《Prophecy of the Elven King》 Ch. 1 Meditating on the Soul (Re-edited) My name was Rick Evets¡ªor at least, it was before I died. I spent most of my life studying the human soul. Not as a scientist, though; I was a philosophy and theory major. After six long years in college, I had a degree in a subject no one could fully prove. Back then, many people saw it as a waste, something you studied only if you wanted to teach, or perhaps write a book no one would read. But times were changing. When advancements in science confirmed the existence of ghosts, everything shifted. The abstract and the unprovable suddenly had weight, and the world of the metaphysical merged with reality. My career blossomed¡ªnot as a scientist or skeptic, but as an advisor for paranormal investigators. And by "investigators," I mean those attention-seeking buffoons on TV who thought goading restless spirits made for great entertainment. I remember one broadcast vividly, though I wish I could forget it. The hosts, laughing among themselves, decided to torment a ghost by mentioning the name of her long-lost lover. She was clearly suffering from a kind of dementia¡ªone moment recognizing the name, the next utterly confused. They laughed at her pain, mocking her as she spiraled between clarity and sorrow. It disgusted me. These were murder victims, betrayed lovers, and souls caught in their deepest pain. They¡¯d already suffered enough in life. Why should they endure even more in death? Even within my community, I was an outsider. Perhaps because I was too outspoken¡ªor because I was right. Many colleagues dismissed my theories, clinging to their own beliefs regardless of evidence. Atheists often argued that ghosts were nothing more than fragments of consciousness, echoes of lives once lived. Others held that the broken, repetitive spirits¡ªthe ones endlessly reliving their final moments¡ªwere suffering the consequences of their evil deeds in life. It was a neat idea, but it didn¡¯t hold up. I had seen too many spirits, both good and evil, left incomplete¡ªshattered, as if vital pieces of their being had been chipped away. I developed a theory, one that would reshape everything I understood about the soul. And, as I would later learn, I was right.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Among the sentient ghosts I had worked with, a few stood out. Nameless monks who had died in meditation, their forms calm but their spirits trapped in silent reflection. And Lucille, a girl from the plague era¡ªa lesser noble who had devoted herself to helping others. Her compassion was boundless; she died nursing the sick, unable to save herself because she couldn¡¯t bear to abandon the suffering. Lucille remained as a ghost, not because she was tormented, but because she wasn¡¯t done. She believed there would always be someone else to help. And despite her unfinished business, she found joy in recounting the lives she had touched. She told me once, ¡°Their stories make me whole.¡± And that was it. I realized then that her stories¡ªher memories¡ªwere what preserved her. She retold them, again and again, not out of vanity, but because they gave her soul shape and structure. Memories weren¡¯t just recollections; they were fragments of identity, woven into the fabric of the soul. The monks made sense, too. Even in death, they meditated, reflecting inward. Some failed to achieve enlightenment, endlessly revisiting their pasts. Yet in doing so, they preserved themselves, recording their essence within their souls. Perhaps enlightenment¡ªwhat they called Nirvana¡ªwas the act of transcending the soul¡¯s boundaries altogether. I didn¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t plan to achieve Nirvana. Instead, I began experimenting. What if memories could shape the soul consciously? What if reflecting on life could preserve who we are? I developed a method of meditating on the past, creating mental loops of my most precious memories, writing them onto my soul. At first, there was no way to test the theory. It was intangible, unprovable¡ªa target for ridicule. When I published my thesis, it was met with mockery. The skeptics, the "snake oil salesmen" pushing sensational lies for profit, laughed me out of the room. But I didn¡¯t stop. I meditated daily, replaying my memories like scenes in a film, carving them into my soul. The effects were remarkable. My memory sharpened to a razor¡¯s edge¡ªbetter than photographic recall. I could focus on multiple topics at once, my mind splitting into parallel threads of thought. I was on the verge of proving my abilities, preparing to add them as evidence to my thesis. And then I died. It was an ordinary afternoon. I was sitting in my favorite coffee shop, sipping my usual blend, the aroma warm and comforting. The barista was busy wiping down the counters, the faint hum of the espresso machine filling the room. Outside, the sky was heavy with clouds, and I wondered if it would rain. The sound came from above¡ªa deafening screech of tearing metal, followed by a crash that shattered the air. The last thing I saw was my own decapitated body slumped in the chair. A plane¡¯s wing had torn through the building. I¡¯d always imagined I would remain as a ghost, but my unfinished business must not have been as important as I thought. Moments after my death, I was whisked away. Ch. 2 Soul of an Immortal. Re-edited. I felt my very being compressed into the shape of an orb as I was whisked away. It was like being shoved into a space far too small to contain me, yet somehow I fit. I moved faster than I could comprehend, the sensation a blend of falling, flying, and hurtling through an endless void. My surroundings were a chaotic blur¡ªflashes of light, darkness, and glimpses of color I couldn¡¯t name. I heard everything and nothing all at once, a symphony of sounds too vast for human comprehension. Yet I had no ears to hear or flesh to feel. There was only me, stripped of all but my essence. Time lost meaning. It could have been moments or eons before I realized I was no longer alone. A presence emerged, vague and humanoid but with no discernible features. Its form shimmered like a mist caught in faint blue light. It had no face, no distinct gender, just the faint impression of arms and legs. It hesitated, its outline flickering as though startled by my existence. Then, with a fluid motion, it gestured to something unseen. Another figure materialized beside it, identical in form but with a slightly brighter glow. The first being pointed toward me, its garbled, static voice echoing as it spoke. ¡°What is an Elf¡¯s soul doing here?¡± The second figure tilted its head, studying me like a curious puzzle. Its reply was in the same distorted tone. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but it¡¯s clearly an infant¡¯s soul. Look at the color and brightness.¡± Infant?! I bristled at the term, an indignation rising from deep within me. I tried to speak, to argue, but no sound came. Of course, I couldn¡¯t speak¡ªI had no mouth, no body. How did ghosts communicate with the living, anyway? The thought lingered as I noticed something unusual: my form. I was glowing, radiating a light so intense it bordered on blinding. Unlike their faint blue luminescence, I shone a pure, brilliant white, like a miniature sun. It felt both alien and natural at the same time. The first figure turned back to the second, its tone sharper now. ¡°Someone messed up! This soul is overdue. If we don¡¯t send it now, the child will be stillborn¡ªand who knows what consequences that could have for the Maker¡¯s plan?¡± ¡°I authorize the request!¡± the second figure said hastily. I tried to object, to tell them they had it all wrong. I wasn¡¯t an Elf¡¯s soul! But before I could think of how to communicate, I felt the compression around me intensify. I was moving again, the two beings disappearing from sight. At the very edge of perception, I thought I heard a collective sigh of relief.
Warmth enveloped me. I was submerged, surrounded by a comforting wetness. It lasted only a moment before pressure surged around me, squeezing, forcing me through an unrelenting tunnel. Suddenly, I choked, my lungs filling with liquid. I coughed and screamed, the water burning as I expelled it. The air around me was cold and sharp. I tried to open my eyes, but the effort was too much¡ªthey felt impossibly heavy. Pain throbbed through my small, fragile body.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Then I felt hands. Soft, gentle hands cradled me before passing me to another pair, equally careful and warm. Voices spoke around me, their words incomprehensible¡ªa melodic language that sounded more like a soothing wind chime than speech. The hands holding me rocked me gently, their embrace calming. I¡¯ve been reborn. The thought hit me like a thunderclap. The strange beings, the hurried journey¡ªthey had sent me here. I wasn¡¯t human anymore. Exhaustion overtook me before I could think further, and I surrendered to the void of sleep.
When I awoke, I was wrapped in the softest material I had ever felt. It was too smooth to be cotton¡ªperhaps silk? My eyelids felt lighter this time, and with effort, I opened them to a blurry world of muted colors. Above me was a face so beautiful it defied description. She looked down at me with eyes full of love and wonder. Her features were delicate yet regal, her skin glowing faintly in the soft light of the room. I noticed her pointed ears and gasped inwardly. An Elf. My new mother is an Elf. She smiled radiantly as she realized I was looking at her. Her lips moved, and her voice was music, though the words were still unintelligible. A tall, lean man entered the room, his movement swift and graceful. He embraced my mother, his features equally striking¡ªsharp and symmetrical, his physique flawless. He kissed her passionately, and I averted my eyes, feeling like a voyeur in my own story. That must be my father. As they spoke, my mother glanced away, her expression shifting to one of calm concentration. She seemed to focus on something invisible, her fingers subtly twitching. A moment later, her posture straightened, her exhaustion melting away. What was that? It was like she had accessed some kind of hidden interface, tweaking herself like a character in a game. A sudden thought crossed my mind: Do I have one too? As if responding to my curiosity, a transparent screen appeared before me.
Name: Juren Knollen Level: 0 Traits: HP: 5 MP: 3000 MP Regen: 240/min Stats:
I froze, stunned. My mother leaned closer, her eyes full of concern. I forced a giggle, and she immediately relaxed, kissing my forehead. Juren Knollen, I noted, examining the screen. That must be my new name. My level was zero¡ªno surprise, as I was an infant. Five health points felt pitiful, but again, fitting. My strength, endurance, and constitution were barely measurable, which also made sense. But my intelligence and wisdom? Those were astronomically high for a newborn. Was it because I retained my memories? Or were Elves naturally this gifted? Then there was my agility. At first, I thought it was 0.3, but the screen revealed a racial modifier.
Elven Swiftness Agility multiplied by 10 per point. Elves are the fastest race, their speed unmatched.
The realization left me uneasy. This racial trait made Elves absurdly quick, far beyond anything I¡¯d imagined. My gaze moved to my Charisma stat, noting the +50 in parentheses. Another prompt appeared.
Blessing of the Goddess of New Life All babies and adolescents gain a temporary +50 Charisma.
So that¡¯s why babies are so cute. I laughed inwardly at the absurdity of it all, then turned my attention to the remaining traits. With a mental command, I prompted the screen to reveal more. What I read next left me speechless. Ch. 3 Chosen. Re-edited. I began reading through my traits, starting with those labeled "Elven." The first one, Elven Swiftness, I already knew about¡ªit multiplied agility by ten. Useful, sure, but it paled in comparison to what I discovered next.
Elven Longevity Elves are born nearly immortal, being part magic spirit, and live several millennia naturally. Nature itself provides vitality to Elves. You receive a lifespan bonus of 10% when living around plant life.
My tiny jaw practically dropped. Ten percent?! That wasn¡¯t some minor perk. For a race already considered nearly immortal, it was staggering. Living near plant life would extend my already ridiculous lifespan even further. The other "Elven" traits were more straightforward but still impressive.
Elven Spirit Elven Talent
These bonuses were incredible. It became clear why Elves were often depicted as the epitome of arrogance in stories. With racial advantages like these, they had every right to feel superior. Immense lifespans, heightened learning, and innate magical prowess? I had to admit, I was lucky to be reborn as one. I mentally dubbed these bonuses the Elf Series and double-checked for any hidden details or modifiers before moving on to the next trait.
Soul Memory Your mind and memories are written on your soul and can never be forgotten. Mental effects can affect/cause damage to your brain but not your consciousness.
Reading the description made my chest swell with pride. I had done this¡ªI had transformed my soul into something more. Seeing the result written so definitively brought a strange satisfaction. Comparing Soul Memory to my other traits made it seem downright overpowered. The stat boosts alone were phenomenal, and the resistances would make it nearly impossible for anyone to manipulate me.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. I savored the moment before turning my attention to the next trait.
Simultaneous Thinking Both your soul and brain can think in perfect synergy.
I tried to whistle in amazement, but my baby mouth only managed to spray drool everywhere. Three times faster learning? That was absurd! Combined with Elven Talent¡¯s 10% learning boost, my potential to absorb knowledge was astronomical. And I was still a newborn. I glanced around the room, my excitement dimming slightly. The interconnected teepee-like huts we called home didn¡¯t exactly scream "place of learning." My parents had little more than a bed stuffed with leaves, a beaten wicker desk, and a single worn book. Would this world even have the resources I needed to take full advantage of my traits? Sighing, I refocused on my status screen.
Soul Vortex The form of your soul naturally draws in mana and vitality.
I stared at the words, feeling a mix of awe and trepidation. Another lifespan bonus? What was I supposed to do with all that time? There were no televisions here, no video games to binge. I¡¯d struggled to maintain relationships on Earth¡ªhow would I handle a marriage that lasted thousands of years? I shook the thought away. The future can wait. For now, I¡¯ll focus on learning everything I can. The mana regeneration bonus also caught my eye. It didn¡¯t activate until Level 1, which raised questions. Why the delay? Was it a limitation of my infant body, or something else? I filed the question away for later. I didn¡¯t even know how to use magic yet, so it wasn¡¯t exactly urgent. Finally, I turned to the trait I had been dreading.
Chosen Elves are descended from elementals given true life. Elves are part elemental and have always been close to their distant cousins. Before your birth, the elementals knew you. They have declared you their Chosen.
I let out a sigh of relief. This wasn¡¯t the "Chosen One" nightmare I had feared. Instead of destiny throwing me into chaos, this trait seemed to offer protection and unique allies. Elementals were powerful beings in most stories¡ªhaving them on my side could be a game-changer. Curiosity prickled at the back of my mind as I brought up the description for [Soul Speak]. The moment I activated it, I felt an invisible wave spread outward, like a ripple in a pond. A new prompt appeared.
Available Elementals in Range Chapter 4: Zotherg, Part 1. Re-edited. I stared at the name Zotherg on the prompt, my curiosity tempered by hesitation. The question marks beside its level were an undeniable warning¡ªit was far beyond my current ability to comprehend. I could only assume this indicated Zotherg¡¯s power was off the charts, so high that my system couldn¡¯t quantify it without significant leveling on my part. Still, my chosen trait promised that elementals would only help me, not harm me. That assurance was the only thing bolstering my courage as I steadied my resolve and activated [Soul Speak]. The sensation was unlike anything I¡¯d experienced before. It felt as though my very being flickered in and out, like an LED flashlight blinking rapidly. My soul vibrated, pulsing in waves that acted like a signal reaching out to Zotherg. At first, the communication was abstract¡ªemotions flickered back and forth between us, faint but unmistakable. Zotherg¡¯s joy at being contacted was warm and overwhelming, almost paternal. I hadn¡¯t realized until that moment how excruciatingly isolated I¡¯d felt since my rebirth. I was trapped, not just in a newborn¡¯s body but in its many limitations. The humiliation of being utterly helpless, unable to care for myself, had gnawed at me. Perfect memory didn¡¯t help, either¡ªit preserved every indignity. I still winced at the thought of pooping myself multiple times a day, cleaned like an inanimate doll by hands not my own. And then there was the breastfeeding. I had resisted at first, my pride rebelling against the thought, but hunger was an unrelenting enemy. Eventually, I gave in. Even then, I closed my eyes during those moments, trying not to dwell on the awkwardness of it all. Yet, as mortifying as those moments were, not everything about this life was bad.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. In my past life, I had never known my mother. She had died in a car accident shortly after I was born, a tragedy I had pieced together from police reports and scraps of family stories. Driving home after a snowstorm, her car had hit black ice, skidding out of control and crashing into a tree. The engine had burst into the cab, and she died instantly. But in this life, I did have a mother. Sienna Knollen was her name, and her love for me was like nothing I had ever known. She was fiercely protective, doting on me as if I were the most precious thing in the world. It was a feeling I hadn¡¯t realized I missed until I experienced it. Her overprotectiveness, however, sometimes bordered on the absurd. She refused to let my father, Ileor Knollen, parade me around the village, much to his dismay. It was sweet in its own way, though occasionally annoying. As time passed, my [Soul Speak] skill leveled up. By the time it reached Level 3, the emotional exchanges evolved into actual thoughts and words. We could even share images, painting vivid pictures in each other¡¯s minds. When Zotherg¡¯s voice finally came through, it startled me. It was deep and rich, full of warmth and mirth, like what I imagined Santa Claus would sound like if he were real. ¡°HA HA! Congratulations, young lord!¡± Zotherg bellowed, his laughter like the rumble of distant thunder. I couldn¡¯t help but smile at his enthusiasm. ¡°Um, thanks, Zotherg. It¡¯s nice to finally speak with you.¡± My response came out more familiar than I had expected, as though we had known each other for years. Perhaps the emotional exchanges before had created a sense of camaraderie. ¡°Well, I wondered how long it would take you to discover me,¡± Zotherg said, his tone still jovial. ¡°But I never imagined it would be so soon!¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked, tilting my head in confusion. ¡°It¡¯s understandable that you wouldn¡¯t know this yet,¡± Zotherg replied, his voice growing lighter with amusement. ¡°But I¡¯m an earth elemental, and you¡¯re standing¡ªwell, lying¡ªon top of me.¡± His words caught me off guard. I glanced around, half-expecting to see a tiny figure made of dirt or stone peeking out from the floor. Zotherg¡¯s laughter boomed again, and I could feel his amusement ripple through our connection. ¡°To be more precise,¡± he continued, ¡°you¡¯re camping in a forest on a mountain. That mountain is called Mt. Zotherg, and that¡¯s me. Nice to meet ya!¡± Chapter 5: Zotherg, Part 2. Re-edited. My mind reeled at Zotherg¡¯s declaration that he was the entire mountain. The sheer magnitude of his existence was incomprehensible. How powerful would someone have to be to achieve such a size? I wondered. And then glee surged through me. I had a powerful ally right beneath me¡ªa being of incredible might on my side. Zotherg¡¯s laughter rumbled through our connection, warm and knowing. ¡°Unfortunately, my lord, I cannot interact with the world or sign a contract to lend you my power.¡± The words hit me like a punch to the gut. ¡°Why not?!¡± I demanded, frustration bubbling over. ¡°You see, my lord,¡± Zotherg began patiently, ¡°there are laws that bind us elementals. Once an elemental reaches the threshold of the demi-god realm, we are forbidden from taking direct action in the mortal world without a contract. And a mortal of too low a level cannot form a contract with a god or demi-god. It would violate the law of objectivity, which keeps balance in the universe.¡± ¡°Wait, you¡¯re a demi-god?¡± I blurted, my voice incredulous. ¡°Not quite,¡± Zotherg replied with a chuckle. ¡°I am almost a demi-god. Just a few levels away. But without a contractor powerful enough to bridge the gap, I cannot level further. Once again, this is due to the universal laws. We elementals are born immortal, nearly impossible to kill. To balance this, our ability to level up comes with strict conditions. That¡¯s why some of us created beings like the Elves, Fairies, and Pixies¡ªas vessels to aid us in crossing the barrier.¡± I frowned, processing this. ¡°So you¡¯re saying you can¡¯t help me directly¡­ but can you at least teach me magic?¡± A wave of pity washed over me through our connection, soft but undeniable. ¡°Unfortunately, my lord, we elementals do not use magic the way mortals do,¡± Zotherg explained. ¡°We bind our souls to our element at birth. By channeling mana through our bodies, we use it as a medium to manipulate our element. We shape and command magic directly with our minds and souls¡ªa process we call weaving. But this technique is intrinsic to elementals and cannot be replicated by mortals.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I sighed, my disappointment palpable. I glanced around the simple room that served as my home, frustration gnawing at me. ¡°Well, at least I¡¯m not in immediate danger,¡± I muttered aloud. Zotherg fell silent. The air between us shifted, the warmth of his presence replaced by a cold tension. His hesitation felt like someone avoiding eye contact. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked, my voice sharp with suspicion. Zotherg hesitated, his thoughts flickering in uncertainty before he finally spoke. ¡°The birth of an Elf is a significant event, my lord. It attracts the attention of wild demonic beasts.¡± My stomach dropped. ¡°Normally, your parents would have struggled to protect you, especially with your unique nature,¡± Zotherg continued, his tone grave. ¡°But I have intervened. Though I cannot act directly, I have sent out my aura and intent to keep them at bay. So far, it has worked¡ªbut the more intelligent beasts will eventually see through my bluff.¡± ¡°WHAT THE HELL, MAN?!¡± I burst out, panic and frustration mixing in my voice. ¡°You¡¯re the only reason I¡¯m still alive, and you¡¯re just now telling me I¡¯m in imminent danger?¡± ¡°At this moment, you are safe,¡± Zotherg replied, his voice steady despite my outburst. ¡°Your father, Ileor, is a strong warrior who once served the previous Elf King. Your parents are capable and will protect you to the best of their ability. But there is a bigger issue that you are unaware of.¡± Before I could respond, Zotherg sent me a mental image. It was of a baby lying on a makeshift crib, its tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. The room was eerily familiar¡ªthe same walls, the same crude furniture. The baby stared up at the ceiling, its eyes bright and striking. Golden eyes. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ me, isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked, my voice a whisper. ¡°Yes,¡± Zotherg confirmed, his tone flat. A cold sweat broke out across my mind¡ªif such a thing were possible. ¡°How bad is it? Having gold eyes, I mean.¡± Zotherg¡¯s voice turned into a deep, grating whisper, the gravity of his words sending chills through me. ¡°It is extremely rare, my lord. Rare enough that every human noble and ruler would pay a wagon of gold for your head on a platter. They would pay a castle¡¯s worth for you alive, in shackles.¡± The weight of his words crushed me. Suddenly, everything made sense. My mother¡¯s overprotectiveness. Her refusal to let anyone see me. The constant anxiety etched into her every movement. I wasn¡¯t just a newborn Elf. I was a walking target¡ªa prize that could bring unimaginable wealth or power to anyone ruthless enough to claim it. My parents were the only barrier standing between me and a world full of enemies. My chest tightened, and I closed my eyes, trying to steady my thoughts. I didn¡¯t fear death¡ªI had faced it once already¡ªbut the thought of my new family suffering because of me was unbearable. I was becoming attached to them, to this new life. And if someone harmed my parents to get to me, I knew I would never forgive myself. Ch. 6 Receding Grace of the Elves. Re-edited. I had lost track of how many days had passed since my rebirth, and my frustration was mounting. Being unable to move was driving me insane. How did I do this the first time? I wondered. Maybe I was overthinking it¡ªbabies are supposed to develop naturally. Forcing myself to move might do more harm than good, especially during such a fragile stage of growth. Talking to Zotherg was the only thing keeping me sane. His presence was a balm against the monotony of my confinement. Still, there was only so much I could take. A fully conscious mind shouldn¡¯t be trapped like this. If I could speak, I was sure I¡¯d already be fluent in the Elven language. Zotherg, it turned out, was quite the gossip. He often regaled me with tales about the fascinating minerals he¡¯d collected over the ages, some of which even the dwarves had never discovered. His disdain for dwarves, though, was impossible to ignore. ¡°Rapists of the earth,¡± he called them with a grumble, his tone oozing with contempt. ¡°They strip the land bare, taking without giving, unlike the Elves, who honor and nurture nature.¡± I found the rhetoric a bit harsh. Yes, Elves avoided harming trees, taking only fallen branches or trimming leaves with reverence, but was it fair to judge an entire race by their mining habits? Still, it was clear that the history between elementals, Elves, and dwarves was fraught with tension. ¡°Elves are the hippies of the forest,¡± I mused internally, unable to suppress a chuckle at the thought. Food was another point of contention between Zotherg and me. I wasn¡¯t old enough to eat yet, but I already dreaded the day I¡¯d have to. Elves, it turned out, were strict vegetarians¡ªnot by choice, but by biology. Zotherg had confirmed that the Elven digestive system couldn¡¯t process meat. ¡°We simply weren¡¯t designed to consume other creatures,¡± he explained matter-of-factly. I mourned the loss of barbecued ribs and steak, lamenting my vegetarian fate. ¡°I might as well be dead,¡± I muttered internally. Zotherg, ever the philosopher, gave me his usual spiel. ¡°It¡¯s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,¡± he intoned sagely. ¡°Besides, I will never know the taste of food, so you should appreciate what you can eat.¡± It was hard to argue with that, though it didn¡¯t make me feel better. The reality of my new life was becoming clearer with each passing day. We were nomads, living in makeshift interconnected tents deep in a monster-infested forest. At first, I thought my family was simply poor, but my father, Ileor, was the village chief. Even as the leader, he had little to offer beyond protection and guidance.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. From the stories I overheard, it seemed that Elves were no longer a superpower. Their golden age had long since passed, and they were now a fractured, hunted race. Many had been enslaved, their magic and longevity prized by human rulers. I couldn¡¯t help but feel the bitter irony of it all. The species that had once been mine¡ªhumans¡ªwere now my enemy. My parents unwittingly filled in the gaps of history during bedtime stories, their voices full of pride and sorrow as they recounted tales of the Elves¡¯ glory days. Seven centuries ago, the Elves had been a mighty nation, united under a powerful king. He was said to be blessed by the goddess who, alongside the elementals, had created their race. The king and the goddess had fallen in love, a union that drew the ire of the other gods. They deemed the relationship incestuous¡ªa creator consorting with her creation¡ªand saw it as a violation of divine order. The gods struck them down, obliterating the goddess, the king, and their kingdom in a single act of vengeance. The Elves scattered, their once-proud civilization reduced to ruins. But the story didn¡¯t end there. According to my parents, the Elves had a prophecy. It foretold the rise of another king, one who would free their people and unite the fractured races of the world. His golden eyes and unparalleled magic would herald his coming, and his wrath would shake even the gods. I listened in silence, my expression betraying my disbelief. It sounded too fantastical, too theatrical. Surely it was just a bedtime story, something to inspire hope in a broken people. My mother laughed at the look on my face. ¡°It¡¯s as if he understands you, Ileor!¡± she said, teasing my father. My father¡¯s face grew solemn as he met my gaze. ¡°This we know,¡± he said, his voice low and steady. ¡°Our prophets have never been wrong. He will be a human reborn as one of our own¡­ from a faraway land called Michigan, in a kingdom known as the United States.¡± My body went rigid. I pooped my diaper. That was far too specific to be a coincidence. I was a human from Michigan, reborn as an Elf with golden eyes. My stats promised I would one day be a powerful mage, but how could anyone have predicted this before I was even born? Am I destined to be this race¡¯s Martin Luther King Jr.? I thought in a panic. I¡¯d never believed in prophecies before, but now I had no choice. This wasn¡¯t random; it was orchestrated. And if the prophecy was true, my life was going to get a lot more dangerous. The implications were staggering. If others pieced this together, I wouldn¡¯t just be hunted¡ªI¡¯d be hunted by everyone. Rulers, nobles, mercenaries, even the gods themselves might take notice. And my parents¡­ I clenched my tiny fists, my heart heavy. They were my only shield against the world, the only reason I was still alive. I could see the love in their eyes, the way they doted on me, and it terrified me. I didn¡¯t fear death¡ªI¡¯d faced it once already¡ªbut the thought of my parents suffering because of me? Of them being killed to protect me? I wouldn¡¯t let it happen. I couldn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t have a plan yet, but I would find a way to keep them safe. No matter the cost. Chapter 7: Analyze. Re-edited. Another day in my paradise of sarcasm. I had reached the milestone of being old enough to eat the green mush my mother prepared for me. Yay¡ªpre-chewed food. What¡¯s next? Straight-up poison? Okay, maybe I was exaggerating, but that green concoction was objectively the worst thing I had ever tasted. How do you even turn food into that? Even zucchini tasted better, and I used to hate zucchini. Heck, I¡¯d take kale at this point¡ªand kale was basically leaves masquerading as food. I sighed internally. I miss you, sweet, sweet ribs. I projected the thought toward Zotherg, hoping for sympathy. I heard him scoff in my mind but got no further reply. It seemed the old mountain spirit was in a mood. I poked and prodded him mentally for a while before realizing he wasn¡¯t ignoring me out of grumpiness¡ªhe was distracted. ¡°Zotherg?¡± I called out. ¡°...Yes, what do you need, my lord?¡± His voice was distant, almost dismissive. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked, concern creeping into my tone. ¡°You¡¯re clearly worried. Don¡¯t try to hide it.¡± There was a pause. Earth elementals, it seemed, liked to take their time¡ªor were naturally lazy. Perhaps both. Finally, Zotherg replied. ¡°There is a strong demonic beast that has entered my territory,¡± he said gravely. ¡°It has figured out that I am stalling for time, and it is strong enough to be a real challenge for your village.¡± A cold sweat ran down my little spine. An enemy is coming for me, and I¡¯m still powerless. I quickly opened my status screen, hoping for a miracle. But nothing had changed. My stats were still pitiful, and I had no way to gauge the strength of my enemies. Zotherg could only give rough level estimates¡ªhe couldn¡¯t identify species, talents, or skills. If only I had a way to analyze enemies, I thought bitterly. But according to Zotherg, no such skill or talent existed. The best skills could offer were basic names or levels. That was when a light bulb went off in my head. If it doesn¡¯t exist, why can¡¯t I create it? I had already created my [Soul Vortex], a completely unique skill. Why not take another leap? Determined, I decided to develop a skill from scratch. I noticed a small beetle crawling near the edge of the tent. Staring at it yielded no results, so I focused inward. My soul is stronger than most, I reasoned. Maybe that¡¯s the key. Closing my eyes, I imagined my senses extending outward, like invisible tendrils reaching for the beetle. It worked. I felt the beetle¡¯s life force, faint but distinct. A prompt followed, though it wasn¡¯t what I had been hoping for.
