come to rely on the skill. It was a bad time to make the realisation, with fully-armoured, combat-ready, spell-wielding Holy Knights racing towards his hiding spot.


    ¡°There¡¯s one more on the loose!¡± Sophie called.


    Her mage light rose up and then split into six, illuminating more of the cavern. Unfortunately, that also included his position, as the crystal he was hiding behind drew in and then threw out the light in a dozen directions.


    ¡°Over there!¡± Sophie shouted, pointing in his direction.


    Azrael booked it, taking a route that would put the dragon between him and the knights. It was a suboptimal route, but ignoring straight up running into the knights the other options were to either run towards Sophie, run towards the cave exit and clash with the knights there, or end up at a wall and being surrounded. This way he at least had a chance of making his way around or over the dragon and finding a new hiding spot.


    Jumping over burnt corpses and shattered crystal Azrael never even made it halfway too the dragon, before one of the knights clued into what he was trying. Calling out to his two closest comrades the three of them went to cut him off. A few more joined them, leaving him trapped in three directions.


    He cut tack to the right, aiming for the gap between the front group and Sophie. The group that had just split to cut him off would now need more time to catch back up. It was a time-wasting tactic and Azrael knew it. Already, spells were flying in his direction, while the knights¡¯ figures glowed with from the light of several buffs. Beams of silver and gold struck stone and charred corpses as he dodged them.


    Stone, corpse, crystal; Azrael cast around, looking for anything he could use. Nothing stood out.


    Worse, he was so intent on looking for something to use that he didn¡¯t double-check the width of the latest puddle of molten stone and mid jump realised that he wouldn¡¯t make it. With a blast of [Wind] he barely managed to make it to the other side, only to awkwardly land on a shattered fragment of crystal. It slipped out from under him, sending him sprawling into another puddle of molten stone.


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    He stood up, realising that he was now standing on an island surrounded on three sides by still glowing stone. This was the very spot where he had fended off the dragon¡¯s final flame. It was here that he had risen once more, finding the thrill in gaming that he thought he had lost. Survive a dragon, to fall to a sword. Somewhere, somebody was no doubt laughing. He knew Purity would.


    Practically trapped by the large moat of molten stone, and with moments until the knights were on him Azrael planned a gamble ¨C if he even had the right to call it that. While the moat kept him here it also protected him from the swords of the knights. It was only their spells that he had to be wary of. At best it would give him a chance to counter-attack. At worst it would give him a moment to think.


    He ducked, avoiding an incoming spell and grabbed hold of the mana in the stone below him, before pulling at it with [Mana Mastery]. Stone rose under his fingers, forming protective wall. Almost immediately he was forced to duck behind it, two more spells flying towards him. One passed over his head, while the other collided with the stone wall, swirls of light dissipating at it struck.


    There was a scream of pain and then more shouting. It seemed one of the knights had tried to cross the lava. A moment later there was a barked command and then the shouting subsided. He braved a peek from behind his cover, looking to see what was going on.


    ¡°Oh, rat¡¯s ass.¡± He swore, as he realised why they weren¡¯t shouting anymore.


    Of the twenty odd knights that were there, roughly seven of them were slowly walking over the molten red stone, their body¡¯s glowing with protective holy light. Behind them their comrades-in-arms were continually channelling buffs that protected them and their armour from the danger.


    Briefly he considered sniping the knights, but dismissed the idea almost as soon as he thought about it. There were too many supporters for him to take out with his limited mana, even if he ignored their full-body armour. As for those advancing, if their holy wards could protect them from molten stone, he doubted any spell he could cast right now would damage them either. For the first time he cursed being so heavily reliant on mana.


    Absentmindedly, he picked up a shattered shard of crystal, as he considered his options. Was there really nothing? Nothing he could do? Nothing he could use? Azrael assessed his mana pool. There wasn¡¯t much. One, maybe two spells left. Neither of them would be grand. He needed at least one to make it across to the other side of the molten moat. If he made his escape when the first of them made it across to his position, he would gain twenty, maybe thirty seconds. Twenty for those who followed him across, thirty for those who ran around the outside of the moat.


    He flicked the crystal shard away, watching it reflect the orange glow of the molten stone. If he had more time he would have appreciated how it captured the dull orange glow and strengthened it until it seemed to glow with its own inner fire.


    He looked over the stone barrier.


    Five seconds left.


    He crouched down and began to channel his mana for his escape. By his feet were more chunks crystal, each glowing with an inner fire. He frowned. {Observer} tugged at his memory and his control over his mana momentarily wavered. He cast [Craftman¡¯s Eye], even as he picked up as many fragments as he could.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Shard of Crystalised Dragon Fire


    Accidentally formed from the clash of powerful forces amidst the heat of an epic battle, this shard is made from time-frozen dragon fire. It is fairly robust and despite giving off a slight light it emits no heat.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Charging them all with mana he drew upon the void energy in him, guiding a small amount into each and every one of them. The chaotic energy still felt wrong, like brimstone, oil and spring, but after weaving his shadow cloak, it had become extremely familiar.


    He threw the shards over his shoulder at the knights who were nearly upon him, not even to check where the shards of dragon fire had flown. His hand was hot and he flung himself as far forward as he could with [Wind].


