《Mark of the Sleepless: A LitRPG Adventure》


 Book 1 | Chapter 01: Awakening Ritual

    ¡°Move with purpose,¡± Kalen Onearm barked, his duelling cane poised for the next strike. ¡°I didn¡¯t teach you to be sloppy.¡±


    Gritting his teeth, Harrow shifted into a defensive stance, barely saving his shoulder from another blow. His limbs ached from all the gruelling exercises, leaving him far from his best during the spar¡ªnot that it would have mattered. Master Onearm was in a particularly foul mood this morning, not that he was ever kind to his penniless students.


    With narrowed eyes, he observed his opponent¡¯s approach. Despite the tall and heavy stature, Master Onearm moved with an agility that belied his year. As his name suggested, the old master had only one arm, but that mattered little, considering he was once a full-fledged knight with decades of training and experience.


    Whereas Harrow was nothing but an unawakened bum.


    Well, he wasn¡¯t homeless yet, but he might as well be if his Awakening fails.


    The old master¡¯s training rod, held high, swung mercilessly towards Harrow in a threatening arc. He managed to block the first strike but struggled to parry the following ones.


    There was no room for him to push forward. Harrow found himself constantly on the defensive, forced to withdraw under the unrelenting charge. Each contact between their weapons sent electric spasms through his arms, intensifying the ache.


    ¡°No,¡± the retired knight yelled, his voice piercing the air, unsatisfied. ¡°I ain¡¯t seeing it yet. You are better than this, boy!¡±


    Those words would have struck a nerve before, but after a couple of years under the old knight, it was almost a daily routine. Of course, it wasn¡¯t every day the old bloke was hellbent on destroying Harrow. On most days, he left it to his other students.


    Harrow shifted his weight onto his front foot and mounted a more committed stance. His moves lacked refinement compared to his opponent¡¯s, but he poured every ounce of strength into them. It wouldn¡¯t change the outcome¡ªhe knew that¡ªbut Onearm would be more satisfied seeing him try to land a hit.


    ¡°That¡¯s more like it,¡± growled the old man, parrying his attack. A hint of satisfaction played on his lips.


    Harrow liked to think of himself as a swordsmanship prodigy¡ªan unsharpened blade¡ªbut such sentiments felt hollow after getting beaten up most days in training. There hadn¡¯t been a single time he could stand up to the old man.


    They continued sparring until the sun rose completely from the horizon, leaving Harrow utterly spent and sprawled on the ground.


    The old man seriously needs a woman in his life, he thought.


    ¡°Clean the pavement and tools before you leave for the ceremony,¡± the old knight instructed, placing the duelling cane among the rest of the equipment. ¡°Also, don¡¯t come crying if you receive a shit-skill, got it?¡±


    Harrow grunted.


    He remained on the ground, still catching his breath. His stomach twisted in hunger. Whoever invented the tradition of fasting before the Awakening was a massive prick¡ªnot that he ever came to practice on a full stomach. His thoughts circled around the ceremony.


    The Awakening Ceremony was arguably the most important event in anyone¡¯s life. Through this single ritual, one¡¯s fate would be set in stone. A person could become a knight, a common soldier, a butcher, or even a toilet cleaner¡ªall dependent on the skill they awakened.


    Honestly, Harrow didn¡¯t think the gods would condemn him to clean shits for all his life, but one never knew. After all, he had spent plenty of time cleaning toilets just to earn some spare change.


    Swordsmanship was the art he spent the most time on. Perhaps he could never become a knight, but he couldn¡¯t help keeping his hopes up. The path of a magus was beyond his wildest dreams, as nobody but the nobles knew how to train for that vocation.


    It wasn¡¯t like it had never happened, but Harrow didn¡¯t consider himself so lucky.


    All he hoped was that the gods wouldn¡¯t be merciless in their choices.


    Something poked him on the shoulder. His eyes fluttered open to find a familiar figure crouching next to him.


    ¡°Did I disturb your sleep?¡± Eira chimed, still poking him with a duelling cane.


    ¡°I was meditating,¡± he said in a monotonous voice.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°I believe you,¡± the old master¡¯s daughter smiled, clad in a simple white gown, ready for the ceremony.