Skill Created: [Soul Detect]
¡°Well, it¡¯s not useless,¡± I muttered, ¡°but it¡¯s not exactly what I wanted either.¡± At least I¡¯d know when the beast approached, though I still wouldn¡¯t know how strong it was. Frustrated but undeterred, I returned my focus to the beetle, experimenting for what felt like twenty minutes. Slowly, an idea began to take shape. What I truly wanted was a status screen for my enemies¡ªsomething akin to my own system interface.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. If all beings have a status menu, why can only the user see it? The answer had to lie within the soul itself. Zotherg had once mentioned that even spirits had status screens, so it wasn¡¯t limited to physical bodies. The system must be connected to the soul. I activated [Soul Detect] on myself, searching for anything unusual. My soul appeared as a swirling vortex of golden rings, spinning and intertwining like a vast clockwork mechanism. At its center was a brilliant, sun-like light¡ªexactly how my traits had described it. As I shifted my focus outward, I noticed a smaller, glowing blue orb orbiting the core of my soul like a moon circling a star. I reached for the orb with my being, instinctively grasping it. Information flooded into my mind, confirming my suspicion: the blue orb was my interface with the system. My status prompt appeared without me summoning it.
Name: Juren Knollen Age: 1 Year Level: 0 Traits: HP: 5 MP: 3000 MP Regen: 240/min Stats:
The only difference was a new line under my name: Age: 1 Year. I winced at the reminder that my mother had breastfed me for an entire year. The truth hurts, I thought, resisting the urge to mentally shout ¡°Objection!¡± at the universe. With a resigned sigh, I moved on. Having verified the blue orb¡¯s purpose, I turned my attention back to the beetle¡ªonly to find it gone. In its place was a small lizard, chewing on what I assumed was the beetle¡¯s leg. I frowned, mildly irritated, but decided the lizard would suffice. Activating [Soul Detect], I focused on the blue orb within its soul. This time, two prompts appeared.
Skill Created: [Soul Hack] Skill Created: [Soul Analyze]
I stared at the prompts, then broke into an improvised baby-version of the cabbage patch dance. I did it! I¡¯d created a skill that no one else had. Activating [Soul Analyze] on the lizard, a new screen appeared.
Tree Lizard
I noted its traits with interest but had little time to study them before the lizard, startled, darted away. The connection broke, and the status page vanished. As if on cue, my father, Ileor, entered the hut. He picked me up, holding me aloft with an expectant smile, but I just stared at him blankly. Curious, I activated [Soul Analyze] on him.
Name: Ileor Knollen
Ileor flinched, looking around as though someone had pranked him. I barely noticed, stunned by the sheer scope of his stats. My dad is a serious badass, I thought. With strength like that, who could stand against him? But then the truth dawned on me: the other Elves weren¡¯t as strong. My father was the sole reason our village could survive here. The demonic beast wouldn¡¯t announce itself or challenge him directly¡ªit would go for the weakest prey first. And that meant me. Chapter 8: True Elemental. Re-edited. For several days, the beast prowled the outskirts of our village, lurking in the shadows where it could not be seen. The rest of the village went about their lives, blissfully unaware of the monster stalking us. I, however, was far from ignorant. I had used [Soul Analyze] on it and knew exactly what we were up against.
Name: None Species: Dark Demonic Jaguar Traits: Level: 596 HP: 14,875 MP: 25,500 MP Regen: 1,050/min Stats:
The beast¡¯s traits were deceptively simple. [Razor Claws] enhanced the sharpness of its claws, while [Cat¡¯s Reflexes] and [Feline Swiftness] gave it superior reaction times and speed. Its abilities didn¡¯t seem extraordinary at first glance, but combined with its stats and level, it was a force to be reckoned with. I took some solace in knowing its level was significantly lower than my father¡¯s. Still, I remained vigilant, knowing the jaguar¡¯s patience wouldn¡¯t last. When I had used [Soul Analyze], it startled the beast, causing it to hesitate. But hesitation wasn¡¯t fear. After a few days, it regained its boldness, creeping ever closer.
The morning it struck was like any other. My mother carried me in her arms as she walked through the village, a daily routine she had developed to soothe me. She spoke softly in Elven, her words like a melody, though my focus was elsewhere. Through the trees, I saw it. Orange eyes glowed ominously in the shadows. The jaguar no longer hesitated. It surged into the village with terrifying speed. The first victim was a spear-wielding elf guarding the village perimeter. Distracted and unprepared, he stood no chance. The jaguar¡¯s claws cut through him effortlessly, spraying blood across the forest floor. The beast darted to its next target, an elf collecting bark for medicinal herbs. He managed to stab the jaguar with a dagger, but the blade barely pierced its hide. The wound was superficial, and the jaguar¡¯s fangs sank into him, ending his life in an instant. I watched in horror as the monster turned its glowing eyes toward my mother and me.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Before it could strike, my father appeared, his twin short swords gleaming in the sunlight. He stepped between us and the jaguar, his stance poised and ready. The battle that followed was a blur. My father and the beast moved so fast I could barely track their movements. His swords struck true, carving shallow wounds into the jaguar¡¯s hide, but they were little more than scratches. The beast¡¯s claws lashed out, but my father¡¯s speed kept him just out of reach. It was a stalemate, a deadly dance of precision and power. But the jaguar was clever. It maneuvered until my father circled behind it, creating an opening. Then, in a calculated move, it lunged toward my mother and me. My father reacted instantly, closing the gap to intercept. But this was the jaguar¡¯s trap. It struck with its paw¡ªnot its claws, but a technique. The blow generated a shocking amount of force, sending my father flying. He landed hard, rolling to a stop, momentarily stunned. The beast turned its attention back to us. It moved with predatory precision, closing the distance in a heartbeat. My mother turned to shield me with her body, her arms wrapping around me protectively. I watched, helpless, as the jaguar¡¯s claws descended toward her fair skin. Time seemed to slow. Panic consumed me, my mind racing as I searched desperately for a solution. I could not lose her. I would not lose her. In my desperation, I tapped into something deep within myself. My soul¡¯s rings spun faster, compressing and twisting mana into the air around me. I didn¡¯t think¡ªI willed the air to obey, binding it to my mana and forcing it into shape. A massive hand of wind formed and slammed the jaguar into the ground with incredible force. At the same time, an instinctive [Soul Speak] erupted from me, a single word filled with undeniable command: ¡°No.¡± The power resonated through the village, startling everyone¡ªincluding the jaguar. Pinned under the wind¡¯s crushing grip, the jaguar thrashed helplessly. My father didn¡¯t waste the opportunity. He was there in an instant, driving his swords through the beast¡¯s glowing eyes and into its brain. The jaguar¡¯s body convulsed before going limp. The fight was over. I barely registered my father¡¯s whispered thanks to the elementals as he gazed at the fallen beast. My vision blurred as exhaustion overwhelmed me. The last thing I saw before passing out was a series of prompts flashing before my eyes.
Title Gained: "True Elemental" Skill Learned: Elemental Weaving Skill Created: [Soul Accelerate] Experience Gained: 1,078,993,773 (adjusted for -98% infant status). Congratulations! You have reached Level 12.
Unaware of the greatness of what I had just accomplished, I slipped into unconsciousness. Chapter 9: Aware. Re-edited. I awoke to the sound of my mother weeping. We were at the funeral for the two villagers who had died in the attack. As always, she was holding me in her arms, cradling me protectively. She and my father believed that the fear from the attack had overwhelmed me and caused me to pass out. They let me sleep for an entire day to recover. What they didn¡¯t know was that my mana had been completely drained, leaving me in a dreamless, unconscious state. Since my soul had changed, I¡¯d become acutely aware of my dreams. They were vivid and lucid, and I could do whatever I wanted in them. This time, however, was different. It was as if I¡¯d blinked, and suddenly I was here, at the funeral. Looking at the mourning villagers, I clasped my tiny hands together in a prayer of thanks for the two brave elves who had given their lives to protect us. I mourned their loss deeply, feeling a pang of guilt. Perhaps I was responsible for their deaths. Of course I feel sad, I thought. I¡¯m not a monster. The memory of the attack still fresh in my mind, I opened my status screen to take stock of myself.
Name: Juren Knollen Age: 1 Year Level: 12 Unused Points: 60 Traits: Stats:
I had 60 points to spend and a good idea of how to use them. I have access to magic now, I thought excitedly. Oh, the things I can do! As I reviewed my stats, I noticed a discrepancy. My health and mana were higher than they should have been¡ª120 more HP and 60 more MP. A prompt popped up to explain.
+10 HP gained per level. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.+5 MP gained per level.
¡°So not all stats come from points,¡± I mused. Health and mana increased automatically with each level, but investing in Constitution or Intelligence would enhance them further. Five MP per level was modest, but with Intelligence giving 100 MP per point, it was worth prioritizing. Another system note clarified the relationship between Intelligence, Wisdom, and magic. Spell power was determined two-thirds by Intelligence and one-third by Wisdom. Wisdom also controlled mana regeneration and casting speed, making it essential for any mage. Elemental magic, however, didn¡¯t rely on the system¡¯s standard spellcasting mechanics. It drew directly from the soul, making it independent of formulas or runic structures. Even so, Intelligence and Wisdom still synergized, feeding into each other to enhance overall effectiveness. I made my decisions carefully. Running or fighting might be necessary someday, and enemies wouldn¡¯t stand still to let me cast spells. Investing in mobility and resilience felt prudent, even if it cost a sixth of my points. Satisfied, I mentally confirmed my choices.
I reached out to Zotherg, hoping for advice on how to proceed. His response was immediate and deafening. ¡°YEEEEEEEESSS! YOU DID IT!¡± Zotherg¡¯s voice boomed in my mind like an earthquake. ¡°What?¡± I asked, wincing. ¡°You crossed the threshold, my lord! You did what no mortal has ever done. You awakened your elemental powers!¡± His excitement was palpable, his voice vibrating with pride. ¡°And why is that such a big deal?¡± I asked skeptically. ¡°Humans can cast all elements with spells.¡± Zotherg sighed, the sound like mountains shifting. ¡°Spells are crude and inefficient compared to our magic, Juren. Mortals must use mana to draw runes or recite formulas, consuming immense energy in the process. Some spells supplement this by pulling in ambient mana, but even that is limited. ¡°We elementals, my boy, are different. Ambient mana flows into us naturally, fueling our magic without effort. It¡¯s why even dragons fear us. Why do you think you were able to hold down that jaguar with only 3,000 mana?¡± I let his words sink in. For the first time, I truly understood the significance of what I had become. I wasn¡¯t just a mage¡ªI was a True Elemental, capable of wielding magic as effortlessly as breathing. If Zotherg¡¯s claims were accurate, my abilities were on par with the most powerful creatures in existence. I¡¯m practically a baby dragon, I thought, though a more accurate term was ¡°baby True Elemental.¡± Either way, the revelation was overwhelming. One more secret to keep, I mused, feeling the weight of my growing list of hidden truths. At this rate, I¡¯ll end up as the Elf of mystery. I chuckled at the thought. Well, they say women like a mysterious man. Chapter 10: A New Arrival. Re-edited. For the first time, I was free to explore the village on my own two feet. My newfound strength allowed me to walk, albeit a bit clumsily. My parents followed me closely, their faces filled with pride. Apparently, walking this early was a rare feat for Elven children, who usually took longer to develop physically. My father beamed. ¡°He¡¯ll be a great warrior one day,¡± he declared, his voice full of confidence. I smiled internally but had other plans. Why throw fists when you can throw fire? Minutes into my waddling exploration, the excitement faded. The village, while functional, was barren of anything remotely stimulating. It was, in the nicest terms, humble. Realistically, it was empty¡ªnothing but tents, a few tools, and an overwhelming abundance of trees. Oh, gods, I need a distraction, I thought desperately. Something. Anything. Even idle gossip would have been welcome, but instead, I was left alone with my thoughts. Thoughts I would have preferred to forget. I was still grappling with unspeakable truths about Elven society that had burned themselves into my memory.
I discovered the hard way that Elves were true hippies. They didn¡¯t just live in harmony with nature; they also had a very loose understanding of relationships. Their belief in "free love" was more literal than I could have imagined. One day, my parents brought a woman into our home. At first, it seemed harmless¡ªpleasant conversation and introductions. She even leaned over my crib, cooing at me sweetly. Then things got¡­ weird. My mother and father started kissing her. As soon as I saw where this was going, I slammed my eyes shut and began mentally reciting anything I could think of¡ªpoetry, book passages, television quotes. Anything to drown out the horror. It didn¡¯t stop there. Another time, it was a man. My father seemed disturbingly comfortable with it. WTF! I thought, my baby brain struggling to process this new reality. It felt like I was trapped in a bad porno¡ªor worse, an Elven brothel. Over time, I pieced together that traditional marriage didn¡¯t exist among Elves. They formed partnerships that lasted until the individuals grew intolerant of one another. These partnerships were open, and "swinging" wasn¡¯t just a possibility¡ªit was practically a cultural norm.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Why couldn¡¯t I have been reincarnated in a monastery instead? I groaned internally. My constant bouts of nausea hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed by my mother, who believed I had a weak stomach. She started feeding me herbal medicine to help, but the cure was as bad as the cause. The concoction tasted like what I could only imagine Satan¡¯s butthole would be like.
One day, my misery was interrupted by alarmed shouting outside. My parents rushed to investigate, and I followed as quickly as my tiny legs could carry me. At the edge of the village, I saw the cause of the commotion¡ªa blonde Elven woman, naked and covered in cuts, bruises, and filth. Her eyes were hollow, deadened by the horrors she had endured. I recognized that look. I had seen it once before in my previous life. This woman had been raped. My father cursed under his breath. ¡°Goblins,¡± he spat. My mother echoed him, her voice trembling with rage and sorrow. My father moved quickly to cover the woman with a cloak, his movements gentle but efficient. Even in her battered state, she possessed an otherworldly beauty. But there was no admiration in me¡ªonly shame. Shame to be a man by association, I thought bitterly. Violating another being in that way was always wrong, regardless of gender or species. The thought churned in my mind as I considered the complexities of this magical world. What if other beings have different genders¡ªor none at all? I briefly wondered if Zotherg had a gender but dismissed the thought immediately. Knowing Zotherg, he¡¯d happily explain in graphic detail. The woman hesitated, then spoke to my parents in a broken voice, her hands hovering over her stomach. Even without understanding the words, I knew what she was asking for. She wanted a tonic. She didn¡¯t want to give birth to a monster. Curious, I activated [Soul Detect] and [Soul Hack], focusing on the life growing inside her. What I found was both shocking and revelatory. The creature in her womb had no real soul¡ªjust a fragmented, pseudo-soul that barely flickered with life. Yet its bloodline radiated immense, untapped power. It felt as if I had reached too close to a fire, the raw magic nearly scorching me. As I examined further, I discovered the truth. The creature wasn¡¯t inherently evil¡ªit was cursed. A dark magic curse had been placed directly on its bloodline, preventing its soul from fully forming and suppressing its latent power. The curse was sophisticated and ancient, its energy reacting violently to my own but leaving the woman unharmed. I reeled from the revelation. Goblins weren¡¯t what everyone thought they were. They weren¡¯t inherently monstrous but were made that way by a curse embedded in their very existence. How many centuries have they suffered under this fate? I thought, my mind racing. Even Zotherg had never mentioned this, though I doubted he knew. The implications were staggering.
The woman¡¯s dull eyes shifted to my mother, pleading silently for an answer. My mother knelt beside her, holding her hands tightly as they spoke in hushed tones. My father stood guard, scanning the forest for signs of danger. The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of sorrow, anger, and helplessness. As I watched the scene unfold, a question burned in my mind: If Goblins are cursed, is there a way to break it? Chapter 11: The Truth. Re-edited. Luna Rald, as I learned her full name, had been taken in by my parents and now stayed in our home. Even in her weakened and broken state, she displayed a gentle demeanor, often visiting me in my crib and insisting I call her "Aunty Luna." She had been part of another group of free Elves but had become separated from her kin during an ambush. Goblins had taken her alive and dragged her to one of their breeding dens. Despite the horrors she endured, Luna radiated a quiet resilience that stirred both sympathy and admiration. Curiosity, one of my greatest weaknesses, quickly took hold of me. The entity inside her¡ªthe embodiment of everything society labeled as evil¡ªdrew my attention. My past life¡¯s work had been dedicated to studying the unknown, and now, with Luna living under the same roof, I had the perfect opportunity to observe the curse firsthand.
For days, I delved into the workings of the curse, examining its structure and how it interacted with its host. I discovered that curses didn¡¯t merely sit dormant¡ªthey thrived, siphoning life force from their victims to create barriers. These barriers shielded the curse from detection or purification by light magic or the body¡¯s natural defenses. As my understanding grew, I began to piece together the truth about Goblins and the monstrous bloodline that flowed within them.
Many species in this world could interbreed, but the results varied. Elves could have children with humans but not with Dwarves or Beastfolk. Humans, on the other hand, had the highest compatibility, though even their hybrid offspring were often sterile. Dragons, however, were unique. Their blood held a latent power that allowed them to breed with virtually any species. Known for their lust and shapeshifting abilities, Dragons had left their mark across countless lineages. Goblins, I realized, were the chaotic result of this interbreeding. Their traits were a patchwork quilt of the world¡¯s races: Each feature, twisted and exaggerated, hinted at their ancestry. It all made sense now. The Goblins were cursed not because of who they were but because of what they could become. Someone, fearing the potential power of this mixed bloodline, had ensured their devolution.
Breaking down the curse, I saw that it suppressed the Goblins¡¯ inherent traits and potential. The pseudo-soul inside the fetus was barely functional, a flickering light smothered by the curse¡¯s grip. It was as though the cursemaker sought to erase every shred of their potential. I was horrified. The suffering of Goblins¡ªand the countless women like Luna¡ªwas the product of one individual¡¯s hatred and fear. A dark mage, perhaps even a cabal, had sacrificed everything to cripple an entire race.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Luna¡¯s situation weighed heavily on me. I had overheard the difficult choice laid before her. She could drink a potion to terminate the fetus, but it would leave her sterile¡ªa devastating decision for any Elf, given their natural limit of three offspring. The alternative was to carry the child to term and kill it after birth. Elves were deeply pro-life, cherishing all living things, but Goblins were considered an exception¡ªa monstrous aberration. Luna¡¯s sadness was evident whenever she looked at me, as though her mind wrestled with the choice she had to make. I resolved to find another way.
The curse was the key. If I could break it, perhaps the child wouldn¡¯t be a monster after all. With focus and determination, I studied the pseudo-soul in Luna¡¯s womb. I attacked the curse with light magic, weaving a barrier of life force around the clash to protect Luna from collateral damage. The curse resisted fiercely, but I refused to relent. Slowly, it began to unravel, the threads of dark magic disintegrating under the pressure of my will. When the curse was gone, I turned my attention to the fetus¡¯s genes. Without the curse suppressing them, they were unbound, a chaotic mix of dormant traits. I suppressed the ones that felt dangerous and activated those brimming with potential. As I finished, a series of prompts flooded my vision.
You have broken "Cultist of Muiren¡¯s Curse." Title Gained: "Curse Breaker." Title Gained: "Life Bless Master." Warning: You have angered "Lesser Evil God Muiren."
A cold dread washed over me. I¡¯ve made an enemy of an evil god, I thought grimly. As if that wasn¡¯t enough, I now faced a more immediate problem: I would have to reveal my actions to Luna. The fetus was no longer a soulless monster¡ªit was something entirely new. Moreover, it was female, a significant deviation from Goblin norms. Luna deserved to know that the child would not be the abomination she feared. While I wrestled with how to tell her, a bright blue and white orb appeared before me. It hovered silently, radiating warmth and light. I felt its gaze, though it wasn¡¯t hostile. On the contrary, the feelings it evoked were comforting, almost protective. Before I could analyze it, the orb drifted toward Luna and disappeared into her womb. I froze. The fetus, which had been soulless, now had a soul. I didn¡¯t know if this was normal for how souls were granted to unborn children, but something about it felt significant¡ªdifferent. Whoever or whatever that soul belonged to wasn¡¯t my enemy. In fact, I had the distinct impression they would become my greatest ally if they were allowed to live.