    The explosion that occurred a moment later flung him far further than that. The dragon fire, finally free from its temporal constraints, once more burst into existence. Like the mighty beast that it came from it roared forth, unleashing a devastating fury on any that dared to oppose it. And like the might beast it came from it died, surrounded by burnt bodies and molten armour.


    Azrael didn¡¯t dare look back, running to the furthest darkest reaches of the cavern.

 Chapter 151 - Into The Unknown

    Azrael kept running, blindly stumbling across the uneven cave floor in the dark. The explosion had been blinding bright and coupled with the vast cavern¡¯s absolute darkness he saw nothing of what he was running into. Fortunately, there were no corpses this far back into the cavern and no glowing pools of molten stone ¨C though they might have provided some light.


    During the raid they had surrounded the dragon on three fronts, not having enough people to completely surround it and deciding to consolidate their strength. As it was, he was running completely unknown territory.


    Behind him he saw the illuminated forms of the remaining holy knights chasing after him. There were six of them. He wasn¡¯t sure whether the others were wounded, unconscious or dead. All he cared for was escaping. As he watched they spread out, trying to illuminate as much as they could and find him. Fortunately, the clanging of their metal armour was louder than any sounds he made. Still, with their light they were more surefooted than he was. They were gaining on him. He tried to pick up his pace, only to trip over a small protrusion. He flailed, narrowly managing to keep his balance and mentally cursed, forcing himself to slow down again. There was still enough distance between them.


    Eventually, he reached an end ¨C the end. He had run into the far cavern wall. He looked back. His pursuers were closer. Much closer. They were also spread out now, each one ten meters from the next, creating a steadily approaching net of light. He needed some place to hide ¨C soon.


    Placing his right hand on the wall he walked left, letting his finger trace along the cool rough stone. During the chase the knights had spread out further to the left, meaning he had a chance of slipping past them before they reached the walls themselves. With hurried steps and a solid guide he moved along the edge of the cavern. As he walked his fingers felt for any crack or crevice he could hide in. Maybe he could find a way to climb up? The more he considered the idea the better it seemed. Invariably, the knights would reach the wall. Then, some of them would spread out, while others might explore the dark again. If he kept blindly stumbling, then they would catch up. If he hid they would likely find him, given time.


    Tilting his head upwards Azrael imagined the countless ledges and handholds that were hidden in the dark. He stepped closer to the wall, letting both hands explore the surface. He found his first and second hand holds and pulled up, beginning to seek somewhere to place his foot. He found one within moments. What he didn¡¯t find after that was another handhold. He frowned. The knights were dangerously close now. He checked his mana reserves, only to find them as empty as he had expected. Still, between what little he had left and [Mana Manipulation] he could probably¡­


    A realisation flashed through Azrael¡¯s mind so fast that he almost lost his grip due to the shock. Without hesitation he pulled on [Mana Sight], opening his vision to the mana around him. The [Earth] mana in the stone swirled through the walls and floor of the cavern, while fire mana blazed through everything else, competing with the [Air] mana and even attacking the cool stones of the cavern. As always [Shadow] mana held an overwhelming hold over the cavern, save for where it was banished by the knight¡¯s holy light. In a moment everything was revealed, including the bright star of mana that lay in the heart of the slain dragon. Compared to the small specks that were the crystalised dragon fire it was a veritable sun.


    Azrael lost his balance and slipped, his senses suddenly overwhelmed. He hurriedly dampened the skill¡¯s output, adjusting it to a far more manageable level. Unfortunately, the knights had heard him slip and fall. There was a shout and the line moved in his direction, closing in and narrowing in on his location. Azrael staggered up and kept moving, acutely aware that the knights had picked up their pace.


    With [Mana Sight] it felt like he was walking through fog. While he was only focusing on the [Earth] mana to ¡®see¡¯ the ground every other type of mana swirled through the air, partially obscuring his vision and making the ground harder to see.


    Making sure to keep ahead of the knights he reconsidered his idea of climbing the wall. As they were the knights would reach him before he made it high enough to make it out of the radius of their light. His best bet would be to either lose them in the darkness or get far enough ahead that he could climb high enough to feel safe.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    As he ran, Azrael tried filtering out the unnecessary streams of mana, starting with the [Fire] mana. While [Shadow] mana was more prevalent, in the it stuck to surfaces coating the cave floor, walls and ceiling. Comparatively the [Fire] mana actively blocked his vision as it swirled in the air. It made it hard to see the ground and if he wanted to safely pick up his pace he needed it gone.


    The deed was unfortunately not as easy as he thought. While he could strengthen and dim the brightness of all the mana in his vision it was exactly that ¨C all the mana. The Skill didn¡¯t seem to want to allow him to fade or filter out specific mana from his view. Instead, he tried a different route.


    Focusing on solely the [Fire] mana in his vision he mentally pulled at it, watching as it blazed brighter and became more defined. At first his skill resisted the change, before slowly relenting. Colour flared and [Fire] mana suddenly filled his vision, intensely bright. Having singled out [Fire] he hurriedly tried to invert it, supressing it with all his might. It dimmed and faded, returning to its original brightness, leaving behind a singular blue screen that had snapped into existence. It congratulated him for increasing [Mana Sight] by two levels. He supressed a sigh and waved it away. While the extra levels in the Skill were nice they weren¡¯t what he was after.


