《The curse》 Arc 1 : Chapter 0 The morning had dawned again foggy and cold, with crispness that hinted at the end of summer. Grogg Cellos looked at his men, a small army of sixty. His soldiers were gaunt, with fatigue weighting on their limbs. A sigh escaped his lips. He was pushing them hard, felt bad for it, but couldn¡¯t show any compassion in front of his men. He looked at them one last time, before turning his gaze forward and ordering them to resume walking in the mist. They had to advance. They had to keep advancing. They couldn¡¯t stop. Their destination was still very far away. His hands went into the grip of his trusted sword. It was the family heirloom of some gobathien noble he killed in a fight. That was one of the hardest fights he had in his youth. He shook his head. It wasn¡¯t the time for memories. He had men to lead. Fernart approached him with his horse in tow. He whispered in an almost inaudible voice, so that no soldier could hear. ¡°So what will we do now?¡± Grogg looked at him from the corner of his eye. Fernart was the second son of an upstart noble family. He lacked the arrogant nature the fallen nobles were known for. He was an amiable and attentive man of tall stature, but the skirmishes they faced at the border made him a bit colder, and this long march took away from him all of nobility¡¯s grace and elegance. His face had become haggard, his fiery hair unkempt, and his eyes red and swollen. ¡°We¡¯ll keep on marching forward.¡± Grogg responded with a similarly hushed voice. ¡°But it has been five days.¡± Fernart grumbled. ¡°Never did I hear of a mist this big anywhere close to here before. Those are supposed to appear after a month¡¯s travel! And look at these mountains around us! If I didn¡¯t know better I would say we¡¯re in the mist peaks!¡± His voice has grown a notch. Grogg sent him a glare, and said: ¡°Do you have any other options besides keeping on going forward? So what if we are in the mountains of mist? It only makes us lose a few weeks¡¯ travel, or is it that you¡¯re scared, soldier?¡± Those words struck home, as his comrade¡¯s face grew solemn. Grogg did his best to ignore him, wearing his impassive mask again. The breath of man and horse mingled, steaming, in the cold morning air as Fernart slowly opened his mouth. His voice was surprisingly calm: ¡°You understand what I mean. Aren¡¯t you feeling that pain in your head too?¡± Grogg kept his mouth shut, thinking deeply. His comrade took it as a sign to continue: ¡°I heard some soldiers yesterday. They were talking about how this land near the border shouldn¡¯t have any such mists. None of them can remember what around here should be like.¡± Grogg looked at his eyes. They were full of fear of the unknown. He looked then at his other side. Some rare violet flowers adorned their path. Nobody in this group knew what they were but him. Meriata. Those rare flowers could only grow in the misty peaks. He decided to stay silent about it, as it would only induce more panic. He looked back at Fernart. ¡°So, if we can¡¯t remember what this land should be like, should we stop advancing? We need to report to the king¡± They had to report to the king the tribes¡¯ situation. Fernart grew silent again. He furrowed his brows, deep in thinking. Grogg decided to cheer him up. ¡°What if we¡¯re in the misty peaks? We survived a fight against three hundred warriors last week. And it was eight times our numbers. There is nothing in those mountains that can even come close to threatening us¡ª¡° This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Fernart had stopped in his tracks, a look of utter panic on his face. He asked with ragged breath: ¡°How can we survive against an army eight times our numbers?¡± Grogg looked back, confused. His second continued: ¡°That battle seemed even between our side and theirs, so how could we hold our ground? I don¡¯t remember you using any complicated strategies.¡± Grogg lifted his hand, signaling his troops to stop. He frowned, looking over them. Forty soldiers. What his friend said made sense. How could they survive that battle? Something felt off, like a missing piece of puzzle. He tried remembering. Nothing. He tried harder, and his mind started throbbing, soon becoming a headache, the same one he felt whenever he thought about what this land should be. He could feel some missing chunks of information in his head. Should they stop advancing and look for the origin of this discrepancy? His thoughts became jumbled. He tried organizing his recent memories. He, with those thirty six loyal soldiers, had set out from the capital two months ago. They were to survey the lands in the south, as they had got reports of the warring tribes making alliances and approaching the south borders. The moment of their arrival, they had to face over three hundred warrior that were waiting for them. His men fought hard. Some of them died, but most survived. His headaches got harder. Something was missing. He ignored it. They had retreated, as he had gotten informations the king must definitively know. A question surged into his mind. What was that information? How did he get it? Panic took hold on him. He searched every cranny of his mind ignoring the worried look on Fernart¡¯s face. That information was the result of the lost lives of his men. He had to remember it. He had to bring it to the king. He heard again his comrade¡¯s voice. ¡°We must be overthinking. We have been lucky to have survived such a battle. And those barbarians were unorganized, so we must have exploited some weakness of theirs. In such a battle, even if they¡¯re ten times our numbers, there may have been a chance to turn tables on them.¡± They both knew that Fernart¡¯s words weren¡¯t realistic, it was nothing but comforting words to stop him for trying to remember, but Grogg was grateful that his friend was ready to swallow back his earlier worries just to stop him from suffering. The soldiers were looking his way. Some of them had the same pained expression he must be having at the moment. They may have been trying to remember too. He focused again. He had to remember. It was too vital. He tried to remember. What did he have to remember? He suddenly felt lost. He looked back at his men. Ten men, not enough to patrol the borders. Not even a noble to accompany him. He shook his head. Did the king send him on a suicide mission? How could he only notice now? He stood alone. His headaches grew stronger whenever he tried thinking. He shouted. He couldn¡¯t remember what he was doing here, alone, in the misty peaks. It was a dangerous place to enter alone. He looked around. Some weapons of all sizes were littered across the ground. Did a battle take place here? Yet there were no traces of blood or carnage¡­ His headaches grew again. He stopped thinking. A single thought surfaced in his mind, more important than his current situation: He had to advance. He had to keep advancing. He couldn¡¯t stop. His destination was still very far away. Arc 1 : Chapter 1 Born in the Cappard Sea, the wind blew east and crashed into the red-capped mountains that gave the land their name. Bran had set off in the very still silence of dawn, and now a sun without warmth was already high in the sky. Gusts plastered his shirt to his body, whipped his wool pants around his legs, streaming it out. Down it went, flailing into Terrowin, and into the small cliff overseeing it. The wind was carrying an icy chill, as summer was weeks ago gone. He looked at his coat. It had a big tear cutting it into almost two halves. He let out a cold sigh. He wished his shirt was a bit heavier, or that he had worn an extra shirt. He tucked his arms into his armpits. He felt a little foolish, and regret tugged at his heart. If he knew better, he wouldn¡¯t have fought that ice bear. He looked again at his ripped cloak. He was going to hear an earful about it once he got back home. No birds sang in the forest, no squirrels chittered from a branch. Not that he expected them, really. Not in the soon to be winter. His hand went into his pocket, from where he retrieved an old cloth. It was dirty, but it will do. He cleaned his short sword from the cold blood. He looked at his side. A big white furred mass was sprawled on the ground. He considered skinning it. Bear¡¯s fur might fetch enough money to treat Elea to something to eat. He frowned, and looked at the back of his hand. Numerous black tatoos were etched on his skin. A sad smile appeared on his face. He had to stop thinking about that. He abandoned his earlier idea of skinning the beast. His gaze wondered down the cliff. Terrowin was standing as proud as always. He could see some people going about near the wall. There were no farms around. This land wasn¡¯t fertile enough. He hardened his face, and went down the cliff. As he approached the Bourg, he saw some squabble near the gate. A stout man, with tanned skin, dark eyes, and a face garnered with unshaved stubble, was arguing with an armored man. Bran couldn¡¯t see his face because of the steel helmet, but he could recognize Sir Hadrin. He was a knight of the Bourg¡¯s lord. Bran had quite the liking to this man. His status didn¡¯t put him above mingling with commoners. Maybe it was because his lords¡¯ status wasn¡¯t high even among the lower nobles. Bran wasn¡¯t able of understanding the nobles¡¯ thoughts anymore. There was no difference between men because of birthrights. All of them were claimed by death all the same. He shook his head again. He had to stop those thought patterns. His close fifteenth birthday was bringing those ideas to his head again. If anything had to happen, it will happen, no use worrying about it now. The fat man was a merchant, or maybe just a peddler, seeing the carriage full of goods behind him. Merchants were very rare here. Terrowin wasn¡¯t a big enough economical center to have a steady flow of merchants. As he passed through the gate, Sir Hadrin glimpsed him, as he stopped paying attention to the wildly gesturing peddler. He sent a nod toward the boy. Bran did the same. He continued down the cobblestone road. His destination was the market fair. As he made way toward it, he let his gaze wonder. The Bourg was as peaceful as ever. The economic situation wasn¡¯t the best. Copper, the trademark of the Bourg, wasn¡¯t that valuable. But the majority was satisfied. He soon found himself at his destination. His eyes spotted old Will fast enough, as the old man almost never left his stable. He ignored the gazes that didn¡¯t leave him from the moment he entered the Bourg. ¡°Will, how¡¯s life doing for you? Not submitting to death yet?¡± Will looked back at him. The old man was a faded version of his son. Dull blue eyes, sagging leathery skin, a bald head with tufts of hair growing out of his ears, and a chin too weak to grow any beard. Will loved to stay in his stable, even after retirement. Bran had heard about the arguments the old man had with his son about that. ¡°So boy, quite rare to see ya here in town. Celek¡¯s in need of something?¡± Bran liked the man. He was blunt and always direct in his affairs. But he was still stifled as his earlier questions were ignored. He swallowed his pride and said: ¡°He wants to rent two horses. We¡¯ll bring them back in about two months. I¡¯ve got the money on me¡± ¡°Two months¡­ So finally leaving this backwater place? Well can¡¯t blame ya, young men these days want adventure as much as we wanted nice legs to warm our beds at night, back in the time. Or is it a girl for ya boy?¡± Bran again wondered if he would become as annoying once he got at that age. That was only if he survived till that age, he reminded himself again. He showed a strained smile, giving a level stare at five nearby men, thinking about the repercussions of Will¡¯s words if they ever got to the right ear¡­ Feeling a chill, he whispered to the old man: ¡°There¡¯s no way that¡¯s true, and you know that. Stop trying to make problems for me, Old man.¡± Will only smiled a knowing smile, staring deeply into Bran¡¯s eyes. Bran had garnered a lot of women¡¯s attention before, because of his eyes. They were an unusual mix of blue and green, changing color depending on the light. Now, no girl would approach him. His mood sank again as he thought about the reason. Will¡¯s crackling voice shook him from his reverie: ¡°Ya should be happy boy. Few have ever garnered a noble¡¯s daughter attention. And fewer also had the approval of the noble himself.¡± ¡°I know that. The matter is complicated.¡± Upon hearing these words, Will sent a glare at him. Bran turned his head, unable to keep up with his gaze. This old man may be fooling around at this age, but he was known through the Bourg for his valor and strength in his youth. He had heard from Elea that her grandfather once offered him knighthood, but the man refused it, babbling about how status will corrupt his family. Bran never understood how could Will not lose his head after saying such words. ¡°Things are never complicated, boy. Ya are making them complicated. If ya love the girl, just tell her. If not, ya are nothing more than a coward.¡± Bran could only smile weakly at these words, choosing to remain silent. The matter was really complicated. He looked at his surroundings. Will started talking again: ¡°Those are yer own matters, but better remember the advice of these old bones. But ya didn¡¯t tell me where ya¡¯ll be going for two months?¡± Bran was thankful for the old man for letting the matter go. Talking about Elea always made him anxious. As he mulled over a proper response, his gaze fell again on those four nearby men. They were discussing something, just like earlier. As he was about to sigh with relief, it dawned on him. Weren¡¯t they five earlier? As he frowned in thought, he clearly saw a look of amusement flash through Will¡¯s face. He whipped his head around, glared at the old man and said, his voice seething with cold anger: ¡°Old bones, stop losing my time. If you¡¯re not giving me the horses, I¡¯ll take them myself.¡± He forcibly handed his a pouch of coins Celek had given him in the morning. Without waiting for a response, he strode forward into the stable. Will¡¯s voice was heard again, this time with amusement clear in it: ¡°Boy, your noble girl is coming for ya! ¡° As Bran turned his head, he saw the missing fifth man joining his friends. And then he noticed Eleanor walking slowly toward him. The boy¡¯s eyes were drawn by her figure instantaneously. Her hair was a rich shade of fiery red; it flowed in waves to adorn her mildly tanned skin. Her eyes were a bright azure blue. Her high cheekbones were in perfect harmony with her straight nose, making her look as if chiseled by a master in carving. He stopped the smile he was about to show, and adopted an impassive face. Her gaze wavered a little as she felt his cold indifferent gaze, but she didn¡¯t falter while stepping into the stable. Bran felt a pang of guilt in his heart. As she came up to him, he got a full view of her small but firm muscles. Bran was very tall for a soon to be fifteen years old boy, but Elea still came up to his nose. Her body was strong, as she was always trained by Sir Hadrin. Her lips parted as she slowly said, her gaze never leaving his: ¡°I heard you¡¯ll be leaving for months. What is it about?¡± He had expected it. He looked at the old man, who was grinning like a fool. He felt anger seeping into him. The two were accomplices. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.¡°I wonder what your father would think if he heard you are eavesdropping.¡± His words came out colder than he expected. She at least had the decency to blush. As crimson started to creep into her face and neck, he felt his body shuddering. In his past, he had seen many women with beauties that outstripped the divine, but all this girl¡¯s small reactions were affecting him in more than a way. He had already understood a year ago that his love for her wasn¡¯t fake. In a softer voice he said, not giving her the chance to respond: ¡°Let¡¯s talk in another place¡± He eyed Will from the corner of his eyes. The old fool waved back at him. He was only in control of the conversation at the moment because she had showed a small weakness. Elea was going to get her composure back soon, and she would be toying with him then. He wasn¡¯t about to let anyone see the sight. He had heard many rumors in the last months about him being her whore. Elea blinked her eyes. A look of realization appeared on her face as she looked at Will. His grin threatened of splitting his face into halves. She looked back at Bran, her lips morphing into a sly smile. Bran shuddered again. He hadn¡¯t wanted to meet her today. He had many errands to do. He cursed under his breath. He had to stop lying at himself. He knew he was scared of meeting her. He didn¡¯t want to give her farewells, when he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯ll be alive after two months. She held his hand in a tight grip, and she started taking him along out of the market fair. He heard whistles and some dirty jokes as they made their way through a mass of people. Bran looked at Elea. Her wide smile was as charming as ever. They soon entered a maze of alleys, until they made it into a dead end. He looked around. The walls were devoid of windows. He sighed. Just what had she been doing to find such a place? She let go of his hand. He looked back at her. She was standing close to him, looking up at his face, her gaze fixing him in place. He started: ¡°You shouldn¡¯t eavesdrop aga¡ª¡° He couldn¡¯t finish his words, as her lips suddenly rested on his. His mind stopped for a second, uncomprehending, before going at full throttle. As her tongue forced its way into his mouth, his stiffened body relaxed again. He knew this action was wrong. He tried to tear away from her, but his body felt unusually weak. He knew she would only be hurt in the end, but he couldn¡¯t stop her. He loved her, and looking into her misty, dreamy eyes, he understood she felt the same. Their lips parted for a moment, only to repeat the same process again. He knew this act was irresponsible, immature, but his body and mind couldn¡¯t follow the voice of reason in his head. Their tongues invaded each other¡¯s mouth. He felt her big front teeth and shared in the taste of her saliva. Eleanor put her arms around his neck, and kissed him with more hunger and fervor. Bran felt his body shudder. He wanted her very badly. He pulled away for the kiss, a line of saliva trailing between their lips. Elea looked at his lips, her azure eyes full of longing, and then she looked at his eyes, the confusion in her eyes betraying the questions in her mind. Bran inhaled deeply to steady his breathing, and said: ¡°Elea, let¡¯s stop here. This isn¡¯t prop¡ª¡° He felt his heart react as she once again sealed his lips. Not a thump, exactly. Not even a leap. But a kind of swish, like a frog kicking off from a muddy bank. His mind was moving between three emotions: excitement, fear and guilt. Elea tugged his black hair, holding his head still, as her tongue swirled inside his mouth. All sounds stopped reaching his ears, as she and her movements became his only focus. Her free hand took hold of his jaw, and her body pressed on his own. As she took a second to catch her breath, he unconsciously pulled her hard against him and kissed her back. Her eyes showed joy, contentment and excitement. He closed his eyes. She groaned softly, low in his throat, and then his arms circled her. All they knew is that no one existed around them. He felt her moist lips tugging on his own. He felt a faint throbbing in the black tatoos etched on the skin of his body. His eyes snapped open. All his senses came back, and he looked up, pulling away from the kiss. A small boulder was falling right on top of them. It was mere moments before they would be crushed. He tightened his hold on Elea¡¯s body, and twisted his own, rolling out of the boulder range. The girl was staring at his face wide eyed, then she looked at the big piece of stones. Her gaze settled on him again, and she pushed some of his hair locks out of his face. He felt something warm trickling from his face. Seeing the horror filled look on her face, that slowly morphed into a sad one as she looked at him, he understood that it must be blood. He held her hand in his and said in a reassuring voice: ¡°It¡¯s just rubble, don¡¯t worry about it.¡± She used her free hand to touch his cheek, slowly. Then she pushed him off her and stood up unsteadily. Bran was already used to her being unpredictable. He stood up in turn, dusting off his clothes. He looked at the boulder. It was made of red stone, and looked like a piece of something bigger. He sighed and looked up. The top corner of one of the walls surrounding them was broken. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen someone as unlucky as you Bran. How many accidents has it been now? Five? Look, your coat got ripped. Celek will definitively be angry.¡± He cursed under his breath. If it was only five, his life wouldn¡¯t be so crappy. He looked again at Elea. She was looking at the coat he had flung on his shoulder with her smiling face. Her eyes contained a hint of worry. He sighed again. She had only now noticed his coat. ¡°I came across an ice bear this morning. It wouldn¡¯t leave me alone so I killed it. The coat paid the price though.¡± Her eyes widened a little. She hung her head and took a deep breath. ¡°You are too much! How can someone be so unlucky! Our best hunters kept tracking him for a month, without avail, and you just come and meet him?!¡± Her outburst surprised him a little. Nobody knew better than him how unlucky he was. It was as if the world wanted to kill him off. ¡°Anyway, what was that about being away for two months?¡± A sigh escaped his lips. It was foolish to hope she would forget about that. She rested her hand on his chest. ¡°Celek wants to go to the capital. He got something to do there.¡± She narrowed her eyes, her left hand brushed his cheek, and with her right hand she started to feel the muscles of his chest. All the tension in his body faded, and he felt limp in her arms. ¡°Why would Celek ever need to take you to the capital? Doesn¡¯t he always leave you when he travels?¡± He opened his mouth to tell her the truth, but he stopped. He never understood how she could control him this way. He summoned all his willpower and said: ¡°He wants to see if I can learn magic¡± He didn¡¯t lie; it was the truth, or at least part of it. He looked at her lips. After that earlier, he was carving of more from her. He almost bent down to kiss her. She noticed her gaze, and made a sly smile again, her azure eyes deeply burrowing into his. She brushed her lips against his, pulling back right away. She then said: ¡°Why can¡¯t you just learn here? We got a priest of Azelf; he can teach you all you need¡° She gave him a light, chaste kiss on the lips, unlike what she usually do, and whispered into his ear: ¡°Your birthday is in a month and half. I want to spend it with you. While Celek is gone, you can come live in our manor. My lord father allowed it.