I admitted to myself that I had acted recklessly. My emotions had gotten the better of me. In my past life, I had witnessed a woman who suffered similar trauma fall into a dark depression and eventually take her own life. At the time, I had been powerless to help her. Now, with the power to intervene, I felt compelled to act. But I had acted unilaterally, and I knew Luna might not be pleased. The fetus had initially been soulless¡ªdestined to be stillborn after the curse was removed. Now it lived, its future rewritten by my interference. Well, I thought, here¡¯s hoping she isn¡¯t too mad at me. Chapter 12: Sharing the Truth. Re-edited. I waited in my bed, pretending to be asleep, as my parents prepared to leave for the night. They had decided to search for the final ingredients needed for the tonic Luna had requested. As always, they entrusted Luna to watch over me in their absence. ¡°Be good, little one,¡± my mother said softly, brushing a hand through my hair before leaving. My father gave a quiet nod of approval as they disappeared into the forest. Luna sat in a chair nearby, staring off into space. Though her posture seemed relaxed, there was a tension about her, as if she were waiting for something. Taking a deep mental breath, I decided now was the time to speak. With [Soul Speak], I reached out to her, forming the words carefully. ¡°Hello, Luna. I know this is surprising, but this is Juren, and we need to talk.¡± Luna turned toward me, a sly smirk spreading across her face. The expression sent a chill down my spine. Something was off. ¡°Finally!¡± she exclaimed, standing and walking over to me with an almost exaggerated air of exasperation. ¡°Do you know how long I¡¯ve been waiting for you to reach out?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s not nice to keep a lady waiting!¡± Her reaction caught me off guard. How did she know about me? The confusion must have been clear on my face because she laughed softly and continued. ¡°My daughter has been telling me all about you,¡± Luna said, placing a hand on her stomach. I froze. ¡°She told me you wouldn¡¯t break the curse without talking to me afterward. She also said you¡¯d probably feel bad about not asking permission first.¡± Luna¡¯s teasing tone carried an undeniable undercurrent of truth. Embarrassed, I looked away, avoiding her gaze. ¡°I sowwy,¡± I replied, using my best attempt at a pitiful baby tone. It wasn¡¯t entirely an act¡ªI genuinely felt bad about how things had unfolded. Luna¡¯s expression softened, and a sweet smile crossed her face. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I wouldn¡¯t expect a baby to know better anyway.¡± I flinched at her words and shot back, ¡°I¡¯m not just a baby! I was born old¡ªwith memories from a past life!¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Her smile didn¡¯t falter. ¡°Oh, child, thirty-six is still an infant in my eyes,¡± she said in a playfully belittling tone. Her words stung more than I wanted to admit. Still, the nagging question at the back of my mind remained: Who was her daughter, and how did she know so much about me?
¡°The prophecy speaks of the Chosen One and his creation of the Green Elves,¡± Luna murmured, almost to herself. Her words made my stomach drop. She knew. ¡°You¡¯ve figured it out, haven¡¯t you?¡± I asked, though the question was rhetorical. Luna¡¯s eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and wonder. ¡°To think that I would be the mother of the Green Elves!¡± she exclaimed, her voice taking on an almost fanatical reverence. She leaned over my crib, her face alight with excitement. Before I could react, she began tickling my belly mercilessly. My tiny nerves, hypersensitive to touch, lit up like fireworks. ¡°Stop!¡± I mentally yelled, giggling uncontrollably as my body thrashed in protest. ¡°No,¡± Luna replied with a playful grin, her fingers relentless. ¡°Why?!¡± I asked, desperate for reprieve. ¡°Payback,¡± she said simply, her grin widening. It wasn¡¯t until I begged that she finally stopped the onslaught. Panting from the ordeal, I glared at her with all the defiance my tiny body could muster. She ignored my attempt at a stern expression and settled back into her chair. I tried pressing her for information about her daughter¡¯s identity, but Luna either didn¡¯t know or refused to tell me. I suspected it might be my childhood sweetheart from my past life, but I couldn¡¯t be certain. I resolved to keep my guess to myself¡ªfor now.
We spent the rest of the evening discussing how to convince my parents to accept Luna¡¯s child. When my mother and father returned, Luna claimed that a divine being had spoken to her, revealing that her child would be the first of the Green Elves. To strengthen her story, I used [Soul Speak] to connect Zotherg with my parents. The ancient elemental¡¯s deep, wise voice added credibility to the claim, and his authority left no room for doubt. My mother was ecstatic, immediately proposing a baby shower. The women of the village gathered to celebrate the news, leaving me in no doubt that this event would dominate the community for weeks to come.
Amid the celebrations, I noticed Luna plotting something. Her expression carried a mischievous glint I had come to recognize as a harbinger of trouble. Turning to my mother, she said with feigned casualness, ¡°You know, my daughter will be the only girl born in this village for the next century.¡± My mother paused, considering the statement. Then, as if struck by divine inspiration, her face lit up with realization. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s perfect!¡± she exclaimed. Wait¡­ no. The two women exchanged knowing smiles, and my heart sank. ¡°We should start planning for their future!¡± my mother said. ¡°Yes,¡± Luna agreed, her voice dripping with mock innocence. ¡°It¡¯s only natural they¡¯ll grow up to be the perfect pair.¡± I wanted to vomit blood. Or fire. Or both. ¡°You¡¯re mean!¡± I sent to Luna via [Soul Speak], my frustration boiling over. She turned to me with the victorious grin of someone who had just won the game without breaking a sweat. It was the grin all women wore when they knew they had bested you. Chapter 13: Emerald. Re-edited. Nine months had passed since Luna gave birth to her child, and my life had taken a peculiar turn. This morning, as usual, I awoke before dawn with a singular purpose: escape. I couldn¡¯t use the front door¡ªtoo obvious. My only option was to lift the back of my tent and roll under it. The maneuver was clumsy but effective. Once outside, I bolted downhill, my tiny feet pounding against the forest floor. Freedom was within reach. Or so I thought. The sound of pursuit echoed behind me. It was gaining¡ªfast. My increased agility was no match for the green beast chasing me. Despite the points I had added to my stats and the hours spent running to train them, I couldn¡¯t shake her. My agility had increased by 6 points since I started these desperate sprints, but the gap was insurmountable. I zigzagged, dodged, and even used magic to throw obstacles in her path. Nothing worked. Then I felt it¡ªthe inevitable grasp of her claws as she wrapped her arms around me. ¡°Emma, pwease let me go!¡± I pleaded, trying to reason with my captor. Emma tilted her head, pretending to consider my request. ¡°Uh-uh,¡± she replied, the universal toddler refusal. With that, she hoisted me up like a teddy bear and carried me back toward the village. My protests were ignored, as usual.
Emma¡¯s rapid development was the bane of my existence. At nine months old, she was already the size of a five- or six-year-old human child. Her stats were ridiculous, and her strength alone made her nearly impossible to resist. My parents thought her attachment to me was ¡°adorable.¡± My mother even joked, ¡°It¡¯s good she¡¯s strong¡ªJuren¡¯s been sickly since birth. He needs a strong woman to protect him!¡± Damn Goblin genes, I thought bitterly. Her hybrid bloodline had her developing faster than anyone expected, and her stats reflected it. Out of morbid curiosity, I used [Soul Analyze] on her again.
Name: Emma Rald Age: 9 Months Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.Race: Green Elf (High Goblin Variant) Level: 1 Traits: Stats:
Emma¡¯s stats were unfair. Despite her level being zero, her natural traits made her almost impossible to match. Her raw strength and endurance alone would have allowed her to carry me around the village all day¡ªand she often did. I had been proud of the stats she¡¯d inherited at first. Her [Selfless Hero] trait had even made me chuckle. ¡°Look, it¡¯s the protagonist!¡± I¡¯d joked, imagining myself fist-bumping Deadpool. But the reality was cruel. I¡¯d unknowingly created the body that now tormented me. Karma, it seemed, was real¡ªand it hated me.
Her other traits explained her rapid growth. Dragon¡¯s Blood granted her naturally high stats and the potential to awaken abilities tied to dragons. It even ensured other dragons would recognize her as kin. Goblin¡¯s Development allowed her to gain stats faster than others, and Beast¡¯s Instincts gave her heightened senses. Then there was Red String of Fate. When I tried to analyze it, I suffered a severe backlash¡ªan intense headache and full-body spasms that left me reeling. The trait was powerful enough to actively repel my scrutiny. Even [Selfless Hero], though accessible, remained troublingly vague.
Emma¡¯s emerald-green skin was the source of her name. Unlike the slimy, dull green of Goblins, her skin shimmered like polished gemstones. Her mother had named her Emma to match her last name, Rald. ¡°Emerald,¡± she¡¯d explained proudly. ¡°You stink at naming,¡± I¡¯d retorted, but Luna had remained undeterred.
Emma carried me back to the village, her grip unrelenting. I called out to the heavens for assistance. My plea was met with a most unhelpful prompt:
All Gods watching are laughing at your current predicament. Goddess of Love says, ¡®Isn¡¯t young love wonderful!¡¯
Gods are jerks, I thought bitterly. Emma paraded me around the village like a trophy, much to everyone¡¯s amusement. She didn¡¯t just carry me¡ªshe clung to me as if her life depended on it. Her attachment was relentless. From the moment she could walk, she had followed me everywhere. There had even been a time when my parents let her sleepover. I¡¯d convinced them it was inappropriate, but it hadn¡¯t stopped Emma from watching me sleep on more than one occasion.
My life had become a constant struggle to maintain some semblance of autonomy. The irony was not lost on me. I had created the body that now haunted me, and my cries for help fell on deaf ears. As they say, when it rains, it pours. Chapter 14: For Goddess Sake. Re-edited. My name was Lucille Einhart, and I was a ghost¡ªone of the most famous, in fact. For centuries, I roamed the earth, repeating the same actions like a broken record. Then one day, I met someone. At first, we didn¡¯t get along. He and I had different views about helping people. I believed in giving everything to help someone in need, no matter the cost. He thought that was naive. He believed that if you saved someone, you had to save them completely¡ªto keep protecting the life you saved. ¡°Why feed a homeless person today if they¡¯ll starve tomorrow?¡± he¡¯d argue, citing the old saying: ¡°Give a man a fish and feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and feed him for life.¡± His name was Rick Evets, and he was the man I fell in love with. He had anonymously created a charity that provided housing and jobs for the homeless, employing many of them in the program. He had practical methods but a compassionate heart. One day, during one of our endless debates, he said something that changed everything. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it? After all you did to save those people, they let you die!¡± His voice softened as he added, ¡°You were the one worth saving.¡± I felt something stir in my non-existent heart. For the first time in centuries, my fog lifted. I realized I had been waiting all this time¡ªfor him.
Rick lived in a beautiful, energy-efficient Earthship house. Half-buried in the earth for insulation, its greenhouse windows were made of bulletproof Lexan, layered with argon gas to regulate temperature. He¡¯d inherited a sizeable fortune from his father and grandfather. His father, a geologist, had discovered oil wells across North America, earning a percentage of their value. His grandfather, a renowned architect, had designed mansions for the absurdly wealthy. This wealth allowed Rick to pursue his passion: researching the soul. It also funded his charity and his home, built using his grandfather¡¯s unbuilt designs, improved with modern innovations.
One day, Rick came home later than usual, covered in burns. His left arm had been amputated below the shoulder, destroyed by fire. I was horrified but determined to stay by his side. I convinced him to let me stay in his home to help him recover. From that day on, I haunted him exclusively. Despite his injuries, Rick showed a new determination. He buried himself in paperwork, and soon, a new child joined our unorthodox family: Trevor, a boy no older than five, whom Rick had adopted after Trevor¡¯s mother died in an accident. Those years were the happiest of my existence. Trevor quickly warmed to me, calling me ¡°Momma Lucille.¡± I cooked his meals, packed his lunches, and sent him off to school with love. At night, I sat by the fireplace with Rick, his presence comforting as the fire crackled.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Thirteen years passed, and Trevor went to college. Rick, believing he had made progress on his thesis, went to a coffee shop to relax. Hours later, he hadn¡¯t returned. I felt a sinking dread as I searched for him, finding the coffee shop surrounded by emergency services. His lifeless body lay beneath a tarp. It felt like my world ended. I screamed so loudly that every glass pane in the surrounding buildings shattered. I had waited centuries for him, only to have him ripped away. Why couldn¡¯t I keep him?
Trevor came home to handle Rick¡¯s affairs. In the process, he discovered that Rick had saved him years ago by pulling him from a burning car. The accident had taken his mother¡¯s life and left Rick with the burns that cost him his arm. Trevor, always seeing Rick as his hero, now understood the full truth.
Though I loved Trevor, I couldn¡¯t remain on Earth without Rick. I decided to risk everything on one of Rick¡¯s theories: that a sentient ghost could change its lingering attachment. It was dangerous¡ªI could cease to exist entirely. But I didn¡¯t care. If Rick still remembered me, perhaps I could join him. To my amazement, it worked. I was pulled across space and time¡ªnot to the great beyond, but to where Rick was. His memory of me tethered my soul to him. But as I reached the outskirts of the universe, I felt an immense weight pressing down on me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn¡¯t move forward. ¡°Please, let me be with him!¡± I screamed, struggling against the impossible. Suddenly, the weight vanished, and a prompt appeared:
Trait Gained: [Red String of Fate] The Goddesses of Love and Fate have been moved by your determination to be with the man you love. The Red String of Fate connects you to those you share a bond with and prevents separation against your will.
Goddess of Fate says: ¡°We got your back, girlfriend!¡± Goddess of Love says: ¡°Binding can also be a form of freedom, you know.¡±
If I could blush, I would have turned crimson. That last comment reminded me of an incident involving Rick¡¯s computer and an embarrassing internet search I accidentally triggered. I destroyed the device out of mortification.
I arrived in a forested, undeveloped world and saw a baby with golden eyes. I knew instantly it was Rick, though he didn¡¯t recognize me. Nearby stood a beautiful Elven woman, pregnant with a soulless child. Without intervention, it would be stillborn. It was perfect¡ªa new vessel. Yet I hesitated to take it without permission. Another prompt appeared, reassuring me:
Goddess of Fate says: ¡°Take it! This vessel will allow you to be with him, and [Red String of Fate] will let you communicate with her. She¡¯ll understand¡ªjust tell her your story.¡±
Trusting her guidance, I entered the fetus. Over the next few days, I shared my story with my new mother. She wept as I recounted my centuries of waiting, my love for Rick, and the heartbreak of his loss. Even to an Elf, centuries were a long time to wait for love. She promised to help me in any way she could, proud to be part of a prophecy that foretold the rise of the Green Elves. For the first time in centuries, I felt hope. I would have a chance to be with Rick again. Chapter 15. The Veil of Dreams. Re-edited. I went to sleep as usual, expecting my typical lucid dream. But something felt¡­ off. I couldn¡¯t shape the dream like I normally did. Instead, I found myself in a white, featureless room that stretched endlessly in one direction. Whenever I walked, the wall I moved away from seemed to follow me, closing the distance. Confused, I tried to wake myself, but nothing worked. Alone in the void, I called out, hoping for an answer. After several moments, two figures appeared. The first was a man with neatly combed black hair, standing just shy of six feet tall. His tailored suit radiated elegance, with intricate patterns that shimmered faintly as he moved. He exuded calm confidence, the kind that made it clear he was used to being in control. Beside him was a striking woman, her dark dress hugging her frame like liquid shadow. Her raven hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her pale skin glowed faintly against the dark backdrop of her attire. She had a sharp elegance, her piercing eyes suggesting she could see through lies before they were even spoken. ¡°Greetings, Juren,¡± the man said, his tone measured and polite. ¡°I am Arcway, the god of dreams.¡± My skepticism must have been written on my face, because the woman¡¯s lips curved into a smirk. ¡°And I am Runa, goddess of nightmares,¡± she added, her voice smooth and rich with amusement. I hesitated, caught between disbelief and caution. ¡°Gods, huh? Alright, I¡¯ll bite. What do you want with me?¡± Arcway gave a small nod of approval, as if he appreciated my directness. ¡°To help you,¡± he replied simply. That answer wasn¡¯t satisfying. ¡°Help me? Why?¡± I pressed, crossing my arms. ¡°Last time I checked, gods don¡¯t usually go out of their way to assist mortals unless there¡¯s something in it for them.¡± His calm demeanor didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Fair,¡± he admitted. ¡°Then let me be transparent. My sister was the goddess of the elves. As long as your kind survive, she cannot die a true death. Helping you ensures her continued existence.¡± I blinked. ¡°Your sister¡­ the one who created the elves?¡± Arcway¡¯s expression tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. ¡°Yes. She was betrayed by the other gods and stripped of her domain. Runa and I¡ªbeing gods of the immaterial¡ªwere powerless to intervene directly.¡± Runa¡¯s voice softened as she spoke for the first time. ¡°She was my dearest friend. When they struck her down, we vowed to do everything in our power to protect her legacy.¡± Their sincerity was undeniable. I felt a pang of guilt for doubting them, but I wasn¡¯t about to lower my guard completely. ¡°So, what¡¯s the catch?¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Arcway raised an eyebrow. ¡°Catch?¡± I gestured at the empty void around us. ¡°There¡¯s always a catch. What do you expect from me in return?¡± A small smile returned to his lips. ¡°Just that you survive. Grow strong. Fulfill your destiny.¡± ¡°That¡¯s vague,¡± I muttered. He chuckled. ¡°Destinies often are.¡± I paused, studying them. Something still felt slightly off¡ªnot malicious, but incomplete. Then I glanced at Runa and noticed the way she avoided meeting Arcway¡¯s gaze. The realization hit me like a lightning bolt. I couldn¡¯t resist. ¡°Wait a second,¡± I said, pointing at Runa with a knowing grin. ¡°You¡¯re not just here for his sister. You¡¯re here because you care about him.¡± Runa stiffened, her cheeks flushing faintly. Arcway glanced at her, confused, then back at me. ¡°What are you¡ª¡± He stopped, his eyes widening slightly as understanding dawned. ¡°Oh.¡± Runa¡¯s hands curled into fists, her composure slipping. ¡°You¡¯re insufferable,¡± she muttered, glaring at me. I couldn¡¯t help but smirk. ¡°What can I say? I have a knack for reading people.¡± Arcway cleared his throat, visibly flustered. ¡°This¡­ isn¡¯t the time to discuss such matters.¡± Runa seized the opportunity to redirect. ¡°We brought something for you,¡± she said, holding out a cloak. The garment shimmered in her hands, its surface shifting between colors like a living rainbow, streaked with tendrils of shadow and flashes of red lightning. I winced. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ bold.¡± Runa smirked. ¡°A little flair never hurt anyone.¡± Arcway¡¯s expression softened as he explained. ¡°This cloak will protect you from the dark gods¡¯ scrying and bolster your resistance to mind control, light magic, and dark magic. It is a gift, born of necessity.¡± I hesitated before taking it. As I held it in my hands, I noticed they weren¡¯t baby hands. Looking down, I realized I wasn¡¯t a baby at all¡ªI was fully grown, my reflection visible in the black, water-like ground beneath me. The man staring back was impossibly handsome. Lean and muscular, with golden eyes that seemed to glow faintly. It was surreal. ¡°That,¡± Arcway said, interrupting my thoughts, ¡°is what you¡¯ll look like in the future. We used the collective dreams of sentient beings to predict the fine details of the prophecy.¡± ¡°Convenient,¡± I muttered, still grappling with the image of myself. A thought struck me, and I glanced down at the front of my pants. The grin that spread across my face was pure mischief. ¡°Really?¡± Runa said, exasperated. Arcway burst out laughing, clutching his sides. ¡°I like this one,¡± he managed between fits of laughter. Ignoring them, I donned the cloak, and a prompt appeared in my vision.
Trait Gained: [Cloak of Dreams and Nightmares]
The weight of the cloak felt¡­ comforting, like a shield against unseen forces. For the first time, I believed they might genuinely be on my side. Before I could apologize for my earlier suspicion, Arcway spoke again. ¡°We understand. In your position, I¡¯d be wary too. But before you start feeling too self-assured¡­¡± He smirked. ¡°Those comments about me being clueless when someone fancies me? Right back at you.¡± I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could, I woke up.
Early morning light filtered into the tent, and I immediately noticed the chill in the air. Late fall had set in, but my back felt strangely warm. Turning, I froze. Emma was spooning me. My gaze darted to the tent door, where my dad stood, munching on a candy made from syrup and pine-like tea leaves. ¡°She bribed him,¡± I realized, horror dawning. Pointing at him, I shouted, ¡°TRAITOR!¡± Chapter 16: Reflections in the Moonlight. Re-edited. My yelling caused quite the commotion. Frustration boiled within me, not just at Emma¡¯s persistent clinginess but at everyone¡¯s efforts to pair us together. I¡¯m not interested in little girls¡ªor washboards, for that matter! I thought irritably. The thought had barely crossed my mind when my mother, half-asleep and groggily rubbing her eyes, wandered into the tent. Stark naked. I froze. Thankfully, Emma acted faster than I did, covering my eyes just as my father rushed in with a blanket to drape over her. Some mental damage was done, though. I retreated to the corner of the tent, sitting silently as I drew circles in the dirt. Emma patted my back in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but I felt her amusement radiating like the sun. Maybe washboards are fine after all? I thought, determined not to associate future romantic interests with my mother.
All Gods watching are chuckling at your expense! Goddess of Fate says: ¡°Glad I made popcorn!¡± Goddess of Nightmares says: ¡°Couldn¡¯t have done better myself!¡±
The gods, as always, found my suffering hilarious. Hoping to clear my head, I stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The events of the day were already weighing heavily on me, and I desperately needed a distraction. My thoughts turned to my elemental magic and the curse that had once affected Emma¡¯s fetus. A question gnawed at my mind: if a curse is dark magic encased in life force, what would light magic encased in life force create? Curiosity sparked, I began experimenting. Borrowing a small amount of life force from nearby plants, I wrapped it around an orb of light. A prompt appeared, its message unexpected.
Grand Blessing Method Learned! A non-programmed light blessing created. Blessings and curses require a circuit, runic formation, circle, or equivalent method.
The message was enlightening but frustrating. Blessings, like curses, required a higher level of magical comprehension than I currently possessed. If I had a proper spell, I might have been able to create a blessing from it. Unfortunately, I was without spells¡ªjust raw, untapped potential.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. With nothing else to practice, my mind wandered to Arcway¡¯s cryptic comment about my ignorance of someone¡¯s feelings for me. I knew Emma was fond of me, but the specifics eluded me. Whenever I¡¯d asked, she¡¯d replied with a huff, ¡°Figure it out yourself!¡± It was fair. Most women had always found me insufferable. A psychologist once told me it had something to do with growing up without a mother. I didn¡¯t know how to handle women properly, he¡¯d said. It wasn¡¯t that I viewed them as objects¡ªI respected women deeply¡ªbut on some subconscious level, I treated them with a kind of emotional object permanence. One day, my mother had been there, and the next, she was gone. Supposedly, this had left a profound psychological scar. When my girlfriend wasn¡¯t around, for example, I wouldn¡¯t think about her. It wasn¡¯t intentional¡ªI just wasn¡¯t wired to maintain a constant connection. To women, that came across as insensitive. That insensitivity had been my downfall before. I¡¯d once gone to a coffee shop for myself without even asking my girlfriend if she wanted anything. And now, I had broken the curse on Luna¡¯s child without seeking her permission. It had been an impulsive act of curiosity, but I was fortunate she hadn¡¯t hated me for it. What if that curse had corrupted her? I mused. What if Luna had turned full Darth Vader, forcing me on an epic quest to stop her, ending in tragedy? The thought spiraled into absurdity, but I knew the truth beneath it: my flaws were deeply ingrained, and I was lucky they hadn¡¯t led to worse outcomes.
I found myself reflecting on my previous life. I missed it. My home, my books, even the money I¡¯d barely cared about at the time¡ªit all felt like a distant dream. But what I missed most were the people. Both my parents and grandparents were long gone, and I had no siblings. But I missed my adopted son, Trevor, and my best friend, Lucille. Lucille. I¡¯d neglected to mention her until now, but she had been a famous ghost, an expert in helping me with my work. After I lost my arm, she took pity on me and never left my side. I¡¯d claimed that all women hated me, but Lucille had been different. Ghosts, after all, didn¡¯t have gender in the traditional sense. She might have identified as female, but her motivations had nothing to do with attraction. I suspected she stayed more for Trevor than for me. Could you imagine a one-armed man trying to raise a child? While not impossible, Lucille refused to let me shoulder that burden alone. She had become family in every sense of the word.
Now, standing under the pale receding moon, I felt the weight of their absence. I wondered what they were doing now, in the world I¡¯d left behind. Did Trevor grow up strong and happy? Was Lucille still watching over him? The memories tugged at me, bittersweet and heavy, as I stared at the sky. And for the first time in a long while, I let myself miss them. Chapter 17: Dwarves. Re-edited. The golden hues of dawn spilled over the mountain forest I now called home. The mornings had grown colder, the air crisp and biting. The trees, once lush and vibrant, were shedding their fiery orange leaves, leaving their bare branches to sway in the wind like skeletal fingers. My mother, ever resourceful, had turned one of my father¡¯s old coats into two smaller ones¡ªone for Emma and one for me. Emma now looked like a nine-year-old, a result of her rapid development thanks to her unique traits. I, on the other hand, appeared every bit the three-year-old I was. Where did my seniority go? I wondered with a mix of jealousy and amusement. Anyone who saw us would assume Emma was my older sister, which grated on me more than I cared to admit.