    Realising that the Skill was unlikely to allow him to completely fade out a mana type he took the next best option, pulling at the [Earth] mana in his sight. The ground and walls became more distinct, allowing him to see better. It was a novel experience to walk on a surface that seemed to flow and writhe when he looked at it, and more than a little nauseating. However, with a better view of where to step he moved faster, regaining some of his highly diminished lead on the knights.


    Faster and faster he moved as he gained more confidence, but somehow the knights were always too close. By now he was almost on the opposite side of the cavern from the entrance. It was far larger than he¡¯d realised. What he¡¯d originally thought to be a circular cavern, reminiscent of a boss chamber in video games was more like an oblong oval. Somehow the mana was stronger here. It was barely noticeable over the length of the cave, but there was definitely more that was outside of the mountain. The fact that he could notice such an increase meant that the increase was small but not negligible. His mana was definitely refilling faster as well. He steered towards that direction. Maybe, just maybe there was something that could change the situation.


    Suddenly filled with a new hope Azrael steered towards the denser mana. It wasn¡¯t the only thing that changed though. The [Air] mana, previously mostly inert gained a new life, infused with [Wind] mana. They were similar, like [Heat] and [Fire], but there was a slight difference that he was getting better at picking up.


    Making sure to keep moving he still slowed down when he reached a new wall. The walls had large gouges and the floor was covered in shattered stone. Under his feet some parts felt smooth, as if stone had melted and then solidified again. Almost involuntarily he slowed, picking his way through the disaster zone. Almost walking now, he came to a complete stop. To his mana sense the wall in front of him split in two, a massive hole dividing the two halves. It was another cave. The mana here was the densest he¡¯d naturally encountered in this game. He took a deep breath.


    There was a shout behind him and a mage light flared into existence. He turned, examining the now illuminated space and saw the Holy Knights pausing just outside the massive scene of destruction. It was a chaotic scene, forged of the deep scars in the stone, the shattered rubble, the pools of once molten stone.


    One of the knights saw him and pointed, shouting. The sound of metal clattering on stone got louder from several direction, converging upon his location. Then wind enveloped them all, Sophie suddenly arriving to reinforce them. Their heavy footsteps became muted and their speed increased.


    Azrael turned away from them, looking instead at the massive black gap in the wall in front of him. Its entrance was ragged and ruined, torn by massive claws and shattered with immense strength. In the uncertain magic light it looked a bit like a yawning maw with hundreds of jagged teeth.


    He took a deep breath and began to move again, this time drawing upon his barely replenished mana. With confidence he started [Chanting], weaving [Wind] and words, even as he picked up his pace.


    ¡°Rise up and bear me, far and wide, veiled and gyres.¡±


    He passed the cave entrance and spoke the final words.


    ¡°[Wind Stride]¡±


    [Wind] enveloped his legs in small tempests and he burst forth into the unknown, the shouts of the knights fading as darkness enveloped him once more.

 Chapter 152 - Beyond The End

    For the longest time Azrael raced through the darkness, fearing the sound of metal on stone. It never came. He wasn¡¯t sure when he¡¯d stopped hearing it. He wasn¡¯t even sure whether he¡¯d outpaced his pursuers or if they had simply stopped chasing him. Either way he didn¡¯t slow down, expending every last drop of replenished mana to fuel his escape. The more distance he put between himself and his pursuers the safer he was. Twice he fell as he ran, the path more of a large crack in the mountain than an actual cave and twice he got up and continued running. Cuts and scrapes bled down his legs and soaking into his pants. He didn¡¯t stop. Eventually, he saw the light ¨C actual light.


    Like the breaking of dawn it crept up on him, the impenetrable blackness of the cave slowly lightening until it was painted with dark grey tones of shadows. These eventually began to be filled with the colour, replacing the monochrome greys. Then, like when the sun finally cresting the horizon, light streamed in. The light was so bright compared to the darkness that he had run through that he was forced to raise a hand to protect his eyes. Squinting between his fingers he let [Mana Sight] drop. Then, slowing down his final steps, he stepped out into the sunlight.


    It was like stepping into another world. Rationally he knew he was in the same world, but the view was breathtaking.


    After the narrow darkness of the cave, the sky was vast and bright ¨C a brilliant cerulean blue that was slowly fading into the burnt gold of a late summer dusk. The enchanting sky spanned from the tops of the mountains he had passed through to the far distant horizon on the other side, covering a seemingly endless tropical jungle. A humid haze lay over the trees, veiling the far distance and shrouding it in an air of mystery.


    Azrael drew a deep breath. The air here was humid and dense with mana. He savoured it, the mana as refreshing as the humidity was stifling. The jungle air was overwhelmingly filled with [Fire] and [Water] mana, but the amount of mana in general was far beyond anything he¡¯d felt before, greater even than within the specialised accumulation array he¡¯d built around his house.


    A blue screen announced itself in his vision, drawing his attention.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Congratulations!


    You are the first person to step beyond the End.


    For such a feat you have gained the title ¡®Explorer of the End¡¯


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    ¡®Explorer¡¯


    Fortune favours the bold


    You are less likely to befall harm while exploring and will be met with greater kindness by any local inhabitants.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    A parrot let out a squawk somewhere deep down in the hidden depths of the jungle¡¯s foliage, alerting him to a whole host of sounds that he had missed while captivated by the view. Squawks, whistles, raucous cries and screeching drifted up the mountain from the jungle below. The jungle was teeming with unseen wildlife.