¡± ¡°I will never learn gods¡¯ magic. The matter is complicated. I mean, there¡¯s someone who¡¯ll be coming from far away to teach me another branch of magic. I really have to go.¡± He hung his head in apology. She stared at his face, fully engrossed into the mixture of colors in his eyes. After some time, she said: ¡°I want to see the capital too, so I will go with you¡± ________________________________ A/N: I know a lot of readers will be cursing me as I made a lazy job, as the chapter only had 3000 word... in my defense I say I was planning on a 8000 word chapter, but then I noticed this fic got its first review! and it was a positive one! so I couldn''t stop myself and posted what I had already written... ANYWAY I''ll make the next chapter a 6000 word chapter AT LEAST! I PROMISE! Arc 1 : Chapter 2 ¡°I want to see the capital too, so I will go with you¡± Bran blinked his eyes and said in a stupid voice: ¡°Uh? What? Why?¡± Elea pulled away from him, twirled, and said: ¡°I¡¯ve never went farther than Faebwin. I want to see the world too¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t it dangerous? What if something happens to you?¡± She looked at him suspiciously. ¡°Why are you so adamant about me going? Nothing can ever happen to me with Celek there.¡± She got closer to him again, and peered into his eyes: ¡°Are you going to meet someone there you don¡¯t want me to see?¡± She took the slight widening of his eyes as confirmation. With a slightly trembling voice, and a sad look in her eyes, she whispered in a barely audible voice: ¡°Is it a girl¡­?¡± He sighed. He couldn¡¯t know if she was acting or genuinely sad at the moment. One thing he was sure about was that she was always able to control him easily. He resisted the urge to hug her. If he did that, he wasn¡¯t sure if he could stop her from dragging all informations from him. ¡°It¡¯s not a girl¡± She wrapped her hands around his neck and said: ¡°Why? Why don¡¯t you want me to go with you? Why do you never tell me anything about you?¡± He remained silent. She looked at him again, put her arms behind her back, and took some steps back. Her barely audible voice could still reach his ears: ¡°Why do you never trust me?¡± He opened his mouth, and closed it again. He didn¡¯t know if she was acting or not. She slowly turned, and with wobbly first steps, started leaving. His hand caught her. Words, all his consciousness wanted to stuff into his throat, started spilling from his throat: ¡°Elea stop. You can come with us. I can¡¯t tell you what all this is about, but I will definitively tell you when the right time comes¡± She turned again toward him, a smile slowly blossoming on her face. He really couldn¡¯t tell if all of that was really an act. She lightly kissed his lips. He didn¡¯t put any resistance. She wrapped her hands round his neck, and pushed his back against the wall. He closed his eyes. She hungrily kissed him. --------------------------------------------------- As he tried to catch his breath, she showed him a bright smile. As his breathing calmed down, he said to her: ¡°I¡¯ll need to get horses first before going¡± She immediately averted her gaze, trying not to meet his eyes. He knew by experience, trouble was coming. ¡°You see¡­ I want you to ask my lord father to let me go with you¡­¡± The palm of his hand found its way to his face. How couldn¡¯t he think of that? Her kiss had messed up with his mind, which must be why. Couldn¡¯t he have used her father as argument to stop her from going? He cursed his stupidity. Now he had to deal with the lord. He felt a headache coming. This family was very troublesome. ¡°Why can¡¯t you ask him yourself?¡± She looked at him again and showed a sweet smile. Her answer came almost cheerful: ¡°I don¡¯t know why, but he always listens to you. He¡¯ll easily accepts if you ask¡± Bran sighed. The matter was more complicated than that. He hoped her father would refuse. He said in a defeated voice: ¡°Let¡¯s go¡± He started walking out of the dead alley, before stopping and looking around him. He could only see red walls. He turned toward her, and with a sign of hand, he told her to lead the way. As she bypassed him, her hand found her way into his, and her fingers intertwined with his. The earlier kiss had made him too weak to try resisting. As she traced her footsteps in the alleys, he remembered the fated day when she had just suddenly faced him and confessed her love to him. He stifled a chuckle, thinking about that time. She looked at him questioningly, but shrugged it off when Bran shook his head. At that time, he wasn¡¯t prepared to love or care about anyone. Other gloomier things were taking up his mind. He looked up at the blue sky. His thoughts of then were almost like what he was feeling now. He really couldn¡¯t let her come with him. They soon left the alley. Bran was greeted by the buzzing of people. Their number had increased, compared to earlier in the morning. As Elea guided him toward the east of the Bourg, he could feel the glare of some young men on his back. Terrowin was, unlike other cities, a place where the rich and the commoner were the closest in status, but there were still some differences between them. All rich young men coveted Eleanor, as she was an easy way to nobility. Bran, to them, was no more than a dog¡¯s shit that the lord weirdly dotes on. He felt Elea tightening her grip on his hand. They soon made it to the lord¡¯s manor. It was mostly made from the same red stones as all buildings in the Bourg. Occupying a large perimeter compared to everything else in Terrowin, it was a three stories high house, which was pretty small, compared to other houses. Lands¡¯ prices were rising, and commoners, not able to afford a large land, built houses five stories tall. The roof that was slightly inclined downward in both sides was entirely made of white tiles, which were very rare and expensive in this place. They were a mixture of white marble treated with magic and dough silver, adding shine to it. The nearby houses were all clustered together, giving the manor some space. He could see small gardens and a stable at the back of the house. It was underwhelming, for a noble¡¯s house, in Bran¡¯s eyes. Most nobles were very extravagant in proclaiming their status and superiority in everything of theirs. Lord Terrin wasn¡¯t the type to squander money on trivialities. Elea led him forward. Some gardeners and servants greeted them. He only gave them a simple nod back. Contrarily, she greeted each of them by name, a warm look in her eyes. She lightly tugged his hand and whispered in his ear: ¡°Next time you come here, if you don¡¯t want me to kiss you here openly, you should start greeting them properly¡± Her tongue furtively licked the corner of his ear. He flinched, and looked around. Quite a few servants were smirking, looking at them. He could see a minority glaring at him. He didn¡¯t care. An old man dressed in a loose white robe came out to greet them. His mouth, framed by a grey beard, smiled as his gaze settled on Eleanor. As he looked at Bran in turn, his face became an impassive mask, but his eyes betrayed a hint of suspicion. He must have thought he was betraying no emotion, but Bran was the best one in the Bourg in reading emotions. He slightly bowed. ¡°Welcome, mistress¡± He simply nodded toward Bran. Elea smiled toward him: ¡°I want to talk to lord father. Lead us there¡± ¡°No can do. The lord is working now, and wouldn¡¯t welcome anyone outside the family right now. Those were his direct orders¡± She frowned, looking at him. She couldn¡¯t go against her father¡¯s orders. Bran struggled to hide his happiness. As long as they wouldn¡¯t meet her father, she wouldn¡¯t be able to come with him. He would only have to tell her he was in a rush, and she would be stuck here. Elea looked back at the old man, and said in a forceful manner: ¡°Bran is already part of the family. Soon he will be my wife¡± The old man stifled a laugh, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. Bran flinched, and turned to glare at Elea. He understood now. She must have been the origin of the weird rumors about him. He hoped such rumors would never reach Celek. The man would definitively keep laughing at him till the end of time. The girl showed a sweet, very sweet smile, which slowly morphed into a predator smile. His instinct kicked in. He knew that smile. She was considering kissing him right there. He tried to get a bit farther of her, but her hand grasping his didn¡¯t let him. He had to escape. He couldn¡¯t suffer anymore humiliation. The old man, as if noticing something too, said: ¡°No can do. He is still not part of the family. The lord¡¯s orders are absolu¡ª¡° A steel arm settled on his shoulder. The old man turned to look behind his back, and bowed his head in respect. A man covered in steel armor but the head came in view. In his free hand, he carried a steel helmet. His face seemed sculpted from marble. A slightly crooked nose, cold hard black eyes and dark black curly hair. He seemed in his forties. His tall stature made him tower over all of them. ¡°Hadrin! Tell him Bran can come too¡± The knight looked at her and Bran, then ushered them to come. The old man looked at them in confusion, and cried out: ¡°But the lord¡¯s orders are c¡ª¡° Sir Hadrin cold voice interrupted him: ¡°From now on, you would let this young man meet the lord without the need of any appointment, no matter the time. He is free to come and go as he pleases in the manor. He would have the same respect you would give to an honorary guest. Those are the lord¡¯s new orders¡± The old man still looked unconvinced, but he still complied, bowing deeply and taking his leave. Elea looked at them confused. It was very unlikely for her father to do that, even for a fellow noble. She shrugged it off. She was thankful enough that Bran would go with her, and she knew when the time was right for asking questions. She sent him a very sweet, a way too sweet smile. He gritted his teeth. Yes, she would only ask questions after she made his knees wobbly from kissing. He cursed his body and mind for being so easily affected by her. As they were walking, she lifted the hand she was grabbing, and gently started kissing it. He sighed. The girl was too much. Why was she so into kissing? He never understood. As the knight led them into the main hall, he never said a single word, nor looked at them. Elea glanced at him, and said: ¡°Hadrin, when did you come back? I thought father sent you some important matter¡± The knight glanced at her, and after a little hesitation, he said in his cold voice: ¡°The matter was already resolved. I had an important report to the lord, so I came back earlier than expected¡± Bran looked at them in turn. The rules here were quite lax. Was it alright to tell her that? She was the lord¡¯s daughter, right, but she was just slightly older than fifteen. She had to start being initiated in the matters of land managing and proper etiquette, and should stay away from really important matter. He sighed. In this house, they did everything in backward manner. Elea was looking at him. As he tilted his head questioningly, she looked at the knight and said: ¡°Was that order earlier about Bran real? I can¡¯t remember lord father doing that to anyone before¡± ¡°It is real. He saw you from the window, and interrupted me in my report just to relay that order¡± ¡°Well, lord father was always acting weirdly toward Bran. And Bran is Celek¡¯s disciple; of course he would be treated with the utmost respect. And¡­ ¡°A light red covered her face and neck ¡°And he would be my wife soon¡­¡± Sir Hadrin turned and looked at Elea. She squirmed at his gaze. Trying to joke with him was like trying to fill a pit of sand with water. The knight looked at Bran and said in his icy voice: ¡°Celek deserve the utmost respect. His real worth and strength can only be known by the greatest warriors in the world. But you wouldn¡¯t get this much respect just because of that. Being his disciple doesn¡¯t mean much¡± He looked at Bran¡¯s green and blue colored eyes¡± Even being part of his family doesn¡¯t mean much.¡± Elea cocked her head. ¡°Are they family related? They don¡¯t look the same at all!¡± Bran was starting to get annoyed. They were outright ignoring him. ¡°They don¡¯t look the same, but both of them have a mixture of two colors in their eyes, I¡¯ve never heard of any magic doing that¡± A pair of hands suddenly caught Bran¡¯s head. Holding him in place, Elea peered into his eyes. From an angle, they looked green, an unusual sort of green. From another angle, they looked blue. ¡°Your words are correct. They¡¯re both very strange. So something in them must have piqued up my lord father¡¯s interest. Their strength maybe¡± ¡°You are wrong here. True, Celek¡¯s strength is something normal warriors like me will never be able to understand. The man is an absolute monster. He is bordering the divine. But the lord never cared much about strength. He shouldn¡¯t care much about this young man being Celek¡¯s disciple¡± They reached the main hall. Rows of tables stretched in a long line. The knight turned left. They both followed him. Bran knew where they were going. The lord¡¯s study. The boy was quite stifled by their attitude. Couldn¡¯t they just ask him and be done with it? True, he never told them anything, even if they asked, but he definitively hated being ignored this way. The knight opened his mouth again: ¡°This young man is hiding too much. Why would someone of Celek¡¯s strength settle in a desolate place like this land?¡± Because this land is a desolate place, that was why. Bran smiled wryly. They reached the study. The knight knocked at the door, dropping the earlier conversation with Elea. A light voice responded, ushering them to enter. Bran reached out for the knob of the door. Before entering, he turned his face and said: ¡°Celek is my uncle¡± He looked forward and entered the study, ignoring their surprised expressions. The Lord looked a lot like his daughter, only his skin was white, as he didn¡¯t need to do anything under sunlight. His eyes were a penetrating azure blue, and his hair was a fiery wavy mess. He looked just a slight bit gaunt, but he was good looking overall. He was rumored to be very handsome in his youth, but the death of his wife left him scared, and he neglected his appearance. Bran clicked his tongue softly. If the result of such a neglecting was such a good looking man, just how handsome was he in his youth? ¡°My lord¡± The lord smiled at them, and his smile got an unnoticeable bit wider as he looked at Elea¡¯s and Bran¡¯s fingers that had intertwined again. ¡°Hadrin, thank you. Bran, you can sit. Be at ease¡± With his hand, he ushered Bran to sit on a chair. He looked at Elea, who naturally sat near the boy, and then motioned at the knight. Sir Hadrin immediately stood straighter and started: Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°My lord, as I was saying earlier, there are some sightings of the southern tribes in the borders. I asked all the nearby villages, and there were no troops of the king passing to look into the borders¡± ¡°You mean that his majesty is taking no action?¡± The lord frowned ¡°That should not possible. From what it seemed to me, his majesty values this kingdom more than anything. He wouldn¡¯t leave such matter unattended.¡± Numerous thoughts swirled in Bran¡¯s head. Was it really okay to let him hear such important talk? And the King¡­ will he really do nothing? The southern tribes were known for their barbary acts. It would be disaster if they entered the kingdom. He looked at the girl sitting right next to him. She was staring at her father. He knew she was gobbling all the information she could. It was rare for her father to include her in such talks. The lord turned toward Bran. ¡°What do you think his majesty will do, Bran?¡± Bran could see the knight widening his eyes, and Elea¡¯s head whipped around to stare at him. ¡°I have no knowledge about these matters. Nonetheless, I think the king is planning something¡± The lord sighed in dejection. The knight expression returned to normal. Bran understood his answer and act were perfect. He resented the lord though. Why was he asking him in front of them? He was as annoying as ever. Elea was still looking at him. Her eyes were full of suspicion. ¡°We¡¯ll continue this matter later, Hadrin. What I¡¯m curious about, is what Bran wants of me. You always avoid my home like a plague. I¡¯m almost hurt¡± The lord¡¯s smile was bright, too bright. Bran always felt uneasy around him. This man knew too much about him. Else, he wouldn¡¯t have allowed his relationship with his daughter. Bran sighed. The lord didn¡¯t know all about him though. If he knew, he would have treated this love as the greatest disaster. The boy looked at Elea. She was staring back at him. They remained silent for a moment, each waiting for the other to start. He could see the knight starting to frown in impatience. Elea smacked, then licked her lips. Bran¡¯s body shuddered. He didn¡¯t know what it exactly meant, but he knew it was a threat. And the kind of threat he was weak against. He gave in and said in a defeated voice: ¡°Celek and I are going to the capital. We¡¯ll remain there for two months. Elea wants to come with us¡± The girl glared at him. He outright grinned. He couldn¡¯t cower from her forever. Was she expecting he¡¯ll make it look like he was the one wanting her to be with him? The lord arched a brow at their fast exchange, and then shrugged it off. His voice came almost indifferent: ¡°She can go. I had reports yesterday of masses of feral beasts running from the east. It isn¡¯t safe outside cities anymore. Hadrin will be going with you¡± Elea panicked and started: ¡°But father, why ¨C¡° ¡°No matter how many beasts, Celek can never be defeated, my lord. His strength is unheard of. If something can kill him, then my presence there will be of no matter¡± The girl looked at the knight and gave him a grateful nod. He showed a small smile. The lord seemed impressed. He turned to look back at Bran: ¡°Do you think harm will touch my daughter in this trip?¡± Bran immediately answered: ¡°This trip can be very dangerous. Even if Celek is strong, there can be unpredictable circumstances. I believe Elea would be safer if she remain here. I don¡¯t want anything to happen to her¡± Bran hoped the lord would understand the subtle meaning. Elea was glaring venom at him. Lord Terrin smiled and said: ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about her if she is escorted by someone who killed an ice bear¡± Bran widened his eyes. This fox had understood his meaning, yet didn¡¯t give him any leeway to leave her! But how did he know he killed that bear? Noticing his confused gaze, the knight said: ¡°Some woodcutters found the bear¡¯s body still fresh just a little later after you entered Terrowin. It made quite the commotion. Only you, Celek and I can kill it on our own¡± Bran groaned. He couldn¡¯t stop her now. The lord said: ¡°You can take horses from my stable. But a trip to the capital¡­ is it in order to meet him?¡± Bran ignored the confusion on the faces of Elea and Sir Hadrin, and answered immediately: ¡°No it isn¡¯t. I and Celek are grateful for your generosity. The horses will be returned with no harm. I shall take my leave¡± He stood up, not waiting for a response. Elea hurriedly followed him. The knight stood confused, not understanding Bran¡¯s attitude. ---------------------------------------------------- Bran walked down the stairs as he made way toward the backdoor of the manor. He had played sometimes in the manor with Elea in his youth, and he could find his way easily. He was grateful for Elea¡¯s silence. He was angry, and afraid he would lash at her. It was all because of that damned Terrin. He hated him. The lord had no bad intentions, but he still hated him. He always reminded him of memories he didn¡¯t want to talk about. Why did he ask about that earlier? The man was always fooling around, and creating trouble for him. Elea reached out and held his hand. He wanted to shake her off, but she didn¡¯t let go. He turned and glared at her. She just stood there, fixing him with her eyes, unflinching. She didn¡¯t ask him any questions. She just held his hand more tightly. He felt like screaming at her, telling her to scram, but he stopped himself. He had just been disrespectful to her father, and she asked him no questions, just stood with him. Her free hand reached out, and she hugged him. It was an awkward hug, free of the usual lust overflowing from her. He just kept standing like a fool, not knowing how to react. His anger at her father calmed down. His thoughts went to the most important matter. He had to push her away. Even if it was going to hurt her, he had to do it. No matter what, she couldn¡¯t go with them. Nobody could go with them in this trip. He knew this time it would be again many times harder than three years ago. He cursed himself. If he had enough willpower, he would have stopped this relationship from starting a year ago. He knew there was no future that could be built with him. All that awaited him and everybody close to him was death. There was no escape. His only protection, Celek, in some years won¡¯t be enough. The lord didn¡¯t know what really awaited him in this trip. All people that knew left him in the end. All but Celek. Seeing his lack of reaction, she slowly pulled herself away from him. Her smile held a bit of sadness. He thought hard. Should he put a stop to everything now? Looking at her eyes, he knew he couldn¡¯t do it. He sighed. He would ask Celek about a solution later. He was too tired. He reached out and held her hand. His other hand went to her head. He pulled her closer to him. She puckered her lips, waiting for a kiss. He kissed her forehead, and started pulling her toward the stable. Some servants had seen all this, but he cared not. He ignored Elea, who stared at him with mixed feelings. She had been expecting him to kiss her, but he wasn¡¯t going to do that. For now, at least. He had to survive his upcoming tribulation first. As if she had read his thoughts, her mouth morphed into her usual smile, and while walking, she kissed the tips of his fingertips. He smiled back at her. ¡°Sorry for earlier¡± She shook her head and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. He wished she was always this compliant. It would make things easier for them. He heard a coughing behind him. He whirled around, pushing her behind his back, and his hand found its way toward his sword. It was Sir Hadrin. Bran never understood how the man could move without making sound while wearing such armor. He and Celek never lost time training on heavy armor, or armor all together. His mentor¡¯s philosophy was deeply ingrained within the boy. If something was weak enough to be stopped by armor, then you should be able to defeat it without armor. If something was strong enough to disregard armor, then it would kill you in one strike, with or without armor. Bran knew this line of thought had many shortcomings, but to someone as unlucky as him, forgoing his mobility would be fatal. ¡°I¡¯m here to tell the groom to give you the horses. And don¡¯t get so intimate publicly¡± Bran couldn¡¯t hide his surprise seeing Elea blush. She wasn¡¯t the type to care about people seeing them. He then realized. The knight was her mentor. As Bran was trained by Celek too, he could understand. The knight started walking, not expecting a response. Bran and Elea walked in tow. She was still hanging her head down, hoping her hair would hide her face. The boy smiled. As they made it to the backdoor, the knight ordered a servant to prepare three strong horses. ¡°Bran¡± The boy looked at him. It was the first time he called him by his name. The knight was smiling. ¡°While the horses are being prepared, want to have a spar with me?