As the morning stretched on, a commotion broke out in the village. A shout from one of the scouts echoed through the camp, a mixture of surprise and alarm. My father rushed out of our tent, not even bothering to grab his weapons. Curious, I followed. In the distance, I could see the visitors who had sparked the excitement: dwarves. A caravan of stout figures with braided beards and heavy carts made its way toward us. Zotherg had already warned me about them, sending me an image of their approach. His advice had been characteristically blunt: ¡°Destroy them with prejudice.¡± But I¡¯d urged him to calm down. These dwarves were not invaders¡ªthey were guests, invited here by my father.
We needed them. Winter was fast approaching, and our supplies were woefully insufficient. Elves, being strict vegetarians, struggled in the colder months when plants withered and crops failed. Emma, much to my envy, could eat meat thanks to her unique physiology, but the rest of us weren¡¯t so lucky. We needed grains, preserved goods, and tools to survive. The dwarves could provide all of that¡ªand more.
Leading the caravan was an old dwarf with a beard so long it nearly brushed the ground. White as freshly fallen snow, it contrasted sharply with his deep green eyes and bulbous nose. His name was Grillo Nrax, and his presence carried the weight of both wisdom and weariness. I used [Soul Analyze] to examine him.
Name: Grillo Nrax Level: 400 Traits: Good-Natured
The "Good-Natured" trait intrigued me. It suggested that even in a world of strife, the gods occasionally rewarded goodness. Grillo¡¯s aura radiated trustworthiness, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel a glimmer of hope.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Elves and dwarves had a long history of animosity, but not all dwarves celebrated the fall of the Elves. The collapse of Elven kingdoms disrupted trade, and many rare goods, especially self-sustaining Elven enchantments, were lost forever. Runic enchantments, favored by the dwarves, required periodic recharging from a mage or mana crystal. Elven enchantments, on the other hand, were masterpieces of self-replenishment¡ªpractically miracles. Their loss was felt keenly. Then there were the darker consequences. When the Elves fell, they didn¡¯t just lose their freedom; they were brutalized. Many were enslaved, some used as experiments by alchemists seeking the secret to immortality. Others were violated and broken, treated as trophies or commodities. Even among enemies, there was a line. And the dwarves, for all their rivalry with the Elves, resented the barbarity. Grillo¡¯s actions spoke to that shared indignation¡ªhe had diverted his caravan, risking his own livelihood to help my people survive another winter.
I watched as Grillo greeted my father with a hearty handshake, their conversation quickly turning tense. ¡°I¡¯ve done what I can, Ileor,¡± Grillo said, his voice heavy with regret. ¡°But my coffers are running dry. This will be my last trip. I can¡¯t afford another winter like this.¡± My father¡¯s expression tightened. ¡°There must be something we can trade, Grillo. We can¡¯t make it through the winter without your help.¡± Grillo shook his head. ¡°You¡¯ve nothing to spare, my friend. I¡¯m sorry, truly.¡± I couldn¡¯t stand by any longer. Tugging on my father¡¯s pant leg, I tried to get his attention. ¡°Juren, not now,¡± he said distractedly. Undeterred, I tugged harder. ¡°DAD. DAD. DAAAD!¡± He sighed, finally snapping, ¡°WHAT?¡± Both he and Grillo looked down as I held up a gold nugget the size of a cat¡¯s head.
Their jaws dropped. ¡°Wh-where¡­ how?¡± my father stammered. I activated [Soul Speak], connecting us in a shared mental dialogue. ¡°Gentlemen, I believe we have much to discuss.¡±
The nugget had come from Zotherg. The old elemental, always generous, had offered to part with anything I needed. Using a weaving of earth magic, I had called the gold from beneath the mountain¡¯s surface, shaping it with mana into the form I now held. It wasn¡¯t without cost. The process had drained nearly four thousand mana in an instant, and the technique relied on having an earth elemental to locate the material. It wouldn¡¯t always be an option. But in this moment, it was enough.
As I explained my abilities, Grillo¡¯s sharp eyes glinted with renewed hope. ¡°With this¡­¡± he murmured, turning the nugget over in his hands, ¡°we could not only trade but rebuild. This changes everything.¡± My father remained stunned, struggling to process what he¡¯d just witnessed. ¡°Juren¡­ what are you?¡± It was a question I¡¯d been avoiding for too long. But with my people¡¯s survival on the line, I could no longer hide. Revealing my true nature to Grillo felt like a gamble, but his kind heart and clear dedication made me trust him. ¡°I am your son,¡± I said simply. ¡°And I will ensure our people do not starve.¡± Grillo looked at me for a long moment before nodding. ¡°Then let¡¯s talk.¡±
In that moment, I took a step toward becoming what the prophecy had foretold. A leader. A protector. And perhaps, one day, a savior. Chapter 18: Ax Elf. Re-edited. Daylight spilled over the mountain forest, painting the crisp air with vibrant shades of orange and gold. The mornings had grown colder, signaling the creeping arrival of winter. Trees once bursting with life now stood bare and stoic, their fiery leaves scattered like embers across the forest floor. My mother, ever resourceful, had taken one of my father¡¯s old coats and repurposed it into two smaller ones¡ªone for Emma and one for me. Emma¡¯s rapid growth had accelerated even further, and she now looked like a nine-year-old, even though she was barely two. I, meanwhile, still looked the part of a typical three-year-old, which only added fuel to her playful teasing. ¡°Why are you so small?¡± she¡¯d tease with a grin, towering over me as if she were years my senior. I grumbled under my breath. Where did my seniority go? Anyone seeing us together would think Emma was my older sister, and she seemed to delight in reminding me of it at every opportunity.
Grillo and I had spent the better part of a week geeking out over crafting materials. Ever since my dramatic introduction to the old dwarf, we¡¯d struck up an unlikely friendship. Grillo was a treasure trove of knowledge, and he was endlessly fascinated by the unique metals Zotherg had revealed to me. Explaining everything to my parents, however, had been more complicated. My mother had cried when she first learned about my past life, mistakenly believing she was somehow my ¡°second mother.¡± It had taken me a while to convince her otherwise. ¡°You¡¯re my only mother,¡± I reassured her. ¡°Dad just has a lot to live up to.¡± That seemed to do the trick. The next time she saw my father, her triumphant grin made it clear she wouldn¡¯t let him forget it anytime soon. Both of my parents now believed I was the prophesied one, and while they were proud, their expectations weighed heavily on me. Saving my entire species was a monumental task, and I couldn¡¯t afford to focus on their feelings of pride¡ªor my own anxieties.
Grillo had been eager to mine the metals Zotherg had shown me, but once I explained the elemental¡¯s presence and personality, the dwarf quickly changed his tune. ¡°Gently Harvested¡± was Zotherg¡¯s only condition, and my earth magic made it possible to extract the materials without damaging the mountain. Among the metals we uncovered were small amounts of adamantium and mithril, which left Grillo practically salivating. But the real excitement came from the discovery of new materials I¡¯d never heard of: Grillo and I were both stumped on how to use Aliril, but its potential was undeniable.
After several delays, Grillo decided to stay with us through the winter. He sent his caravan ahead, leaving his men with instructions and extra supplies. Before they departed, he unloaded a few additional crates, one of which contained an intriguing pauldron and gauntlet set.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I asked, running my fingers over the intricate design. Grillo¡¯s eyes gleamed with excitement. ¡°That, lad, was my attempt to replicate the mechanisms of Rune Armor.¡±
Rune Armor, as I learned, was the pinnacle of dwarven engineering¡ªmassive war machines built to deter enemies and defend their territories. These colossal constructs were marvels of design, blending craftsmanship and magic in ways few could comprehend. ¡°The most famous,¡± Grillo explained, ¡°was The Great Titus, a Rune Armor powered by an Elven-enchanted core. It could recharge itself, given enough time.¡± The others, by comparison, relied on massive mana crystals as their power sources. The size and purity required for these crystals made them rare and prohibitively expensive¡ªonly the wealthiest dwarven clans could afford to construct even one Rune Armor. Grillo¡¯s gauntlet and pauldron set were part of a failed experiment to create a smaller, more efficient model. Using enchanted wires to direct mana flow, he had simulated motor functions, allowing the armor to move. ¡°Clever,¡± I admitted, impressed by the ingenuity. ¡°Aye, but it¡¯s far from perfect,¡± Grillo said. ¡°The mana drain¡¯s too high, and the circuits are beyond my full understanding.¡± He had even experimented with using a steam engine to generate electricity, attempting to lessen the reliance on mana crystals. While the idea was innovative, the inefficiency of the steam engine left much to be desired. To my father, the use of coal for such machines was abhorrent. Elves valued harmony with nature, and the wastefulness of such resources was an affront to their way of life. But to me, it was a challenge waiting to be solved.
In my previous life, I had been a staunch advocate for green energy. My home was an earth-insulated building powered by geothermal energy, and I¡¯d long believed in finding efficient, sustainable solutions. I shared some of these ideas with Grillo, explaining how geothermal energy and solar panels could work. The old dwarf was fascinated. ¡°If we could adapt that¡­¡± he murmured, already lost in thought.
Our conversation was interrupted by Emma, who appeared with her trademark pout. ¡°Not now, Emma,¡± I said, trying to focus. She stomped her foot in protest. ¡°You¡¯re always working! You never play with me!¡± Before I could respond, she darted off toward the village. Moments later, my parents appeared, both wearing stern expressions. ¡°Juren,¡± my mother began, ¡°you shouldn¡¯t make a girl cry!¡± I groaned. ¡°Do you know I¡¯m an adult trapped in a child¡¯s body? And for the record, I don¡¯t want to hear about morals from parents who had guests over while I was an infant.¡± My mother¡¯s face turned crimson, her ears flicking in embarrassment. She stammered a weak reply before retreating, leaving my father chuckling behind her.
Later, I approached Grillo with another matter. My father had mentioned that I was nearing the age of choosing my first weapon, and I knew exactly what I wanted. ¡°Two small, balanced axes,¡± I said. ¡°Light enough to throw, but strong enough to cut through armor.¡± Grillo¡¯s grin stretched from ear to ear. ¡°An ax, eh? A fine choice! A proper weapon of power and precision.¡± My father, however, was less enthusiastic. To Elves, axes were weapons of pure destruction, tools that symbolized death. ¡°Hammers build,¡± my father argued. ¡°Swords and spears can disarm or defend. But axes? Axes are used to kill¡ªpeople, animals, and even plants. They bring only death.¡± His words reflected the Elves¡¯ deep connection to nature. Cutting down a tree with an ax was seen as a violent act, a desecration of life itself. ¡°It¡¯s necessary,¡± I countered. ¡°A weapon that kills when it must is better than one that hesitates.¡± My father sighed, rubbing his temples. ¡°And so, the prophecy comes to pass,¡± he murmured. ¡°He shall wield death in each hand.¡± Chapter 19: The Black Swordsman. Re-edited. Grillo and I had been hard at work forging my two axes, a process that had proven far more challenging than expected. Elorium, the primary material for one of the axes, was as fascinating as it was frustrating. It was unbreakable, its strength rivaling mithril and adamantium, but it had a significant drawback: the more it was heated, the weaker it became. This made traditional forging methods useless, which was why the material wasn¡¯t widely used or valued. Fortunately, my elemental abilities provided a solution. By using my earth magic, I could mentally guide the Elorium into the desired shape, feeding it mana to coax it into compliance. It was an exhausting process. Even with my [Soul Vortex] trait granting me 25% faster mana regeneration, shaping the stubborn metal took days. As I fed the material mana, it seemed to hum with life, glowing faintly as though it were awakening. I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the metal had a mind of its own, greedily absorbing every drop of mana I gave it. When the first ax was finally finished, I handed it over to Grillo for polishing and sharpening. ¡°Feisty thing, isn¡¯t it?¡± I muttered. Grillo grinned. ¡°Aye, lad. It¡¯s got a personality, that¡¯s for sure. But that¡¯s what makes it special.¡±
While Grillo worked on the ax, I considered heading home to read some of the books he¡¯d gifted me. Sadly, none of them were on magic. Dwarves, as a rule, weren¡¯t particularly attuned to magic, save for those who specialized in enchantments. Most of their knowledge focused on practical applications, like rune crafting for weapons and machinery. Still, the books were filled with lore and history, which was fascinating in its own right. One volume, in particular, had caught my attention. It told the tale of another Earthling who had been brought to this world long ago, summoned by the gods to save it from destruction.
The hero¡¯s name was Bob. I wasn¡¯t joking. The man¡¯s name was Bob. Apparently, when faced with a world of myth and magic, the best he could come up with was ¡°Bob.¡± It would have been funny if his story weren¡¯t so tragic. Bob had been brought to this world to stop a dragon who had turned to darkness, making pacts with demons to gain power and an army. Yet, when Bob confronted the dragon, he discovered that she wasn¡¯t the mindless monster the gods had portrayed her to be. The dragon, who was once human herself, revealed the truth. She had been born as a human on Earth, but as one of the last dragons trapped there, she¡¯d sought a way to escape her dying world. She had found a portal to this realm, but it was poisoned to prevent humans from following. Bob, her lover, had traveled through the portal with her, only to succumb to the poison. In desperation, she begged the other dragons to save him, but they refused. Bob died in her arms, and her grief and rage consumed her, driving her to darkness.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Bob, however, was not the only one the gods had summoned. The dark gods of this world, seeking to manipulate the dragon, resurrected Bob¡¯s soul, binding it to a cursed form. His body became living mercury, a poisonous abomination designed to destroy the dragon. When he finally confronted her, the dragon knelt, prepared to die by his hand. Instead, Bob remembered fragments of his past life and asked, ¡°Who are you, and why do I know you?¡± Through tears, the dragon told him everything. Her confession broke his heart. ¡°I cannot live as this weapon,¡± he told her. ¡°Destroy the ring that binds my soul and set me free.¡± Though it broke her, the dragon obeyed, shattering the ring that had brought them together and now enslaved him. Bob refused to kill the dragon and instead took her to a sanctuary, defying the gods who had summoned him. For this act of rebellion, he became their enemy. His fate was unknown, though most believed the gods had eventually hunted him down.
Bob¡¯s legacy, however, endured. His skill as a swordsman was unparalleled. The tales said he had become so powerful that he could cut without a blade, his mere movements cleaving the earth itself. In one drunken moment, he supposedly swung his arm and carved a ravine so deep it rivaled the Grand Canyon. To this day, it was known as ¡°Bob¡¯s Ravine.¡± He was also known as the Black Swordsman, a title that, at first, I thought referred to his weapon or attire. No. It was literal¡ªBob was one of the only Black men this world had ever seen. The gods, it seemed, didn¡¯t create humans in this world. They abducted them from Earth, often taking explorers and wanderers whose disappearances could be easily explained. It made sense why old myths spoke of the dangers of the woods or falling off the edge of the Earth. The gods had been snatching people away for centuries, all in the name of ¡°exploration.¡±
The book also delved into Bob¡¯s more infamous exploits. Apparently, he had an insatiable appetite for companionship, and his love of elven women was particularly notorious. His escapades gave rise to the subspecies known as ¡°dark elves.¡± He didn¡¯t stop there, either. His affection for curvier partners led to the creation of dark dwarves. I couldn¡¯t fathom how one man could create an entire subspecies, but then I remembered Earth¡¯s history. Genghis Khan, for instance, had left his genetic mark on an estimated 16 million descendants. The thought made me wonder about my own potential future. With my good looks and golden eyes, I might be even more popular than Bob. A chill ran down my spine. I turned to see Emma giving me a glare so sharp it could cut through mithril. She had been reading over my shoulder and had clearly seen my expression as I mused about my hypothetical popularity. Her eyes promised vengeance.
Emma didn¡¯t say a word, but her silent threat spoke volumes. If my thoughts ever strayed too far, she would ¡°burn down the only tree in my forest,¡± as she put it. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what that meant, but it didn¡¯t sound pleasant. Chastened, I gave her an apologetic look and returned to my work. The book remained untouched for the rest of the day. Chapter 20: Forged in Magic. Re-edited. A decade had passed since Grillo and I finished crafting my axes, and the time had been nothing short of transformative. Those years had brought discoveries, lessons, and opportunities that would shape the future of our people. Perfecting the axes wasn¡¯t just about shaping weapons¡ªit was about unlocking the full potential of Elorium. Grillo was astonished when he examined the finished axes. At first, I didn¡¯t understand his reaction. ¡°What¡¯s so special?¡± I asked, watching him turn the gleaming weapons over in his hands. ¡°This isn¡¯t normal Elorium,¡± he said, his voice filled with awe. ¡°It¡¯s pure. Mana-saturated. Stronger than mithril, tougher than adamantium.¡± Elorium, he explained, was already a remarkable metal. But its impurities often made it brittle and difficult to work with, and forging it in a traditional furnace only weakened it further. By using earth magic to shape the material and infusing it with mana during the process, I had unintentionally created something new. Grillo called it ¡°perfected Elorium.¡± The possibilities were staggering. Grillo suggested selling it, imagining the wealth we could accumulate. But I shook my head. ¡°If we sell it, we lose the advantage. Imagine what our enemies could do with it.¡± He hesitated, then grinned as I added, ¡°Now imagine Rune Armor made entirely of perfected Elorium.¡± That settled the matter. Grillo agreed to keep the secret, and we began laying the groundwork to quietly acquire as much raw Elorium as possible. I also introduced Grillo to the concept of concrete, drawing on knowledge from my past life. Together, we created a prototype using coal ash from his forge. The resulting material was strong enough to bind massive chunks of Elorium, and the possibilities it presented were immense. Walls, fortresses, and even Rune Armor could benefit from this breakthrough. Grillo¡¯s excitement was infectious. ¡°With this,¡± he said, ¡°we could build something no one¡¯s ever seen before.¡±
By the time I turned fourteen, I had grown into my role as both a warrior and a mage. My axes were extensions of myself now, their weight and balance as familiar as my own limbs. Years of practice with my father had sharpened my skills, and my dual-wielding reached level 11. My ax-throwing, however, was another story. The first time I tried it, the ax missed its target entirely, ricocheted off a tree, and tore through someone¡¯s tent.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. The elf whose tent I¡¯d ruined gave me an earful, while Emma laughed until tears streamed down her face. Even years later, she still brought it up whenever she wanted to remind me I wasn¡¯t perfect. Emma herself had grown significantly. Despite being only twelve, she looked like a young adult, her emerald-green skin shimmering in the sunlight. She often teased me about the prophecy, insisting we were destined to be together. ¡°You know this is harassment, right?¡± I told her one day as she clung to my arm. She smirked. ¡°It¡¯s only harassment if you don¡¯t like it.¡±
During those years, I also deepened my understanding of magic. Grillo managed to acquire two magic books for me. One detailed a dwarven fire spell used to heat forges, while the other contained spirit summoning magic. While I had no use for summoning without personal effects of the deceased, the fire spell intrigued me. It was slow and inefficient¡ªtypical for spellcasting in this world¡ªbut it gave me an idea. Using elemental weaving, I replicated the spell¡¯s rune pattern and combined it with life force. The result was a reactive fire trap, a magical circle that remained dormant until triggered by a living being. When tested, the trap activated with a burst of flame so intense it incinerated a small insect in an instant. A prompt appeared, confirming my success:
New Magic Learned: [Spell Traps] Current Traps: Reactive Fire Trap (Cost: 7000 MP)
The potential was enormous. These traps could serve as defenses for the village or tools for ambushes, adding a new layer of strategy to my growing arsenal.
Not all my time was spent on magic and crafting. Emma remained a constant presence, often dragging me away from my work to ¡°play.¡± Her idea of playing usually involved mock sparring, where she demonstrated her rapidly increasing strength. Her stats were growing at an alarming rate, thanks to her unique traits, and she never hesitated to remind me of it. ¡°You¡¯ll have to try harder if you want to beat me,¡± she teased after disarming me for the third time in a row one afternoon. I rolled my eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve got dragon blood, Emma. Of course, you¡¯re stronger.¡± Despite her teasing, Emma was fiercely protective of me, often stepping in to fend off unwanted attention or challenges. Her unwavering loyalty was both endearing and intimidating, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel grateful to have her on my side.
The decade of growth and discovery had prepared me for the challenges ahead, but I knew the journey was far from over. Between the secrets of perfected Elorium, the possibilities of Rune Armor, and my expanding magical knowledge, I was building a future for my people¡ªone step at a time. Yet with each step forward, the stakes grew higher. The more powerful I became, the more enemies I was likely to attract. All I could do was keep moving forward, forging my path through fire, steel, and the unknown. Chapter. 21: The Green Children. Re-edited. I woke up today feeling uncharacteristically good and decided to check my stats and skills. My status, however, was a surprise.
Name: Juren Knollen Age: 14 Yrs Level: 46 Unused Points: 170 Hp: 625 Mp: 12,300 Mp Regen: 1,069/min Str: 8 End: 9 Agl: 21x10 = 210 Int: 98 (+15%) Wis: 93 (+15%) Con: 4 Cha: 24
I stared in disbelief. I had gained 34 levels without realizing it. No wonder I felt great¡ªmy stats had skyrocketed. I asked the system how this was possible, and as always, it provided an explanation:
Level 86 Slaver Spy Killed by Reactive Fire Trap. Gained Exp. 1,778,567 (+20% trap kill bonus).
Not a bug, then¡ªmy trap had killed an actual threat. A slaver spy had been lurking among us, and even Zotherg hadn¡¯t sensed their presence. They must have had powerful skills for concealment. My reactive fire trap had acted as an accidental savior, but it also highlighted a chilling reality: enemies were closer than we¡¯d realized. I glanced at my skills menu for reassurance.
Key Skills Axe Mastery: Level 12 Ax Throwing: Level 4 Dual Wielding: Level 2 Elemental Weaving: Level 14+10 Fire Spells: Level 2+10 Spell Traps: Level 1+10
Even my newly learned trap skill had a hidden advantage: thanks to my [True Elemental] title, all elemental magics gained a +10 bonus. That boost had made my fire trap deadly enough to kill a Level 86 spy on its first activation. Still, I couldn¡¯t rest easy. Using [Soul Detect], I scanned the surrounding area. Within the village, everyone was accounted for. Extending my senses outward about a quarter mile, I discovered two distinct groups of sentient life forms. One was far beyond the mountain¡¯s other side, while the second was in a small valley near its base.
I called for an emergency meeting, bringing together my father, Emma, Grillo, Luna, and the village guards. I explained what I had found, and a grim atmosphere fell over the group. My father silenced the rising murmurs by scraping the edge of his sword against a log. ¡°We will investigate both groups immediately,¡± he commanded. We split into two teams. The best scouts were sent to investigate the far-off group, while my father, Emma, Luna, and I joined the second team to assess the valley. Luna¡¯s presence alone made me feel marginally safer¡ªdespite how terrifying she was.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Luna¡¯s reputation as an archer was legendary. She could make even mythical marksmen look like amateurs, using techniques that defied logic. Whether it was spinning arrows mid-flight or curving them around obstacles, her precision was unparalleled. She¡¯d escaped goblin captivity before, even while injured and unarmed, and had since honed her craft further with Grillo¡¯s specialty arrowheads. Luna didn¡¯t just command respect; she demanded it.
When we reached the valley, it was eerily quiet. A small crevice led into a grey stone clearing, hidden by a waterfall trickling down over the entrance. Luna suddenly stopped, her expression darkening. ¡°This is where they took me,¡± she said quietly. We prepared to charge, expecting a den full of goblins, but Emma sprinted ahead, shouting for us to stop.
Emma had reached the scene first, and when we arrived, she was cradling something in her arms. It was a baby¡ªa high goblin, much like she had once been. My gaze shifted around the clearing, and I saw dozens more green-skinned children of various ages. Some looked nearly as old as Emma physically, but their eyes betrayed their youth and fear. It dawned on me then why the ¡°Dark Lesser God¡± had been so enraged when I broke Emma¡¯s curse. By shattering the curse on her, I hadn¡¯t just freed her¡ªI had broken it for all.
Chaos ensued. Emma¡¯s commanding presence took over as she began issuing orders. I instinctively obeyed, fetching buckets of water and heating them with my magic. I used [Soul Speak] to communicate with the children, while Emma used her [Red String of Fate] to connect with them. They responded to her kindness and familiarity, clinging to her as if she were their savior. On my twelfth trip with water, I saw Emma washing a child in a makeshift tub. Her gentle smile and the glow around her made the scene seem almost holy. It hit me like a lightning bolt: I had seen this image before.