    Drawn back to the moment he dismissed the notifications, glad, surprised and worried at the same time. It was an unexpected reward, but the mention of ¡®local inhabitants¡¯ made him wary. Already eyes were scanning the dense foliage, as his subconscious worked overtime, imagining hostile eyes and secretive whispers from spear-wielding, mask-wearing cannibals.


    His eyes drifted from the foliage below to the area surrounding him, noticing for the first time that he was standing in out in the open, surrounded by nothing but bare boulders and shattered stones. There was no snow on this side, until much further up, which led him to believe that the increased ambient [Fire] mana was impacting the environment around it or the tunnel he had passed through had sloped downhill and he had ended up far lower than on the other side.


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


    Deciding that caution was warranted in this unknown environment, Azrael picked his way across the scree slope towards a larger boulder just a little before the jungle began. While he would have liked to seek a vantage point a little higher up, it was the only object large enough to provide some form of cover from prying eyes, outside of the trees themselves. And he didn¡¯t want to stay inside the cave in case the knights were still after him.


    In the early evening light, the unstable footing of the slope became even more treacherous. Darkening shadows hid dangers and the low sun shone straight into his eyes. Still, he managed to safely skitter his way down the slope to the boulder, realising that it was slightly larger than he¡¯d imagined, though perhaps more precarious than he had hoped. Really, one good shove was probably all the boulder needed to finish its downwards decent to the jungle below. He grinned. Thank the gods for magic.


    Drawing on some of his mana, he placed a careful hand on the stone and let his mana flood inwards. It wasn¡¯t really that much compared to what he was about to attempt, but it would be enough. He could have added more mana if he had wanted, the richness of the mana here was quickly filling his reserves, but it was unnecessary. Instead, he added a small drop of void energy, drawing on the original skill that [Void Shaping] had formed from ¨C [Stone Shaping]. Since he had yet to experience any adverse effects even after using it so long his caution was somewhat relaxed, but his control wasn¡¯t. Ignoring all danger entirely seemed like a good way to die.


    Feeling his mana fill the entire interior of the boulder he mentally changed his grip on his mana and pulled, pulling his mana and the void infused stone towards him.


    Subject to his will and the unstable reality of the void, the stone flowed. Like a cork pulled out of a bottle the entire inside of the boulder flowed towards him, hollowing the center of the boulder and flowing out through a large hole. Like cool lava it swept out, flowing around the sides of the boulder and trickling between stones, filling the gaps and finally solidifying as the small amount of void energy and mana keeping it liquid was spent or dissipated. Like that, in a few seconds, he had secured both the boulder and a shelter for the coming night.


    Taking one last look at the world outside he stepped in, sealing the doorway ¨C save for a few breathing holes. Then he crashed, quite literally, his legs giving way underneath him as the immensity of the day finally settled in. He had marched up a mountain, fought a dragon, survived and then run through an entire mountain range for an ungodly amount of time to escape pursuit and was now inside a boulder beyond the borders of the known world. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time a day felt so long. His eyes closed, though he wasn¡¯t sure if he had closed them or they had closed themselves from exhaustion.


    When his eyes opened again it was to small rays of light shining through the little breathing holes he had left open. It seemed the sun had risen. Bleary eyed, he stretched and then massaged his shoulders, trying to work the knots out of his muscles. Adventure stories conveniently left out how often people had to sleep on the floor. He wished he had a bed, even if the bed was simply some leaves. At least the floor as smooth, without stones to dig into him as he slept.


    In the half-dark of his shelter, his stomach grumbled. And food. He wished he had food. Sadly, he had neither. It grumbled again, reminding him that he hadn¡¯t eaten since yesterday morning. He sighed and touched the stone wall, creating an opening to the outside. Early afternoon light streamed in. Azrael looked up. The sun had already crested the top of the mountains. It was almost midday.


    ¡°The world does not exist before midday¡± he spoke with a bittersweet smile. It was a favoured saying of his late father¡¯s. And what a world it was ¨C unknown and untouched.


    Above the jungle canopy birds fluttered, pips, whistles, singing and raucous cries filling the air with a dozen different bird songs. From somewhere underneath the foliage, hidden from his sight, there was heated screeching. Monkeys? Baboons? He wasn¡¯t actually too sure how either of them sounded. The important thing was that there was wildlife, which meant both food and danger. He didn¡¯t even care whether monkeys were actually edible. If it moved, it was food.


    Extremely tempted by the prospect of food, Azrael summoned a stone dagger, pulling it into existence from his replenished mana pool and adding [Reinforcement]. Taking his first few steps down the scree slope to the jungle, a sudden shrill roar caught him by surprise causing him to almost slip. In his surprise he had locked up, the stone under his foot taking more weight than he had planned and slipping out from underneath him. He waved his hands wildly in an attempt to right himself.


    Below the foliage the whistles, cries and screeches had suddenly fallen silent. There was the roar again, followed by a series of short high-pitched yips. A moment later there was a loud screech and then sudden silence as it was cut off. The silence was far more oppressive than the one before. Nothing and no-one, not even Azrael, dared break it. He stood there for several minutes, his dagger in his hand and his mana waiting at his fingertips.