¡± ---------------------------------------------------------- Theodore sighed. He looked at his pad. Ten minutes were left. As each second passed, he grew more frustrated. He looked at the front tables. Maya was acting like an honor student as always. She looked interested in the shit the teacher was saying even in the last minutes of the school year. He looked again at his pad. Only ten seconds had passed. He grew angry. He hated school. It was a loss of time. He wanted to be in his pod, at home. As he looked up from his desk, he saw the teacher staring at him. He wondered if he should act like he gave a fuck. It was tiring to act that way. He shrugged it off. He looked at his pad. Nine minutes were left. This wasn¡¯t going to end. He decided to sleep. As he closed his eyes and put his head on his desk, his thoughts couldn¡¯t calm down. He sat up again. He looked at his pad. Twenty seconds had passed. He thought of Eduard. His friend had asked him this morning to join him in playing Origin. He didn¡¯t know what to do. The game was definitively interesting, but it was lacking many aspects other existing virtual realities had. No level system. No story line till now. And the pain settings were at 100%. He would have never heard of Origin, if not for his friend. It was one of the most ignored games. It had garnered the attention of quite a few hardcore gamers, but that was it. In front of the huge amount of diverse virtual realities, it seemed like nothing. Theodore had played many virtual online games. He wasn¡¯t the best, but he still had a high amount of success in all of them. He was quite bored now with usual games, but he still didn¡¯t want to start that game. He had lived a life free of pains, so why would he go seek it on his own? He didn¡¯t know what to do. Eduard was a very good friend to him. He owed him too much. He could start playing Origin just to please him, but it just didn¡¯t feel right. The game was mostly centered on player killing, as in game, monsters were quite rare. He didn¡¯t hate that kind of setting, but it felt bland. Who wouldn¡¯t want to fight with mystical monsters in a game? He had also heard about the highly realistic AI and monsters. Being as humanlike for an AI and being intelligent for a monster was good, but who would want to play a game where monsters didn¡¯t respawn, and where questgivers could die a definite death? He sighed. The game was good, but it was lacking, definitively lacking. Some people liked that touch of realism, but to him, as to most people, that kind of games wasn¡¯t that enticing. He looked again at his pad. Nine. Eight. He felt a surge of joy. Only a few seconds before the end of the year. He grabbed his pad. Only one second left. He looked up. He and all the students heard a ringing. The teacher stopped talking, and after bidding them goodbye, they all stood up. Theodore wasted no time. His pad was already in his hand. He walked toward the door. A girl came up to him, opening her mouth, meaning to talk. He remembered her name, she was Mia. He could see a guy and two other girls with the corners of his eyes. They were standing a slight bit farther behind her. They were her friends. He ignored them, continuing on his path toward the sliding door. One of the girls called up to him. Fuck, he had to deal with them now. He didn¡¯t hate them, but they were sure annoying, like all people here. He turned toward them, and did a poor job at forcing a smile. The guy started: ¡°We¡¯re having a party in the afternoon. Wanna come?¡± Theodore looked at them, and then looked at Mia. She was obviously uneasy under his gaze. She was probably the one who came up with the idea of inviting him. He had made it clear to everyone else he wasn¡¯t interested in any social activity. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ll be a bit busy. Some other time maybe¡± The guy didn¡¯t look surprised in the slightest. He gave up. Theodore turned to leave. He heard a faint voice calling to him. It was Mia¡¯s voice. Mia Stanford, she was one meter seventy something. Blond hair, brown eyes and a kind personality, a bit shy though, she was a really desired girl. He didn¡¯t know what made her like him. He felt nothing for her though. ¡°Can I add your number to my pad? To call you if any other party arises¡± He felt bad for thinking about rejecting this demand. He sighed and gave her his number. It wouldn¡¯t hurt, probably. If she ever started to annoy him with endless messages, he¡¯ll be direct with her. They just weren¡¯t suited for each other. She smiled at him, and looked happily at her newly added number in her pad. He bid her goodbye, and before she had time to stop again, he went through the door, and disappeared in the elevator. He had to consider whether he¡¯ll start playing Origin in these holidays. ------------------------------------------- A/N: So surprise! Now you can know why I added a virtual reality tag. And I want to ask all bored readers that are willing to, to give a fitting description for this story to put in the main page. Arc 1 : Chapter 3 Theodore looked at the setting sun. His feet didn¡¯t stop walking. School was averagely close to his home. A half an hour¡¯s walk. His thoughts couldn¡¯t stop whirling around Origin. It seemed like an interesting game, but from what he heard from his friend about it, it was doomed to become boring after a while. Theodore wondered about what to pass time with once he got home. His life had become boring lately. It was partially due to him losing interest in everything, as all started being boring. He considered for a moment, and then decided to visit his friend Eduard. He was living close to his house. Eduard should be already home. They weren¡¯t in the same school, as Theodore had opted for the farther high school from his house. He had wanted to be in an environment where no one knew him. He preferred not interacting much with his peers. They were just too different. Talking with them was training in futility. He stopped walking. He had already reached his destination. He showed a genuine smile, and ringed the bell. He heard a groan, and the sound of footsteps as someone made way toward the door. As it opened, an annoyed face came into view: ¡°Theodore, what the hell do you want? I¡¯m busy here¡± Eduard was an odd fellow. He could do anything, be it sports, games or studies, but excelled in nothing. The word ¡®normal¡¯ could fit nobody better in the world. He was so normal that it was weird and creepy. He had short, curly brown hair, brown eyes, and average height. From the look on his face, Theodore was clearly unwelcome. ¡°You won¡¯t let me inside? I was just bored and wanted to have a chat with you¡± He saw Eduard¡¯s brows furrowing in thought, annoyance not leaving his face. ¡°Why are you even hesitating about it? Shouldn¡¯t you be happy to have your friend at your house?¡± Eduard glared at him, and said: ¡°You always choose the wrong time to come. Theodore, leave this to some other time¡± Eduard shut the door. Theodore¡¯s smile got even wider. His friend was really starting to get annoyed by his antics. His hand went for the bell, again, again, and again. The door opened again. Eduard¡¯s head appeared again. ¡°What do you exactly ¡­? Fuck, just go inside¡± He opened the door completely, and Theodore went inside, bypassing a glaring Eduard. His friend was living alone in a two stories house. He was the only child of parents who spent all their time travelling around the world. He felt slightly envious, thinking of Charles and Chloe. Why were they able to have so much fun around the world? He then wondered how those two oddballs could have such a normal son. True, he was so normal that it became abnormal, but such normalcy shouldn¡¯t be found in the offspring of those two. Eduard closed the door and started walking toward the living room. The house was as tidy as always. Loyal as always to his normalcy, Theodore¡¯s friend was also good at tidying the house, but wasn¡¯t abnormally good at it. He really couldn¡¯t be the offspring of those two. A thought then struck him. If Eduard really liked Origin, a VRMMORPG no normal person would like, then there was no way he would be a normal person¡­ Theodore felt like he had been living in an illusion till now. All their friendship was built on lies. He felt everything shattering around him. In a slightly hysterical voice, he croaked: ¡°So¡­ you are abnormal¡­¡± Eduard stopped in his tracks, and turned at him, his face showing a bit of surprise and incredulity, followed by a very tired expression. He sighed and turned, clearly ignoring him. Theodore tried to bring up the matter again, but then noticed. His friend¡¯s normalcy was in him being able to do anything, but excel in nothing. That also meant he could be able to be abnormal, but not excel at it. He promised himself to think about it more in depth later. Theodore turned his head, looking around the house. In what he recognized as Eduard¡¯s room, he saw blinking light from the small opening in the door. A look of realization crossed his face, and he turned toward his friend and said: ¡°So you were about to go online? No wonder you looked so pissed off. Origin, right? Just what do you like about it?¡± He knew he was always annoying his friend with his behavior, but he couldn¡¯t stop himself, as he was the only person he could be at ease with. Not in the gay sense. They were already in the living room, Eduard sat a sofa. He stared at Theodore for a while then opened his mouth, sighing, and said: ¡°You need to try the game to understand. The online descriptions aren¡¯t showing its real worth¡± Theodore went for another sofa and sat down. His hand swept a hair lock of his grey hair. It was getting a bit long, already at eye level. He had to cut a bit of it later. His grey eyes looked back at his friend, and he said: ¡°But do you seriously think it is that much fun without monsters? I know fighting monsters had been repetitive in the last VR games, but it still has its charms¡± Eduard seemed to ponder a little. He hesitated a bit before saying: ¡°Do you know that we, players, are waging war against NPCs in the starting country Brenton?¡± Theodore lifted an eyebrow. ¡°An event?¡± ¡°No, the NPCs just reacted badly to the arrival of players. They reacted very badly. The level of realism of that game is too much. Of course no normal country would want weird people appearing and disappearing as they want on their soil¡± Theodore still found it hard to believe. ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s not a scripted event?¡± ¡°Look at the first players¡¯ arrival on the net. One of them made a video of everything. You will understand everything then. It¡¯s one hell of a game that makes you forget that it¡¯s a game. You won¡¯t regret trying it¡± Theodore was almost convinced. Almost. He then remembered. ¡°So you want me to play a game with pain settings of 100%? Sorry Eduard, but playing Yggdrasil with pain settings of 50% was painful enough. I will never try it again¡± Eduard smirked, remembering those days. He looked at Theodore with eyes where pity and mockery swirled, and said: ¡°So, someone who was cooked alive while having 50% pain settings is having problems with 100% pain of stabbing. Quite funny¡± Theodore smiled weakly. He wished if he could erase that experience from his memory. He had bathed in the fiery breath of a dragon, all because of his arrogance. He hesitated, and then asked: ¡°So¡­ how are you coping with the pain?¡± Eduard revealed a pained expression, and said: ¡°I still can¡¯t get used to it. It¡¯s painful like hell. It¡¯s a great motivator though. You fight like a beast in order to avoid the pain¡± Theodore sighed. Why fight like a beast to avoid the pain, if you could just not fight or play the game at all? Eduard¡¯s voice woke him up from his reverie: ¡°Theodore, I want to play now, and I won¡¯t leave you here alone. Having you here alone without supervision is more dangerous than owning a nuke¡± Theodore frowned in confusion. ¡°How am I supposed to feel after hearing that I¡¯m better than a nuke? Should I feel happy?¡± ¡°Feel whatever you want, just get out¡± Eduard went and opened the door wide. Theodore sighed and walked toward it. He heard his friend again: ¡°If you start playing the game, choose Brenton as your starting country¡± Theodore stopped and lifted an eyebrow at Eduard. ¡°Why? You said there is a war there. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a playing ground for a beginner¡± ¡°Brenton is the only country where players have a foothold. In some other starting countries, NPCs have started a witch hunt, or better to say a player hunt. Once they spot a player, they¡¯ll keep burning him alive till he quit the game¡± Theodore opened his mouth, his thoughts completely coming to a halt. He closed his mouth, and then opened it, only to close it and open it again. His words came filled with shock: ¡°They are burning them alive with 100% pain transmitters?! Who the fuck would continue that game?! And shouldn¡¯t the developers interfere?¡± ¡°The company that made the game wouldn¡¯t interfere in any way, they have no reason to. You can only start the game after making a contract about them having no responsibilities, and only people above 16 years old can play. The government is silent too, for nobody knows why¡± ¡°It must be because of bribes. I¡¯m surprised there are no manifestations in the street yet. True, the pods are safe to be in even with pain settings of 100%, but people wouldn¡¯t stay silent about it. Makes me wonder why someone would make such a game. It wouldn¡¯t give much profit¡± The pods were very famous for being completely safe. No matter what situation you were in, with pain settings two times more than in reality, you won¡¯t have any effect on your real body. The same couldn¡¯t be said about the mind. Some people could have some lasting traumas because of those experiences. Theodore shuddered, and his hand went clawing at his left arm. ¡°Remember to start in Brenton if you feel like playing Origin¡± The young man nodded absent mindedly to Eduard¡¯s words, and he went through the door, not paying him any attention. His hand gripped his other arm tightly. He went straight home. His thoughts were in disarray. As he went into his residential bloc, his mind became clearer. He had to know more about Origin. He went up the stairs, unlocked the door and went in. His apart lighted up on its own. It was small and had simple furniture. A small bedroom and a kitchen. He put his pad on a table, and his feet went to the big pod in his room. It had been expensive in the first months after its advent, but now after ten years, it had become pretty cheap, thanks to the help various organizations provided in the production. The pod was a grey oval shaped device. It had a screen in its side for controls. His hand went for it, and he scrolled various publicities till he found it. Origin. He considered for a moment. He thought of people burned alive. He clicked on the buy button. The game wasn¡¯t that cheap. He would have to sit tight on money this week. At least he wouldn¡¯t have school for two months. He could work part time in these holidays. He went back to the kitchen and took his pad. With a quick search on the net, he found what he wanted. The first log in into origin. The video was fairly popular. It would have been best with the 3D visualizer, but he would make do with what he had. He made some food to eat, and then started watching. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. It started with five players appearing in a plaza. The surroundings seemed a bit similar to all the medieval fantasy games he had played. The players were wearing shitty leather armor and wool pants, and had a rusty dagger behind their belts. The usual beginner equipment. Four guys and a girl. The girl smiled at the boy near her, and held his hand. He smiled warmly back at her. They must be a couple. The others eyed each other and the surroundings carefully. Some people that looked like merchants were looking at them with wide eyes. The plaza wasn¡¯t that full, and their arrival was noticed by everyone. A man looking like a guard drew his sword, panic appearing on his face. He shouted something. It was in Bhama. It meant something along the lines of intruder and attack. The guard approached the players with caution. People around them started backing down, but some remained, very curious or still stupefied. The players only looked around, not understanding much. Theodore could understand them. Even in games with very high realism and very intelligent AIs, the NPCs never reacted this way to the coming of the players. The guard, ever so cautious, asked them about who they were and how they did get there. His words had a dialect that made it very different from the Bhama they learnt at school, or heard in games. The players couldn¡¯t answer. What could they say? One volunteered and said had come from another world. The guard then glared at them. He eyed the daggers behind their belts, and his glare intensified. Footsteps were heard behind them. The guard slightly relaxed. Help was coming. He told the player to come without resistance. They were to be imprisoned and interrogated. The players looked at each other, then at the soldiers that were coming from behind. The four guys nodded, about to comply, but the girl got angry and cried out about NPCs getting cocky. Theodore frowned. The girl must have been a complete novice in games. It was obvious it was a scripted event. The best would be to comply in order to start the game properly. The guard looked at her uncomprehending, but his grip on his sword tightened, clearly feeling the hostility in her words. He pushed her forward, saying something about her shutting up before he shoved his sword up her little cunt. Her boyfriend, supposedly, took it upon him to protect her, as he caught the hand of the guard. One if the soldiers coming¡¯s sword flashed, and the boyfriend¡¯s hand got cut off. He screamed, clutching his arm. Theodore shuddered. 100% wasn¡¯t something to be trifled with. The girl looked at her lover in horror, then drew her dagger in a clumsy manner and stabbed the guard pushing her. The dagger went into his throat. Blood started sprouting out. He threw his sword and tried to stop the blood with no avail. The girl threw herself at the sword, but a soldier¡¯s spear pierced her in the gut. She fell, not having the strength to scream. Two of the remaining players just backed down slightly from the scene, got on their knees and lifted their hands in submission. The last player looked at everything while still stupefied, then lifted his hand, made some signs in the air, and winked out of existence. His log out drew the attention of the soldiers, who just stood uncomprehending, before hitting the last two players and asking them about the escapee¡¯s whereabouts, clearly angry about the death of the guard. The video ended. Theodore didn¡¯t move from his chair, his mind still processing what he just saw. He felt like the hostility directed toward the players was too much. He looked at the video¡¯s description. All this happened in a frontier city of Gobath. It wasn¡¯t in Brenton. He remembered his friend¡¯s words about a war with NPCs. Did really such a simple event escalate into a war? He frowned. It must be something else. There were burnings in other countries unrelated to this country, and that meant there was something more to it. He scrolled down. There were thousands of comments. He read some of them briefly, and then started reading more. After some moments, he stopped and sighed. It made sense. Later, new players had found out that Gobath was in war with another country. The starting city the players had appeared in in the video was once in a while under attack. The citizens and soldiers were suspecting anyone to be enemies spies, especially some people that appeared out of thin air. Was all of this a scripted thing, or was everything because of the players¡¯ actions? Numerous questions swirled in Theodore¡¯s head. Why were players burned? He made a new search. He found the video he wanted. He hesitated for a bit, and then steeling his nerves, he clicked on it. A man was attached to a wooden pole. His hands and feet were tied to it. A lot of people, wearing peasant clothes were around him. They were screaming something. All their faces looked gaunt and haggard from malnutrition. A short man was carrying a torch. As dry branches and pieces of wood were piled under the tied up man, the short one approached. The player tried to move his hands, and to make signs with his fingers with no avail. He was tied up very tightly. No sound made it out of his mouth, muffled by the cloth put inside it. He had no mean to log out. Two other peasants approached and poured a black liquid on the player. The short man threw his torch at the pile of wood. It ignited instantaneously. Theodore shuddered, his hand clawing again at his left arm. The player twisted. The fire slowly expanded over his body, burning through the thick black liquid covering him. Fire got to his mouth, burning the cloth inside. He started screaming. His eyes started melting. The fire glazed more powerfully, and covered him entirely. Nothing could be seen anymore but a big pillar of fire. Theodore put a stop to the video, got up and started pacing. His hand couldn¡¯t leave his left arm. He could remember his fight with the fire dragon, back then when he was playing Yggdrasil. He had been burned to death then. His breathing became ragged. He could remember everything becoming red, before becoming black. He could feel the pain in his eyes. He could remember the feeling of his blood evaporating, of his flesh melting. He could remember that scorching heat. Though he had felt but 50% of the pain, being burned by the fire of a dragon was far more painful than being burned like in the video. His fingers tightened on his left arm. He breathed deeply, and looked at his pod. The game was ready to be played; only he had to be ready. Never in his seventeen years had he felt so anxious and scared. He changed his clothes, and ate the remaining of his food. He stood in front of his pod, thinking, his grey eyes not leaving it. He activated the pod, chose Origin as the main game, and went in. ------------------------------------------------- ¡°While the horses are being prepared, want to have a spar with me?