Memories of my past life flooded in¡ªof Lucille. I remembered her taking care of Trevor with the same grace and warmth. It was her. The realization shook me to my core. All the subtle things I hadn¡¯t noticed before, the way Emma looked at me, the way she carried herself¡ªit all clicked. Without thinking, I let the name slip. ¡°Lucille¡­¡±
Emma froze, her hands pausing mid-motion. Slowly, she turned to look at me. ¡°What did you say?¡± Her expression changed as the weight of my words sank in. We stared at each other in silence, the unspoken truth hanging heavily between us. Finally, she broke it, her voice soft but firm. ¡°...Took you long enough.¡± Her words carried a mix of teasing and exasperation, but there was also relief. I couldn¡¯t speak, couldn¡¯t even think clearly. My memories of Lucille were a jumbled mess of emotions. How had I not seen it before? ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± I managed to croak out. Emma¡ªor rather, Lucille¡ªsmiled faintly. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were ready. Besides,¡± she added with a small laugh, ¡°you¡¯re not exactly the most observant person when it comes to things like this.¡± Despite everything, I laughed, the tension easing slightly. ¡°Fair point.¡±
For a moment, the chaos around us faded. It was just the two of us, standing together, connected by the threads of a life we had thought was lost. But the moment couldn¡¯t last. The green children needed us, and there was still much to do. As Emma returned to comforting the children, I picked up the fallen pail and muttered, ¡°Well, at least one of us is good with kids.¡± Emma glanced back at me, her mischievous smile returning. ¡°You¡¯ll learn.¡± I wasn¡¯t so sure, but for the first time in a long while, I felt like I wasn¡¯t facing the world alone. Together, we would give these children a chance at a future. And maybe, just maybe, I would finally learn to stop being such a clueless idiot. Chapter. 22: Like a Diamond. Re-edited. Emma''s earlier comment about how long it had taken me to realize her true identity still stung. I wasn¡¯t sure why, but it left me feeling emotionally off-balance, as if I had failed somehow. I stared at her and, in my usual deflective manner, quipped, ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t act like you¡¯re perfect. Remember when you first learned to shapeshift? You gave yourself C-cup boobs even though you looked like a ten-year-old. Did you think I wouldn¡¯t notice the sudden¡­ upgrade?¡± Emma¡¯s face flushed a deep purple, and she stammered, struggling to find a retort. Her embarrassed reaction was adorable, and I found myself fighting to slow my heart rate. It was a panic attack. Definitely a panic attack¡­ right? I shifted awkwardly, trying to change the tone. ¡°Just tell me one thing. Why me? I¡¯m¡­ a heavily flawed loser.¡± Her expression softened, and she gave me a smile so warm it could melt steel. ¡°A diamond doesn¡¯t see its worth. A gem pulled from the earth is worth more than one created in a lab. Its flaws make it unique, beautiful even. You¡¯re the gem I chose, and I¡¯ll be your light. Together, we¡¯ll shine.¡± It was the most eloquent, heartfelt thing I had ever heard. I could feel the depth of her affection, and it scared me. But being me, I couldn¡¯t leave such a sincere moment untainted. ¡°You should write Hallmark cards,¡± I muttered. She chuckled, and we shared a laugh that was awkward yet strangely comforting. Despite her words, I wasn¡¯t sure how I felt. When it came to other people¡¯s emotions, I was clueless, but when it came to my own, it was as if my heart were an enigma locked in an iron box. Emma seemed to sense my inner turmoil. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said gently. ¡°We don¡¯t have to figure it all out now. Let¡¯s just take it slow¡ªone step at a time.¡± She turned and walked away to help the green children, her hips swaying with what I could only describe as a victorious rhythm. Grillo¡¯s low chuckle snapped me out of my daze. I hadn¡¯t even realized he was standing nearby. ¡°Damn, lad, you just got played.¡± I blinked at him, confused. ¡°What do you mean, Pops?¡± The dwarf smirked knowingly. ¡°When she said ¡®one step at a time,¡¯ what she really meant was: congratulations, you¡¯re in a relationship now.¡± I glanced back at Emma, still swaying triumphantly, and sighed in defeat. ¡°Well played.¡±
The rest of the day passed in a flurry of activity. Naming and clothing the children, finding them homes¡ªit was a logistical nightmare, but not as difficult as I had expected. Grillo¡¯s provisions ensured we had enough food and cloth, and many of the villagers eagerly took in a child, grateful for the opportunity to raise one. My parents, to my surprise, took in the baby girl Emma had saved when we first found the green children. They named her Shelly, and just like that, I had a baby sister.Stolen novel; please report. As we cared for the children, we learned more about what had happened to the goblins. After the curse was broken, the regular goblins had grown sick and died. Without the curse sustaining them, they couldn¡¯t survive. Yet, even in their final moments, they had tried to protect the high goblins. It was a sobering realization: even beasts cursed to soullessness had shown nobility in their dying moments. Their sacrifice stirred something in me¡ªa deep anger toward the dark god responsible for their suffering. The day wasn¡¯t without its lighter moments, though. One of the boys, Stanley, had caused quite the stir. While helping the older boys bathe at the river, I noticed Stanley staring at me with a mix of admiration and uncertainty. He seemed nervous and clumsy, dropping his soap repeatedly and muttering apologies as he avoided my gaze. After using [Soul Speak] to reassure Stanley that there was nothing to be nervous about, I learned he was self-conscious about fitting in with the other boys. Elves weren¡¯t bothered by nudity, but his nervousness made him stand out, and it had been interpreted as shyness. The misunderstanding caused some laughter among the group, and while I felt a little awkward at first, I reassured him again that he had nothing to worry about. Even Emma joined in with some lighthearted teasing, though her humor was aimed more at me than at Stanley.
By evening, the commotion had finally died down, and we turned our attention to the second group I had detected earlier. Our scouts returned with grim news: slavers. The slavers had set up camp on the far side of the mountain, holding several captives in cages. Among them were high goblins, as well as elven men and women¡ªsurvivors from Luna¡¯s original group. She confirmed that they had likely been captured using the spy I had unknowingly killed. The slavers were numerous¡ªfifty heavily armed men, to be exact. While we could wipe them out in a frontal assault, the hostages would likely die in the crossfire. We needed a plan to separate the slavers from their prisoners.
The solution came to me in a flash of inspiration. My golden eyes, which had been a curse in so many ways, could now be a weapon. To the slavers, my eyes made me a prize worth more than ten thousand elves combined. ¡°I¡¯ll lure them away,¡± I announced. The plan was simple: I would reveal myself to the slavers, drawing the majority of them away from their camp. My father would then lead an assault to free the captives. Once I had led the slavers far enough, Emma and Luna would spring an ambush, taking them down. It was a risky plan, but it was the best chance we had to save the hostages. As we finalized the details, I glanced at Emma. She gave me a reassuring nod, her confidence unshakable. For the first time, I felt something I hadn¡¯t in years: hope. Not just for the mission ahead, but for all of us. Maybe, just maybe, we were building something here. A future. A home. Perhaps it was time to start thinking about that castle after all. Ch. 23: A Necessary Evil. Re-edited. I crouched behind a tree, feigning nervousness as I peeked at the slaver camp from about a hundred feet away. My heart raced¡ªnot from fear, but from the intensity of the moment. The slavers were trying to bait me closer, their voices sickly sweet with false promises, thinking I was just some na?ve elven boy. When one of them made a move toward me, I bolted. As I ran, I weaved through the trees, deliberately taking a chaotic path. The slavers, faster than expected, kept up. Of course, they had to be quick to capture elves, and while I wasn¡¯t slow, I was by no means the fastest among my people. The forest became my ally. I leaped between rocks and bounced off tree trunks, letting the terrain slow my pursuers. While I played the part of prey, I wove subtle strands of wind magic. I sliced through the air ahead of me to reduce resistance and pushed myself forward with bursts of wind at my back. Simultaneously, I thickened the air around the slavers, adding resistance and tripping them up. Rocks shifted under their feet, and potholes seemed to form out of nowhere. A few of them stumbled into the swampy stretch I¡¯d led them through, their curses filling the air. Despite my advantage, the mana expenditure was enormous. I burned through twice as much as I regenerated, and I could feel the strain. I was nearing the ambush point when one of the slavers surged ahead with a berserker skill, his speed and strength doubling in an instant. Nothing I threw at him even slowed him down. He tore through trees as if they were paper, his massive cleaver gleaming in the dappled sunlight. Panic set in as I realized I couldn¡¯t outrun this one. Mid-leap, I used [Soul Analyze]. He was level 300, easily one of their strongest. His power was immense, and if I fought him directly, the entire plan could unravel. But I couldn¡¯t let him reach me. Desperation pushed me to make a massive leap into the ambush zone. Emma, faster than a lightning strike, intercepted me mid-air. She caught me in a princess carry, her grin barely contained as I quipped, ¡°My hero!¡± in an exaggerated, effeminate tone. Emma snorted, suppressing a laugh. ¡°Stop watching bad television,¡± she said, setting me down. Luna, perched high in a tree, raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t miss a beat. Her arrows rained down, killing dozens of slavers in an instant. ¡°Television?¡± she asked between shots. Emma replied with a smirk, ¡°Bad women¡¯s acting in macho movies.¡± Luna chuckled, her smile fleeting as her focus returned to the fight. Her precision was awe-inspiring, her arrows curving mid-flight to strike slavers hiding behind trees. Meanwhile, I unleashed the last of my mana in an inferno, incinerating a cluster of them. Emma glanced at me as I panted from the exertion. ¡°How many did you get?¡± she asked, a teasing edge to her voice.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°About a dozen, but who¡¯s counting?¡± I replied. ¡°Nine. I am.¡± She grinned, and I couldn¡¯t help but groan. Emma, now level 40, was spending her stat points. I shuddered at the thought of how terrifying she¡¯d become. All the women in my life were frighteningly powerful. I made a mental note to never find out firsthand how much force it took to rip off a man¡¯s limbs.
We returned to the slaver camp, where my father had already taken care of most of the remaining guards. The slaver leader knelt before him, bound but defiant. My father demanded the keys to the slave collars, his voice cold and commanding. The slaver sneered, refusing to comply. His inventory skill, a coveted dimensional storage ability, allowed him to hide the keys beyond our reach. Spite twisted his features as he mocked us, confident in his superiority. I glanced at the green elf children being freed from the cages. One girl, no older than five but with the body of a ten-year-old, caught my eye. Her vacant expression was one I¡¯d seen before¡ªthe look of someone who had endured the unspeakable. Her gaze flicked to the slaver leader, filled with hatred and fear. My chest tightened as the pieces fell into place. This monster had violated her. A cold rage unlike any I¡¯d felt before surged through me. It wasn¡¯t the fiery anger that burned out quickly; it was an icy wrath, sharp and unrelenting. I no longer saw the man as a person¡ªhe was a thing, a vile blight that needed to be eradicated. ¡°They say no one can steal from an inventory,¡± I muttered, stepping closer to the slaver. My father glanced at me, puzzled but trusting. I activated [Soul Analyze], searching the slaver¡¯s soul. Amid the black, slimy rot, I found it¡ªa glowing purple orb, almost camouflaged by the darkness. The slaver continued to spew insults, his voice dripping with arrogance. But when I reached into his soul and wrenched the inventory orb free, his bravado crumbled. A prompt appeared:
You have acquired ¡°Inventory 129876657.¡± Items can be placed inside. Currently, 40 slots available for storing.
The slaver¡¯s expression shifted to one of pure terror. ¡°W-what did you do?¡± he stammered, his confidence shattered. I didn¡¯t stop there. I reached deeper and tore out his system orb, ignoring his screams of pain and disbelief. I stored the orb in my new inventory and handed my father the keys. He looked at me, shocked but understanding. ¡°This one is mine,¡± I said, my voice low and cold. My father hesitated, then nodded. He saw the fury in my eyes and knew there was no point in arguing. I turned back to the slaver, my wrath unyielding. Flames flickered to life in my palm. I started small, letting the fire lick at his skin. His screams echoed through the forest, but I didn¡¯t flinch. I fed on the life force of the forest to keep him alive, ensuring his suffering was prolonged. By the time he was reduced to ash, I felt nothing but emptiness.
Later, I sat in front of a polished piece of steel, staring at my reflection. The face looking back at me was familiar yet foreign. ¡°Do I even know this person anymore?¡± I murmured. Emma appeared behind me, wrapping her arms around my chest. Her hands rested over my heart as she leaned her head on my shoulder. ¡°I know it hurts,¡± she said softly. ¡°I created her. Everything that happened to those children is my fault. Every fiber of my being told me to destroy that monster.¡± My voice wavered as I turned to face her. ¡°Spoken like a true father,¡± Emma replied, her voice steady. I thought of something my father used to say in my past life: ¡°Behind every great man is an even greater woman.¡± Emma wasn¡¯t just my strength¡ªshe was my anchor. Without her, I knew I¡¯d have already lost myself to the darkness. Ch. 24: A Necessary Bond. Re-edited. Morning came, and like every day recently, I checked my status. It had become second nature, a way to gauge my progress and keep track of any changes. Today, however, I was greeted by prompts I had ignored during the chaos of the slaver attack.
New grand magic skill learned: [Life-force Vampire] You have begun mastery of manipulating life-force. +10% efficiency of using life force. Life force can be consumed to increase lifespan. Life force can be given to other life forms to increase their lifespan. New grand sorcery learned: [Life-force Healing] Most learn to use light and water magic to heal. You learned to use life itself to heal all wounds and regenerate limbs. +10% efficiency with life-force when healing.
¡°Well, that¡¯s going to be a secret,¡± I muttered. The implications of these skills were staggering. The ability to extend lifespans or heal grievous injuries could upend everything. The healing alone would make me invaluable, but immortality? That could destabilize entire civilizations. No, this was something I couldn¡¯t afford to let anyone know¡ªnot yet, anyway. For now, I stuck to borrowing life force from plants. They recovered quickly, and the forest had an abundance of flora that could replenish itself. I had no intention of overusing this magic; harming the forest to heal others seemed like trading one tragedy for another.
Stepping out of my tent, I glanced at the dwelling across from mine. I no longer shared a tent with my parents¡ªan inevitable step toward independence. My neighbors, a warm and caring lesbian couple, had adopted the green elf girl we¡¯d rescued from the slavers. The child, now named Izy, was understandably wary of men after her ordeal. Watching her and her new sister, Una, playing together in the grass brought a rare smile to my face. Maybe, just maybe, this family could help Izy heal. Emma caught me watching and lightly smacked the back of my head. ¡°Quit staring,¡± she teased. ¡°What? It¡¯s like every guy¡¯s fantasy,¡± I joked, only half-serious. Her response was immediate and unrelenting. ¡°Hey, my boobs are over here,¡± she quipped, pointing at her chest. My shocked eyebrow raise made her laugh, and I couldn¡¯t help but join in. Recently, I¡¯d begun to notice just how much our personalities had shifted in these new lives. Emma¡ªonce shy and reserved as Lucille¡ªwas now confident and bold. Her determination to claim what she wanted had been shaped by the trials she endured to reach me. I, on the other hand, was more outgoing than in my past life. Having a loving family, especially a mother, had drawn me out of my shell. Hopefully, it was for the better.
The growing population of our village brought logistical challenges. We could no longer rely on the forest for sanitation. Pops and I took on the project of building a fireproof outhouse¡ªan unconventional design that required magic to maintain. Each day, I used fire magic to burn the waste and wind magic to clear the ash and odor. ¡°When did I become a janitor?¡± I grumbled. Another pressing need was fortification. Pops and I began constructing a wall around the village. I used earth magic to create the foundation, while Pops reinforced it with stone and steel brackets. It wasn¡¯t a castle, but it was a start. Once completed, the wall would allow our guards to patrol efficiently, protecting everyone within.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!
Today was also a special day, one I¡¯d been dreading. Grillo¡ª¡°Pops¡± to me¡ªhad long ago asked my parents for permission to adopt me as his godson. The idea of becoming part of a dwarven family was both an honor and a heavy responsibility. As the first elf to ever receive this distinction, it was no small matter. The ceremony was traditional and deeply meaningful. A rune-like tattoo would be carved onto my chest, a mark that identified me as kin to the dwarves. Pops had waited a decade for this day, and his excitement was palpable. I couldn¡¯t disappoint him, even if the process was... daunting.
The ceremony began with me walking down an aisle between rows of spectators. In each hand, I carried my axes, ¡°Slaver¡¯s Bane.¡± They weren¡¯t the weapons I had used to kill slavers, but the name had stuck, a symbol of what they represented. At the end of the aisle stood my father and Pops. Between them, a table held a knife and a bowl of ink. Two stone blocks marked the ceremonial site. When I reached the blocks, I drove an ax into each, embedding them deep into the stone. Then, I knelt before Pops, baring my chest. Pops asked a series of formal questions, each answered by either me or my father. With each answer, the gravity of the moment grew heavier. Finally, Pops dipped the knife into the ink and began carving the rune into my skin. The pain was excruciating, a burning, scraping agony that tested every ounce of my willpower. I clenched my fists, determined not to cry out. Emma, watching from the crowd, turned away, unable to bear seeing me in pain. When the ordeal was over, the rune¡ªa symbol resembling ¡°}{¡±¡ªshone silver against my skin. It wasn¡¯t just a mark; it was magic. Pops believed it was purely symbolic, but I could sense its power, even if its true purpose had been forgotten. A new trait appeared in my status:
Trait Gained: [Dwarf Kin] You are now recognized as kin by the dwarves.
The ceremony concluded with Pops declaring, ¡°Arise now, Juren Agnar Knollen.¡± The name ¡°Agnar¡± was a dwarven addition, signifying my new identity as a member of their people. The title was more than symbolic¡ªit was official, even recognized by the system.
With the wall nearing completion, the next step was building proper dwellings. The tents were insufficient against the harsh mountain winters. My plan was to construct basic earth-sheltered homes, using materials that wouldn¡¯t harm the environment or upset the elves¡¯ reverence for nature. Willow, a fast-growing and resilient plant, became the solution for flooring. Though tedious to weave, it was a sustainable resource the elves could accept. For windows, we crafted panels from molded resin mixed with sand, creating durable but translucent coverings. The process was slow and labor-intensive, but it was necessary. As I toiled, another thought consumed me: we needed strength. Not just for our village but for the countless green elves enslaved across the world. Breaking the curse had unintended consequences, creating a race of children vulnerable to exploitation. I couldn¡¯t undo what I¡¯d done, but I could fix it.
That night, as I sat in my tent, staring into the polished steel that served as my mirror, the weight of my actions pressed down on me. Tears welled up as I whispered, ¡°Was it worth it? Did I do the right thing?¡± Emma slipped in behind me, wrapping her arms around my chest and resting her head on my shoulder. Her presence, as always, was grounding. ¡°You did what you thought was right,¡± she said softly. ¡°And now, you¡¯re taking responsibility for it.¡± I turned to look at her, seeing the strength in her eyes. ¡°I created them, Emma. Every one of those children. Their suffering is on me.¡± She smiled gently, her voice steady. ¡°Spoken like a true father.¡± Her words brought a bittersweet warmth. I thought of an old saying my father used to tell me in my past life: ¡°Behind every great man is an even greater woman.¡± Emma wasn¡¯t just my strength¡ªshe was my hope. Together, we would make things right. Someday, there would be no more slaves. Not here. Not anywhere. Ch. 25: Once Unsung. Re-edited. The sound of crickets chirping roused me from sleep before sunrise. Quietly, I slipped out of the tent, careful not to wake Emma. We were sharing a home now, but with separate beds. While living together might seem premature, it wasn¡¯t unusual for elves, even at the start of a relationship. Still, I felt it wasn¡¯t the right time to take things further. Our bodies were still too young, even if our souls weren¡¯t. In this world, humans could marry as young as thirteen with parental consent, but my morality, shaped by another life, demanded we wait until both of us were older. Love should transcend the judgment of others, but I couldn¡¯t ignore my own sense of ethics. With a lifespan stretching endlessly ahead, there was no harm in taking things slow.
The village had become more crowded lately¡ªnot just with green elves and new families, but with attention. My victory over the slavers and the prophecy surrounding me had thrust me into the spotlight. I couldn¡¯t go anywhere without someone seeking my advice or approval. My father, usually stoic and composed, had unwittingly revealed my identity during a drunken celebration. He¡¯d let slip the prophecy to a member of Luna¡¯s old village. My mother, furious, dragged him by his ear into their tent. The yelling that followed could be heard all over the camp. Though spoken so quickly I could hardly catch it, I distinctly heard a few words that were not child-friendly. Now, everyone knew the prophecy. The memory of it lingered, a heavy weight:
The Prophecy of the Elven King Do not fear, children of our race, for a new King shall rise from the ashes of the fallen. He shall possess the true magic our ancestors sought to gift us, and his golden eyes shall mark his arrival. His awakening will bear fruit, restoring the green elves long thought lost. He shall be a father to their race and create its first mother. Wielding death in each hand, he shall reclaim that which was stolen and find what was lost. The Threshold of Worlds will choose him as its master. His wrath shall burn brighter than the stars and yet colder than the frost dragon''s breath. Those who wrong his people will tremble, their wicked gods powerless to save them. He will know his destiny by recalling his birth in another world. A mortal human reborn as a pureblood elf, hailing from a place called Michigan in a kingdom named the United States.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Thanks to this, I now bore the title ¡°The Father¡± among the green elves. Reverent whispers followed me wherever I went. To make matters worse, a new system prompt appeared, confirming my status:
New Title Gained: The Once Unsung Hero Your actions in this and your previous life have proven you a hero twice over. In your past life, though others maligned your name, your son defended your honor. The corruption that defamed you was exposed, and your wise teachings inspired countless people. Many religions now revere you as a saint.
Dropping to my knees, I let out a dramatic cry of despair. "Nooooo!" It was impossible to ignore how much I loathed this development. Emma found me in my misery, her smirk giving away her amusement. ¡°Hero title, huh?¡± ¡°Unfortunately, yes,¡± I replied, sulking. Despite my reluctance, I threw myself back into work. The world wasn¡¯t going to fix itself. Zotherg and his elemental contacts had recently uncovered several dungeons in the area. Among them, a low-level dungeon with skeletons that could help us train to level 100, a high-level beast-filled dungeon, and an unusual one with dense walls and unknown contents. The unique dungeon promised special rewards for its first clear, but Zotherg couldn¡¯t determine what lay inside. For now, the skeleton dungeon was our best bet to prepare for what was to come.
I sought out my father for advice on leveling and classes. He explained that classes became available at level 100, while subclasses could be chosen as early as level 20. Subclasses, though weaker, helped those in dangerous professions survive long enough to obtain a full class. His own experience illustrated the trade-offs: ¡°I chose Duelist first,¡± he said, ¡°which excels in single combat and dual-wielding but gives a penalty to protecting others. When the need arose, I took the Defender subclass to counteract that weakness. It works, but it¡¯s not ideal.¡± The options available to me at level 100 would depend on my stats, skills, and abilities. What choices would I face? It was a question I pondered as I prepared for the coming trials.
Life in the village continued to evolve. I focused on helping it flourish, from training new recruits to improving defenses. Building the wall was progressing steadily, and permanent homes were slowly taking shape. I couldn''t help but think about our long-term survival. We needed strength¡ªnot just for ourselves but for the countless green elves suffering in slavery across the world. The memory of the slavers still haunted me. I could see the faces of the green elf children, their wide eyes full of hope and fear. My heart ached with the weight of responsibility. Had I done the right thing in breaking the curse? Was it worth the suffering it had caused? I couldn¡¯t change the past, but I could shape the future. And I would. No more would my people live in chains. Someday, there would be no more slaves¡ªnot in my village, not in this world. No more. Ch. 26: Of Runes and Dragons. Re-edited. I woke up to the sound of children playing and sparring with sticks outside. The early morning racket had become the norm in the village, and while it was an annoyance, it was also endearing. The sound of children laughing could warm even the most battle-hardened heart, a reminder that good still thrived in the world¡ªthough I wouldn¡¯t mind if it started later than 6 a.m. By mid-morning, I was at the forge, meeting Grillo as promised the day before. The old dwarf had been acting suspiciously, sneakily asking to borrow my axes without making eye contact. Now, as I approached at an intentionally slow pace, he tapped his foot impatiently, muttering under his breath. "Morning, Pop''s," I greeted, a mischievous grin on my face. "You trying to kill me, boy?" he barked, pointing an accusing finger in my direction. I shrugged, feigning innocence. "You know I don¡¯t play well with others, right?" Grillo rolled his eyes. "To think I put all this effort into something for you. And this is the thanks I get." "Oh, come on, Pop¡¯s," I teased. "You know I don¡¯t see any other dwarves behind your back." He scoffed but couldn¡¯t hide the smile tugging at his lips. Dwarves, it turned out, had a sense of humor that matched my own¡ªdry, offensive, and often bordering on the inappropriate. To them, true friendship meant no joke was off-limits.