    The girl was strikingly different in appearance from her father. While the old geezer was tall, dark, and rough-looking, Eira stood a full head shorter than Harrow, her features delicate and less severe. Her blonde locks were meticulously bound in a braid.


    Had it not been for Onearm¡¯s integrity, Harrow would have suspected that the retired knight had stolen Eira from a noble house. Her pearl eyes gave the impression of nobility.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t Father ask you to hone all the tools and clean up the rest?¡± Eira arched her eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re going to get an earful for that.¡±


    Harrow grunted as he rose and made his way to the toolbox. Gushing over the girl would only antagonise the old man and all her other suitors¡ªwhich were half of boys his age in town. Who knew when the geezer would run out of patience and ram his sword through some unlucky fella¡¯s chest?


    He certainly wanted to do that to Alec, Harrow thought.


    Soon the metallic scraping sound filled the air with his fingers deftly grazing a knife against the whetstone. Eira lingered in the yard.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you missing something?¡± she asked, eyebrows raised.


    Pausing his grinding, Harrow lifted his gaze to meet hers. Clueless.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to wish me luck for the ceremony?¡±


    ¡°As if you need it,¡± he snorted. ¡°For now, let me cling to the bit of luck I have left. You¡¯ll awaken something good either way.¡±


    Eira arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. She left him to his devices.


    Harrow sighed deeply, gazing at the tools scattered around him. All this would take over an hour to finish honing, followed by sweeping the pavement and watering the flowers. This would probably the last time he¡¯d be working here if Solus wishes it.


    A few minutes later, Eira emerged from the house with her father. The old knight rarely left home, but today he decided to show up at the temple for his daughter.


    Knowing the ceremony would last for hours, Harrow was confident he¡¯d finish his chores and join in due time. Still, he hastened his grinding, swiftly honing the blades one after another. The constant motions took a toll on his fingers and arms. It was a familiar ache¡ªone he had made peace with long since his time being the butcher¡¯s apprentice.


    After completing his errands, Harrow ran to the orphanage, which was thankfully just around the block of the temple. His body strained from hunger and exhaustion as he searched for water. Nobody important was present at the orphanage¡ªthe Awakening Ceremony was a festive occasion that drew everyone to the temple.


    Along with water, he found a loaf of bread. His stomach growled.


    Harrow froze, considering the off chance of angering the gods before his Awakening just for a loaf of bread. The gamble simply isn¡¯t worth it.


    However, before he could put the bread back, a figure appeared behind him and pulled his ear.


    ¡°I should have expected it¡¯s not a cat scooting around the kitchen at this hour.¡±


    ¡°Sister Serena!¡± Harrow cried. ¡°You haven¡¯t gone to the temple?¡±


    ¡°I was waiting for you.¡±


    He tilted his head.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t waiting to catch you stealing bread.¡± the nun shook her head and snatched the loaf from his hand. ¡°Good thing you haven¡¯t eaten it yet, or you¡¯d have blamed yourself all your life if you received an inferior skill.¡±


    ¡°I guess I¡¯d be blaming Solas for everything from now on.¡± He realised he¡¯d said it aloud when she gave him a pointed look.


    At least he was glad to learn both Master Kalen and Sister Serena had expected him to awaken a skill¡ªdoesn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s the lowest of the low. There were telltale signs that indicated the possibility of awakening a certain kind of skill. Kash¡ªanother kid from the orphanage¡ªwas nimbler than most kids his age. He had awakened the skill [Light finger (Uncommon)] last year.


    Physical traits began to manifest during the adolescent years. It was the magical ones that were difficult to perceive.


    Harrow exhibited no particular physical traits other than being a head taller than most of his age. His physique scrawny, and severe for a fifteen-year-old boy.


    ¡°Go prepare yourself. I have something for you,¡± Sister Serena literally pushed him into the washroom.


    Refreshing himself, he changed into a more presentable tunic. Bathing was pointless, as he¡¯d be taking a dip either way.


    ¡°Sister?¡± He returned to find her waiting with an old box in her hand.