¡± Sir Hadrin was smiling. Bran thought for a moment. As long as he didn¡¯t get any lasting damage, the spar would be very benefic for him, no matter the outcome. Nobody in the surroundings could have an even fight with him, but Celek and the knight. Even beasts were mostly weak against him in this land. Something strong like an ice bear was rare and would only come out in some periods. At least he was sure that, with his unluckiness, dangerous hostile beasts will always be attracted toward him. Bran nodded toward the knight. He was going to get any help possible before his tribulation. Sir Hadrin¡¯s smile got even wider. He motioned with his hand. ¡°Will you fight with that weapon, or will you choose another one? I have a collection of weapons¡± ¡°I will choose one. Against the likes of you, I won¡¯t even survive the spar with such a sword¡± ¡°Then follow me. You will choose your weapon from the ones in my bed chamber¡± The knight led them again into the manor. Elea whispered to Bran: ¡°I have never seen his bed chamber. Even my lord father has never seen the inside of it¡± Bran looked perplexed for a moment, and then said: ¡°Why did he agree to me coming to it then? Shouldn¡¯t you, his disciple and the daughter of his lord see it first?¡± ¡°He never agreed it. He always said that only someone as strong as him or stronger than him may enter. You are a monster, Bran. He got knighthood at the age of twenty, and spent a whole ten years training, yet you, not even fifteen, are already as strong as him. You¡¯re a second Celek in the making¡± Bran only shrugged. He would never be as strong as Celek. Maybe if he learnt magic, and had tremendous talent at it, and trained for half a century, he may be as strong as his uncle. He tightened his grip. Celek¡¯s strength soon won¡¯t be enough to protect him. ¡°Here we are¡± Bran looked up. They were in front of a normal looking room. The knight opened the door, and they went inside. The boy and Elea opened their eyes wide. All the walls were covered with weapons. All kinds of weapons. Weapons Bran only knew through stories, and weapons he never even heard of. Sir Hadrin just stood there, grinning widely. Bran started, looking at the knight with a penetrating gaze: ¡°How did you get all of those? I don¡¯t think a normal knight would have all those weapons. These aren¡¯t ornaments. They all look used¡± The knight looked at them, amusement apparent in his eyes. It was quite odd to even see him show a hint of a smile. ¡°Those are my trophies after roaming the world for ten years. I always had to fight for my life, and I always made it so that all the weapons of strong opponents got sent here¡± Bran arched his brow in confusion. ¡°Why here? If you are so strong, wouldn¡¯t you serve a greater lord than Terrin¡± Bran looked at Elea ¡°And no offense¡± The knight sighed. ¡°You really pay no respect to status, just like Celek. This land is my homeland. I had left when I was very young, but I had some good memories here. I decided to come back in the end, and have a quiet peaceful life. You can choose a weapon for our spar¡± Bran turned, looking at all weapons. He was probably going to look for a long sword. It was what he was best with. He kept checking each one, and then he saw it. A thin, long bade, with an edge on only one side. It was slightly curved at the tip, making it a good piercing weapon as well. He remembered this weapon. He had only seen it once, but he would never forget. It was the same as the one Celek used to save him from his last tribulation, three years ago. He turned toward the knight. ¡°I¡¯ll take this one¡± Arc 1 : Chapter 4 Bran turned toward the knight. ¡°I¡¯ll take this one¡± Sir Hadrin frowned and slightly tilted his head. ¡°Are you sure? That weapon is quite peculiar. That one is mostly used to cutting and piercing, and you must be used to slashing and thrusting with yours. I never met anyone beside the one I fought using it again, so it must be quite the rare weapon¡± ¡°I am sure about it¡± ¡°You can use it?¡± ¡°No¡± The knight narrowed his eyes, looking at Bran. Elea stifled a laugh. ¡°Then how will you use it against me? You¡¯re surely not underestimating me?¡± Bran, noticing what the knight understood from his words, shook his head and said: ¡°No, it really isn¡¯t like that. I have seen Celek use it before, so I know how to wield it and use it, but I never tried, so I can¡¯t use it¡± Elea interjected: ¡°Bran always talks that way. You would even think he¡¯s a noble from the way he¡¯s talking¡± The knight suddenly had a face of realization, and looked toward the boy with narrower eyes, his brows furrowing deeply. Bran just widened his eyes and smiled, trying to act as if he was clueless about the reason of that gaze. The knight must be thinking he was a noble, or an exiled one at least. It would be troublesome later, but it was still better than some other speculations some people made. The knight sighed and said: ¡°So, you will use that sword? I¡¯m warning you, I won¡¯t hold back, even if it¡¯s your first time using it¡± Bran just nodded, and kept his smile plastered on his face. The knight took an ornate scabbard lying on top of his bed. The hilt had a white gem incrusted into it. Bran gritted his teeth. The knight was going to use Azelf¡¯s magic. Sir Hadrin noticed it and a small smile returned to his face. Bran tapped Elea¡¯s shoulder, as she was still staring and checking the different weapons, and they followed the knight of the room. Sir Hadrin instructed a servant to bring a priest to the courtyard. Elea was unusually silent on the way. As they made it into the courtyard, she looked at Bran and said: ¡°Do your best¡± The boy smiled at her. He went to stand in front of the knight. An old strong looking bald man was standing at their side, watching calmly. He wore a white robe with sleeves of gold. He was the only priest in the Bourg, and was of Azelf¡¯s cult. He was here to heal any fatal injury. As Bran slowly drew his sword, he said: ¡°No need for duel¡¯s formalities. I have no title to speak off. Let¡¯s just start¡± The knight slightly narrowed his eyes. He looked suspiciously again at the boy, and then shrugged it off. He drew his sword too. It was a long sword. The metal looked like it was made by a very good blacksmith. Smithies in Terrowin couldn¡¯t even come close to making such a piece. Bran looked at his sword. True, he never used it before, but there was always a time to start doing new things. What better time to start using it than against a very strong knight? He knew usual weapons wouldn¡¯t help much in what awaited him after a month and half. At least this sword proved its worth three years ago. As he carried his sword with his right hand, he put it in front of him in a basic stance. He would have to rely mostly on instinct, until he got used to his new weapon. At least he was used to the longer reach. Celek always made him train with all the usual types of weapons. The knight carried his sword in two hands, lifting it slightly above his right shoulder. Bran couldn¡¯t underestimate him. His only chance was his high mobility. He ran forward, extending his slightly curved sword to the side, in order to not obstruct him. The knight didn¡¯t move, his eyes not leaving the boy. Bran extended his sword like to stab a small exposed part in the armor, and just as Sir Hadrin was about to counterattack, the boy rolled to the side. His roll took him behind the knight, who was too heavy with his armor to react in time. Bran made an upward attack at the armor, trying to do it the same way Celek did three years ago. Sir Hadrin tilted his sword backyard, blocking the strike. His body couldn¡¯t help being pushed a bit forward. The knight whirled around, taking advantage of the push to change his stance. He held his sword close to his chest, horizontally with its tip pointing toward the boy. Bran¡¯s mind analyzed the situation. He couldn¡¯t use kicks or grapples, as with such armor, his opponent wouldn¡¯t feel much. Maybe if he could hit the knight¡¯s head, as he had forgot to don his helmet, he could do some damage. The knight didn¡¯t move, patiently waiting for an attack, and completely focusing on counterattacking. It was the right choice. He couldn¡¯t charge or do much with his body being much heavier than his opponent¡¯s. Bran looked at the gem incrusted into the hilt of the knight¡¯s sword. His opponent still didn¡¯t use magic, and he really wished he could know in which form the magic will come. He had very limited knowledge and experience with magic. The boy decided to charge head on. His strike speed earlier was very lacking, and he had to get used to the sword¡¯s balance. He ran forward with more speed, crouching close to the ground. He made a slight feint with his sword. After the earlier stunt, the knight didn¡¯t fall for it. The man simply thrust his long sword forward, with such speed and force that the boy couldn¡¯t dodge. Bran deflected the strike with his sword, and as the opponent¡¯s weapon changed its trajectory, the boy let go of his sword, whirled around, jumped and struck the knight¡¯s chin with his knee, catching him by surprise. Sir Hadrin stumbled backward. Bran immediately took hold of his sword that had embedded itself on the ground, and he attacked again. The knight, hardened by his eventful experiences, didn¡¯t get distracted by the damage he got, and parried each strike flawlessly. Some blood slowly dribbled from his mouth. Bran, seeing how his opponent¡¯s defense wasn¡¯t letting any opening, and how skilled he was in the sword, pulled back. The knight didn¡¯t give chase, and a small smile appeared on his face. His lips were broken and his mouth was a bloody mess. A faint light appeared on the gem in his sword, and his face started healing. Bran couldn¡¯t help but groan. The spar was looking pretty hopeless. He looked toward the priest. He was only going to give healing at the end of the fight or if there were fatal injuries, so the boy could not expect healing besides in those situations. The knight was at least able to heal himself. Adding to it this sword that he wasn¡¯t used to, it would be a miracle if he could win. He wasn¡¯t used to this sword enough to pull flawless acrobatics, and every mistake would count heavily in this spar. The boy sighed. What awaited him in this next trip was a lot more hopeless than this situation. He had to get used to this feeling. Sir Hadrin opened his half healed mouth: ¡°Your brute strength isn¡¯t something you¡¯ll expect from a boy your age. Heck, even I feel like I¡¯m fighting with a very fast boulder¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got Celek to thank for that¡± The knight seemed to think for a bit, and then said: ¡°I would gladly learn from such a mentor, but I¡¯m too old for it. I would be happy if Celek could train the little lady for some time. It would be very fortunate¡± Bran turned and looked at Elea. She was looking at them with excitement clear in her eyes. Noble lords didn¡¯t need to learn to fight, let alone noble ladies, but there were always some that chose this path on their own, and she was one of them. She kept bothering the lord from her early childhood to learn swordsmanship, till her father relented when the knight returned to his homeland, making him her mentor. He looked back at Sir Hadrin and said: ¡°I will ask him, but I¡¯m not sure he¡¯ll do it. He never accepted training anyone besides me¡± ¡°That would be more than enough. You have my gratitude. We shall continue then¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The white light stopped emanating from the gem. The knight face was still not completely healed. Bran lifted an eyebrow quizzically. Sir Hadrin sighed and said: ¡°Healing takes too much energy, and I can¡¯t waste it here¡± Bran tensed. So the magic was going to come in a different form. The knight was already expecting tricks, so they wouldn¡¯t work anymore, not against someone as experienced as him. He looked at his long, one edged, slightly curved at the end thin sword. He had grasped some of the basics on how to carry it from the earlier exchanges, but he was far from getting used to it. He tightened his grip, and this time with the top of his speed, he shot forward, piercing toward the knight¡¯s throat. The man slightly widened his eyes. Due to his surprise, faced with an attack with such ferocity and speed, there was slight lag in his movements. He cursed the peaceful years he spent in the Bourg that had dulled him. The knight tried to move to the side, but he was unable to dodge. As Bran was about to pierce him, the world became white, and pain filled his eyes, numbing his senses for a moment. His sword pierced emptiness. Bran cursed in his mind. Magic again. Not losing a single moment, without waiting for his sight to return, he rolled to the side. It was just in time. The knight¡¯s sword grazed the boy¡¯s thigh, instead of piercing his chest. He took hasty steps backward, making distance between them. The boy¡¯s sight was returning, but everything seemed hazy and filled with too much light. At this pace, he was going to lose. He had to start going all out, even if he still wasn¡¯t accustomed to the sword. The knight held his sword in front of him, in a basic stance. Bran started pacing around him, thinking about his next action. He sprung then into action, dashing toward Sir Hadrin. The boy slashed horizontally with all his strength. The knight parried easily, yet couldn¡¯t help but be pushed a few steps back. He was a muscular man, yet couldn¡¯t compete with the boy in brute strength. The boy pierced toward the knight¡¯s chest, but a vine caught his leg, making his strike widely miss its target. The gem in the knight¡¯s sword was shining slightly. Bran cut the vine. It was shining with a faint light. Bran understood. The vine only appeared because of the knight¡¯s magic. The knight used that time to attack too. He made a downward strike toward the boy. Bran somersaulted, his sword sliding on the flat of the knight¡¯s long sword, deflecting it slightly. He twisted his body in the air, and threw a kick at Sir Hadrin¡¯s face. The boy closed his eyes, knowing a flash of light was probably coming. Bran felt his leg striking something hard. He felt the bone cracking. He opened his eyes, and he saw his leg hitting the steel clad arm of the knight. Sir Hadrin had let his sword fall on the ground, just like the boy earlier did. As Bran was falling to the ground, a hand gripped his wounded leg, and the world flashed white again. Losing his sight again, the boy frantically slashed with his sword. At the same time, cold steel hit his face, breaking his nose and he rolled on the ground. He made use of the roll to pull away, trying to put as much distance as his sight was still not returning. He got up and tried to take a step back, only to feel his legs entangled in numerous vines. The pain from the cracked bone of his leg was numbing all his senses. Not losing time to think, he wielded his sword with two hands, and with all his strength, slashed the air in front of him. He still couldn¡¯t see anything, but he felt slight satisfaction after hearing a grunt and the sound of metals colliding. He made another slash, a firm strike but this time with less strength. The knight threw all his weight into the strike, trying to counter attack the monstrous strength of the boy, yet was surprised seeing his sword pushing Bran¡¯s sword back easily. Bran smiled, and as his sword was pushed back, he made use of the momentum to break free of the vines and throw his own body backward. His sight was slowly returning, but it was still hazy. He could make out the form of the knight giving him chase. Bran rolled on the ground a few times, and as he tried to stand, he felt his injured bone cracking further, and his butt fell on the ground. He tried to stand again, but he saw the blurry figure of the knight looming over him, and felt cold steel touching his neck. Vines wrapped themselves on his wrists and feet. A ragged voice entered his ears: ¡°You lost, finally¡± With a groan, Bran let his back fall on the ground. He felt his nose entirely broken, and he had lost some blood from the wound on his thigh. The worst was the cracked bone in his leg. Pain was numbing his mind, but he felt nothing but utter defeat. He wasn¡¯t even strong enough to defeat the knight, let alone what awaited him in this trip. His sight fully returned, and he turned to look at the knight. Sir Hadrin was leaning on his long sword, trying to steady his ragged breath. The solleret he was wearing over his foot had some blood on it. It must be from when his nose was broken. His armor was cut apart under his armpit, and mangled flesh, along with a few glimpses of ribs was in full sight. He had stopped the bleeding with his magic. Bran sighed. The sword cutting ability was too much. He must have done that when he had lost his sight for the second time. After some moments, Sir Hadrin said: ¡°Never saw someone as annoying as you in a fight. You just keep coming up with new things. This win wouldn¡¯t be mine if you had used your usual sword¡± Bran gritted his teeth. He still had to work harder. He would die at this rate. Helping with his sword, he stood with difficulty. He smiled toward the knight and said: ¡°You¡¯re quite skilled yourself. You¡¯re the first person to defeat me besides Celek in a while¡± The knight smiled back, and then said: ¡°You aren¡¯t used to fighting with someone who uses magic though. Celek never trained you in that?¡± ¡°No. Celek can¡¯t use magic. You are the first person I fought that uses magic¡± The knight frowned, looking deeply into the mixture of color in Bran¡¯s eyes. He hesitated for a moment, and said: ¡°You¡¯re either lying to me, or Celek is lying to you. There are limits you can never surpass without magic. A monster like Celek should be an unprecedented expert in magic¡± Bran only smiled weakly and shrugged. If Celek knew magic, he wouldn¡¯t hide it from him, especially in the current situation. The knight didn¡¯t know how powerful Celek was, else he would never think magic can accomplish such a feat. Nobody knew how really strong Celek was. Bran had only glimpsed some of it three years ago. Every time he had asked his uncle about it, the man just shrugged off, saying even he didn¡¯t understand, nor did he bother to understand. According to him, he just became that way one day. The knight motioned toward the priest, and as white light started coalescing around his wounds, they started healing relatively faster than before. Elea, seeing that the fight had ended, started walking toward them. As she reached them, and awkwardly hugged Bran, the knight¡¯s body was fully healed. The priest turned toward the boy. Bran waited for his wounds to start healing, yet he felt nothing but the pain of Elea¡¯s hug. After some moments, he looked at his wounds, and he found them completely unchanged. He pulled away from the girl, and looked at the priest. The knight, noticing the look on his face, turned to look too. The priest was frowning deeply, and sweet was covering his bald head. He had his hands lifted toward the boy. Sir Hadrin shouted: ¡°Is there anything wrong?¡± The priest looked at him and said with a voice full of confusion: ¡°Healing isn¡¯t working on him, no matter what I do¡± Arc 1 : Chapter 5 Theodore breathed deeply, and looked at his pod. The game was ready to be played; only he had to be ready. Never in his seventeen years had he felt so anxious and scared. He changed his clothes, and ate the remaining of his food. He stood in front of his pod, thinking, his grey eyes not leaving it. He activated the pod and chose Origin as the main game. The inside of the pod was full of an unusual shade of blue liquid. He took away his cloths, and wore the suit that came with the pod. He took a mask from the side and wore it. A long tube was attached from it to an air container. He slipped his body into the blue liquid, and grabbed the sides of the submerged chair, pulling his body toward it. He pushed a button on the side, and the liquid started shining. It was a very unusual and beautiful shine. That blue color was of a shade he never saw before. A screen above him flashed, and a long message appeared in it. Theodore remembered Eduard¡¯s words. The company that made Origin was talking about not taking any responsibility while the player is inside the game. It was filled with a lot of crap lawyers loved to analyze to find loopholes in. He touched the screen with the palm of his left hand, waited for a few seconds, and drew back his hand. By doing that, he had accepted the contract. The world around him turned white, and then he appeared in a grey room. A window appeared in front of him.
Choose a name for your character >___________________
The young man didn¡¯t even think about it. He entered Theodore. He always ignored the rubbish about not using his real name in games. His name was a priceless thing to him, one that held many dear memories, and he wasn¡¯t going to give it up, even in a virtual world. A new window appeared, demanding from him to choose his starting country. The list of countries only had five. He spotted Gobath and Brenton. His finger went to Brenton. He noticed that he had forgotten to ask his friend about the city he was in. He wondered about which city he would start in. Unexpectedly, the window that appeared wasn¡¯t about his starting city.
Congratulation Theodore! You are now a player of Origin! You will be transported into Brenton in twenty second. Have a good game.