    It was only when a single brave bird dared to tentatively raise its voice, that the forest seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and sounds resumed. Azrael paused, gazing down upon the suddenly far more sinister jungle, as if hoping to see through the dense leaves. In his hand mana flowed into his dagger morphing it into a spear.


    Swallowing his nervousness he resumed his journey into the unknown.

 Update/Notice

    Hi Legends,


    A quick update:


    Firstly, the story has not been dropped. It will still continue.


    Secondly, I am currently travelling overseas for leisure and personal development reasons (as well as meeting all those family members you''ve only ever met a handful of times in your life). Due to this I left my laptop behind, however now have a new one thanks to some amazing friends. They''re a bunch of goofballs, but I wouldn''t trade them for the world.


    Due to rarely staying in one place for more than a short while and the constant travelling it seems unlikely that I will be able to consistently publish new chapters (the next chapter has been sitting at half way completion for the past two months). Due to the forseeable inconsistent schedule I have decided to put the story on brief pause, so that readers won''t have to re-read previous chapters every time just to remember what happened in the last one.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    As I haven''t booked a return flight home yet I am unable to say when the story will continue, though I estimate late December this year to mid January next year.


    All that being said, I wish to extend extreme gratitude to everyone who has been reading the story and has stayed, despite the sudden hiatus. I was extremely surprised to return and see that the people following the story as well as the story''s ranking have barely slipped. It''s extremely motivating and makes me want to keep working on expanding New Earth and Azrael''s world!


    Many Thanks,


    The Author,


    - Wulfian.

 Update: Glorious Evo- Return

    Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, readers, writers, adventurers and dragon slayers,


    I Am Back!


    Good to be back folks. Thank you.


    In all honesty though, thank you all for waiting and the entire years worth of comments. The sheer amount has actually left me speechless - a dangerous thing for an author. There really wasn¡¯t a month that went by where I didn¡¯t receive at least one email/message asking me whether I was ok and when I was coming back.


    It means a lot.


    I have just returned from overseas (a little later than planned, hence the slight delay in new chapters). The past yea has been extremely fun and busy, meaning that unfortunately I haven¡¯t had a chance to continue writing and backlog (there goes my last years new year resolution to write at least 50 backlog chapters).


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.In all honesty I was mostly without my laptop, as I didn¡¯t want to damage it while traveling.


    Chapters should be expected to resume in a fortnight (giving me a little time to reread part 2 and maybe make 2-3 backlog chapters). Uploads will probably be on either Fridays, Saturdays or Sundays (depending on which day I feel lacks updates the most). The posting schedule will most likely be tweaked over the first month.


    On a little side note, throughout the entire year I was just considering rewriting the entire story, as I felt part 1 didn¡¯t quite fit the vision of part 2 and 3 that I had in my head, but decided I could always do that after I had finished this.


    As a little reminder, this story is mostly a hobby project for me amongst my otherwise busy schedule and ridiculous amount of hobbies. This means the chapters will most likely continue to be a little less prolific than some other writers, but no less filled with content.


    Here¡¯s to the new year! Here¡¯s to the next year!


    You guys are awesome and I hope we can ride this together to the end.


    (Oh, also, I do read every comment so if you see any mistakes, have any character ideas or have ideas for events that can happen, I¡¯m all ears. I can¡¯t promise they¡¯ll make it in, but I can be accommodating).


    Your Author, Writer and fellow Royal Roader,


    - Wulfian.

 Chapter 153 – Hunt

    Azrael half walked, half slide down the scree slope. The rocks were loose and the footing precarious. As such the going was slow, but in almost no time he reached the edge of the jungle, where rocks from the mountains had slid downwards and tried to encroach into the jungle.


    The jungle itself put up a fierce resistance with tall trees towering high above the brazen rocks that had come tumbling down and thick underbrush presenting an impenetrable barrier towards the mountain. Here and there ferns and other bushes grew alongside the decomposing, moss-covered stumps of crushed comrades, while vines and roots hung down from the canopy above ready to grow the next generation that would stand guard.


    Overall, it was taller, denser and darker than he had envisaged from above, though beams of light valiantly pierced through the dense canopy in an attempt to reach the forest floor.


    He took a step forward, the foot stepping onto soft loam instead of hard rock. He pushed aside a fern frond and took a second footstep, then a third and a fourth. Each step he was forced to move a branch or step over a root and after twenty paces he paused.


    The jungle was alive in a way that the forest near his house wasn¡¯t. His forest was inhabited. There were birds, deer, boar, wolves and the occasional rabbit. Occasionally he would see one, mostly he just saw the birds flit by.


    Here? Here the forest seemed to breath. Humidity pooled on canopy leaves, falling down onto the large ferns, who dropped it onto the bushes, who let it trickle onto the flower, who in return passed it onto the moss before it sank into the ground to be absorbed by the roots.


    Birds were constantly making a racket, flitting through the trees above in flashes of red, gold, green and blue, as they searched and fought for nuts and other treats. The other wildlife was no less active, each occupied in their own tussles or else complaining about the noise of their neighbours. No other word sufficed to explain how it felt ¨C other than alive. And he had stepped into its domain.


    He looked back at the way he had come. The mountains were almost invisible, blocked out by dense leaves and moss-covered trunks. It was almost impossible to see where he had come from. For safety¡¯s sake he carved a thick X into the nearest tree, a little scared how easily the jungle had swallowed the view ¨C how easily it had almost swallowed him. A little further and he would have lost all sense of where he came from.