    ¡°Come here.¡±


    She had donned her rounded-framed glasses and was gazing at him with an unreadable, emotional look. He had spent all his life in the orphanage, and she had been part of it for all the years, but he rarely saw her exhibiting such state for anything.


    Harrow approached. He¡¯d grown taller than her, though for most of his life he remembered being shorter. She touched his cheek before bringing out a red string, braided in nine smaller strands¡ªeach for a divinity.


    ¡°Give me your hand.¡±


    She tied the red string to his wrist, praying that Solas would protect him forever.


    ¡°What¡¯s in the box?¡± Harrow asked, his eyes darting towards it.


    ¡°Inheritance,¡± she said softly before opening it to uncover a sheathed dagger. ¡°It¡¯s from your father.¡±


    His heart skipped a beat as he glared at the item. Harrow took it and unsheathed the blade. Though it wasn¡¯t rusty, the dagger had certainly seen better days. Its outward look didn¡¯t indicate anything magical about it, though it rarely did to unawakened eyes.


    ¡°I wish he¡¯d left something else instead of a weapon,¡± she murmured.


    Harrow shot her an inquisitive look. ¡°Sister, is this¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an Artifact.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± His eyes narrowed at the dagger, wondering how to prove it. If cutting himself would, he¡¯d do it in a heartbeat. Well, Sister Serena could see it through the System¡¯s eyes, and she had no reason to lie.


    ¡°Your father left behind a donation to the orphanage and the dagger all those years ago,¡± Sister Serena said with a heavy heart. ¡°I pray to the goddess that you never have to use it.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to pray for that. I¡¯m going to sell this to the first legitimate merchant I can find.¡± Harrow made sure to keep my emotions in check. Either way, it wasn¡¯t a terrible choice to sell the artifact, if all it did was remind him that he was abandoned.


    The middle-aged woman sighed, looking older than she ever had. ¡°You¡¯re getting late for the ceremony.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Harrow sheathed the dagger and stuffed it into his waistband before walking out. ¡°Pray to the goddess to give me a legendary skill, Sister!

 Book 1 | Chapter 02: Mark of the Sleepless

    Orlin was a lonely town situated on the very fringe of the empire. Despite its remote location, it was the only town in the surrounding areas that possessed an old temple devoted to Goddess Solas.


    The folks of Orlin and nearby villages were pretty diverse in their faith, but it didn¡¯t stop them from crowding over the old temple on occasions such as the awakening ceremony.


    Nestled amidst a serene expanse of wheat fields, the temple stood as a weathered and unpretentious chapel that seemed to have withstood the test of time. It failed to reflect the true grandeur and influence associated with the Primordial.


    Unsurprisingly, Harrow found scattered groups of minor nobles in lavish clothing camped outside the temple, eagerly waiting to recruit the promising, awakened candidates. It was nothing unusual to see them here, though he was astonished to find them not crowding inside the temple.


    The skeletal remains of a stone arch led him into the sanctuary, where people crowded, clamouring. As he crossed the arches, a withered statue at the heart of the plaza came into his sight. One simply couldn¡¯t assume it to be a statue of the goddess, considering it was challenging to determine whether the statue depicted a male or female figure.


    Harrow trudged his way and met with a sea of people obstructing his path. The number of adults in attendance far surpassed the youths present for the ceremony. After a couple of good minutes of shoving and wrestling with the people, he painfully made his way towards the main hall. Thankfully, the crowd was sparse there, as only the candidates taking part in the ceremony were allowed inside. Unless you have given a hearty donation to watch your child awaken their power, of course.


    Saving himself from the mass, Harrow hurried into the hall. In his haste, he failed to see someone emerging from the hall.


    He caught sight of blonde locks of hair just before colliding with someone. Harrow stumbled, barely regaining his balance and scattered attention until he could finally discern whom he had collided with.


    ¡°Eira,¡± Harrow instinctively called out, stooping down to extend a helping hand.


    Her wet hair and outlook implied she had already undergone her awakening and awakened no physical strengthening ability, as she alone ended up falling from the impact.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be running inside the temple,¡± Eira said, raising her right arm to inspect the bruise on her elbow.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t,¡± Harrow muttered, but his words fell on deaf ears.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Eira sighed, accepting his arm and allowing him to help her up. Her expression showed she was bothered by something else entirely other than the little bruise she received from the collision. Perhaps not satisfied with the result of her awakening.