Theodore frowned. He decided to just wait. He looked at his body. It was exactly the same as in reality. He was completely naked. His body was quite tall, with a slightly above average musculature. He did train once in a while. Shouldn¡¯t they have asked him about making his avatar, and personalizing its appearance? Was this a game you played with your real appearance? As he thought more about it, he face palmed. He had forgotten to ask Eduard about the game mechanics, and he didn¡¯t check the net for it. He had been too distracted with the burning thing. He didn¡¯t mind playing with an avatar completely similar to his real body. He always made his characters very similar to him, and he felt quite proud of his body. As for the game mechanics, he¡¯ll check the game first, and think about it later. His body started shining with a blue shine, and the world warped around him. He blinked his eyes a few times. At the top of his sight, he could see his health bar, filled with a bright red. Below it was a white bar, probably for mana, or energy or whatever the game developers felt like implementing. He looked around him. It was night. Some people were walking around. Definitively players. Only players had no sense of night and day. He was inside what looked like a medieval city, a bit different from the one in the video he had seen. Windows started appearing, but as he was about to check them, he saw some people coming at him. He sharpened his eyes. One thing he was sure about was that he should never completely trust something alive that has a mind. Three players. They looked a bit shabby in their equipment, but he was still a novice who just started the game. It would be challenging to take them on. He looked at his clothes. He was wearing exactly the same as the starting people he had seen in the video. Shitty leather armor, wool pants, and a crappy dagger. He wished he knew how to check his inventory. The three players showed a smile as they approached. It looked pretty honest. They stood in front of him, and one of them said, extending a finger in the direction of Theodore¡¯s clothes: ¡°I assume you are a new player, right?¡± Theodore just glared at him, not bothering to respond. Even if their motives were honest, he could not completely trust them. One of the players started fidgeting under his glare, and the other two looked at each other, not knowing what to do. One of the two opened his mouth to talk again, but Theodore¡¯s cold voice cut him off: ¡°Who are you?¡± The player seemed startled by the tone, and just left his mouth open for a whole second, before getting his bearing and giving a strained smile: ¡°We apologize if we have annoyed you. You seem in a hurry, so I¡¯ll be direct with you. You know that Brenton is at war right now right?¡± Theodore furrowed his eyebrows. The player took his gesture as an affirmation and continued: ¡°If you already know, then you should understand that each new player has to join the defense of the city for at least two weeks. Players can¡¯t enjoy the protection we are giving them from NPCs for free¡± The player left him words unfinished, believing it was enough for anyone to understand. Theodore sighed and turned away. If it was his classmates, he would at least try to be polite and civilized, but those were complete strangers. He had no obligation to act properly with them. One of the players caught his shoulder and said with an annoyed face: ¡°Hey, we¡¯re talking politely to you here. Stop acting so arrogant, newbie¡± Theodore almost took his dagger to cut the player¡¯s hand, but he stopped himself. He hated being touched. It would be difficult to kill those three. It would be outright impossible to kill all the players that will gang on him once he did that. He sighed. He turned toward the player touching him and said in a low dangerous voice: ¡°And what do that have to do with me?¡± The player looked confused for a moment, and then said: ¡°You understand nothing do you? If they catch you, they¡¯ll burn you asshole! They¡¯ll camp near your save point, and each time you come back to life they¡¯ll fucking burn you again! You will never escape from it till someone come to save you. And if you join the city¡¯s defense, the player¡¯s army will come save you! If you don¡¯t, you will never be cared about. We marked all those that joined the defense with magic. We will recognize you, and will never help you¡± His mouth was throwing spit while talking. Theodore was impressed by the game realism. They didn¡¯t forget to add spit to the equation. Really interesting. This ¡°nobody cared about¡± game seemed to be at the latest, most popular, most expensive and mind boggling games'' level of realism. They were the only ones that sported such level of it. He sighed, showed a dazzling smile to the player, and said: ¡°Then the matter is solved, right? It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll come asking about your help, and I have no time to waste here¡± He had no plans of staying here for long. He had to look for Eduard. Maybe his friend would agree to play together. He had forgotten to ask him about which city he was in. Damned was his stupidity. He shook off the hand of the player that was on his shoulder. The player glared at him. He opened his mouth, about to interject, but his friend, stopped him. He stepped up closer to Theodore, then looking at him in the eye, he said: ¡°This game isn¡¯t a joke like all others. If you go out of the city as you are now, you won¡¯t survive. Its war, and not petty wars like what you¡¯ll find in other games. It¡¯s a real war. If they find you outside, you¡¯re done for. And they will find you. They are excellent at tracking us¡± He closed his mouth, awaiting Theodore¡¯s response, but the young man just stared back at his eyes, not flinching. The player opened his mouth again and said: ¡°One thing you¡¯ll love in being a city defender is the food. We give all the players food enough to satiate them while they defend the city. And you will understand how precious that is a bit later. If you ever change your mind, go find the barracks near the east gate. You¡¯ll find the way easily. We accept anyone, even jerks like you¡± The player turned. He motioned toward his friends. They nodded and as he left, they followed him. They didn¡¯t forget to send a glare toward Theodore. He smiled. It was a genuine smile. A jerk huh? His smile got a bit wider. He had made his choice in his life, and he wouldn¡¯t back away from it, even if he remained alone because of it. They did seem a bit too pushy about the defense thing. Were things really that bad? A new player appeared in the plaza; a bit to his left, and the players from earlier went to him. They must be recruiters. He never understood why someone would play a virtual game to do such boring tasks. He noticed the look on the new player¡¯s. It started with wariness as he spotted the recruiters coming toward him, and in moments, it turned into panic. He took his dagger from his belt and tried to cut his own throat. Theodore looked quizzically at such an action. The recruiters had panicked looks on their faces, and they ran toward the boy. One of them, the last one that was talking to the young man, grappled the boy, taking his dagger. Another player of the trio approached the boy, and then told him something. The boy¡¯s eyes widened, and after a moment, he sighed, relieved. They helped him get back to his feet. Theodore just looked at the scene unable to comprehend. Why did the boy act that way? He remembered then. There was a war with NPCs in Brenton. If he had appeared in a city ruled by NPCs, he would have been burned. His hand went clawing at his left arm, and his body shuddered. At least, the game developers weren¡¯t so keen as to fuck them over. They had directed all new players toward cities where players were in control. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. He started walking toward the wall that was high enough to be seen at a distance. The city around him was quite medieval looking. All games used this setting nowadays and it became boring. Houses here looked like they were made of wood. There must be a forest somewhere close to here. Roads weren¡¯t paved, and were full of mud. He didn¡¯t mind though. He had seen worse looking cities in the earlier games he had played. He passed by something that looked very similar to a tavern. It was filled with laugher, and the smell of beer reeked of it. A board with some papers attached was close to the door. Theodore approached it, a little interested. He dismissed some of the papers, just looking at their titles. They were mostly about recruiting hunters and trackers to bring food. One of the papers was interesting though. It was about a tournament in the coliseum. He smiled. A tournament in times of war? Only players could do that, as they would just revive afterward. He decided to attend it tomorrow. He turned around and started walking toward the walls again. He could see some merchants selling in shops or on the road. One curious thing was that only a few sold foods, and it was mostly old looking spoiled vegetables. He remembered the player¡¯s words earlier about food. The other merchants were selling weapons and armor. He got closer to them. Just enough to see their wares, without having to talk to them or act like a potential customer. The weapons looked quite good, compared to the starting dagger. He wondered about crafting skills in the game. Would the player have to recreate the same original process of crafting as in real life to create things, as this was a game with very high realism, or should he just use a skill to make things? He had some experience with crafting in games, and some of it was in games that sported the first way of crafting; the highly realistic one, and he was sure of one thing: these weapons weren¡¯t made that way. They looked like they were made by some skill, or maybe magic. He sighed. He still had to know a lot about the game. As he walked, he looked at the stars. He wasn¡¯t someone to remember the names of stars or something, but he at least remembered their general positions, and he was sure they were different here. He shook his head. Why did the game developers make such an awesome looking world, yet didn¡¯t add monsters or anything that will make it enjoyable as a game? Some buildings on his path looked burned, and some of them had people trying to build them again. The closer he got to the walls, the more buildings were burned down. He fully understood the reason as he got a full view of the wall. It was made of stone, and a huge part at its base was broken. Just what happened here? The wall has a height of six meters, and a thickness close to half a meter. How could something completely break its base that way? That did explain the burned houses though. The city must have been under attack, and the wall broken through. Some players were carrying stones, trying to fix the broken part of the wall. Some other players were patrolling around. This didn¡¯t look like a big city, and it didn¡¯t have many players. It was probably just a minor city that got attacked once in a while whenever NPCs found an opportunity. Knowing Eduard, he must be in the thick of action. He sighed; remembering that he had to look for a moment his friend wasn¡¯t playing to ask him some questions. Eduard had a tendency to start playing nonstop once he got holidays. He had it easy, as his parents always sent him money. Theodore wondered about which part time job to take. He would start looking tomorrow. It always helped to have more money. You never knew when something unexpected could come. The young man suddenly stopped and face palmed. He had forgotten to check his inventory or anything pertaining to the game. He then noticed: he didn¡¯t know how to do it. He made the sign he saw the player doing in the video, and a window appeared, asking him about whether he was sure he wanted to log out. He pressed the ¡°no¡± button. Looking at his side, he saw numerous windows. He remembered. They had appeared when he had just logged in, but he had ignored them as he had to deal with the recruiters. He had forgotten them afterward. He smiled wryly. His finger went to them, checking them out, one by one.
Welcome to Origin!
Unique class!
You have unlocked the unique class: Jorlutg?r All related novice skills have been unlocked. New related skills will unlock as the expertise in the already existing skills rise. Quest log updated
You have unlocked the novice active skill: Artifact smiting.
You have unlocked the novice active skill: Refining fire.
You have unlocked the novice passive skill: Soul mirror.
You have unlocked the novice active skill: ancestral gate.
You have inherited the true Jorlutg?r¡¯s legacy, duties and belongings.
Theodore just kept staring, making a stupid face. His mind started giving many hypotheses. Maybe it was a glitch. Maybe all players got a unique class once they started. Maybe he had won some competition he didn¡¯t even remember and this was the prize. As his theories became stupider, he took a deep breath to calm himself. He started thinking rationally. The idea of anyone getting unique classes was impossible. A game could have millions of players, and to give each one a unique class, it was unconceivable. Jorlutg?r. It was in Bhama. It meant ¡°The one who balance¡±. It kind of made no sense, while still making sense. His finger touched the windows about skill, hoping for more information. He got nothing but a new window with the name of the skill in it, its level, currently lvl 1, and a round 0%. He frowned. How would he get more information about them? Maybe he just didn¡¯t know enough about the game mechanics. He looked at the last window that had appeared.He touched it with his fingers, but it just disappeared, without adding anything. He hoped those belongings were something good, but he didn¡¯t have high hopes. It always went that way in games. This true Jorlutg?r would maybe leave him a diary or something. Just enough to generate a class quest. Theodore showed a sad smile. This was the reason he was bored with games and everything. The games were getting repetitive. He could already predict the future content of games the moment he started it. He could already predict what developers had in mind while making the game. Once in a while, someone will add something new and novel to the game industry, but he would be able to predict it too very fast. He wondered though about why he had gotten a unique class. How would he use the skills? He didn¡¯t know. He knew nothing. He was too caught up with the burning thing, and he forgot to check the net about the game. Damned game that didn¡¯t even have a tutorial. Maybe the company had put something on their website; else the five first players wouldn¡¯t have known how to log out. He wondered about what to do now. He couldn¡¯t progress further, as he couldn¡¯t check his quests or inventory or anything. It was a stupid way to be bored. He sighed. He could start shouting skill names or start making random signs in the air, but it would be embarrassing, and he wouldn¡¯t ask anyone besides Eduard in any circumstance. Theodore felt really curious about the class he got. He thought for a moment. He then made a sign in the air, and pressed the ¡°yes¡± button, and logged off. He opened his eyes, and pushed a button a button to his side. The blue liquid around him stopped glowing. He got up from the pod and took off his mask, taking a fresh breath of air. He couldn¡¯t lose time in Origin doing nothing. It would be better to check the net about the game mechanics and classes. He took off the suit. It was made in a way that never made it wet from the blue liquid. He looked around for his clothes, and wore them after spotting them. He walked toward the kitchen, where he had left his pad. He felt a little dizzy while walking. He must have been really tired. That day was the last day of the school year, and he had a lot of fatigue pent up. Virtual games, with their time dilatation of one minute in reality three minutes in game, were very taxing on the mind. Maybe he¡¯ll go sleep after checking the net. Playing would wait for tomorrow. He looked up at the corner of his sight, and saw a red bar. He rubbed his eyes. He was too tired. He turned around and went to the bathroom. He washed his face, and finally felt a bit refreshed. He looked up again, and saw a red bar, and below it was a blue bar. He frowned, his thoughts coming to a stop. Very fast, he made a sign in the air. A window appeared in the air:
You aren¡¯t able to log out
A stupefied voice went out from his throat: ¡°What the fuck?¡± ----------------------------------------------------------- A/N: Shit that was a hard chapter. I wrote it while half asleep. I had some things to do fo the next two days and I knew i would fiind no time for it, so I felt it would be better to fiish and update this chapter. And fuck, I''m so sleepy, and I hate tables... just ignoe any typo you find in this chapter... Arc 1 : Chapter 6 He looked up at the corner of his sight, and saw a red bar. He rubbed his eyes. He was too tired. He turned around and went to the bathroom. He washed his face, and finally felt a bit refreshed. He looked up again, and saw a red bar, and below it was a blue bar. He frowned, his thoughts coming to a stop. Very fast, he made a sign in the air. A window appeared in the air:
You aren¡¯t able to log out
A stupefied voice went out from his throat: ¡°What the fuck? A stupefied voice went out from his throat: ¡°What the fuck?¡± A stupefied voice went out from his throat: ¡°What the fuck?¡± Theodore stared dumbly at the window. After less than a second, he moved his finger toward it. Upon his touch, it immediately disappeared. He widened his eyes. His hand made a sign, and the window appeared again. Just like the windows in Origin. It felt a bit surreal, to have such a window in his house. He kept looking at it, pondering. It disappeared again as he touched it. He could see it right in front of his eyes, and he had started to accept it, yet a part of his mind kept rejecting this mess. He frowned. He had some mental illness, or he was simply dreaming. He made a sign, and the window appeared. This whole thing felt so alien. ¡°Shit!¡± His voice came out strangled. He looked at the window, and remembered about a novel he had read once, about virtual reality. He couldn¡¯t discard the possibility of this being real. It certainly didn¡¯t feel like a dream. His eyes didn¡¯t leave the window. He had to either accept or ignore it. He went to the kitchen and sat on a chair. The window kept following him. He sighed. Someone else, even Eduard, would be excited about this, but he wasn¡¯t. He felt very curious, but not excited. He thought about what it meant for Origin¡¯s windows to appear in real life. Various possibilities flashed through his mind. Whatever was the truth, he knew this was very dangerous, way too dangerous. Maybe the pod did something to his mind. He sighed for a second time. He was very annoyed with the current situation. He had played Origin to alleviate his boredom, not to be in real danger. He wanted to know more about this situation, but he felt trying to know would put him in more danger. He had a sudden thought. Maybe all the players became like him. He grimaced. That seemed appalling. He got up and made some coffee. He liked coffee, and always had it concentrated without sugar. He hated all the drinks full of sugar currently on trend. Eduard always considered him crazy for that. He smiled, thinking of his friend. He poured his black coffee in a mug. The smell wafted in the air. It was a cheap brand, but he still liked it. He held the mug and sat on the chair. His mind did its best to ignore Origin¡¯s window in front of him, as he tried to enjoy the taste. Theodore put the empty mug on the table, thought for a moment, and then reached for his pad. He easily found Eduard¡¯s number and touched the call button. He waited for a full minute, and then sighed. His friend was definitively still playing. He had to ask him about any weird occurrences happening to him. He wondered about how his friend would react in his place. He thought again about his situation. Getting game powers in reality would entail many things. He preferred considering this a dream, or some mental illness, but he knew he would be just lying to himself. After some time, he only had two plausible possibilities: either the pod did something to his mind, making him have hallucinations, either all of this was real, meaning he could use game systems in reality. He sighed. At least, the idea didn¡¯t seem alien to him anymore. He felt something was amiss. Why him? A thought struck his mind. As long as one of the two possibilities was true, he was sure someone was manipulating in the shadows, doing this to him. Maybe the perpetrator would try to control him. He didn¡¯t like that. He hated it. He looked around him. He had to know more about the company that made Origin. He took his pad and made a search. The company¡¯s name was Arason. It was founded twenty years ago. Ten years before reality pods were made. Arason was mostly working on mechanics and robotics, with some side projects completely unrelated to virtual reality. The company had a great success in its fields of work. After ten years of its foundation, virtual pods appeared for the first time. He opened a new tab and searched for the advent of pods. Theodore wanted to know all the details he could. Virtual pods were developed by a Russian company. Theodore couldn¡¯t pronounce its name, nor did he bother. At the beginning, only prototypes were made, and after a year, they started selling new versions. There was some opposition from ideologies and religions, but various governments just ignored them and legalized the pods¡¯ commercialization. Theodore skipped the part about the reaction of religions. To him, that didn¡¯t matter. He scrolled down and skimmed through the remaining content. The pods¡¯ new versions were far too expensive, and it did take relatively long to make them. It would be decades before the pods could be sold to common people. Thus, the Russian company signed some sort of contract he didn¡¯t exactly understand with various other companies. Theodore was never interested in economics. He sighed again, rubbing his eyes then massaging his temple. He was already feeling sleepy again. Cheap coffee didn¡¯t have much effect on him anymore. He considered leaving this to the next morning. He looked at his pad. It was still early, seven o¡¯clock of the afternoon. He went again to the sink in the bathroom and washed his face. He had to get a basic understanding of his situation before sleeping. He had to know in what he was involved. Getting back to the kitchen, he cursed his luck. He was fairly sure he was in a very bad situation. Novels may portray this as a good thing, but he knew they were wrong. Sitting on the same chair, he kept skimming through the content of his pad. After the contract, the companies became part of a huge group working on the virtual pods. Virtual learning programs became popular, especially because of the newly implemented time dilatation of three to one. Newly formed companies started making more programs that could work on the pod. After another year, pods became much cheaper and had easier access. Virtual games started appearing. The contracted companies came up with a new complete language, Bhama, and implemented it in the educational systems of some countries. Interacting with NPCs in all existing virtual games required knowledge in Bhama. It added to the immersion and realism, most said. For the first time, he noticed the oddity. He started pondering. Why would a language be created just to play games? And how could it so easily be implemented in school programs? It felt very odd. After some moments, he decided to think about it later. He had more important things to look for. He rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was really just dreaming. Theodore looked again at the window hovering next to him. He let his head fall on the table. He felt so tired, and didn¡¯t wake anymore assumptions. He merely wanted to know the truth about this situation. The young man remained that way for long minutes, and then lifted his head. He had to know more. The most bit of information would be better than nothing. He went back to the tab about Arason. It was one of the companies making the contract with the Russian one. Arason started concentrating on the pods components, and thanks to its research, the pods became much cheaper and easier to produce, while granting better immersion. Theodore frowned. Did they change parts of the pod to do something to his mind? If so, why him exactly? He thought of the other possibility, of the game system being transported to reality. That possibility seemed unlikely after reading Arason¡¯s history, but he still left it as possibility. He wondered about how that possibility could be true. Was Origin a real alternate world? This was getting crazy. He made another cup of coffee. Theodore stared at the log out window, slowly sipping his coffee. He was no different from usual seasoned players. He couldn¡¯t find the reason of him being in such a mess. He was but a normal player in Origin, and a newbie at that. He opened his mouth, finally finding a clue. ¡°Jorlutg?r¡± His voice came out soft and slightly excited. He had forgotten about his unique class. It was what made him different from other players. It made him unique. The class maybe had a relation to this mess. The young man went into Origin¡¯s main website. He ignored the videos of the war posted by players. At one side, he saw the words ¡®Game Commands¡¯. He touched it. A new tab appeared. Some videos depicting hand signs appeared. He wondered why the game was so heavily focused on hand signs. Wouldn¡¯t just saying the name of the command aloud enough to make it appear? He carefully checked each command, and he struggled to keep a smile from blossoming on his face. Now he had a mean to know more about his situation. He got up, flexing his hands. He touched the window still hovering in front of him. It popped out. He wondered about what to check first. He had only found information about how to check inventory, quests and skills. He had no informations about how to check his class. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. He went for the skills. He was quite curious about them. With a new hand sign, a window appeared.