"Alright, enough games," I said. "What¡¯ve you got for me today, oh Father of Time?" Grillo grinned. "You know Elorium¡¯s one great weakness, right?"A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "Heat and fire," I replied, tilting my head. "What are you up to?" Grillo¡¯s eyes sparkled with excitement as he held up one of my axes. Two runes were etched into its surface, their designs seamlessly flowing into each other like cursive script. One was the fire rune I already knew, but the other was unfamiliar. "Okay..." I said slowly, unsure what I was looking at. Grillo sighed in mock exasperation, muttering about how dense I could be. Without another word, he walked over to the forge and plunged my axe directly into the roaring flames. "Pop¡¯s, what are you doing?!" I yelped, reaching out to stop him. But instead of glowing red-hot, the axe repelled the flames. The fire seemed to bend away from the weapon, creating a bubble of untouched air around it. Grillo pulled it out and handed it to me, the blade cold to the touch. "How...?" I stammered, staring at the unharmed weapon. The dwarf nearly doubled over with laughter. Wiping tears from his eyes, he finally explained, "The first rune repels, and the second generates heat. Together, they repel fire and heat entirely." "That¡¯s incredible, but how does it work without mana wires or a power source?" I asked, my mind racing. Grillo¡¯s grin widened. "Ah, that¡¯s the genius of it! Turns out, when Elorium is mana-saturated, it feeds the runes directly. Then, whenever someone touches the weapon, it siphons a tiny bit of their mana to recharge itself." I frowned. "That could be a problem in a long fight." "You¡¯re missing the bigger picture, boy," Grillo said, practically bouncing with excitement. "This isn¡¯t just about the axe. If we can create a mana generator¡ªlike the thermoelectric generator you told me about¡ªwe could feed ambient mana directly into Elorium. Imagine using that for rune armor!" The thought hit me like a lightning bolt. "Holy guacamole, Pop¡¯s! That would be incredible!" "Exactly!" Grillo declared triumphantly. "The possibilities are endless." Still, the practicalities made me hesitate. "But it¡¯s going to take time¡ªand a lot of trial and error." "Leave that to me," Grillo said with unwavering confidence. "You just focus on keeping us alive long enough to enjoy the fruits of our labor." I looked down at the axe in my hand, marveling at the seamless union of craftsmanship and magic. "I wasn¡¯t planning on fighting dragons," I said with a smirk, "but it never hurts to be prepared." Ch. 27: Of Axes and Adorability. Re-edited. Grillo and I had set up shop outside the low-level undead dungeon, where the green elves were training with adult chaperones like my dad and Luna. My mother, it turned out, was quite the healer, tending to injuries with herbal remedies and soothing words. Most wounds were minor¡ªcuts and scrapes¡ªbut her skills ensured even the clumsiest of children recovered swiftly. I¡¯d always known she had a knack for herbalism, but I hadn¡¯t fully appreciated her expertise until now. Apparently, her only class was Herbalist, and she was level 250¡ªrespectable, but not impressive by combat standards. Still, it explained all the nasty-tasting remedies she forced on me as a kid. Today was my turn to enter the dungeon and finally test my axes in combat. Unfortunately, my debut was less than heroic. I¡¯d made the classic gamer mistake of assuming skeletons would burn like kindling. Turns out, bones are not flammable¡ªthey just smell like burnt hair and take forever to char. When I set my first skeletal opponent ablaze, it sauntered out of the flames like the Terminator. Startled, I fell flat on my backside, my pride taking a nosedive as Emma crushed the skeleton with a single blow, laughing hysterically. ¡°Just stand there and look pretty,¡± she teased, extending a hand to help me up. Raising an eyebrow, I quipped, ¡°Want me to make you a sandwich while I¡¯m at it?¡± Emma grinned. ¡°Depends¡ªhow cute is the other guy?¡± ¡°GROSS!¡± I shouted, dramatically recoiling. She leaned in, her grin turning wicked. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I wouldn¡¯t share you with anyone else.¡± Her playful tone was laced with a teasing edge, but the predatory gleam in her eyes had me worried. One day, she¡¯d grab me by the collar, drag me into our tent, and make it very clear who was in charge. Not that I¡¯d resist¡­ but I wasn¡¯t ready to find out how much Emma¡¯s strength translated to, well, other activities. Despite my humiliation, fighting in a party was surprisingly rewarding. I could see everyone¡¯s health and mana bars in the corner of my vision, a feature I hadn¡¯t fully appreciated until now. Emma and I shared leadership responsibilities, ensuring resources were pooled effectively and dangerous loot stayed out of the kids¡¯ hands.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. As the party leader, I also had dibs on spellbooks and skill tomes¡ªa perk I wasn¡¯t shy about leveraging. Dungeons often dropped rare or unique spells, but so far, all we¡¯d found was a [Cleaving Strike] skill book. It wasn¡¯t much use to me since I¡¯d already learned the skill through practice, but we gave it to one of the more promising fighters among the green elves.
One of my biggest frustrations, however, was discovering how poorly axes fared in confined spaces. Throwing my weapon often resulted in it embedding itself in a dungeon wall¡ªor worse, a ceiling. Retrieving it was a hassle, and the risk of having it ricochet back at me wasn¡¯t worth the trouble. I resigned myself to close combat, where my axes excelled at smashing skeletons into satisfying piles of bone shards. Emma, meanwhile, had leveled up faster than anyone, her agility and strength making her nearly unstoppable. By level 80, both of us had slowed to an experienced crawl, and we knew we¡¯d have to descend to the dungeon¡¯s second floor to make real progress. The only obstacle was the floor boss. When we finally reached the boss chamber, we were prepared for an epic battle. What we found instead left us dumbfounded: a small gray house cat batting at a beetle, entirely oblivious to our presence. "... What?" I muttered, utterly baffled. Thinking it might be some kind of illusion, I activated [Soul Analyze].
Species: Average House Cat Level: 90 Traits: Adorable, Floor Boss, Swift Evasion HP: 3405 (+2000) MP: 3000 (+2000) Abilities: Paws of Scratching, Feline Grace
It was... just a cat. A very cute cat. The dungeon had even nicknamed it "Cute Princess." The ladies in our party let out a collective ¡°Awwww!¡± as the cat rolled onto its back, purring. Luna, my mom, and Emma were instantly smitten. Emma scooped it up, cradling it like a precious treasure. ¡°This... this hurts,¡± I groaned, clutching my chest dramatically. ¡°It hurts, Morty!¡± The ladies ignored me entirely, fawning over the cat as if it were the greatest discovery of the century. Apparently, the dungeon had decided its first floor boss should be an immortal kitty. I couldn¡¯t decide if the dungeon was trolling us or genuinely believed this was an appropriate challenge. Still, the door to the second floor was open, and the cat showed no interest in stopping us. Usually, floor bosses couldn¡¯t leave their chambers, but Emma carried it out without issue, cuddling it to her chest. The second floor was a stark contrast to the first. Here, the enemies were aggressive zombies that attacked on sight. Whatever pacifist tendencies the dungeon had on the first floor were clearly abandoned here. I grinned, hefting my axes. ¡°Time to go full Doom mode!¡± I shouted, charging into the fray with a war cry. ¡°GET SOME!¡± Ch. 28: Ive Got Class? Re-edited. Okay, I have to admit¡ªfew things in life rival my love for open-world video games. Living in a world that feels like one? Gawd damn awesome! Spending an entire day slaughtering zombies and coming home to sleep like a baby? Perfect. Last night, I collapsed onto the mat that was my bed without a care in the world. Emma, of course, couldn¡¯t resist teasing me. ¡°Aww, look at him, all tuckered out!¡± she said in an exaggerated Southern Earth accent as the neighbors passed by. I didn¡¯t even have the energy to glare at her. I just let sleep take me.
What greeted me in my dreams, however, was far from restful. Images of my past life flooded my mind¡ªscenes I didn¡¯t want to remember. I thrashed in my sleep, trying to escape memories I¡¯d spent years burying. Growing up, I¡¯d had high aspirations. Despite having ADHD, I¡¯d achieved a level of education that others thought impossible for me. What others called a disability, I¡¯d turned into a strength. The mental exercises I¡¯d used to manage my condition had made me analytical and creative in ways most people weren¡¯t. But what had destroyed me in my past life wasn¡¯t my mind¡ªit was my ideals. I had genuinely believed all people were inherently good. That everyone was worth saving. Now? After what I¡¯ve seen, after what I¡¯ve done to that slaver, I don¡¯t believe that anymore.
In the dream, I relived the tragedy that broke me. Back then, I¡¯d started the Green Homes charity¡ªa project I was passionate about. I¡¯d hired a secretary who was not only overqualified but truly cared about the people we were helping. She was brilliant, compassionate, and, tragically, blind. One day, a monster crossed her path. A man who killed her seeing-eye dog and violated her in the most despicable way. She didn¡¯t press charges. The police, instead of helping, had humiliated her. That bastard walked free, grinning at me as if he¡¯d won. I tried everything to see him punished¡ªspent money, pulled strings¡ªbut nothing stuck. She couldn¡¯t take it. My secretary, my friend, took her own life. And while I hated the man who¡¯d hurt her, I blamed myself more. I¡¯d failed her. It was in that moment that my belief in the goodness of humanity shattered. I realized some people were beyond redemption. ¡°Rotten apples must be removed,¡± I decided. And yet, saving Trevor reminded me there was still innocence worth protecting. There were still lives worth bettering. That¡¯s what kept me going. That¡¯s why I fought.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
I woke with a start, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. Across the tent, Emma thrashed in her sleep, clearly caught in her own dream. Something was off. I checked my status, and several prompts greeted me.
Prompts Received: All requirements met for secret class: [True Elemental]. You have automatically obtained this class. Level 100 exceeded. 100 selection points available. Please choose a class from the following options:
I stared at the screen, my exhaustion evaporating. The dreams must have been part of some test tied to class generation. Whatever it was, I¡¯d come out on top. The [True Elemental] class was mine, boosting the efficiency and power of all elemental magic by 20%. A freebie, and one that cost me nothing. Now came the hard part¡ªchoosing another class.
I skimmed through the options: Then, there were two standouts: Augmenter and Magus of Calamity.
Augmenter was a crafter¡¯s dream. It boosted crafting, enchanting, and material enhancements by 50%, making it perfect for blacksmithing and rune engraving. With it, I could saturate materials with mana more easily¡ªan invaluable skill for creating powerful items. Magus of Calamity, on the other hand, was a game-changer for combat. It enhanced all destructive magic by 50%, pierced through enemy resistances, and even boosted the power of runes. It promised unparalleled devastation, which I knew would be crucial in the battles to come.
I agonized over the decision but ultimately chose Magus of Calamity. I needed the combat advantage now, and I could always pick Augmenter at level 300. It wouldn¡¯t be long before I got there anyway.
As the prompts disappeared, I heard Emma stirring. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. I couldn¡¯t wait to find out what class she¡¯d chosen. Something told me her secret class was just as game-changing as mine. Ch. 29: Flight and Fight. Re-edited. Emma opened her eyes slowly, smiling when she saw me watching her with a worried expression. She¡¯d been thrashing and covered in cold sweat during her sleep. While I¡¯d wanted to wake her, I figured it might hinder whatever process her dreams were triggering. Now that she was awake, she pretended everything was fine, her nonchalant attitude piquing my curiosity even more. She glanced at her sharp fingernails and, in a teasing tone, asked, ¡°I suppose you¡¯d like to know my new class and abilities?¡± Feigning indifference, I shrugged. ¡°Oh, you got a new class? That¡¯s cool, I guess. If you feel like sharing, no big deal.¡± She smirked and stood up. ¡°Why don¡¯t we take this outside? I¡¯ll show you.¡± Suspicion prickled in the back of my mind, but my curiosity overrode my caution. I followed her out of the hut, eager to see what new tricks she¡¯d unlocked. I should¡¯ve known better. General Ackbar¡¯s voice echoed in my head: ¡°It¡¯s a trap!¡± As we stepped outside, Emma turned to me with a glint of mischief in her eyes. ¡°So, my free class is Ghostly Flyer, and my purchased one is Dragon¡¯s Heir,¡± she began, her tone casual. ¡°Dragon¡¯s Heir strengthens my draconic abilities and helps me learn new ones faster. Ghostly Flyer lets me do things I could only do as a spirit.¡± Before I could process her words, she grabbed me and launched us into the sky.
I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever screamed so loudly¡ªor so pathetically¡ªin my life. We soared higher and higher, the ground rapidly shrinking beneath us. My terror took over entirely. I gripped Emma like a lifeline, trembling and clinging to her with the desperation of a man dangling over a pit of spikes. At first, she laughed, clearly enjoying my panic, but as my screams grew shrill and tears streamed down my face, her laughter faltered. Realizing she¡¯d gone too far, Emma descended, landing us safely on the ground. I immediately collapsed, my legs refusing to support me. My body shook as I tried to catch my breath, every muscle locked in panic. To my ultimate humiliation, I discovered I¡¯d wet myself. Everyone nearby saw it too¡ªthere was no hiding it. My cheeks burned with shame as I grabbed fresh clothes from our hut. Emma trailed behind me, guilt etched on her face.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said repeatedly. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t mean what?¡± I snapped, spinning on her. ¡°To exploit my worst phobia? To humiliate me in front of everyone I know?¡± Emma¡¯s tears fell freely now, her voice breaking as she tried to explain, but I cut her off. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear it.¡± Anger boiled over, and before I could stop myself, I said the words I instantly regretted: ¡°Maybe I should find somewhere else to sleep tonight.¡± The look on Emma¡¯s face shattered my resolve. To an elf, those words were the equivalent of saying, I think we should see other people. She fell to her knees, whispering apologies over and over, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to turn back. I needed space, time to think, and a way to calm the storm inside me. That night, I slept on a stiff tree branch, far from anyone. The discomfort only made me miss the familiarity of our humble little hut.
The next day, we split into separate parties to tackle the third floor of the dungeon. The air between us was thick with tension. Everyone around us was uncharacteristically quiet, aware of the strain but unsure how to address it. Emma and I exchanged glances across the way, but every time our eyes met, we both quickly looked away. The monsters on the third floor were mummies, eerily reminiscent of Skyrim¡¯s Draugr. As we fought, I couldn¡¯t resist shouting, ¡°Hey, Draugr-san, is that you?¡± The groaning undead almost sounded like it was responding, which had me laughing despite myself.
That night, I returned to the hut, still unsure how to fix things with Emma. Inside, I found my freshly washed and folded clothes neatly stacked on my mat. She had done it for me. As I picked up the bundle, our hands touched briefly. I looked down to see Emma standing there, her gaze full of remorse. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I overreacted,¡± I said softly. Emma¡¯s lips curled into a grateful smile. ¡°No, it¡¯s my fault. I didn¡¯t think my actions through.¡± Before I could lose my nerve, I pulled her into a hug. ¡°I forgive you,¡± I said, squeezing her tightly. ¡°Because you know I love you, girl.¡± She chuckled through her tears, her blush deepening as she replied, ¡°I love you too, even when you sound like Justin Bieber.¡± That broke the tension entirely. We both laughed, sharing the moment. I kissed her forehead gently, still holding her close. For now, our relationship felt steady again. Maybe after surviving our first fight, we were ready to take our bond to another level¡ªwhen the time was right. Ch.30: My Precious. Re-edited. Over the next week, Emma and I trained relentlessly in the undead dungeon. To our surprise, whenever Emma carried Elza¡ªthe adorable house cat floor boss¡ªon the first floor, the skeletons attacked. Without the cat present, the monsters across all levels were docile, even non-aggressive. Something about the feline seemed deeply intertwined with the dungeon¡¯s behavior, and it only raised more questions. Elza, however, was more than happy to accompany Emma outside the dungeon. The cat had to return for an hour a day to recharge, but it did so instinctively, almost as if the dungeon itself had programmed the behavior. Outside, Emma lavished it with fresh fish, which she hunted tirelessly and stored in an icebox I crafted with magic. Elza had quickly become the center of Emma¡¯s attention. Jealousy flickered within me¡ªof a cat, no less¡ªbut I buried it. After all, how could I compete with an irresistibly fluffy creature whose purring melted hearts?
At level 150, Emma and I were confident we could tackle the final boss chamber with minimal assistance. When we entered, the crystalline glow of the room caught us off guard. The walls gleamed like glass, reflecting the torchlight to create a dazzling display. In the middle of the room, sprawled by a small pond, lay the boss: a massive, crystalline crocodile¡ªor maybe it was an alligator? I could never tell the difference, and I doubted this world had any guides to help distinguish them. To complicate matters, this one had a scorpion-like tail, making it even harder to classify. As our group prepared for battle, we communicated with a flurry of hand signals. I, as the party¡¯s mage, took the front line. My axes were unbreakable, and I was the eldest¡ªby some technicality¡ªso it felt right. Our archers loosed their arrows to initiate the fight, but the beast¡¯s eyes snapped open, and with a single swipe, it shattered every projectile midair. Despite its lumbering appearance, the creature was shockingly quick and agile. It lunged at me with ferocious speed, and I parried each strike with my axes, using wind magic to enhance my movements. The clash of blows was relentless, and every exchange tested my limits. My arms screamed in protest, but I held my ground, refusing to let the creature overpower me. As the battle wore on, both the beast and I began to tire. That¡¯s when Emma struck.
Her Ghostly Flyer class had a unique ability that wasn¡¯t exactly offensive¡ªbut devastatingly effective. By using her class¡¯s power, Emma cryogenically stored her physical body in her soul¡¯s spatial orb. This created a temporary mana-constructed form that resembled her past life as a ghost. In this state, she was immune to physical attacks but consumed vast amounts of mana.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Emma charged the crocodile-scorpion hybrid with confidence. Unfazed by its strikes, she dodged its claws effortlessly and leapt onto its back, plunging two Elorium knives into its eyes. Grillo had crafted the weapons specifically for her spectral form, ensuring they could channel her mana seamlessly. The beast thrashed violently before collapsing, its crystalline body dimming as its life force drained away. Emma stood over the creature¡¯s lifeless body and performed a triumphant victory dance. Despite her hundreds of years of experience, her antics were delightfully childish at times. I couldn¡¯t help but think she¡¯d been reincarnated just to annoy me. Somehow sensing my thoughts, she stopped mid-dance and shot me a glare before shrugging it off.
After the fight, we searched the boss chamber for the hidden room that housed the dungeon orb. We scoured every inch, but nothing seemed out of place. No switches, no airflow from cracks in the walls¡ªnothing. Then, Elza padded to a sandy corner of the room and began pawing at a tuft of cave grass. ¡°Of course it¡¯s the damn cat,¡± I muttered, smacking my forehead. The plant, aptly named ¡°cave cat¡¯s toy,¡± had ¡°cat¡± in the name. Why hadn¡¯t I made the connection sooner? As Elza swatted at the plant, a hidden door creaked open, revealing a narrow passage. From the darkness, a booming voice erupted, startling us all. ¡°Get away from my precious!¡± The voice echoed in my head, its tone both possessive and protective. No one else reacted, which meant only I could hear it. The source of the voice became clear as we entered the hidden chamber: a small, blue orb floated in the center, its glow pulsating faintly. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare take my Elza Bells again!¡± the orb bellowed, its tone filled with indignation. ¡°Enough!¡± I replied, using [Soul Speak]. The orb¡¯s glow flickered, and its voice softened in astonishment. ¡°You... you can understand me?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± I said calmly. ¡°I can communicate with anything that has a soul. Be at ease. I have no intention of taking Elza from you. My beloved simply enjoys feeding the creature because she finds it adorable.¡± The orb hesitated before responding. ¡°Adorable... yes. She does like fish, doesn¡¯t she? But she must return to me. She keeps my power stable.¡± So that was the connection! Elza wasn¡¯t just a pet or a quirky dungeon boss¡ªshe was an integral part of the dungeon itself. I decided to tread carefully. ¡°Fear not, noble spirit,¡± I continued. ¡°We have no desire to disrupt your balance. In fact, we admire the peace of this place. Perhaps we can help each other.¡± The orb hummed thoughtfully. ¡°Perhaps. But you must prove your worth before I offer my aid.¡± I nodded. Whatever trial it had in mind, I was ready. Ch.31: Hatred of an Evil God. Re-edited. In a palace of unparalleled opulence, a tall man clad in black stood amidst riches that would make kings weep. Every surface shimmered with precious metals and gemstones. The lights were colossal pearls, each glowing softly, illuminating the grand space like an eternal twilight. Seated on a throne of solid gold, encrusted with diamonds and rubies, the pale man held a teacup of dark red liquid. A closer look revealed it was not wine but blood¡ªits origin unidentifiable, yet its viscosity betrayed its unsettling nature. The man¡¯s slick black hair gleamed as he swirled the cup absently, deep in thought. Then, as if struck by revelation, he stood abruptly, his ornate throne toppling backward with a resounding crash. ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± His voice boomed, echoing across the chamber. ¡°Urgam, your presence is required!¡± From the shadows, a figure emerged, its form undefined, shifting like living smoke. The being¡¯s voice was an unsettling whisper, reverberating as though spoken from the depths of a hollow cavern. ¡°Yes, my lord?¡± The man grinned, his white teeth sharp and predatory. ¡°I have devised the means to destroy that mortal.¡± Urgam tilted his smoky head. ¡°The one hidden by Arcway¡¯s veil? How, my lord? His protections render him invisible to our scrying.¡± The dark lord¡¯s grin widened, his pale face twisting with a sinister glee. ¡°Arcway¡¯s meddling may shield him, but there is another way. The system logs record that it was a male elf infant who shattered my curse. Only a reincarnated soul could wield such power and knowledge. Among all souls who vanished from Earth¡¯s records, there was only one man with the capabilities and intellect for this task: Rick.¡± Urgam hesitated, his voice laced with doubt. ¡°Rick? Are you certain? And what of the ghost girl the log also recorded? She vanished soon after the curse was broken.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The dark lord¡¯s confidence did not waver. ¡°Exactly! We have overlooked her for too long, assuming she was irrelevant. But her connection to him in his previous life makes her the key. If she was bound to him in the past, she is likely with him now. While Arcway¡¯s protections may shield Rick, I doubt they extend to her.¡± Understanding dawned upon Urgam. ¡°So, by attacking her, we draw him out?¡± The lord retrieved a weathered photograph from his pocket, staring at it intently. The man in the image bore scars from a life of hardship. His hair was grown long on one side, attempting to conceal burns that marred his scalp. One of his eyes, dulled to a silvery hue, seemed almost lifeless. Yet, there was a quiet strength in his gaze¡ªa stubborn determination that made the dark lord¡¯s hatred burn brighter. ¡°When Rick fell in his last life, it was that woman who picked up his shattered pieces,¡± the lord explained, his voice dripping with venom. ¡°If she is his lover in this life, he will sacrifice everything to save her. Even if he isn¡¯t with her now, he will come for her. And when he does, I will ensure he falls beneath our guillotine, just as I intended.¡± Urgam nodded slowly. ¡°And once the chosen one is dealt with, the elves will be yours to annihilate.¡± ¡°Precisely,¡± the lord hissed, his face contorting with hatred. ¡°The elves were doomed from the moment their goddess Aeris interfered. Her existence is tied to theirs. The last remnants of her power linger in their blood, keeping her from the true death she deserves. And yet, that wretched mortal dared to cleanse one of my curses! His defiance cannot go unpunished.¡± The air in the palace grew colder as the man¡¯s rage boiled over. His pale face twisted further, taking on a beastly, monstrous quality that would send even the bravest soul fleeing in terror. ¡°He made it personal.¡± Urgam¡¯s shadowy form shifted, his laughter echoing through the golden halls. ¡°To use a man¡¯s beloved to destroy him... truly, my lord, you are the pinnacle of evil.¡± The lord turned away, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. ¡°It will not take long. Arcway¡¯s protections are formidable, but they cannot shield every inch of the wildlands. We will scry for landmarks¡ªa great river, a vast valley, or a towering mountain. And when we find them... we will find him.¡± The shadows thickened, and the palace seemed to shudder under the weight of the lord¡¯s wrath as his plan began to unfold. Ch. 32: Among Friends. Re-edited. Over several days, I found myself in long conversations with Arl, the sentient dungeon core. The more I learned, the more fascinating¡ªand heartbreaking¡ªits story became. Unfortunately for us, Arl had no intention of remaining a dungeon any longer. This was a blow to our village, as a friendly dungeon could have become an endless source of rare materials and training opportunities. Yet, I couldn¡¯t begrudge its determination. After all, it had been trapped in isolation for hundreds of years. I, too, knew the madness of being stuck, helpless in a body, waiting for time to pass. Arl''s desire to change its fate resonated deeply with me. Arl¡¯s affection for Elza, its beloved floor boss, was both endearing and tragic. The cat wasn¡¯t anything magical to begin with¡ªjust a lost kitten that had wandered into the dungeon long ago. Arl, having never seen another living being before, had become enamored with her. When the kitten succumbed to illness, unable to survive without its mother, Arl had refused to let her go. Using its dungeon powers, it bound her soul to itself, making her its eternal companion. Elza didn¡¯t mind; like most cats, she lacked any sense of time and seemed content so long as someone cared for her. In fact, Elza¡¯s calm acceptance of immortality might be the secret to feline superiority¡ªthey simply don¡¯t care enough about the past to mourn it. To grant Arl its wish of leaving the dungeon, we needed to perform a series of magical feats that would have seemed impossible for anyone else. But, as usual, the universe had conspired in my favor. Arl required a mage who could manipulate life force¡ªa skill exceedingly rare¡ªand here I was, the exact puzzle piece it needed. Coincidence? Hardly. Arcway or that meddling goddess of fate probably had their fingerprints all over this situation. When the time came, the plan was straightforward but fraught with complexity. First, we had to merge Arl¡¯s core with Elza, turning it into a magical beast core. Then, to keep its new body from fading away without the dungeon¡¯s leyline energy, Arl needed to form a familiar contract. Emma was the natural choice as its master. Arl flat-out refused to bond with me, claiming, "I¡¯m not binding myself to a dude forever¡ªthat¡¯s homo!" I let it slide, though I did mutter something about its fragile masculinity. The process was a success. The system still recognized Arl as a dungeon, but now it had a physical body and could leave the dungeon entirely. Even better, Arl discovered that it could metabolize matter and transmute it into useful materials over time. It was essentially a living, purring gold refinery. I made a mental note to stay on Emma¡¯s good side; I had a feeling she¡¯d make me clean the magical litter box when Arl started producing precious materials.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
With the dungeon behind us, Emma and I decided to scout out one of the other dungeons Zotherg had discovered. This gave us some much-needed alone time¡ªaway from the village¡¯s endless questions and nosy onlookers. Half a day¡¯s hike brought us within a few miles of our destination, and we decided to pause for lunch. Emma had packed sandwiches of black bread, spiced potato slices, and soft cheese. As simple as it sounded, the combination was divine, especially for someone like me, who hadn¡¯t tasted meat in years. The peace of our meal was shattered by a distant roar. We both turned our heads sharply toward the sound, our instincts already on high alert. A massive creature emerged from the forest ahead, and my heart sank. It was a bear¡ªor something that might have once been a bear. The hulking beast had eight limbs: six powerful, clawed arms in addition to its hind legs. Two enormous, bat-like wings extended from its back, and its metallic black fur glinted ominously in the sunlight. It wasn¡¯t just a bear¡ªit was a nightmare given form. I quickly activated [Soul Analyze], and the results made my stomach churn.