    The way she averted his gaze and drifted away before he could ask about her experience only gave evidence to that. If it weren¡¯t for his own ceremony, Harrow could have stayed there for a few minutes to listen to her. But there were far more qualified people out there to reassure her. She didn¡¯t need my help.


    Nevertheless, a disturbing agitation settled in his stomach as he regarded others of his age. Many stood with a self-assured poise, clad in white ceremonial dress. But it was only after observing their body language did Harrow noticed their assurance was nothing but a facade. Plebeian or Patrician, all of them bore the telltale signs of nervousness. Fidgeting limbs or darting eyes were all common.


    If someone of Eira¡¯s upbringing and blood could awaken an inferior skill, what fate had in store for them?


    Harrow sucked in a deep breath and drifted to one corner where nobody would see him. At least the Rector conducting the ceremony was not the same one who liked to blabber unnecessarily. Some gossip that entered his ears revealed that it was the Rector who banned the Guildsmen and nobles without a candidate from entering the sanctuary.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He didn¡¯t stop there. Observing the chaotic gathering in the hall¡ªwhich was no better than a bustling fish market¡ªhe dismissed the families who had already completed their ceremonies. Even among those still yet to undergo the awakening, the stern Rector allowed only two relatives to wait.


    In a matter of seconds, the hall grew more spacious as more than half the attendees dispersed. The local priest called individuals forward one by one, as the Rector led them to the awakening chamber where the awakening pool should be.


    The youths chatted idly, mostly to shake aside their nervousness. Although some envious voices entered his ears over rare elemental skill. Harrow clenched and unclenched his jaw, choosing to remain silent. The cold wall he was leaning against reassured him as much as the inheritance in his pocket did.


    The door to the ceremonial chamber opened and closed as each youth came and went in turn. He kept his eyes steady on them, so focused that their delightful or sorrowful words blurred in his mind.


    Harrow noticed Durian¡ªa boy his age from the orphanage, now an adult¡ªcompleted his ceremony and came out of the chamber with a defeated look. Despite nothing changing in his outlook, the world would expect a great many things from him. Want him to be self-reliant.


    Time blurred before his eyes. Almost everyone was gone from the chapel when the blond Rector ushered him into the chamber. Instinctively, Harrow lowered his head, ensuring not to directly stare at the priest of the goddess.


    He was as pious as the next bloke, but there was always something unnerving about the eyes of powerful awakened. And one had to be a pretty high ranked¡ªperhaps Elite Class to be a Rector. It was as if they could see his whole fate unfolding before their eyes.


    Soft rays of sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, casting a gentle glow upon the worn stone floors of the ceremonial chamber as Harrow cast his sight inside. Amidst the hallowed walls, tapestries, and murals telling stories of the Primordial, Harrow found the small pool next to the altar where another statue of the goddess stood. It was in far better shape than the one outside.


    Then he saw something truly foul that churned his stomach.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± the Rector said, looking at the nasty vomit sprawled before the Ascendant Pool. ¡°Some kids just couldn¡¯t tolerate the process.¡±


    There was nothing foul in the pool, right? Harrow hoped.


    ¡°What is your name, boy?¡±


    ¡°Harrow,¡± he said unwittingly. ¡°Um, it¡¯s Harrowin, your grace.¡±


    ¡°Harrow,¡± the rector nodded, as a light flickered from his palms. ¡°Hopefully, you followed the tradition and fasted for the occasion.¡±


    He nodded, his eyes glued to the glowing hand of the priest.


    ¡°Just a minor cleansing spell,¡± the Rector said to ease him. ¡°No need to get worked up. I¡¯m far from being a magus.¡±


    He cast the light into the foulness, which melted it out of existence along with any urge Harrow suffered to follow in the footsteps of the previous candidate.