    Carving a large X onto the next tree he continued on, now purposely cutting or snapping the branches of trees and ferns as he went. Natives be damned, he wasn¡¯t going to die due to being lost. That was just a stupid way to die.


    Above, the birds seemed to laugh at him as they flew away from the noise. He ignored them, his mind already planning how to catch them to eat. He who laughs last, and all that.


    A little while later and he was back to the drawing board. The birds, no matter how many nuts he gathered to put into a snare didn¡¯t come down from their tall canopies. Why would they when they had all the food they could want tucked safely amongst the leaves?


    That being said, it wasn¡¯t all bad news. He had managed to find natural corridors amongst the wild jungle that were evidently used by local fauna. Branches were bent and the leaves mixed in with mud, though not enough to tell what kind of animals roamed the forest floors. Aside from a few vine snares and two overly perfectionistic pit traps he had placed along these paths, he tried to avoid going anywhere near their habitats. He was hungry, but not yet desperate, though he had tried to eat a few of the nuts that the birds had dropped from the canopy. Earthy and a bit bitter were the politest way to describe them. Inedible was another. The activity left him frustrated and hungrier than before.


    Worse, the insects had found him. Small swarms hovered around him, while larger flies came to investigate the sweat on his skin. The natural humidity coupled with the blazing midday sun made just being there an ordeal.


    At some point the birds had returned, dismissing him as a threat. They called, laughed and fought in the canopy above, completely oblivious to his plight. Their bird song was a constant white noise that mixed with the grating buzz of insects and was promptly ignored to some subconscious process. He wished it was as easy to ignore the heat, or the constant beads of sweat that rolled down his brow to soak into his shirt. Already he was completely drenched.


    Rising from the floor - where he¡¯d been trying to crack the nuts on a rock¨C he picked up his machete.


    During the course of the day he¡¯d traded the longer spear to something easier to manoeuvre. A machete was the obvious choice. It was easier to carry between the many interlocking plants, while retaining the satisfying feeling of safety that a larger weapon had. In reality though, his machete was more of a gladius ¨C bladed on both sides.


    Azrael looked up. Already he¡¯d been in the forest for several hours. While the days were still long they were shortening as summer turned to autumn. Still, that meant he had another five or six hours to find something edible and get back to his shelter.


    Honestly, he felt a little ridiculous. There was so many plants and so many animals that logically he should have found something to eat. The problem was really that the plants were too dense, he wasn¡¯t sure which flowers or odd fruit he found were edible and the animals all had the home advantage ¨C vanishing when he got close. It was frustrating.


    Abandoning the nuts, he turned back down his path of destruction. Bent leaves and snapped branches led him past rows of carved crosses. With extreme care he followed them, past two untouched pit traps and several snares. Many had their contents stolen or scattered. If he¡¯d thought about it earlier he should have tried to remember which nuts and berries he¡¯d put in to see which ones weren¡¯t poisonous. As it was only the last snare held any hope ¨C not because it had caught anything, but because the fruit had been too large to carry off. Half eaten remnants of a fruit lay scattered around a chewed through snare.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Azrael sighed, bending down to have a closer look at the fruit. Completely white inside the fruit looked like somebody had wrapped two large cloves of garlic in a brown snakeskin. He frowned, sniffing at the half-eaten fruit. It smelt sweet. Probably a good sign. Maybe. He tried to recall whether he knew of any similar fruits in the real world but came up blank. If the lack of dead animals and the general destruction of the scattered fruit was anything to go by then these were probably fine. The only problem was that he didn¡¯t know where these fruits grew. He¡¯d found these on the floor¡­ somewhere¡­ along his way.


    [Craftman¡¯s Eye] also wasn¡¯t of any help.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td width="601">


    Unknown Fruit


    An unknown sweet smelling fruit with white flesh and brown snake-patterened skin.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Like he¡¯d suspected the Skill only recognised crafting materials. For everything else it only showed what he already knew.


    With a growling stomach, he continued on his way back. His head remained on a swivel, now these fruit added to his list of things to look out for ¨C alongside danger and signs of his passing. He found neither fruit nor danger before he stumbled across the first of the many rocks that made up the scree slope to his shelter. Somehow the walk up was even worse than the slog through the dense foliage.


    He was hungry, tired and sweat-soaked. Below his feet the stones kept shifting, threatening to send him back down. Multiple times he almost did end up taking a sudden ride back down to the mountain base when a seemingly solid stone slipped out under his weight and went tumbling down. To make things worse he couldn¡¯t use [Wind Step] to speed up his progress as the skill threatened to start an avalanche.


    Absolutely exhausted and mentally drained he stumbled into his shelter, where he lay down ¨C spent. Vehemently, he wished he was back in his cabin. There was food, water and a soft bed. The wish sparked a thought and he ran his tongue across his slowly chapping lips.


    With a laboured groan Azrael pushed himself up and used his mana to shape a large bowl out of stone, filling it with [Water]. It was flavourless and not particularly cool. The [Water] mana in the air made it easier to conjure, even as the ambient [Fire] mana made it warmer than it usually was when he summoned it. Either way, he sculled it greedily. It quenched his thirst and blessedly a bit of his hunger, but left him feeling bloated.


    Done with the day he sealed the entrance and lay down to sleep.