Active skills ? Artifact smiting; level 1; 0% ? Refining fire; level 1; 0% ? Ancestral gate; level 1; 0%
Passive skills ? Soul mirror; level 1; 0%
Theodore frowned. There was no additional information about them again. His eyebrow then twitched. He had a new window hovering in front of him, and he was already taking it for normal. He wondered why he still didn¡¯t get headaches yet. He concentrated at the matter at hand. He wanted to use a skill on some object of his house, to see if this was real or hallucinations. He wondered about how to activate skills. Maybe shouting the name would do. He looked at his skill list for a moment, and then decided to try Artifact smiting. Refining fire seemed a bit dangerous. ¡°Artifact smiting!¡± He shouted. He waited for a moment, looking all around him. Nothing had happened. He waited for a minute. There was a complete silence. ¡°Ancestral gate!¡± His second shout was met with the same silence. He hesitated for a moment, and then shouted again: ¡°Refining fire!¡± Silence again. He felt slightly embarrassed. At least, he was alone at home. He couldn¡¯t let anyone see this sight. He sighed. His hand went to his pad, and he started looking through various websites and forums, gathering as much informations as possible on the game. Origin¡¯s official website didn¡¯t have much more than the principal game commands. What he was looking for in forums were the discoveries of the players in the game. It was too much to hope for everything, as all players would keep some information away from other, in order to be better than them, but he would at least find basic things. As he read through all the information he got, his eyes widened in surprise. His expression slowly turned into a pensive one. Skills couldn¡¯t be learned on their own in the game. You started without any skill, and you had to study them and train in them the hard way just like in reality, and have the aptitude to use them. Most skills players could use nowadays were ¡®Weapon masteries¡¯ and maybe some magic. Another intriguing thing was the level system. It wasn¡¯t like usual. In most games, the more you use a skill, or the more you level up, the more it will upgrade. Origin was different. You could use a skill for the whole day, and you would just be slightly better at it. To upgrade skills, players had to really study them on a deeper level and get better than them. Some players in the forum considered the skills¡¯ level a gauge that measures your real mastery of it. Looking for answers about how to activate skills, Theodore felt annoyed. He could find nothing that he could use. He always found that while the player was studying and learning the skill from a master, he would learn how to use it. Learning the skill required learning various energy manipulation trainings, and those were the only way to use skills. All skills followed the same logic: nobody could teach you how to activate the punching skill, as you could have only learned it by punching for thousands of times. Theodore cursed in his mind. His skills came with his class, and they were given freely. He was never taught anything similar to it, thus he wouldn¡¯t know how to use them. He was now fairly sure his unique class was related to the windows appearing in reality. He made a quick search, and wasn¡¯t surprised that there was absolutely no talk about the existence of the class system in Origin, let alone a unique class. The young man asked himself again. Why him? Numerous new questions kept appearing through his head. He sighed and decided to forget about skills for now. He knew nothing about them, and didn¡¯t have any worthwhile source of information, thus he had to let it go. He still had to look at his quests and inventory. With another sign of his hand, a new window appeared.
Quest log Recover the true Jorlutg?r¡¯s legacy from Ayleth¡¯s temple in Barda
He didn¡¯t know the last two names, but he understood the main point. He had to clear out some dungeon and take his prize at the end. Theodore smiled wryly. As if it would be that simple. By now he had understood that nothing in this game could be predicted. He shook his head, thinking about how easily he had accepted this fucked up situation. He rubbed his eyes. He was sleepy once again. He still had to check his inventory. He didn¡¯t forget. He had inherited someone¡¯s belongings, and it may hold some clues about this mess. He made a sign again. A window with numerous slots appeared. He started scrolling down, and his mouth remained open like a fool. He spent minutes scrolling down. He didn¡¯t know how much exactly. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes. He took a deep breath, calming down his mind. In his inventory were thousands of weapons. One could tell from one glance that they were far more superior to the ones being sold in his starting city. Most of them were spears, but there were also numerous types of swords and weapons. He hesitated, and then touched a slot. The air around his hand shimmered, and a sword appeared. He caught it before it could fall down. It was heavy, way too heavy. His hand hit the floor. Pain numbed his senses for a moment. He looked with bewilderment at the weapon. It was but a short sword, but it weighed so much. Instead of lifting it with one, he used two, and with wobbly steps, tried to reach a state of balance. He made a sloppy swing, and broke the edge of the table. His mouth was still open. He struggled to lift the sword, and he put it into the inventory. He had handled numerous swords before, but never one so heavy. He looked at his wrist, and stopped breathing. The bruise in his hand was healing, and very fast at that. After a second, there was no trace of it anymore on his skin. He looked at the broken edge of the table, and then at the spot where the sword had fallen. It could only mean one thing: This was real. He wasn¡¯t having hallucinations. His breathing came out ragged. He couldn¡¯t let anyone know for now. He should have been granted this power by someone, Arason maybe, and for a reason, and he wouldn¡¯t let himself be manipulated. Was Origin a real world? He definitively could let no one know. Some people may get jealous of his situation and try to harm him. He started regulating his breathing. He had to calm down. He had to think. He tried to think. He failed. His thoughts were in disarray. Nothing seemed to go right. Was Arason watching him? What did they want to do with Origin? He couldn¡¯t calm down. His pad started ringing. He was receiving a call. He panicked. He looked at the screen. A number he had never seen before. He couldn¡¯t stop his hand from trembling. He answered in a surprisingly steady voice: ¡°Who is it?¡± His question was met with silence for a moment, and then he heard a faint voice: ¡°It¡¯s me¡­ I mean its Mia. Mia Stanford. We talked today¡± She seemed slightly nervous. He calmed down a bit. He looked at his hand. How could it heal like that? A skill? Her voice came again: ¡°Are you there?¡± ¡°Yes. What do you want?¡± he answered in a monotone voice. His thoughts were muddled with sleep and panic. ¡°My friends and I are going on a trip tomorrow to have fun together. Um, they all wanted you to come along so would you come?¡± Theodore sighed. Her friends wouldn¡¯t ask him on their own free will. She is the one persuading them to do that. He noticed he had calmed down a bit. He had to think about his situation. ¡°I am sorry but I think I got somethi¡ª¡°he tried to say, but she interjected with an unusually slightly heated voice: ¡°Can¡¯t you just come this once? They all want you to be there¡± she remained silent for a second, then whispered ¡°I really want you to be there¡± He tried to think about a way to make her give up. He was too tired. He sighed and said: ¡°I got some matters to do tomorrow, but if I ever finish early, I will come¡± His matters wouldn¡¯t possibly end so fast, but she wouldn¡¯t know that. In a slightly cheerful voice and a faint chuckle, she said: ¡°We¡¯ll be waiting for you then. Call me tomorrow, I¡¯ll tell you the place¡± After some incomprehensible mumbling, she added ¡°Good night Theodore!¡± ¡°Goodnight¡± He whispered, and then ended the call. He took her out of his mind, and tried to think of his situation. His mind couldn¡¯t work. He tried again, with the same result. He was pushing his body too hard. For a moment, he considered drinking another mug of coffee. He gave up on the idea, and went to his bed. He had to rest. He would think of everything else tomorrow. As he was about to close his eyes, he got a new possibility. What if he was trapped in virtual reality, with a virtual copy of his world inside of it? He made a mental note to think about it tomorrow, and drifted into sleep. ------------------------------- A/N: too lazy to say anything please vote rate and review https://thecurseserial.wordpress.com/ please vote rate and review Arc 1 : Chapter 7 The priest was frowning deeply, and sweet was covering his bald head. He had his hands lifted toward Bran. Sir Hadrin shouted: ¡°Is there anything wrong?¡± The priest looked at him and said with a voice full of confusion: ¡°Healing isn¡¯t working on him, no matter what I do¡± The knight showed a face of bewilderment for a moment. Bran widened his eyes, various thoughts racing through his head. Elea lifted her head from his chest and looked at the priest, taking some moments to gobble the situation. Sir Hadrin¡¯s voice rang again: ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°You can try and see if it would work for you. I weaved many spells in different manners, but they always fade away upon entering him¡± The priest retracted his hands, the frown not leaving his face. He looked dumbly at the situation. Bran looked at the knight. The man gripped his sword, and the gem incrusted into it shined intensely. Sir Hadrin¡¯s face showed more surprise. After some moments, the light died out. No change happened over Bran¡¯s wounds. Elea looked at Bran, numerous feelings appearing in her eyes. The boy could feel her worry for him. He tried to calm the panic in his mind. The knight and Elea may be surprised about the oddity of this situation, but to him, that didn¡¯t matter as much as another pressing matter. The bone of his leg was fractured, and he couldn¡¯t heal it with magic. Panic took hold of him again. He wouldn¡¯t be in optimal form in a month and half. He cursed in his head. Why couldn¡¯t he get healed? He had a suspicion it was because of his curse. He tightened his lips in frustration. It was definitively because of his curse. There was no other thing that could be the reason. His hate for Ayleth grew more. Meaningless questions started flooding into his mind. Why him? Why did the god want to play with him? Why didn¡¯t Ayleth just outright kill him? Did the god find pleasure in his current suffering? The priest came up to them. He started talking about something. Bran ignored him. The knight turned toward the boy and said something. Bran ignored him. Elea just kept looking at him, worry apparent in her eyes. Bran ignored them all. Worried voices reached his ears. He let his head fall on the grass. He felt scared of what was to come. The bone of his leg was cracked. Surviving was already close to impossible after a month and half, now it was completely impossible, no matter what he did. He looked at the sun. He felt tired. He always kept struggling to survive, and a small spar made all his desperate hard work go to naught. The sun was rising in the sky. Rays of its light were falling on his face. They held no warmth. The world seemed very peaceful. He felt something heavy on his body. He raised his head slightly to look. It was Elea. He felt slightly guilty for worrying her. She was hugging his body tightly. He patted her head. He was tired. He let his head fall on the grass again, and closed his eyes. Thankfully, the knight and the priest noticed his mood and became silent. He knew his behavior was extremely disrespectful to them, but he was too tired to care. He would apologize later. He had to survive. He couldn¡¯t let this stop him from going on. The situation was indeed hopeless, but it had always been that way. He refused to give up. He could still continue. He remembered Celek. His uncle may know some way to get himself into top form. There was some hope. He cursed this situation, his fate and life. Looking at it in the long term, there was no escape from death, even if he survived his upcoming tribulation. It wasn¡¯t as cold as in the morning, or maybe he was just still hot from exertion. He felt Elea¡¯s heart beating. Following its rhythm, he felt his own breathing become steadier. His mind followed suit. He opened his eyes. As his eyes settled on the girl, he felt guilt in his heart. There were tears in her eyes, and she was whispering something. He couldn¡¯t hear it, and he didn¡¯t understand why she was like this, but he knew it was related to him. He looked up. The knight was frowning pensively, the gem in his sword shining sometimes. The priest was pacing around. The knight, seeing Bran becoming focused, said: ¡°Bran¡­ Do you have any idea why healing doesn¡¯t work on you?¡± His tone seemed hesitant, like he was suspicious of something. As Bran was about to say no, the priest interjected, his voice full of anger and disgust: ¡°There is only one way that would happen. He is a spawn of evil! A creature that lost the grace of the true god Azelf!¡± The knight lifted his hand, stopping him. His frown got deeper. Bran was surprised. He forgot about his predicament for a moment. He had heard a few stories about spawns of evil, but he never knew that they couldn¡¯t be healed. Elea tightened her hug around him. It was starting to hurt him, but he said nothing about it. He fixed the knight with his eyes. The priest seemed to be seething from anger, waiting for any opening from Sir Hadrin to attack the ¡®heretic¡¯. Bran understood. This must be what worried Elea. Most people heard gruesome stories about the so called spawns of evil, and Elea must be one of them too, yet she remained by his side. He indeed loved her. He certainly knew more than most people about the evil spawns, and he knew how much people exaggerated about them. He didn¡¯t know if them not being able to heal was real, but he was sure he wasn¡¯t one of them. They were mostly followers of Ayleth, but sometimes they didn¡¯t belong to any god but were still called evil spawn. He cursed Ayleth again in his mind. The boy slowly shook his head. The priest glared at him harder, but the knight kept him from doing anything foolish. Bran was thankful for that. He didn¡¯t want to fight any other magic user right now. His hand went to Elea¡¯s face. She was still clutching him tightly. He touched her chin with his fingers and held up her face. Their eyes locked into each other for a moment. He saw numerous emotions in her eyes. He had expected at least a tiny bit of fear in them, but he was surprised there was none. She was genuinely worried about him. He sighed in his heart. The girl was too na?ve. She trusted in the good of people too much. He had to leave her; else he would only hurt her and make her lose this innocence later. He patted her head. He would think about that later. He would have to deal with this current situation first. He pushed Elea slightly away, and with huge effort, he got up unsteadily, using his sword as a makeshift support. Her whispers were slightly louder now. He could hear some of them. She was firmly saying he wasn¡¯t one of them. He looked at the knight. The man was still frowning, but not as hard as before. Bran said with a firm voice, looking straight at his eyes: ¡°No, I am not¡± ¡°Lies! What are you if you aren¡¯t a spawn of evil!¡± The boy ignored the priest¡¯s outburst. He waited for Sir Hadrin¡¯s answer. The man kept silent for a moment, his eyes not betraying his inner struggle, and then sighed. In a defeated voice he said: ¡°I believe you. You don¡¯t feel like a spawn of evil, and I won¡¯t point a finger of distrust at you just because healing doesn¡¯t work¡± The priest seemed taken aback by the knight¡¯s words. He opened his mouth, wanting to protest, but as Sir Hadrin fixed him with one of his intense stares, he closed his mouth without saying a word. He kept glaring at the boy though. Bran didn¡¯t care much about the priest. He was nothing but a small pebble compared to his problems. He had to be careful nonetheless, a pebble could still hurt him in some situations. He racked his brain for a way to deal with this predicament, but he found nothing. His mind still felt some panic about the upcoming tribulation, and it couldn¡¯t work properly. He smiled at the knight. It was a weak smile, but it would do for now. The man didn¡¯t smile back. He offered his hand for a handshake to the boy and said: ¡°I apologize for wounding you. It was a good duel young man¡± Bran shook his hand and said: ¡°You have nothing to apologize for. Even I didn¡¯t know I wouldn¡¯t be able to be healed. It was a great opportunity to fight with you¡± It felt a bit weird to wrap things up this way, but Bran wanted to get away as fast as possible. The knight seemed like he didn¡¯t want to keep conversing too. The boy looked at Elea. She was glaring at the priest. He put a hand on her shoulder to support himself, and then held the sword toward the knight. ¡°You have my gratitude for letting me try this sword. It is a good one, although a bit weird¡± The knight finally showed a small smile, and he pushed the sword back toward the boy. ¡°You can keep it¡± Bran opened his mouth to refuse, but the knight continued ¡°Think of it as another apology. I messed up your face and leg very badly, so this should be the least to give in compensation¡± The boy smiled and took the sword. It certainly didn¡¯t compensate the amount of problems he would have in the future because of this spar, but it was still a really good gift. He didn¡¯t think he would find a smith good enough to forge such a durable and sharp sword. He thanked the knight again. He liked the man more. He didn¡¯t meet a lot of such men in his life. A young man approached them. He was dressed poorly. The knight recognized him and said: ¡°It seems your horses are ready. I bid you farewell, young man¡± Sir Hadrin looked at the still glaring Elea ¡°If Celek is willing, tell him to train the girl hard, and give him my greetings¡± Elea looked quizzically at the duo, before widening her eyes in realization. She tried to protest, but a stare from her mentor pinned her down. Bran sighed. He had to learn how to do that from the knight. The girl was proving to be his biggest weakness. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The knight¡¯s smile got a bit friendlier as the boy bid him farewell. The priest this time tried to interject, but Sir Hadrin stopped him and a heated discussion broke out. Bran ignored them. By interjecting, he would just make more trouble. He kept his hand on Elea¡¯s shoulder, and sheathing the sword into its scabbard, he used it like a cane. He turned around and started following the stable boy. The girl followed him. She must be still bewildered by this turn of events. He too still felt a bit overwhelmed. He took his ripped coat he had left on the ground earlier. The stable boy led them toward three horses attached to a poll. They were straddled and properly equipped. He recognized Mara, Eleanor¡¯s horse. She was brown, close to red. A white and a brown horse were near her. As he got closer to the horses, Elea suddenly stopped and said: ¡°I forgot to bid farewell to my father¡± Bran sighed. He nodded at her, as she made it back toward the manor. -------------------------------------------------------------- Bran led his brown horse by the bridle down the Bourg, using the sword like a cane. Elea was walking silently at his side, her pace slow enough to not tire him. Her hands were leading her red horse and the white one. Her hand was hanging down. Some people were looking at him. He wasn¡¯t surprised. He had a broken nose and a limping leg. At least Elea had wiped the blood from his face. She had asked some servants to some basic first aid to his wound, but he didn¡¯t agree. His leg bone was only cracked, not entirely broken, and Celek was waiting for him. The girl near him didn¡¯t talk at all. He had thought about bidding farewell to old Will, but he remembered his situation. He wasn¡¯t guaranteed to be alive after two months. He didn¡¯t want to give him farewells in that situation. The same was for Elea. He had to find a way to make her stay. Even his survival was impossible, let alone hers. He thought about something else. He never noticed till today, but behind her usual fa?ade, she was still a na?ve kid. That would be normal. She grew sheltered under her father wing, in a land that relatively faced no danger. She must know about people¡¯s viciousness, but knowing about it was different from dealing with it. He suspected the lord sent her with him on this trip for this reason. She had to learn the world¡¯s cruelty first hand. He cursed the lord in his head. Bran wanted her to remain innocent, untainted. They soon reached the gate, and went out of Terrowin. Her voice, faint, reached his ear: ¡°Bran, you aren¡¯t an evil spawn. I¡¯m sure of it¡± He smiled at her. ¡°Of course I am not. Evil spawns are merely legends¡± ¡°But¡­ Why couldn¡¯t you get healed?¡± Bran remained silent for a second. He considered lying to her, but he opted against that. She deserved better than that. She stood against her mentors earlier to support him. He would never be grateful enough. He gave another question back: ¡°What do you think about the future?¡± She quirked an eyebrow at him. It was an odd question, and it seemed like he wanted to avoid answering. She still answered though: ¡°What is there to think about? I will simply take up the lordship of this land from my father¡± Bran was thankful she didn¡¯t make any allusion to them getting married. He still felt some melancholy in her voice. He decided to push further: ¡°That¡¯s what is supposed to happen. What do you want to happen?¡± Elea stopped and looked at him. Her eyes seemed in a daze, like she was hesitating, struggling against herself. He was about to tell her to forget about his question, but she opened her mouth slightly and whispered: ¡°I want to be¡­¡± He concentrated on her words. She looked slightly embarrassed, frowning and averting her eyes. She took a deep breath and said in a barely audible voice: ¡°I want to protect this country¡± Bran¡¯s mind paused for a moment. He didn¡¯t expect such an answer. She wanted to be a soldier. He quickly regained his senses and asked: ¡°In which way do you want to protect it?