Soul Analyze: Eight-Legged Flying Steel-Bear

The moment the analysis finished, the beast let out another earth-shaking roar and charged at us. My brain short-circuited as I stared at the numbers. I swore. Loudly. Repeatedly. ¡°This thing is LEVEL TWO THOUSAND?!¡± I shouted, my voice cracking in panic. Emma¡¯s eyes widened as she grabbed my arm. ¡°We¡¯re so screwed!¡± Before I could respond, the beast¡¯s massive form barreled closer, its wings creating gusts of wind that almost knocked us off our feet. I scrambled to think of a plan, but all I could see was the massive wall of fur, claws, and teeth coming straight at us. We were outmatched. Severely. And there was no escape. Ch. 33: Life After. Re-edited. I hurled a massive fireball at the charging bear, but to my horror, it didn¡¯t even flinch. The flames parted around its metallic black fur, leaving the creature completely unscathed. My second attempt was a knife Emma had given me, launched with a burst of wind magic. It clanged off the beast¡¯s hide and fell uselessly to the ground. ¡°Fudge,¡± I muttered under my breath. Fire and piercing weren¡¯t going to work. That left brute force. But how could we possibly generate enough power to take down a monster like this? Even ordinary bears were tanks of muscle and bone. This monstrosity made regular bears look like toddlers. The beast kept charging, unstoppable despite the obstacles in its path. Its eight legs devoured the terrain, rocks shattered beneath its claws, and its massive wings battered the air around it. I realized with growing dread that there was no outrunning it, no outmaneuvering it. I turned to Emma. ¡°Get out of here! I¡¯ll distract it. You can fly¡ªyou might make it if you go now.¡± She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, the bear was upon us. ¡°Hold on. I¡¯ll be right back,¡± she blurted, taking off into the sky like a streak of gold and green. The bear swiped at her retreating form, but I managed to bash its snout with the flat of one of my axes. The blow wasn¡¯t enough to hurt it, but it did enough to grab its attention¡ªand its rage. It turned its glowing red eyes on me, and the full force of its six clawed arms came crashing down. I fought for my life, blocking with both axes, enhanced by every ounce of strength and wind magic I could muster. Each strike from the bear sent shockwaves through my body, flinging me backward like a rag doll. My vision blurred as I hit the ground hard, but I scrambled back to my feet. The bear charged again, relentless, and I knew I couldn¡¯t last much longer. My heart ached with the thought that I¡¯d never see Emma again. Suddenly, a deafening whistle cut through the air, followed by a sonic boom. Before I could react, a golden-green blur streaked past me and slammed into the bear with incredible force. Emma had returned. She drove both fists into the beast in a move straight out of a superhero comic, launching it off the ground and into the air. She hovered above the beast, trading blow for blow. Despite her strength and speed, the bear¡¯s sheer size and durability were overwhelming. Blood poured from her broken arm, her movements slowing. My chest tightened with panic as I realized she couldn¡¯t win. The thought of losing her filled me with a fear greater than I¡¯d ever known. A strange, painful flutter in my chest made it clear what I¡¯d been denying all along: I loved her. I couldn¡¯t let her die.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Focus. Think. Move. I forced my mind into overdrive with [Soul Accelerate], my thoughts racing as I searched for a way to save her. There was only one chance¡ªone insane, impossible chance. I needed to generate enough force to not only stop the bear but also send it fleeing. And I needed to fly to reach it. Drawing on my wind magic, I summoned a torrent of air, forming a vortex around me. I reached out with [Soul Speak], calling to the elementals. ¡°This is Juran, the True Elemental. I need mana to save the woman I love! Please, lend me your strength!¡± To my astonishment, the elementals responded. Their power flowed into my spell, amplifying it far beyond my usual limits. The air around me shimmered with the presence of dozens of wind elementals, their forms faintly resembling elven women made of swirling air. With their help, I launched myself skyward, spiraling toward Emma and the bear like a human missile. As I ascended, I compacted the air around my arm into a dense spiral of wind. It was a makeshift gauntlet of raw force, cushioning my body while amplifying the impact. The bear didn¡¯t see me coming. In an instant, I was upon it, driving my fist¡ªand the full power of the wind¡ªinto its side. The explosion of force sent the creature hurtling toward the ground. It smashed through jagged rocks, crashing into a ravine with a pitiful yelp. I watched as it limped away, defeated. Emma¡¯s body went limp in the air, and I barely caught her in time. Her arm was shattered, bones splintered, and her internal injuries were severe. Her dragon heritage was the only thing keeping her alive, but it wouldn¡¯t last much longer. ¡°Stay with me, Emma,¡± I whispered. Desperation surged through me as I pulled life force from the surrounding forest. The energy flowed through me, pooling in my lungs. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to hers, and breathed the life force into her. Her wounds began to heal. The moment stretched out, the kiss deepening as the magic worked. It was unlike anything I¡¯d ever felt before¡ªa warmth that ignited every fiber of my being. For the first time, I felt whole. When she opened her eyes, they sparkled like crystalline pools. We stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken words. Finally, I broke the silence with a grin. ¡°Mmm, you taste better than ribs.¡± She laughed, brushing her hair back as it tangled with mine. ¡°That¡¯s the sweetest thing you¡¯ve ever said to a girl. Which, now that I think about it, is kind of sad.¡± ¡°Oh, really?¡± I teased, kissing her again, this time with all the passion I¡¯d held back for years. Wind elementals flitted around us, giggling and whispering. One of them winked at me, and I rolled my eyes. Just then, a system prompt appeared.
Goddess of Fate says: ¡°You¡¯re welcome!¡± Ch. 34: The Calm. Re-edited.

Excerpt from The Book of Heroes: The Great Demon Invasion

Once, in the land of Yor, the demon hordes brought chaos that no mortal or god could truly withstand. These beings, unkillable in the conventional sense, were merely banished back to their realm upon defeat, returning moments later with the aid of a powerful relic. The relic was a gateway¡ªa bridge between worlds that defied all logic, science, and magic. It existed and didn¡¯t exist, folding space without teleportation or manipulation. No god, not even those governing death, time, or existence, could destroy it. With this relic, the demons invaded without reprieve. Entire worlds fell to their onslaught until a coalition of gods summoned five heroes to turn the tide. Among them, Brigga the Pure, Cloud the White Wolf, Kren the Vengeful, Augre the Brave, and Orith the Orc Champion held the line. Yet even these mighty warriors faced unimaginable losses. In the end, only Cloud and Orith survived. Cloud, once an ordinary grey dog from Earth, transformed into a Fenrir upon his summoning. Now, he waits eternally for his fallen companions to return, never understanding that they are gone forever.

Reality Awakes

The hunger woke me. Not the regular kind of hunger, but the kind that fogs your thoughts and makes the world spin. Dizzy and ravenous, I stumbled out of my tent, barely noticing my state of undress. My groggy mind failed to register the amused giggles as I walked toward the cooking area, wearing nothing but my underwear. Thankfully, breakfast had already begun, and the cooks had outdone themselves. I inhaled several bowls of mashed potatoes, beans, carrots, and berries, barely stopping to chew. Even after all that, my stomach still growled like a feral beast. Finally, as my senses returned, I realized my... predicament. Horrified, I fled back to my tent, grabbing proper clothing before anyone could make further comments. Emerging again, I felt slightly more prepared to face the day. But as soon as I stepped outside, my father was there, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. ¡°Morning, son!¡± he said, his tone far too cheerful. ¡°Hey, Dad,¡± I replied warily, trying to gauge his mood. He handed me a polished buckler. ¡°Take a look.¡± I froze, staring at my reflection. The person staring back wasn¡¯t the same slim, lean figure I¡¯d grown used to seeing. Broad shoulders, chiseled muscles, and defined arms replaced the wiry frame I had known. It was like staring into a memory¡ªthe body I¡¯d seen in my dream when I met Arcway, the God of Dreams. ¡°How?¡± I asked, dumbfounded. ¡°Check your skills,¡± my father said, his grin widening.

New Skills Learned

¡°These are... Dwarven traits,¡± I murmured, my mind racing. But they weren¡¯t racial traits¡ªthey were skills, capped at level one. While not as potent as the traits Grillo had explained, they were permanent bonuses. ¡°It¡¯s the mark,¡± my father said. ¡°Congratulations, son. You¡¯ve become a man.¡± Before I could process his words, he pulled me into a bear hug. ¡°We should celebrate. Let¡¯s go find Grillo and have a drink.¡±

The Celebration

Grillo was already waiting when we arrived at the hut where the village stored its alcohol. Seated at a barrel-turned-table, the old dwarf gestured to the two stools beside him. Three mugs of frothy ale awaited us. As soon as I took a swig, my father and Grillo burst out laughing. ¡°Nice to see you finally got some!¡± my father said, his grin stretching ear to ear. I choked, spraying ale everywhere as the realization hit. ¡°Wha¡ªwhat? How do you even know?!¡± Grillo slapped my back, his own laughter booming. ¡°You¡¯ve made an old dwarf proud, lad!¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ªwhat¡ªwhy?!¡± I sputtered, trying to piece together what was happening. Grillo leaned back, his face alight with mischief. ¡°The mark. I lied when I said it wasn¡¯t magical. It activates fully when you become a man in the Dwarven sense.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Fifteen lets you bear the mark, but true Dwarven manhood isn¡¯t about age,¡± my father added, his voice filled with humor. ¡°And you didn¡¯t tell me this because...?¡± Grillo¡¯s grin turned devilish. ¡°Because I knew this reaction would be worth it!¡± I groaned, burying my face in my hands. ¡°This is the most embarrassing moment of my life.¡± My father clapped me on the back, laughing so hard he could barely speak. ¡°Come on, son. You¡¯ve got the muscles, the girl, and the skills now. You¡¯re living the dream!¡± ¡°I¡¯m living a nightmare,¡± I muttered. ¡°Grillo, this means... you too, right? Someone actually¡ª?¡± The old dwarf¡¯s face turned beet red, his laughter booming even louder. ¡°Watch it, lad. You¡¯re walking a dangerous road!¡± We laughed for hours that day, the sound echoing through the village. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I truly belonged¡ªamong family, friends, and the people who cared for me.
As I awoke to the harmonious chirps of crickets and birds, my gaze fell on Emma, peacefully sleeping beside me. Her radiant beauty was only slightly betrayed by her hilariously frizzled hair, sticking out in all directions like she¡¯d tangled with a high-voltage wire. I bit back the urge to wake her just to tease her about it. She looked so blissful, and after everything we¡¯d been through, she deserved that peace. Slipping outside, the early risers of our eclectic village were already bustling about. The sight brought a genuine smile to my face. Dwarves, elves, elementals, and even goblins, all living together in a rare harmony that most people would never believe possible. A high goblin child darted by, laughing as it chased a mischievous wind elemental that teased him with gusts of air. Their shared joy was infectious. This little pocket of peace we had carved out of the chaos of our world felt fragile yet immensely rewarding. The laughter must have stirred Emma, for soon she emerged, yawning and stretching like a contented cat. She made the most adorable sound, a soft ¡°Chiyeah!¡± that always made me grin. Her movements, however, had an oddly metallic quality, as if her toned muscles hummed like stretched steel cords. It was both endearing and a little intimidating. ¡°Morning, sleepyhead,¡± I teased. ¡°How¡¯s it feel to look like an angel with a bad hair day?¡± She smirked, swatting playfully at my arm before heading toward the hearth where breakfast was already calling. I lingered, taking in the sight of our home¡¯s growing strength. Reinforced walls of concrete and stone now surrounded the town, with steel and Elorium alloy brackets holding the gates and sections together. Pops and I had spared no effort in bolstering our defenses after Muiren¡¯s attack. The sight of our progress gave me some comfort, though I knew it would never erase the losses we¡¯d endured. My musings were abruptly interrupted by what I could only describe as a homing missile¡ªShelly. She zoomed toward me with all the energy of a storm, and before I could dodge, she tackled me to the ground with a squealing ¡°POP!¡± This was a routine I¡¯d come to expect. My parents had a habit of sending my adopted little sister my way whenever they needed ¡°alone time.¡± Usually, it meant waking up to tiny knees or feet landing on my stomach, but today, I¡¯d gotten up early enough to avoid that fate. ¡°Hey, Shelly. What brings you here so early?¡± I asked, still pinned under her relentless energy. ¡°Mum an¡¯ Dwad said they had pwerent confwence meeting,¡± she replied, her childish lisp making the words almost unintelligible but impossibly cute. Emma joined us, her laughter warm as she watched Shelly clamber onto my shoulders, demanding piggyback rides. For the next hour, Emma and I entertained her with games, laughter, and far too many rides. By the time it was over, my legs felt like jelly, but Shelly¡¯s delighted giggles made it worth it. When it was time to take her home, I escorted her back toward my parents¡¯ dwelling, only to hear some distinctly... amorous sounds drifting through the open window. My face burned with embarrassment. Acting quickly, I scooped Shelly into my arms and covered her ears. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Shelly! Back to my hut!¡± I said, walking briskly away from what I could never unhear. ¡°Mummy an¡¯ Dwad were making funny noises,¡± she remarked innocently as we walked. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I muttered, doing my best to redirect her attention. ¡°They were, uh, playing a grown-up game.¡± When we returned, Emma was already at work in the kitchen, her skillful hands flipping patties and preparing breakfast. The smell of her cooking was heavenly. She¡¯d somehow perfected the art of making veggie patties that tasted almost like meat, paired with spiced eggs and fresh greens. For herself, she was cooking real sausage¡ªsomething that drew Shelly¡¯s immediate attention. Emma, ever the kind soul, added an extra portion for Shelly and set the table with a practiced efficiency that left me marveling. As we sat down, Shelly tilted her head at me. ¡°Ar¡¯nt, why didn¡¯t we have breakfast with Mummy?¡± she asked. I froze for half a second before managing, ¡°Mommy¡¯s already having breakfast.¡± Shelly frowned in thought. ¡°Wut¡¯s she having?¡± And that¡¯s when my traitorous brain betrayed me. Without thinking, I muttered under my breath, ¡°Sausage.¡± Time seemed to slow. Shelly¡¯s face lit up with childlike excitement, and before I could correct myself, she turned to Emma, who was taking a bite of her food. ¡°Mummy¡¯s having sausage for breakfast!¡± Shelly announced gleefully. Emma froze mid-bite, confusion flickering across her face for a brief moment. Then it hit her. The look of realization¡ªof suppressed laughter and sheer amusement¡ªwas unmistakable. I could see her struggling to keep her composure as her shoulders trembled with barely-contained mirth. Shelly, oblivious to the implications, smiled brightly. ¡°Can I have sausage too?¡± Emma burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand as tears streamed from her eyes. ¡°Oh, Shelly,¡± she choked out, ¡°you¡¯re too precious.¡± I groaned, burying my face in my hands as Emma¡¯s laughter rang out, a reminder that even amidst the chaos, life still found ways to be absurdly, painfully funny. Ch. 35: The Storm.

The Orc and the Archmage

An Excerpt from The Book of Heroes: Origins Once, not long ago, there was a young orcish lad raised by his adoptive human father. This man, of noble birth, had abandoned the capital for a life of quiet farming. After the brutal human-orc war, he found an orphaned orc baby amidst the carnage. Rather than turning away, he adopted the child, naming him Orith. Years passed, and Orith grew into a strong, rambunctious youth. However, his strength and heritage made him a target of the local villagers. Children teased him; adults hurled rubbish and insults. They treated him like an animal, an outsider. Only his foster father, Veld, ever showed him love and respect. When Orith finally grew tired of the hatred, he ran away. Using the knowledge his father had given him¡ªliteracy and basic magic¡ªhe reshaped a plow into a makeshift ax and left the farm. Veld tried to stop him, but Orith, in his anger, shoved his father to the ground. That moment haunted him for years. Accepted into an orc tribe for his magic talents, Orith lived as a raider, surviving on plunder and scraps. While he only fought warriors, he witnessed the tribe¡¯s cruelties: the slaughter of innocents, the senseless violence. He hated it but felt powerless to change his path. One fateful day, his tribe attacked a village, unaware of the legion of knights waiting in ambush. The knights annihilated the orcs. Orith, despite his strength and skills, lost his ax and his arm. Bleeding out, he collapsed. Before his consciousness faded, he saw something impossible: Veld, standing before the knights, commanding their fear. When Orith awoke, he was back in his bed. His arm had been reattached, good as new. ¡°Ahem,¡± coughed Veld, drawing Orith¡¯s attention. ¡°Father?¡± Orith asked, shocked. ¡°Yes, son,¡± Veld replied, his voice heavy with emotion. ¡°We need to talk.¡± Veld explained everything. He was the Archmage, one of the most powerful mages in the world. During the war, Orith¡¯s biological father had killed his wife and daughter. Veld had hunted the orc down and killed him in revenge, only to find a newborn orphan crying in a nearby tent. At first, Veld wanted to end the child¡¯s life as well, but when he looked into Orith¡¯s eyes, he saw innocence and a chance for redemption. ¡°I hope you can forgive me for taking you from your culture and your people,¡± Veld said, tears streaming down his face.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Orith embraced him. ¡°You saved me, Father. Twice. You¡¯ve always been my family.¡± From that day forward, Orith never left his father¡¯s side. When the Great Demon Invasion came, Veld gave his life in his son¡¯s arms, ensuring Orith¡¯s survival.

My time on Earth had given me an edge in education compared to the common folk of Yor. Emma and I had started teaching the village children simple arithmetic, literacy, and languages like Elvish, Dwarven, and English. Grillo offered classes in smithing and Dwarvish, while my mother taught herbalism, and my father ran combat training sessions. ¡°I guess that makes Dad the PE teacher,¡± I joked. Emma burst out laughing, but the others looked confused. The concept of a formal education system was entirely new to the elves, especially since their population had historically been too small to require it. As I helped Grillo with his smithing class, one of our scouts sounded the alarm. The lower-level adults quickly ushered the children into the safety of the old cave system beneath the mountain. The rest of us armed ourselves for battle. I assumed it would be human slavers or an orc raiding party. I grabbed my axes, while Grillo donned his prototype rune-enhanced Elorium gauntlet and hefted his Adamantium-alloy hammer. Luna took to the trees, her bow ready, while my mother prepared her medicine pouch. My father stood at the front, with Emma and me flanking him. In the distance, we saw them: thousands of men in red cloaks bearing a coiling snake emblem. At the front, a man on a black horse clad in dark armor emanated a sinister aura. His glowing red eyes and the black smoke seeping from his armor screamed malevolence. I tried to use [Soul Analyze] on him. [Failed] [Failed] [Failed] Confused, I told my father. His face darkened. ¡°If you can¡¯t see his level, he¡¯s either five times stronger than you... or a god. Possibly both.¡± ¡°Great,¡± I muttered. As the cultists charged, my father shouted, ¡°Friend or foe?¡± The black-armored man raised his sword, pointing at us. The cultists surged forward without hesitation. ¡°Definitely foe,¡± I called, readying my axes. Luna fired an arrow at the horseman. He caught it mid-air without even glancing at it. The precision and speed were terrifying¡ªif Luna had aimed at me, I¡¯d already be dead. We clashed with the cultists, cutting down scores of them. Luna¡¯s arrows rained death, while my axes cleaved through flesh and bone. Grillo¡¯s hammer crushed skulls, and Emma¡¯s claws tore through enemies like parchment. Despite our success, the horseman stayed motionless, observing us with a twisted smirk. Suddenly, he raised his hand, and a wave of darkness spread across the battlefield. The smell was foul¡ªlike rotting corpses and burning sulfur. The cultists we had killed began to rise, their bodies grotesquely reanimated. They moved with inhuman speed and ferocity, their lifeless eyes locked on us. ¡°Come on!¡± I shouted, severing an undead¡¯s head. ¡°Stay down this time!¡± But the corpse began piecing itself back together. Frustrated, I unleashed a torrent of fire, cremating the dead. Wind elementals came to my aid, fueling the flames to ensure no remains were left to resurrect. The smirk on the horseman¡¯s face twisted into a grin as he raised his hand again. The elementals screeched as they were banished, their forms dissipating into the air. With most of his forces gone, the black-armored man dismounted, drawing his sword. His undead horse stood motionless, its soulless black eyes fixed on us. As he approached, his grin widened, his aura suffocating. The storm had come. Ch. 36: The Day the Mountain Moved. Re-edited. Holding a black-bladed sword that oozed malevolence, Muiren advanced. Luna''s arrows flew, but he deflected each one with precise, effortless movements. His gaze never wavered, a smirk etched into his face. I had read plenty of stories back on Earth where the hero fought enemies within a reasonable level gap. But this? This was no fairy tale. There was no conveniently even playing field here¡ªMuiren was a monster of unfathomable strength. Ileor, my father, met him head-on, with me flanking to provide support. Despite our teamwork, Muiren¡¯s speed and skill outmatched us entirely. I managed to deflect a few strikes with my axes, redirecting his blows to keep my father standing. Still, the effort left me winded and exposed, my level simply too low to compete with such raw power. Emma charged in, her ghostly and draconic powers adding a layer of unpredictability. Luna''s arrows rained from above, each shot aiming for a weak spot. Even Grillo¡¯s hammer swung with a force that could topple a mountain. But nothing seemed to phase Muiren. He fought with casual ease, treating our every attempt as little more than a nuisance. Desperate, I summoned my elemental magic, calling upon the earth to encase him and the wind to sever his head. A massive blade of compressed air sliced through the battlefield, cleaving trees and rocks alike, but Muiren¡¯s head remained firmly on his shoulders. The reason became clear. Around him flowed an unnatural, viscous aura¡ªblack and oily, yet alive. It moved like a tide, cycling in and out of his body, and it absorbed every attack like a shield. I was the only one who could see it, and the sight sent a chill through me. This wasn¡¯t mana or aura as I understood them. It was something darker. He broke free of the stone bindings with ease and charged at my father. I cast a flash of blinding light, buying us a few precious moments. Annoyed, Muiren muttered a spell, and a dark film covered his eyes, like magical sunglasses. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± I shouted, desperate to stall him. ¡°Breaking your curse wasn¡¯t intentional¡ªit was an accident!¡± Muiren¡¯s laughter rang out, cold and sharp. ¡°An accident? You think this is about that? No, boy. This is about what you are and what you represent. Your existence threatens everything we¡¯ve built. Your kind¡ªyour race¡ªmust be extinguished.¡± ¡°What does being an elf have to do with anything?¡± I demanded, even as I struggled to keep up with his relentless assault. ¡°Everything!¡± he roared. ¡°The prophecy tells of you undoing the very foundation of our power. Left unchecked, you would reshape this world, turning it into a place where we gods have no dominion. That is unacceptable.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°And the system?¡± I pressed. ¡°You said it wasn¡¯t made by the gods. What did you mean?¡± ¡°The system,¡± he sneered, ¡°was forged by the High Gods and bound to the Tablet of Creation. But the fools lacked foresight. The tablet took control, severing our influence. We¡¯ve been locked out ever since.¡± ¡°So... the gods aren¡¯t even in charge?¡± I mumbled, stunned. ¡°Not entirely,¡± he admitted. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter. You won¡¯t live long enough to uncover the truth.¡± He hurled a dagger at me, its blade whistling through the air. I barely dodged, the blade embedding itself into a tree. The tree instantly withered, its bark blackening and peeling away. Emma erupted onto the battlefield, her red string of fate coiling around her arm like a living flame. ¡°Emma, no!¡± I screamed, but she was beyond reason, her fury driving her forward. Muiren turned to face her, his sword raised. With a speed I¡¯d never seen before, Emma¡¯s fist collided with his sword, shattering it in a deafening boom that knocked everyone off their feet. Muiren staggered, his smirk momentarily replaced with shock. But Emma couldn¡¯t maintain her stance. She collapsed, her strength spent. My father moved faster than I thought possible, catching her mid-fall. Even as he carried her to safety, Muiren thrust the jagged remains of his sword into my father¡¯s back, the blade piercing through his stomach. My mother rushed to stabilize Ileor, her hands trembling as she worked. Rage boiled within me, a primal force erupting from the deepest corners of my being. My mana surged, golden light spilling from my eyes. My voice echoed unnaturally, layered with the power of [Soul Speak], and my axes began to glow. One axe trembled in my hand, unstable from the overwhelming energy coursing through it. Knowing it would soon explode, I hurled it at Muiren. The explosion tore through his chest plate, leaving him bloodied but still standing. My remaining axe drank deeply of my mana, resonating with my anger.