    In the few minutes before he sunk under, he realised that the Holy Empire would most likely need two to three days to dismantle the dragon and vacate the cave. That meant at least two more days before he could try to return back home.


    With a sigh he let his mind rest, his eyes closing. Outside the sun observed the world for another few hours, before coming to its own rest.


    *****


    Talahria lay in the comfy confines of the shadows, waiting for the man¡¯s breathing to even out. She wasn¡¯t exactly sure who he was. Self-proclaimed, he was the rumoured ¡®Lord of the End Forest¡¯. According to the First Shadow the ¡®Lord of the End Forest¡¯ was an NPC guardian. This man was clearly a player.


    The Sword King had called him ¡®Azrael¡¯ and the Guilder from Holy Empire had called him ¡®Sam¡¯. Nobody could seem to agree who he was, though despite potentially being a charlatan his skills were real. She¡¯d seen him take out the dragon at the end, the midnight cloak and dreadful black lance still clearly imprinted in her memory. And on her arms. Black wisps still burnt into her arms, the previously scalding pain now reduced to an ever fading irritating itch.


    It was hard to reconcile the dangerous figure from the fight with the clumsy person trying to crack nuts with two rocks. She doubted she would fare better than him if she was suddenly thrown out into the wilderness though, but that was besides the point. He was probably a Ranker and she wasn¡¯t. She was also in the awkward position of being confined to his shadow. She hadn¡¯t meant to end up here, but that¡¯s the way it¡¯d turned out. Her Queen had also ordered her to keep an eye on him ¨C which she was.


    Talariha licked her gums. While the shadows were quite comfy they did little to support her other needs, such as food or water. Food she¡¯d seen her unwitting chauffeur struggle with, however he¡¯d left a refilled bowl with water on the other side of his small shelter. Not that she could reach it. With the evening¡¯s remaining sunlight dimly illuminating the interior she was trapped underneath the man¡¯s shadow. She would have to wait till full dark when his shadow merged with the surrounding darkness to slip out ¨C an unfortunate shortcoming of her Skill. The First Shadow had figured out how to manipulate any that he inhabited, but that expertise continued to elude her. Hers had evolved to slide through shadows instead.


    Still, night fell soon enough, the shadows darkening enough for her Skill to register them as valid exit points. With a barely audible sigh of relief she carefully slipped back into the real world, careful not to step on the sleeping figure in the cramped space of the bolder. She stretched as best as she could, stifling a groan of relief. The shadow space wasn¡¯t uncomfortable or cramped, but it felt the same as laying in a hammock all day ¨C eventually her muscles complained.


    A rock tumbled down the scree slope outside and she froze. Her breath stalled, her heart slowly slipping down to the deepest pit of her stomach. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly even dryer than it was moments ago. She turned and looked back at the sleeping figure. Her knees trembled. They were still fast asleep ¨C seemingly impossibly so.


    With trembling hands she cupped the bowl of water and brought it to her lips. Ripples oscillated across its surface. Adrenaline sent tremors through her whole body, but still she drank. Slowly, almost excruciatingly so, she took her first hesitant sip. It was followed by a second and a third. Outside another rock clattered in the darkness. She paused, her senses on high alert.


    For the next half minute she stood rock still, but nothing moved and nobody woke. She tried to take another sip when she heard it. The swish-hiss of something moving across rock, the quiet snuffling and the gentle scrape of something sharp across rocks.


    The bowl slipped, but she caught it. The remaining water splattered onto the stone floor and the sleeping man stirred. Something scrapped across the holes at the entrance. It was too much.


    Leaving the bowl she dove into the comfortable familiar depths of the darkness. Her heart beat harder than she had ever thought possible.

 Chapter 154 - Or Hunted?

    Azrael woke, his heart thumping and his instincts screaming at him. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but subconsciously he knew something was wrong. In brief moments he went from fast asleep to full alert. It took him a moment more to calm his racing heart and push through the sudden rush of adrenaline.


    The first thing he noticed was that his foot was wet. The second was the seeking snuffles coming from outside. Something moved by the entrance. There was the scratch of something sharp on the roof. He cast [Search], finding four large signatures outside. One was on the roof while three more circled his shelter. They had him surrounded.


    Cautiously he pushed himself up into a crouch. He was careful not to make a sound. He didn¡¯t want to alert the creatures outside. While [Search] was indispensable for identifying the location of things, its results were always a little foggy since it measured mana more than anything else. This meant he was still in the dark regarding his sudden guests.


    Still in a crouch, Azrael duck-waddled to the entrance, afraid that standing up would make more sound. He needn¡¯t have worried, as his foot stepped onto a shattered shard of the bowl. It crunched in the silence.


    The snuffling stopped, followed by a squawk after a hesitant moment of silence. A reply came from the roof. A quick [Search] revealed that while two of the creatures had retreated a bit further away the one at the roof and the one at the door remained in place.


    A claw scraped across the entrance and Azrael instinctively started summoning a stone dagger, before pausing and reconsidering. Channelling the mana into a very localised [Search] he focused it precisely at the creature at the door, trying to determine its location. The Skill came back with an outline of a two-legged creature roughly a meter tall and with a long tail that made it almost two meters long. It was curiously clawing at the door.