¡± The girl thought for a moment, and then said: ¡°I just want to stop any harm from reaching it¡± He remained silent for some moments. He wondered how she thought about such a thing. Was it merely a na?ve wish, or had she really wanted to do that? ¡°Don¡¯t stay silent¡­¡± Her faint, embarrassed voice shook him out of his thoughts. Some red had crept into her neck. He sighed and said: ¡°By becoming the ruler of this land, you¡¯ll contribute to the peace of the country. Or do you want to do it another way?¡± He certainly had no thoughts about protecting this country. Maybe he was selfish, but survival was the most important thing to him, and he would keep trying to stay alive, even if the situation was as grim as now. This country did nothing good to him. It only abandoned him. He had no obligation to ever do something to protect it. He gritted his teeth. ¡°The position of a noble wouldn¡¯t let me change things properly. I would only contribute to the peace that way. I want more radical change to happen.¡± She frowned, organizing her thoughts, and continued: ¡°I didn¡¯t travel as much as you, and I probably don¡¯t know much about the world, but my father and Hadrin told me a lot of things about it. His Majesty may have reformed the country, but a lot of change still needs to happen¡± She started walking forward again. He followed her. Words didn¡¯t stop from spilling from her lips. They had chosen to go on the main road instead of the forest. It certainly made the travel longer, but with his wound, and knowing his bad luck with beasts, going through the forest will be suicide. ¡°I feel happy when I see people living their lives happily. It certainly sounds na?ve, but I want to make everyone in the country happy¡± She wanted everyone to be happy. It certainly sounded na?ve, but he could never make fun of her. She, at least, had an ideal to strive for, unlike him, who could only think of survival. His situation didn¡¯t allow him to have any other thought besides survival. He loved Elea, but he couldn¡¯t stay with her. He would destroy her future. He cursed himself. He was too much of a coward to tell her to leave him, and he knew she wouldn¡¯t comply. The only way to push her away was to hurt her, and he would never do that. He cursed himself again. He needed to become more decisive. Each step they were taking at the moment was making her dream more difficult to achieve. ¡°What will you do about your father then? The lord would want you to succeed him¡± Elea frowned in annoyance and looked at him. She threw her words with some anger mixed in: ¡°I would think about that at that time. Bran, don¡¯t try to make me forget. I answered you, so please answer me, why couldn¡¯t you get healed?¡± He gritted his teeth. After some hesitation, he said: ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know, really. I am sure though that I never did anything against Azelf or anyone following him¡± He didn¡¯t lie. He didn¡¯t know why he couldn¡¯t get healed. He only had a suspicion it was because of his curse. He cursed Ayleth in his mind. He would have to find some way to break his curse someday. He knew it was impossible. His family had looked at over thousands of ancient rare books, without understanding anything about his curse. It was odd he survived till now. He had some suspicion his unluckiness was also due to his curse. ¡°I see¡± Her voice came out dispirited and disappointed, almost hurt. It stabbed at his heart. She averted her eyes. He understood what she felt. It must hurt when your loved one hid things from you. He could do nothing about it. He didn¡¯t know what would happen if he told her about his curse, but he knew he shouldn¡¯t tell her. He was strictly forbidden to tell it to someone else. He couldn¡¯t predict what would happen if the population or the numerous cults would do if they heard about it. He sighed. He could feel a lot of pain in his leg, but he was used to pain. He decided to ask Celek about everything. He knew he relied too much on him, but he could do nothing about it. Bran knew he was weak. He didn¡¯t even have the strength of pushing his loved one away. With a defeated spirit, he walked forward. The red mountains were as tall as ever. The road was still long. --------------------------------------------------- A/N : So here''s another chapter... Damn my head hurt... I may write another chapter in the next days, but I''m not sure... I''m sick and have to be bedridden for the whole next days, so I will have a lot of time to write the next chapter... but there is always the possibility that I may pass out... Anyway have a good read... ah wait I should say that in the begining of the chapter... Anyway please comment, rate and review... That awesome review was certainly an awesome motivator for me! Thanks Arcada! I will do my best to make my english better! PLease, for anyone wishing to make a review, please make it a contructive review, as I want to get better and better at writing. Well normal reviews also make me happy so anything''s okay! One thing I always wondered about is how could other writers write chapters longer than mine once or twice a day... I can only say they are monsters... Even if I did have a lot of free time and no part time work, i would only be able to make two ot three whapters each week... And I always feel tired after each chapter so writing them consecutively is very hard... I''m really wondering how they do that... Arc 1 : Chapter 8 Bran remained silent on the road. As more time passed after the earlier exertion, his body got gradually colder. The wind blowing from the sea didn¡¯t get any warmer, even with the sun already high. With each step he took, he felt an agonizing pain in his leg. He was indeed used to pain, but that didn¡¯t make it less. He was already struggling to keep his breathing normal. He didn¡¯t want to worry Elea. He looked at her. She was looking down, still brooding over the earlier conversation. Her free hand was clutching her cloak tightly. He envied her for her cloak. His leg was already numb from the pain and the cold. He would start shivering at any moment. He hoped not. He couldn¡¯t show such a sight to the girl. He was a fool. He knew it. This walk may worsen his injury if he wasn¡¯t careful. The best option would be to hop on the horse. He didn¡¯t do it. He didn¡¯t wish to show Elea how weak and injured he currently was. Sweat trickled down his brow, and some of it went into one of his eyes. He blinked his eyes in reflex, and he stumbled on a rock. He immediately regained balance, and pain flared through his leg. A cry almost went out of his throat. He stifled it. He looked at Elea with the corner of his eye. She was looking at him, her lips parting slightly, realization and worry in her eyes. She held a hand toward him and said in a firm voice: ¡°Bran, lean on me. You are wounded and you can¡¯t walk on your own¡± He hid all traces of the agony he was feeling. Schooling his face, he responded with a smile: ¡°I¡¯m fine. I can keep going, it doesn¡¯t hurt much¡± Elea bit her lower lip. She was getting frustrated with his stubbornness. He needed rest. She caught his arm with her outstretched hand, stopping him. Her voice came out authoritative, almost ordering him. ¡°Bran, stop acting like a child¡± Her glare met his eyes ¡°If you don¡¯t get on the horse right now, I will definitively make you regret it¡± He glared back at her. This was her usual self. She may have been acting meek because of the last events, but she was never such a person. She always asserted her control on him whenever she could, and besides when he took her by surprise, he was completely under her thumb. He couldn¡¯t let that continue. He felt like he would definitively be dead after two months. If she was so intent on coming with them, he wouldn¡¯t let her see that pathetic side of his anymore. His voice that has already lost all signs of childhood had a slight vibe of cold in it as he said: ¡°Stop it. I am fine as you see, and the house isn¡¯t that far anymore¡± Their eyes kept locked together for some moments. He could see some anger building up in her eyes. He couldn¡¯t back down. His body was shivering, and he did his best to let nothing show on his face. She bit her lip, and then scoffed at him, turning around. Her voice came out full of anger and annoyance as she said: ¡°Fine, do as you want, but don¡¯t you dare complain later!¡± His eyes slightly widened in surprise. She had let him have it his way this once. He couldn¡¯t believe that. She started walking forward again, not bothering to look at him. He had managed to anger her a lot though. He exhaled the air he had held without noticing. He could feel some pain in his leg. He started limping behind her, carefully placing each of his steps to not aggravate his wound. He never knew a cracked bone could hurt so much by walking with it. He tried to walk as normally as he could, as to not hear any complaint from the girl in front of him. The main road they were taking was a road in name only. It was nothing more than a path trampled by horses¡¯ hoofs dozens of times. It was much better than going through the forest, but for him in that state, it was pure torture. He could see rocks and bumps everywhere, and struggled to avoid them. They were currently taking a huge detour around the forest. It was a bit farther now, but he could still see it. The trees weren¡¯t as high as in other forests he had seen. The soil of this land wasn¡¯t fertile enough to make such trees grow. They continued to walk forward in silence. He sometimes glanced at Elea, but she thoroughly ignored him. He sure was acting like a child, but that didn¡¯t matter to him right now. He knew his chances of living after this tribulation were extremely slim, and he wished she would remember him as someone proud and independent. He smiled in self-mockery. He was anything but proud and independent. He was pathetic. He was so pathetic that everyone abandoned him in the end. Everyone but Celek. His uncle was the only person to stand by his side and help him. He was very thankful to him, but was also feeling guilty. Even his uncle will be in huge danger to protect him. The boy was completely dependent on his uncle. Celek had saved him three years ago, and would try to save him again in the upcoming fight. Bran gritted his teeth, forgetting the pain in his leg. He felt immensely frustrated. He was weak, and again, he would only try to survive, while his uncle would fight for his sake, putting his life on the line. The boy was getting stronger at a very fast pace, but it would never be enough. He would never bridge the huge gap between him and his uncle. He tightened his grip on the handle of the sword. He hated this feeling of impuissance. He was indeed pathetic, and he could do nothing to change that. Elea was still ignoring him. That never happened before. Usually, she would start kissing him, or at least she would be pushier. Did today¡¯s events bewilder her that much? He cursed his luck and the ice bear he fought in the morning. If not for it, he wouldn¡¯t be suffering so much from the cold. After looking at the cloak of the girl for some moments, a thought occurred to him: as she had already seen the state of his completely ripped coat, shouldn¡¯t she have thought about giving him a cloak before setting out? He sighed in regret. He should have asked for it. They were both very distracted at that time. This was the coldest part of the country, as it was close to the glacial waters of the Cappard Sea. He heard a sigh from Elea. As he looked up, he could see the house a little bit farther. She accelerated in her steps, still ignoring him. He sighed in turn. She would definitively keep acting that way for a long while. One thing he was sure about was that she was very proud and stubborn. He tried walking slightly faster, making sure to not be hurt further. He had a lot to say to his uncle. He couldn¡¯t spot anyone in front of the house. Celek must be behind it. It wasn¡¯t actually a house. It was merely enough land to hold two beds, covered with a roof. He and his uncle both preferred to live this way, at least for now. They always cooked outside, and they spent all their time training. He remembered the first time Elea had seen his house. His lips that had turned blue from the cold morphed into a wry smile. It had happened two years ago. She was visiting with her father and the knight, and seemed quite shocked about the state of the house. She had asked him later to come live in the Bourg at her expense. She must have thought they were too poor to afford building a proper house. Contrarily to her assumptions, his uncle had more money than anyone could imagine. They had chosen to live in such a house because they were both uninterested in a luxury life, and preferred to concentrate on training. He had been bewildered at that time, as he couldn¡¯t find out why she would help him without compensation. Now he had finally understood. She always wanted people around her to be happy, and she tried making him happier at that time. It was a beautiful way of living, albeit a bit na?ve. She was very different from him. He was extremely selfish. He had dragged his uncle into his mess, and now he was dragging her too into it. He knew that if he forced her to stay, something will break forever in their bond, as he already stretching the trust between them very thinly by never telling her anything. He was too much of a coward to force her to stay and risk losing her, even if he knew this trip would be dangerous. He could only hope his uncle would find a way to send her back to her father. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Elea had reached the house, and after letting her horse search for something to eat, she had started looking around. He sighed. She wouldn¡¯t find Celek there. As his footsteps got closer to the house, he went around it. The soil had a red hue due to the density of copper in this place. He could see some red erratic huge boulders lying around. This was where they trained, and this was where you¡¯ll find Celek if he was alone. He started trudging forward slowly, making sure to not trip on anything. Elea must have probably checked the house and found nobody in it, as he could hear her light footsteps a bit farther behind him. After walking for some moments, he arrived near a boulder three times his height. It was a memorial of sorts to a very old tribe that lived here. It had a weird shape, as if it had been roughly sculpted, but winds of countless years made its shape unrecognizable. He looked up. As expected, Celek was lying on top of it. He didn¡¯t even wonder how his uncle got there, even if the surface of the boulder was almost smooth. He was already used to this. Celek always did similar things. His uncle was wearing a long plain coat that was billowing in the cold wind. Underneath, he could see brown wool pants, similar to his own. Celek¡¯s body was completely sprawled on the smooth top of the boulder, his hands at his sides. His slightly long white hair was fluttering freely. Celek¡¯s eyes were closed. His face held a certain manliness and ferocity that made him stand out. He had white stubble in his chin, and a few wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, even though he was only in his thirties. He still had a wild handsomeness though. At his left cheek, he had a long brown trail on his skin, stretching from the corner of his mouth to his left ear. It was one of the scars he had gotten three years ago to protect Bran. None of the wounds he had gotten that day had healed properly, even with the use of magic. They all became scars. It seemed like he was sleeping, but Bran knew he wasn¡¯t. His uncle had his brows furrowed like usual, which meant he was deep in thinking. Celek was always brooding on something, his brows furrowed that way. Elea came up behind him, but she said no word to the boy. He wasn¡¯t sure if his uncle has already noticed their presence, as he was showing no signs of it, remaining in the same sprawled position. Bran finally felt slightly impatient, and in a respectful voice, he called out his uncle¡¯s name. Celek¡¯s eyelids slowly opened, and a small frown appeared on his face. As he turned his eyes toward them, they first took an unusual blue, and then a beautiful violet color, before settling on a mixture of both. It was always a beautiful sight to behold, and it gave him an otherworldly feeling. Elea had once told Bran that people got the same feeling as they peered into the boy¡¯s eyes. Celek¡¯s eyes settled on them, and his lips slightly tightened as he saw the girl. They widened slightly afterward, as he noticed the wounds on Bran¡¯s face and his limping leg as the boy got closer to the boulder. Elea inclined her head slightly in respect toward Celek. The man lifted his upper torso, and then faced them in a sitting position. As Bran was about to say something, his uncle¡¯s voice, quiet yet steady, rang out, obviously trying to stop a smile from forming on his lips: ¡°I remember sending you in one piece this morning¡± Amusement started to seep into his uncle¡¯s voice ¡°I believe only Sir Hadrin Rulf could give you such a beating. What did you do to anger him?¡± Bran sighed. His uncle may find this amusing now, but he definitively wouldn¡¯t, after knowing he couldn¡¯t heal. Celek, as if noticing the boy¡¯s mood, starting showing a more serious expression. Taking it as cue to talk, Bran started to roughly tell his uncle about the spar, and about his inability to heal. Celek¡¯s face betrayed a slight confusion at the beginning, before frowning. His expression was grim. As Bran finished his story, Celek remained silent and pensive. The boy hoped his uncle would find a way. Anything, as long as it could heal him, or help him. He held on this hope tightly. After some moments, Celek said: ¡°I think¡­¡± His uncle closed his mouth, thinking a bit more. His gaze settled on Elea, who didn¡¯t participate in the conversation, watching from the sidelines. Bran understood him. He couldn¡¯t talk freely in front of her. There were some things that she mustn¡¯t know. Celek opened his mouth again ¡°I think there is a way to heal you. I¡¯m not sure about your case, but there is a different method, and it will probably work¡± Bran widened his eyes. He could heal. He felt slightly happier. He felt slightly calmer. It was unusual for him to get luck on his side. He felt a violent wave of emotion trying to burst out of him, but he pushed it down. He tried asking Celek about more details, but his uncle said: ¡°It can¡¯t be done here. You¡¯ll only be able to meet the person that will heal you in the capital, and it is lucky that we were going to visit him anyway¡± Celek¡¯s gaze settled again on the girl for a brief moment. Bran, following his eyes, made a slight nod. His uncle was stopping him from talking because of Elea. They couldn¡¯t reveal too much in front of her. They would discuss this once they were on their own. Bran calmed down the feelings storming inside of him. Celek¡¯s gaze sharpened as it settled on the boy¡¯s sword. With his usual quiet voice, he asked: ¡°Is that the sword the knight gave you?