Titan¡¯s Heart resonates with your will. This weapon has absorbed enough mana to evolve into a Mythical Grade weapon. It is now soul-bound and will return to you if dropped.
The axe¡¯s form shifted, its edges gleaming with an otherworldly brilliance. It felt alive in my hand, an extension of my fury. ¡°Take this, asshat!¡± I roared, burying the weapon in Muiren¡¯s shoulder. For the first time, his aura faltered. He bellowed in rage, his dark power exploding outward. The force launched me across the battlefield, the impact stealing my breath and cracking my ribs. Before he could finish me, a glowing hammer materialized, blocking his strike. It shattered instantly, but the blow was deflected. Grillo stood nearby, his face pale but determined. He swung his Adamantium hammer, smashing it into Muiren¡¯s head. The hammer disintegrated on impact, but the strike knocked the dark god back a step. Enraged, Muiren retaliated, shattering Grillo¡¯s Elorium gauntlet and sending the dwarf flying. Muiren grabbed me by the collar, lifting me effortlessly. ¡°To think I wouldn¡¯t have found you without this mountain nearby,¡± he sneered. A deafening roar split the air, shaking the ground beneath us. The earth itself shifted, and I realized with awe and terror what was happening. Zotherg, the living mountain, was waking. The land itself had risen to fight. Ch. 37: The Fall of the First Born. Re-edited. Muiren''s grip faltered as the ground trembled violently, giving me the moment I needed to fight back. His vice-like hands were cold, unyielding, and inhumanly strong, but desperation fueled my every move. Kicking and punching had no effect, and I was running out of options. I remembered my weapon was soul-bound¡ªTitan¡¯s Heart could return to me. Could it actually work like the legends of a certain godly axe? Silly as it sounded, I was out of options. "Please, Titan''s Heart," I thought with all my might. "Come here!" A zooming sound like a falling meteor pierced the air. Suddenly, my ax came hurtling through the battlefield, biting deep into Muiren''s arm just below the elbow. Black sludge gushed from the wound, vile and unnatural. With a howl of pain, he loosened his grip on me, his eyes burning with rage. The ax¡¯s new form included a hammer end on its backside, and inspiration struck. Grabbing the handle, I flipped it in my grip and swung the hammer directly into Muiren¡¯s eye. The blow was perfect¡ªthe hammer shattered the orb, and his screams echoed through the battlefield. I broke free as Muiren staggered back, clutching his face. He cursed, his voice a venomous roar. "You wretched brat! I¡¯ll tear your spine out and beat you to death with it!" I grinned despite the odds. "Well, I think someone else has something to say about that." Before Muiren could recover, the ground beneath him erupted. A massive stone fist, the size of a house, burst from the earth and slammed into him, sending his body hurtling through the forest. Trees splintered, the earth quaked, and the sheer force of Zotherg¡¯s strike reshaped the landscape. The ancient elemental¡¯s full form rose from the ground, towering over the battlefield like a living mountain. His roar was deafening, a primal sound that shook the heavens. Zotherg wasn¡¯t holding back anymore. Muiren struggled to his feet, his armor cracked and his body battered. He tried to fight back, but against Zotherg, he was powerless. The massive elemental unleashed a relentless assault, pummeling the god with fists of stone. For a brief, fleeting moment, I thought we might actually win. But then I remembered the cost.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Zotherg¡¯s form was crumbling, his body breaking apart even as he fought. The ancient laws of this world forbade beings of his power from intervening directly, and the penalty for breaking those laws was death. My heart sank as I used [Soul Analyze] to confirm my worst fears.
Name: Zotherg Rank: Demi-God Status: Dying Description: The ancient elemental has broken the old laws. His form is disintegrating, and he will soon wither into pure mana. The spirit of Yor already mourns the loss of her firstborn.
"Zotherg, stop!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "Why are you doing this? You¡¯ll die!" The elemental¡¯s voice rumbled through the battlefield, resonating in my very soul. "Because you are my friend, my brother. This vile creature dared to use me against my kin. I will not allow it." "But killing him won¡¯t stop him! He¡¯s a god¡ªhe¡¯ll just come back!" Zotherg paused briefly, his massive form shaking with each movement. "Not easily. His vessel is unique, rare beyond measure. Without it, he will not walk this plane for a long time." "But what about you? What will I do without you?" I cried, tears streaming down my face. "You will live, Juren. You have always been destined for greater things. You stayed here because of me, but now you must go." "No! I can¡¯t leave you behind!" "You must," Zotherg said, his voice growing faint. "Your destiny calls, and my time is over." I watched helplessly as Zotherg¡¯s form began to collapse, his body disintegrating into soil and mana. Desperate, I used earth magic to dig through the crumbling remains, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªof my friend. Finally, I uncovered a glowing orange crystal the size of a bowling ball. Within it flickered the faintest light, Zotherg¡¯s soul. I held the crystal in my hands, pouring my mana into it, trying to stop the leaks that drained his essence. But it was futile. Like water slipping through my fingers, Zotherg¡¯s life force was fading away. "Please don¡¯t leave me," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Please..." But there was no response. The crystal grew cold and dim, and I knew Zotherg was gone. I sat there, clutching the lifeless stone, my heart breaking. A bloody cough drew my attention. Nearby, Muiren lay in a heap, his body battered and broken. His arms and legs had been ripped away, and his torso oozed black sludge. Despite his condition, he was still alive, his hateful eyes glaring at me. Rage consumed me. I rose to my feet, the crystal still in one hand. Titan¡¯s Heart flew into the other, its blade glowing with golden light. I approached the fallen god, each step heavy with fury. Muiren sneered, blood dripping from his lips. "You think... this changes anything? I¡¯ll return... and when I do, I¡¯ll¡ª" "You¡¯ll do nothing," I interrupted, my voice cold and steady. "Because you¡¯ll never leave this place." Without hesitation, I raised Titan¡¯s Heart and brought it down. The blade pierced Muiren¡¯s chest, driving deep into his corrupted vessel. He let out a final, gurgling scream as his body disintegrated into ash. It was over. I fell to my knees, clutching Zotherg¡¯s soul stone, and let the tears fall. The mountain had moved, and the world would never be the same. Ch. 38: Lineage. Re-edited. The Origin of the Dark Phoenix Excerpt from the Book of Mythical Beasts Long ago, in a small, forgotten village, two twin sisters were born under very different stars. The elder sister was tall and radiant, her beauty and charm winning the affection of the villagers and her parents. They showered her with love and attention, seeing her as their ticket to prosperity. The younger sister, however, was frail and sickly. Her small frame and pallor marked her as a burden. To her parents, she was a source of shame, a curse that dragged them down. When the church came to their village, seeking potential recruits for its holy order, they immediately selected the elder sister. Her departure was met with celebration from the family and the village, her parents basking in the prestige it brought them. Meanwhile, the younger sister¡¯s existence became unbearable. No longer able to stomach her presence, the parents concocted a plan. They dragged her into the dark forest, a place teeming with monsters and wild beasts, and left her there. As they turned their backs on their child, the mother muttered, ¡°Let the gods decide what to do with you.¡± Days passed. In that time, a majestic phoenix, disguised as a common bird, had been scouring the woods. She was drawn to the girl¡¯s hauntingly beautiful songs, a melody that seemed to speak directly to the hearts of birds. Yet, no matter how far she searched, she found no sign of the child¡ªonly a bloodied scrap of fabric caught on a branch. Enraged, the phoenix transformed into her true form and descended on the village. Disguised as a noblewoman, she stormed the family¡¯s home, demanding the truth. When the parents admitted their crime with sneering indifference, the phoenix¡¯s feathers turned black with fury. Her golden eyes darkened to amethyst, and flames erupted around her as she revealed her true form. The parents screamed, but their cries were drowned by the roar of the phoenix¡¯s flames. When the fires subsided, nothing remained of their home but ash. The phoenix carried the girl¡¯s spirit with her, vowing to protect her essence for eternity. Thus, the Dark Phoenix was born, a creature fueled by grief and vengeance.
The ash that was once Muiren swirled in the wind, carried like the remnants of a dying storm. My breath came in shallow gasps, my chest heaving from the strain of the battle. My body was battered, my mana reserves depleted, and my mind was reeling. Yet, as I stared at the remnants of the evil god, I felt no victory. There was no triumph, no relief¡ªonly a hollow ache in my chest. The air was heavy with loss, the ground still trembling faintly as if mourning Zotherg¡¯s sacrifice.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Muiren¡¯s vessel was gone, dissolved into nothingness, but his essence lingered, a dark presence that sent a shiver down my spine. I could feel it in the air, like a shadow that refused to fade. His final words echoed in my mind, a grim reminder that gods could not truly die.
I turned to face the others. My kin stood frozen, their faces pale with shock. I could see it in their eyes¡ªthey were afraid of me. They had seen my rage, the darkness I had unleashed, and it had shaken them to their core. ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± I called out, my voice steady but hollow. ¡°Muiren is gone. The one who took Zotherg from us has been punished.¡± No one moved. Silence hung over the battlefield like a heavy fog. Then, a single clap broke through the stillness. I turned to see Grillo, his face streaked with soot and blood, clapping slowly. Others began to join in, their applause hesitant at first but growing louder with each beat. I stared in disbelief as the entire village began to cheer. They weren¡¯t condemning me¡ªthey were celebrating our survival. Relief washed over me, though it was tinged with a bitter edge. For the first time, I realized how much I¡¯d feared their rejection. My shoulders sagged, the tension I hadn¡¯t even noticed finally releasing.
As the cheers subsided, I approached the injured. My father lay on a makeshift mat, his face pale but his breathing steady. My mother knelt beside him, her hands glowing faintly as she worked to heal his wounds. ¡°Father,¡± I said, my voice low but firm. ¡°What have you been hiding from me?¡± He avoided my gaze, his face twisting with regret. ¡°I thought if I didn¡¯t tell you, it would keep you safe,¡± he said after a long pause. ¡°I thought everything would be fine as long as you didn¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Know what?¡± I pressed, my patience wearing thin. He sighed, his eyes finally meeting mine. ¡°I am the nephew of the last king,¡± he admitted. ¡°And you, my son, are the rightful heir to the throne.¡± His words hit me like a hammer. ¡°Wait... what? Wouldn¡¯t that make you the king?¡± ¡°No,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°Only one with great magic can claim the crown. I¡¯ve never possessed that gift. But you...¡± His voice faltered. ¡°Muiren must have known. That¡¯s why he came after you. If he¡¯d killed you, the prophecy would have been broken, and the last of our line would have been lost.¡± The pieces began to fall into place. Muiren had targeted us not just because of the curse but because of our lineage. He had pieced together the truth, using it to destroy the prophecy before it could come to pass. I clenched my fists, the weight of my lineage settling heavily on my shoulders. The prophecy had marked me as the savior of my people, but now I understood the cost. ¡°I see,¡± I said quietly, my voice heavy with resolve. ¡°Then I¡¯ll do what must be done.¡±
For the rest of the day, we worked tirelessly to tend to the injured and salvage what we could from the ruins of our village. The damage was extensive, but we were alive. That had to count for something. As night fell, I found myself sitting alone, Zotherg¡¯s soul stone resting in my hands. The faint light within it was nearly gone, his mana leaking out like a dying ember. ¡°I¡¯ll find a way to save you,¡± I whispered, my voice cracking. ¡°I promise.¡± The stone didn¡¯t respond, but I held it close, clinging to the hope that Zotherg¡¯s sacrifice wouldn¡¯t be in vain. Above me, the stars shone brightly, their light cutting through the darkness. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I allowed myself to hope. Chapter 39: Despair. Re-edited. Weary and utterly drained, I should have collapsed already, but I forced myself to keep moving. The need to see the casualties for myself was stronger than my pain. Emma was alive, but she wouldn¡¯t wake up. Her stillness was haunting, even as the steady rise and fall of her chest proved she was breathing. Many of the original adult elves had survived, though their injuries ranged from minor to severe. Yet among the younger green elves¡ªthe children I had fought so hard to protect¡ªthe losses were devastating. As I moved through the survivors, the weight of grief pressed down on me. Each lifeless form seemed heavier than the last, but one loss cut deeper than any other: Argus. The memory of Argus¡¯s laughter, his determination, and his boundless admiration for me flashed through my mind. He¡¯d been teased mercilessly as a boy, nicknamed ¡°Fangs¡± because of his prominent orc and beastman heritage. Yet, despite the taunts, he¡¯d never let himself fall into bitterness. He was always determined to prove himself, to rise above what others thought of him. I knelt beside his lifeless body, unable to hold back the tears as they streamed down my face. I had personally tutored him for years, and though I was only his teacher, I knew he looked up to me as a father figure. Now, that bright light had been extinguished. I felt a hand on my shoulder¡ªmy mother¡¯s. On the other side, my father placed his hand on me as well. No words were spoken; none were needed. They understood my pain. Their silent support steadied me enough to move away from Argus¡¯s body and toward Emma. She lay motionless on a mat, her face serene as if she were merely sleeping. I crouched beside her and used [Soul Analyze] to search for anything unusual. Her status showed no critical issues, yet she remained unresponsive. I tried [Life-Force Heal], but still, nothing happened. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, my love?¡± I whispered, stroking her cheek. ¡°Why won¡¯t you wake up?¡± ¡°She can¡¯t hear you,¡± said an unfamiliar voice. I spun around, summoning Titan¡¯s Heart in one hand and gripping Argus¡¯s axe in the other. Two women stood before me, their presence radiating power. One had golden hair and wore an elaborate red dress, while the other had brown hair, her grey gown complemented by a leather blindfold. ¡°Who are you?¡± I demanded, my voice sharp. ¡°And what do you want?¡± The golden-haired woman stepped forward, her voice gentle. ¡°I am Eva, the Goddess of Love. This is Tria, the Goddess of Fate. We¡¯ve come to help Emma.¡± I hesitated, the tension in my body easing only slightly. ¡°Help her? How? What¡¯s wrong with her?¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°She¡¯s caught in a dangerous limbo,¡± Tria explained, her voice soft but firm. ¡°Her trait, [Red String of Fate], has been damaged. It wasn¡¯t meant to be used the way she used it during the battle.¡± ¡°She broke it by attacking with it?¡± I asked, my brow furrowing. Eva nodded, her expression somber. ¡°Yes. The [Red String of Fate] wasn¡¯t created to handle such strain. The bond it maintains between Emma and you¡ªbetween her body and soul¡ªwas fractured. She¡¯s alive, but her soul is struggling to stay connected to her physical form.¡± ¡°Can it be fixed?¡± I asked, desperation creeping into my voice. ¡°Yes,¡± Tria said, stepping closer. ¡°But it will take time and care. If you allow us to take her to our realms, we can stabilize her and repair the damage. While she¡¯s there, she¡¯ll be safe.¡± I stared at them, torn between hope and suspicion. ¡°Why should I trust you? How do I know you won¡¯t harm her?¡± Eva placed a hand over her heart. ¡°Because we have no desire to hurt her, Juren. We care for Emma deeply. She¡¯s a remarkable soul.¡± Tria added, ¡°And frankly, she¡¯s important to the fate of this world. We¡¯re doing this as much for her as we are for you.¡± Their sincerity seemed genuine, but my faith in the gods was threadbare at best. Still, what choice did I have? Emma was slipping away, and they were my only hope. ¡°Fine,¡± I said at last. ¡°Take her. But if anything happens to her, I swear I¡¯ll find a way to your realms and make you regret it.¡± Tria and Eva exchanged faint smiles. ¡°We¡¯d expect nothing less,¡± Tria said. Before they could take her, I leaned over Emma, wrapping her in a tight embrace. ¡°I¡¯ll wait for you, my love,¡± I whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips. ¡°No matter how long it takes.¡± Eva and Tria both wiped at their eyes, moved by the display. Without another word, they raised their hands, and Emma¡¯s body was surrounded by a soft, golden light. Then, in a flash, she was gone, along with the goddesses.
In the days that followed, despair hung over the village like a shroud. The homes we had worked so hard to build were in ruins, and the survivors were left to grapple with their grief. Yet, amidst the devastation, I resolved to find a way forward. While searching through my collection of books¡ªgifts from Grillo¡ªI stumbled upon a dark leather-bound tome titled Mythos of the Tablet of Creation: Words of One Labeled Heretic. What I read within its pages shook me to my core. The Tablet of Creation wasn¡¯t an artifact, as I had thought, but a man¡ªa mortal who had been tricked by Illuma, the Goddess of Light, into becoming her eternal vessel. Branded with the Words of Creation, his body had become a living prison, his soul subjected to unimaginable torment. But he had escaped, and according to the book, he now roamed Yor. If I could find this man, perhaps he held the answers I sought. Answers on how to defy the gods, how to truly break their hold over this world. It was a faint hope, but it was all I had.
Elsewhere, in a rose-colored chamber, Emma lay in a bed of silk, her face peaceful as if in a deep slumber. At either side of her bed stood Eva and Tria. ¡°She¡¯s going to be furious when she wakes up,¡± Eva murmured, folding her arms. ¡°She¡¯ll understand,¡± Tria replied confidently. ¡°Once she sees that we¡¯ve saved her¡ªand him¡ªshe¡¯ll forgive us.¡± Eva sighed. ¡°You¡¯re sure about this?¡± Tria smiled faintly. ¡°Trust me, Eva. Fate always has a plan.¡± Eva rolled her eyes but smiled. ¡°Fine. But when this is all over, you owe me a girls¡¯ night.¡± ¡°Deal,¡± Tria said with a grin. Together, they turned their attention back to Emma, their resolve unwavering. Ch. 40: Who We Are. Re-edited. Here¡¯s something others may not understand¡ªI knew Emma¡¯s trait was broken, So I had to let the goddesses take her. It wasn¡¯t an easy decision, but it was the only way to save her. Her unique trait, Red String of Fate, was damaged in the battle, likely when she used it in a way it was never meant to be used¡ªoffensively. When she bound her body and soul to that devastating punch, the strain was too much, and it fractured the connection that tethered her to her physical form. Even with my [Soul Analyse], there was nothing I could do to fix it. It¡¯s not just a skill; it¡¯s part of who she is¡ªsomething tied to her very essence. Fixing it was beyond me. That¡¯s why, when the goddesses of Fate and Love offered to take her to their realms to repair it, I had no choice but to trust them. Arcway had warned me about this moment long ago in my dreams. The God of Dreams, who had shielded me since my rebirth, said I must not stop them. He foresaw a future where letting them take her was the only path where we¡¯d be together again after what was to come. As much as I hated relying on gods, I knew he wasn¡¯t wrong. I couldn¡¯t let my stubbornness be the reason I lost Emma forever. Still, it didn¡¯t make it easier. The thought of her being out of reach, out of my protection, gnawed at me. Here I was, a man who prided himself on standing strong, forced to admit I wasn¡¯t enough to keep her safe.
What parents and storytellers don¡¯t tell you about love is that it isn¡¯t all rainbows and sunshine. It¡¯s not just endless romance and happy endings. Love is messy, complicated, and sometimes painful. It demands sacrifices¡ªlike this one. Love makes you vulnerable, cracks you open, and leaves you raw. But it also makes you stronger because you have something, someone, worth fighting for. That¡¯s why I let Emma go. Not because I doubted her strength or my own, but because I couldn¡¯t risk losing her completely. If she¡¯d died, even if she returned as a ghost, it wouldn¡¯t have been the same. Her ghostly form would have been a constant reminder of my failure to protect her. Our future, our dreams, would have been ashes. Now, she¡¯s gone to their realms, where she can¡¯t die while they repair what was broken. I told myself I did this for her¡ªbut a part of me knows I also did it for me. Because I couldn¡¯t bear to lose her. What she won¡¯t see, though, is what I¡¯m about to do next. What I have to do. There will be blood and death, the likes of which this land has never known. And it will all be by my hand.
I allowed myself six hours of restless sleep before rising to set things in motion. With my [Life-Force Heal], I had stabilized all the injured, but the weight of our losses hung over the village like a cloud. Zotherg was gone, Argus was dead, and Emma... Emma was in the hands of the gods.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Grillo, ever the dependable old dwarf, had already prepared every wagon for departure. Our village would journey to the Dwarven Kingdom of Grannor. ¡°Grillo, are you sure they¡¯ll let everyone in?¡± I asked, my voice heavy with doubt. ¡°Of course, my boy. The king wouldn¡¯t dare offend a mythical-grade smith,¡± Grillo replied with a grin, puffing up his chest. ¡°The number of us who¡¯ve earned that rank can be counted on one hand.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Then it¡¯s good my ax evolving gave you that skill. Otherwise, we¡¯d be up a creek without a paddle.¡± Grillo waved off my concern, holding up the prototype Rune Armor Core we¡¯d made together. The small orange-sized device gleamed in the morning light. ¡°What we offer is more than enough. This little beauty alone will make the King of Grannor salivate like a kid in a sweet shop.¡± The core, though tiny, represented something revolutionary: a self-sustaining energy source for massive war machines. It was a testament to what we could achieve when combining elven and dwarven knowledge, and I trusted Grillo to use it to secure our people¡¯s safety. The elves, dwarves, and green elves would travel together to Grannor. As for me, my path led elsewhere¡ªto seek the crown, allies, and vengeance.
As I turned to leave, Grillo¡¯s firm hand clasped my shoulder. ¡°I see you¡¯ve got Argus¡¯s ax,¡± he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. I nodded. ¡°I do.¡± ¡°You tried to summon his soul, didn¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I admitted, frustration leaking into my voice. ¡°It didn¡¯t work.¡± Grillo sighed deeply. ¡°The boy didn¡¯t know, but I do¡ªthere¡¯s more of you in that ax than there was of him. You forged it, after all. You poured your heart into that weapon. It¡¯s not your fault, no matter how much you blame yourself.¡± ¡°Then whose fault is it?¡± I snapped, my voice cracking under the weight of my grief. ¡°You know who,¡± Grillo replied, his voice soft yet firm. ¡°You know exactly who.¡± I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms. ¡°Those damned abominable creatures that dare call themselves gods. Their brainwashed followers will wish for a slow death compared to what I¡¯ll bring them.¡± Grillo nodded, his eyes heavy with understanding. He didn¡¯t try to stop me as I turned and walked away, the weight of my resolve pressing down with every step.
As I trekked into the wilderness, Arcway¡¯s words lingered in my mind. The gods, he¡¯d told me, were not truly divine. ¡°God¡± was simply a title bestowed by the system upon a species of immortal, energy-based beings tasked with maintaining aspects of reality. Dreams, love, fate¡ªit didn¡¯t matter what their domain was. Their power was immense, yes, but they were not infallible. They were not invincible. Only the Creator was truly divine, the one who brought everything into existence from nothing. The other gods were just caretakers, bound by their roles and their limitations. They were beings of unimaginable power¡ªbut they could be defied. They could be defeated. If I could find the Elven Crown and the man known as the Tablet of Creation, I might uncover a way to strike back. A way to change the rules of this rigged game. I would avenge the friends and family I¡¯d lost. I would protect the people I still had. And one day, I would bring Emma home. No matter what it took.