    Azrael felt a smile creep onto his face. Now that the momentary shock was wearing off he had time for other thoughts - such as food. Despite being surrounded and effectively trapped inside his shelter he was also inversely protected by a dome of solid stone. So far the creatures hadn¡¯t displayed any hints that they could get in. If they had had some form of ability to get in then they would have done so at the beginning and ambushed him. He was safe, and they were viable sources of food ¨C food that had quite literally delivered itself to his door.


    His stomach growled traitorously and the scratching paused again. He could have sworn he felt the creature outside cock its head. Mentally, he cocked his own head, considering the best way to go about this.


    If he wanted launch a surprise attack he had a few options. The first was simply jumping out and attacking. The problem here was that [Void Shaping] the door to open was by no means an instantaneous process. The creatures would see the door open before he¡¯d even stepped out. And if he did, then he would be opening himself up to an attack from the leader on the roof.


    A second alternative would be to use [Void Shaping] to sink one of the two creatures into the ground. He wouldn¡¯t have to expose himself and once caught he could take his time to attack. Again, however, the process wouldn¡¯t be instantaneous. It was highly likely that they would notice and escape before the stone turned to quicksand. The sharp claws meant these creatures were probably pack hunters and not a group of scavengers. Most likely they could move swiftly.


    This meant he would have to injure them before they realised he was even attacking.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Azrael placed a hand on the door and closed his eyes. Using [Mana Mastery] he grabbed a hold of the abundant ambient fire mana and willed it to gather on the other side. Since he couldn¡¯t tell exactly how protected his opponents were, he figured one big explosion would do the trick. Be it hide, hair, scale or feather sheer explosive power didn¡¯t care.


    With that image in mind, he mentally focused on the mana outside. In his mind¡¯s eye he envisaged it flowing towards that one point, swirling together and coalescing into a single point of pure explosive potential.


    An alarmed squawk from outside caused his eyes to open. Outside feet claws scratched on stone and feet shuffled anxiously. It didn¡¯t take Azrael long to figure out why. In the dark of the shelter, ruddy light shone through the breathing holes. Outside a small ball of fire concentrated fire mana glowed a dull orange, without [Mana Sight]. Even as he watched, swirls of concentrated mana began to glow as the drew nearer ¨C eventually being sucked into his mana construct. His proficiency in [Mana Mastery] ticked up a level, heralded by a blue screen.


    He dismissed it go, watching the glow fade as the mana dissipated. For a brief moment he¡¯d been tempted to just set it off, to let the mana ignite in the hope of catching the already retreating creature. He¡¯d held back. A failed attempt would only scare off the creature ¨C a possible and equal outcome. What had truly stopped him was the realisation that between him and that super charged ball of glowing mana was a wall of stone not even a hand''s breadth thick. He wasn¡¯t sure if it would withstand an explosion of that scale.


    Forced into a tactical retreat he let the remnants of the mana fade away. While working with [Mana Mastery] meant it took more time to gather the ambient mana, it also meant that his personal expenditure was also far less. All he¡¯d wasted was time.


    Yet, despite having nothing but time at the moment ¨C time and hunger ¨C it irritated him. [Search] revealed that the creatures had backed off a bit. Even the leader was circling the shelter warily from a good distance. They all were ¨C wary and alert.


    Still, even as he sat there he heard them outside in the darkness. A squawk, a pip, a shifting stone or a claw scraping against something. They advanced and retreated at their leader¡¯s orders, one of them cautiously coming a few steps closer, before retreating back out again. But always steadily closer. They were hunters ¨C wary and cautious, yes ¨C but hunters nonetheless.


    But so was Azrael. While they circled him, he waited. While they advanced, he plotted. And when they came, he was ready.


    After far too long a time waiting, the first of them finally tried to scratch the door again. It sniffed at the holes. It could smell him. That was the only reason they hadn¡¯t left yet. They knew he was here. He didn¡¯t care. The world was as fair as it was cruel, and what went around came around.


    He readied his mana, the walls of his shelter long since infused during the last few hours of waiting. The longer they had taken the longer he¡¯d had to take control of the entire structure. It was prepped and loaded, like a single grenade.


    The creature scratched at the door, this time with a forceful insistence. Azrael didn¡¯t hesitate, his entire mind bent to a single image. Stone rushed, drawing into dozens of deadly sharp lances as he chained [Stone Spike] after [Stone Spike] across the surface of his shelter. There was an alarmed squawk, the frantic skittering of claws on stone and finally a screech of extreme pain. Something heavy hit the ground. Feet pattered and further down the jungle exploded in sudden startled cries that fell silent just as quickly.


    In the sudden hush he heard his heart pumping with adrenaline. His face he noticed was sweaty from exertion. He¡¯d maintained the mana for that single spell for hours. Still, it seemed his opponent was lucky.


    Outside there was the pattering of feet, hurried chirps and squawks, and finally with extreme difficulty a fourth set of footsteps rejoining the other three. It limped, its steps heavy and clumsy. It was wounded ¨C heavily. He smelt the blood outside. The four creatures sent stones clattering down the scree slope as they made their escape. In this jungle they were now racing against time.


    The door to Azrael¡¯s shelter finally flowed apart. The outside looked like a demonic sea urchin. Blood lay splattered on the floor, still warm.


    A trail of red footsteps led to the trees below. They weren¡¯t the only ones that had to eat. Such was the law of the jungle.