¡± As Bran gave back a curt yes, Celek got up, and started slowly walking toward the edge of the boulder. Bran, knowing what his uncle was about to do, focused more, trying to commit what he was about to see into his memory. Celek looked down at them from the top of the boulder, and then putting one single step in front of him, he put his feet on the copper filled soil, standing right in front of the boy. Bran cursed, and he heard Elea gasp loudly behind him. He could never comprehend what his uncle did to disappear from the top of the boulder, to appear right in front of him, in less than an instant. He never understood what was happening. He couldn¡¯t even think it was simply speed, as it would never make someone move like that. He could remember three years ago, his uncle had shown much more than that. This person in front of him was defying all the concepts he understood about the world. He heard a stutter behind him. He turned his head, and he saw Elea, with eyes wide, trying to say something. He sighed. It was her first time seeing this. He could understand her reaction. He was already completely used to seeing his uncle move that way, but to someone else, they would only see a man who was getting close to becoming an existence akin to a divinity. His uncle looked at her, and in just a few moments, she closed her mouth, making no further noise. Leaning on the boulder with one hand, Bran gave his sword to Celek, who unsheathed it in one flowing motion. He looked at the blade, nostalgia appearing in his eyes for a moment, before disappearing. He gave back the sword to the boy, and then said: ¡°It is a good sword, but it is lacking in its cutting ability compared to similar ones of its kind. Are you sure you want to use it? I¡¯m not sure I can teach you everything about it in the time left¡± Bran smiled. His words came easily as he responded: ¡°I¡¯m sure about it, Celek¡± the boy locked eyes with his uncle. The mixture of color was certainly disconcerting to look at ¡°Everything you¡¯ll teach me about it will be much welcome¡± Hearing those words, Celek only smiled back. --------------------------------------------- A/N: I know you were expecting the chapter a lot earlier, and I apologize for that. I simply experienced my first writer block, even though I already have what will happen in this chapter in my head... thus I could write nothing for quite a while. Arc 1 : Chapter 9 ¡°It is a good sword, but it is lacking in its cutting ability compared to similar ones of its kind. Are you sure you want to use it? I¡¯m not sure I can teach you everything about it in the time left¡± Bran smiled. His words came easily as he responded: ¡°I¡¯m sure about it, Celek¡± the boy locked eyes with his uncle. The mixture of color was certainly disconcerting to look at ¡°Everything you¡¯ll teach me about it will be much welcome¡± Hearing those words, Celek only smiled back. He looked at the boy again, and his eyes settled on his coat. Bran was carrying it on his shoulder. It was full of tears, with one large tear dividing it into two halves. The smile started disappearing from his face. ¡°An ice bear ambushed me this morning, and I lost the coat in its initial attack¡± Bran answered before his uncle could talk. It wasn¡¯t really an ambush, but his uncle had no way of knowing that. He had thought about blaming it on the spar with the knight, but with Elea here, he couldn¡¯t do that. Celek kept locking his eyes on the boy for a moment, before sighing and closing his eyes. He calmly said: ¡°Take better care of your clothes, and stop wasting¡± Bran nodded, even though his uncle wasn¡¯t looking at him anymore. He never understood this side of his uncle. He hated wasting things more than anything. They had enough money to live their whole life in luxury, and even though Celek was quite generous in regards to money, he gets very displeased when something is wasted. Out of respect to his uncle, Bran had made the decision to not waste anything; yet, once in a while he was bound to waste something without noticing. He promised himself to do better. He was very grateful for the help Celek was always giving him. Celek opened his eyes, looking at Elea sideway. He mumbled something under his breath, but Bran couldn¡¯t hear it. His uncle started walking toward the girl. She looked at him, wonder in her eyes. It was normal. Celek had just disappeared from the top of the rock and appeared in front of Bran instantaneously. She must have finally understood what Sir Hadrin meant, when he said Celek was probably the strongest fighter in the world. His uncle bowed his head slightly, and his right hand went to his heart. It was merely a slight movement, and few would think of it as a sign of respect. Nonetheless, Bran knew his uncle would never give much respect to nobles. This act of courtesy was merely his acknowledgement of her as his nephew¡¯s lover. ¡°Lady Eleanor, it is a great pleasure to see you again¡± Celek¡¯s voice rang out. Elea tried to respond, but he continued, giving her no time to talk ¡°It is sad that we¡¯ll send you back so fast, but we got a long trip ahead of us, so I would be happy if you could forgive our lack of hospitality¡± Bran perfectly hid the joy in his heart. Even though Celek didn¡¯t know she was planning on going with them, he was already sending her back to the Bourg. Elea looked lost for a second, before looking at Bran, seeking his help. The boy only shrugged back, making her frown at him. He wasn¡¯t going to help her explaining things, and wasn¡¯t she angry at him? Giving up on his help, she looked at Celek and responded, her voice a bit nervous: ¡°Um¡­ I was thinking of going with you to the capital¡­ Bran already agreed, and my lord father also gave his permission¡­¡± She left her words unfinished, giving a pleading look to Bran. The boy almost thought of helping her because of the unusual look she was giving him, but he steeled his mind. He couldn¡¯t let her come with them. She would be a lot safer if she didn¡¯t go with them, and he didn¡¯t want her to know about what was awaiting him. Surprisingly, after thinking for some moments, Celek easily agreed to let her come. Elea¡¯s face showed happiness, and Bran¡¯s mind came to a halt. No matter how he thought about it, he couldn¡¯t understand. Why would his uncle let her come? Wasn¡¯t it dangerous? He sent a panicking look toward his uncle, but he calmed down once he saw a furtive nod from Celek. His uncle must have thought of something. He trusted the decisions of his uncle. He knew he was very dependent on him, but he could do nothing about it. The boy was getting stronger, but it wasn¡¯t enough to survive. It would never be enough to let him survive on his own. He looked at his wounded leg. Celek wasn¡¯t omnipotent, but he knew enough to raise his chances of survival hundreds of times. He even knew a way to heal him. Trusting his decisions was the best bet. He remembered the talk he had with the lord, and the war with the tribes came up to his mind. It was a major issue. He had to talk about it with his uncle, but with Elea here, they wouldn¡¯t be able to converse properly without revealing too many things. He had to wait till they were alone. He hoped it would be soon. Celek started looking intently at the girl. She felt uneasy, and kept on fidgeting. Even Bran didn¡¯t know what his uncle was thinking about at that moment. Celek¡¯s eyes started dropping down, looking at her figure, and he started nodding absent mindedly, pondering about something. Uneasiness flooded the boy¡¯s mind, and after some moments, he became alarmed. If his uncle became interested in Elea, Bran would definitively lose her. He was sure his uncle was way more charming than him, and unlike the boy, he had a bright future in front of him. As he was about to get between them, his uncle frowned and said: ¡°Lady Eleanor, your body is really weak, and though I would look after you, it will be best if you had another protection¡± Celek¡¯s face relaxed, and he let out a sigh before continuing ¡°Did you bring any weapon? Or any cloth armor?¡± Bran stood bewildered before chuckling silently. His uncle was as unpredictable as ever. After all these years, he still couldn¡¯t predict his actions, nor could he understand his way of thinking. Elea frowned as she heard about her body being ¡®weak¡¯, before shrugging it off. She may be a lot stronger than other people at her age, thanks to the knight¡¯s training, but to Celek, she would be nothing but a weakling. To change his opinion about her, she should at least be able to protect herself from the usual dangers of the world. She shook her head while saying: ¡°No, I only brought a dagger, and I left it with the rest of my clothes on my horse¡± She couldn¡¯t stop fidgeting with her hands, while her eyes wandered everywhere, trying to avoid Celek¡¯s gaze ¡°But why would I need weapons? Is it really that dangerous?¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°It is always better to be prepared to anything¡± Celek said with a shrug. He turned and started trudging toward the house. The wind carried his last words ¡°Lady Eleanor, if you would please come, I¡¯ll find a good weapon and armor in the house. And Bran, you can rest for a bit. The trip must have been tiring¡± Bran smiled. His uncle really understood him. He remembered the monster¡¯s invasion, but he took it out of his mind. He could talk about it later with his uncle, and it wasn¡¯t really that important. It was the same for training the girl. He could always tell him when they reached the capital, as he wouldn¡¯t be able to train her while they were travelling. He didn¡¯t think she would learn much though. It was only a month and half, and the most his uncle¡¯s able to do in that period would be to correct her mistakes. Elea looked at Bran, then sharply turned her head and followed Celek. It seemed she¡¯ll still be angry at him for a long while. Bran slumped on the side of the huge boulder. He felt very tired. The cold had already seeped into his bones, and he couldn¡¯t care anymore. As Elea disappeared from his sight, he felt the emotions he had been holding welling up, trying to burst free. He tried to calm down, and he listened intently. He could only hear the whistling of the wind. Nobody but him was around. Unable to hold his emotions in check anymore, a soft whimper leaked through his mouth. He was happy. His leg could be healed. He had already given up all hope when he had heard he couldn¡¯t heal. There was a bit of hope. His mouth morphed into a mocking smile. That glimmer of hope wasn¡¯t near enough. He was bound to die. He was so small, so powerless. He could do nothing. A tear trickled from one of his eyes. He couldn¡¯t stop it. Why couldn¡¯t he heal? Why did all the gods abandon him? They first denied him all help, and now they took away even their blessings. He cursed them. He couldn¡¯t understand their actions. He couldn¡¯t understand Ayleth. He was probably nothing but an entertainment to him. He didn¡¯t know what demon he¡¯ll throw at him this time, and he hoped he wouldn¡¯t be a burden to his uncle again. He remembered his last tribulation. He could remember the strength of the demon they were against. Even his uncle was desperate in that fight, and Bran was nothing but an annoyance, a burden. He wasn¡¯t even able to protect himself. He felt frustrated and hateful. He was alone. He knew that. He was trapped in a death trap, and he would keep suffering till his death. Each tribulation was a whole level harder than the last one. He compared the tribulations of his youth to the last one. Only Celek could save him from the last one three years ago, and no other human besides him could even survive through it. The next tribulation would be a lot harder than that. He wasn¡¯t sure his uncle would survive through it. He was already used to this feeling of despair, but another tear slid of his eye. He was struggling in a lost fight. Even if he survived the next tribulation, it was hopeless to even think of surviving the sixth tribulation, which would happen after another three years. It would be impossible for any human to think of surviving it. He had a wild thought, and he tried to think of a way to survive it too. He abandoned the idea again. Even if he survived, he would have a harder tribulation to survive after another three years. It was an endless cycle. He would keep fighting till his death. He felt everything was hopeless. It was better to just die now, and be done with it. He looked up. Clouds had the sun hidden behind them. It didn¡¯t matter much, as the weather was already very cold. He already stopped feeling it. He could feel numbness in his whole body. He felt lonely and lost. He didn¡¯t know what to do. He had been abandoned by his family. He had been abandoned by everybody. He only had his uncle and Elea, and he was going to lose them because of his selfishness, because of his desire to survive. He bit his lip. It was frustrating, and he felt infuriated. His fist hit the ground, and it started bleeding. He hit the ground again. Pain flared up in his fist for a moment, but he ignored it. He had lost all hope toward the future, but once he had known Elea, he had started to look forward to each normal moment he spent with her. He was unfair to her. She had even told him her secret dreams, but he hid everything from her. He felt guilty, but he was also scared of her reaction once she knew everything about him. He didn¡¯t deserve to be at her side, as he was driving her to her death. A world of red. He liked the sight in front of him. It was so desolate, so detached from reality. The soil and the rocks all had that beautiful red hue. He would have liked to see this place at sunset one last time, before going to his death. He felt his hate for Ayleth fueling itself inside his heart. The boy was fated to never live a peaceful life. He felt his hate for all the gods growing several folds. Wasn¡¯t Ayleth the evil god they were supposedly fighting? No matter how he thought about it, he felt like he was someone that should have gotten their full support, as he was an enemy of Ayleth. The gods were merely ignoring him, probably laughing at his misery on their own. He let out a mocking chuckle. He was getting full of himself. The gods didn¡¯t have time for him. Something was throbbing in his chest. He concentrated on it, and noticed it was his heart. It had calmed down. He inhaled deeply. An unbidden, unstoppable stream of tears started flooding out of his eyes, and he was too tired to do anything about it. He felt his emotions going numb. He was alone in this world. His chest felt empty, like a gaping hole looking for something to fill it up. He could only keep trying to survive. He bit his lower lip one last time, before closing his eyes. The clouds stopped hiding the sun, and a small ray of light shone on his new sword resting near him. Bran drifted into sleep, as the streams of tears kept spilling out of his eyes. Arc 1 : Chapter 10 : Theodore woke up abruptly. He was breathing erratically, and a panicking gaze of his swept up the room. Sweat was rolling off his face. It was only seconds later that he noticed it was only a dream. It was his oldest nightmare. He let his body fall back on the bed. His back was drenched in cold sweat, and his shirt was already soaking wet. He had never forgotten his past. His real past, not the fabricated one. He was always reminded of it in every moment he lived. Nevertheless, he didn¡¯t have nightmares of it for years. His mind wondered about yesterday¡¯s events. His fingers made a sign, and the skill window appeared. A sigh escaped his lips. At least what happened yesterday wasn¡¯t a dream. Probably. He didn¡¯t know what to think about this situation. Maybe he was really crazy, like everybody once told him. His eyes transfixed the ceiling. He half hoped everything he was living right now was real, not a product of his imagination, partly because it was interesting, but mostly to make sure he was sane. To him, that was of the utmost importance. The moment he would be sure he was insane, he would finally know that all his past was only an illusion. He would really be without identity. He shook his head helplessly, and then got off the bed. His mind was fully awake, and he had a long day ahead. A part of him had a violent desire to log into the game again, but he contained his urges. He had always been like that, getting addicted to a game once he started it, no matter how crappy it was. For Origin, it was more a matter of dealing with his traumas. He knew he became scared of extreme pain, and the best way to rid him of that. A small crooked smile appeared on his face. He was still thinking of Origin as a game. No matter how far from reality the idea seemed, it was probably a real alternate world. A good night¡¯s sleep had calmed his thoughts and washed away his panic, and the fact that he was in the middle of all this mess didn¡¯t seem that alarming anymore. He took a quick shower to wash away the remnants of his grogginess. Holidays were just starting, and he had to look for work. He didn¡¯t really need money right now, but by experience he knew he would have a need for it in the next school year. Theodore had made it a habit to work part-time in each of his holidays. He dried his body then wore fresh clothes. A quick peek at the mirror showed him unkempt grey hair like usual. He decided to again leave it that way. It always bothered him to have organized tidy hair, he could never really feel at ease in that state. He made his way to the kitchen, and his grey eyes spotted the coffee bottle. With careful movements he prepared a cup of coffee, and then sat on his chair, slowly taking in the ice smell. He loved coffee. As he slowly sipped the contents of his cup, his mind started drifting. He had a session with his psychiatrist next week, and he wasn¡¯t really looking forward to it. It was a pure loss of time and energy. A thought crossed his mind. It would be interesting to show his psychiatrist the game windows that plagued him. He thought about it for some more time, giggling at his predictions of her reaction. He wondered if other people could see his windows. He would have to cautiously check that. He looked at the corner of the table. It was still broken. He ran his finger through the smooth surface, and then probed the ragged broken part. This was real. Everything was real. He had really taken out a sword of his inventory yesterday and broke a small part of the table. He tried to calm down his breathing. On a whim, he opened the inventory window. On the sight of it, he took a sharp intake of breath. His hand kept scrolling down, but he never saw an end to it. Weapons. An endless number of weapons. Swords, maces, daggers and weaponry of all kinds and sizes were there. Spears were the vast majority though. The young man felt like he was holding a bomb. A black spear caught his attention. It had an unusual feel to it. Mesmerized, he reached out with his hand, and touched the panel with the tip of his index. He had expected the spear to shimmer into existence, instead a sharp bolt of what almost felt like electricity ran though his body. He felt an insane amount of pain for an instant, and then lost control over himself. He couldn¡¯t even scream. He lost awareness of some parts of his body, and then fell limp on the ground. Phantom pains were assaulting him everywhere. He felt his consciousness dimming very fast. The smell of burned flesh wafted into his nose, but he couldn¡¯t make sure of the state of his body, as his sight was already lost. He knew this smell. He had smelled in many realistic games. It was the smell of burned corpses. His mind was too weak to even feel panic. A soft whimper went out of his lips, before he lost consciousness. Theodore opened his eyes, and then sat up abruptly. He was dead, he was sure of that. His body had been completely burned back then. His eyes scanned the surroundings, and he was surprised to find out he was still in the kitchen. The cup of coffee was lying next to him, completely broken, with its remaining content spilled out. The young man didn¡¯t feel any regret about the waste. He had more important matters to be concerned about. He looked at his body. To his surprise, under his burned clothes, his body was completely unharmed. His skin looked even more pristine than before. He didn¡¯t understand. He couldn¡¯t understand. An unusually blood red panel greeted his eyes:
Warning The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.Wielding this weapon at your current skill level may deal irreparable damage to your body. Are you sure you want to proceed forward? YES NO
Without thinking he tapped the no button. The irreparable damage part was scaring him. He got enough damage just from touching its panel. He didn¡¯t dare imagine what he would get from actually wielding the weapon. With the corner of his eyes, he looked at the skill window. Sparks were still coming out of the black spear panel, but they were slowly dying off. He couldn¡¯t understand what exactly had happened, but he knew he had been on the brink of death back then. Real death, unlike death inside the game. Uncontrollable gasps assaulted him, and his body started sweating profusely. It felt so unreal to him, as it was the first time of his life he faced death so closely. His wary eyes settled on the inventory window again, and fear started overtaking him. This thing was extremely dangerous, he was now completely aware of that. His whole situation was dangerous. As he lacked enough information, he would never know when he would make a mistake which consequences may be fatal. He noticed he was still on his knees, and he slowly got up. His shirts and pants were only burned rags now, and he was almost stark naked. Fear was still having its clutch on his heart, as he leaned his body on the table. He wondered about how he didn¡¯t die after that earlier. His clothes were enough evidence to be sure that he hadn¡¯t been dreaming. Maybe he did die and respawn afterward. He frowned. Such a way of thought was too unlikely. He wasn¡¯t inside a game, this was reality. If he really believed he could respawn, and it proved to be false, he would unwarily lose his life one day. He would believe such a thing once he found concrete proof of it. He looked up and his frown deepened. He lifted up his hands in complete submission. There were too many things he couldn¡¯t understand. He had now two bars below his health bar, while he only had one yesterday. The new bar was grey, and eerie sort of grey. This fucking game system hadn¡¯t shown any notification about that. He had to try to understand everything on his own. He felt helpless whenever he thought about that. His health bar was completely filled. He shook his head. He understood nothing. He only knew he was about to die back then. His fingers started probing the broken part of the table as he tried to calm his thoughts. He remembered the events of yesterday, and his mind finally made a connexion. The bruise on his wrist yesterday had healed instantaneously; maybe the same thing had happened again¡­ The pain earlier was short, but he didn¡¯t want to experience it again. He had to check if he could really heal though. No matter how painful it may be, he had to get more knowledgeable about his situation. His hand went to grab a nearby knife. He was going to inflict a small wound on his arm, and he felt extremely nervous about it. It wouldn¡¯t really be that painful, and he got plenty of such wounds in his life, but it was a different story to inflict it on himself with his own accord. He gritted his teeth, and let the edge of the blade sink into his flesh, cutting apart his skin. It felt weird to have such a wound slowly inflicted on him by himself. It felt slightly painful, but it was nothing compared to the pain he had once experienced. He kept sweating though. He hated pain. He preferred to not feel even the smallest amount of it. Once scarlet drops of blood started dropping on the ground, he couldn¡¯t take it anymore and took out the knife. He felt a small burning sensation as the fresh wound came in contact with air, and blood started spilling out. The pain started receding though, and in the blink of an eye, the wound closed up, reforming the skin to its former state. Theodore widened his eyes in awe. He had doubts, but it still awed him once he saw it with his own eyes. His finger started probing the once wounded part of his arm. Besides some leftover blood, the skin was completely undamaged, as though he never got a wound there. He didn¡¯t know what to think of it, and his thoughts became scrambled. To what extent could he heal? Would any wound on any part of his body heal? What about his neck? And brain? Would his limbs grow again if they got cut off? He didn¡¯t wish to try any of these. It was too dangerous. He gripped the knife more tightly, and slashed his thigh. Before he could even feel pain, the wound reformed itself, and his skin became unblemished again. A fit of wild laugher took over him. This was completely insane. He could heal his wounds in an instant. A thought crossed his mind, and he made the skill window appear. His grey eyes scanned it over, and he noticed the change. His skill, Soul link, was still level 1, but at least its progress became 0, 02%. The young man thought again about what he knew of the skills in Origin. They didn¡¯t grow by using them numerous times, but by having a better understanding of them. The only noticeable thing he had understood earlier was his healing abilities. It must be related to this particular skill. He looked at the progress again. 0, 02%. It seemed as though was a lot deeper than that, and did a lot more than he could imagine. He would have to find out what all of his skills really did. He sighed. He still had many things to understand about Origin.