    ¡°What skill did he awaken?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to tell you that,¡± the blond man said with a smile. He was way more polite than he looked, which eased Harrow¡¯s anxiety somewhat. ¡°But safe to assume it¡¯s a strong physical-based skill. Usually, those tend to cause an upheaval in the stomach.¡±


    The middle-aged man guided him towards the pool. Harrow approached, his gaze fixed upon the clear, dense water that seemed to possess an otherworldly quality. The surface of the water reflected light differently from ordinary water, with thin misty threads of smoke puffing out.


    ¡°Do not resist the Aether, son,¡± the Rector advised, his voice carrying a tone of solemnity. ¡°Embrace its essence, open your heart to the goddess, and let her lead you to your designated path.¡±


    Gathering his wits, Harrow stepped into the pool, allowing himself to be submerged in the hallowed water. A chill rushed down his spine. Any doubts he harboured dissipated as he witnessed a radiant white glow emanating from the Ascendant Pool.


    Harrow cast one last glance at the statue of the goddess on the altar, his right palm clasped over his heart in prayer. Give me a chance. Please. I¡¯m not worthless!


    Then he dipped completely into the cold water. The water swirled around him. His right arm jolted with piercing pain as icy coldness stabbed into it.


    Harrow couldn¡¯t comprehend what was happening as the chill spread through his body and mind, stunning him completely. The Rector had advised him not to resist, but he wasn¡¯t sure if he could have resisted even if he tried.


    Golden light shimmered, and then blackness enveloped him, drowning him in a sunless realm. Gasps clawed their way out of his parched throat as he stared into the thick darkness looming over him.


    [Legacy Confirmed: Mark of the Sleepless.]


    [Qualification Achieved for Trial Protocol.]


    [Initiating Rite of Passage Sequence¡­]


    [The Primordial Awaits Your Triumph.]

 Book 1 | Chapter 03: Awakening

    <div>


    A stabbing pain gnawed at his mind as Harrow¡¯s eyes snapped open. He was sprawled face down on warm, prickling grass, its sharp blades biting into his skin.


    Reddish sunlight flickered through the dense canopy above, casting twisted, flickering shadows around him. Blinking up, Harrow squinted against the harsh light of the sun, which hung high and crimson, bleeding into a sky tangled with thick clouds.


    The leaves overhead weren¡¯t vibrant green but sickly yellow and dull, drained of life. The air was thick and stifling, heavy with humidity. As he took in his surroundings, a creeping unease coiled around his gut. The ominous crimson sun confirmed how out of depth he was in this predicament.


    A deep, unsettling feeling began to take root in his heart. Where the hell is this?


    No matter how many times he scanned the area, nothing looked familiar. His muddled thoughts struggled to piece together the last moments before he had blacked out.


    He closed his eyes and recalled undergoing the awakening ritual. The icy chill of the hallowed water still fresh in his mind, though his body felt none of the shivers. Then there was the blackness, and the divine voice saying something about Sleepless and a Rite of Passage?


    Opening his eyes, Harrow pinched himself. As if that wasn¡¯t enough, he even slapped himself a couple of times. But he knew for a fact he was not going to wake up. This is not a dream, is it?


    Fear clawed at his heart as he surveyed his surroundings, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªto anchor him to reality. He found nothing to suggest he was anywhere near the little town of Orlin.


    Then the divine voice echoed in his ears again. It was ancient, as he recalled¡ªunsympathetic, perhaps prearranged even.


    [Forced Awakening successful!]


    [Welcome, Challenger, to your Rite of Passage.]


    Legends claimed the divine voice belonged to none other than the Primordial Order, ever observing, determining justice for all transgressions that might befall upon mortals.


    But what of the injustice done to me? Harrow cried inwardly. Where is my skill? Why am I in this nightmare?


    The ancient voice continued its preset words.


    [Honour Attained!


    Mark of the Sleepless: One may tread the path of Sleepless, untouched by Dream¡¯s embrace.


    Boon: Unrestricted Skilltree.]


    ¡°I tread no such path!¡± he cried. What does that even mean? Can¡¯t it talk human?


    [You may summon the specification of your Profile by staring into the mark on your right arm with intent.]


    Harrow planned to do just that when an upheaval struck in his stomach, convulsing his insides. Knowing exactly what was coming, he tried to muffle his mouth with his palm, but eventually, he felt sick at the distaste. Jerking his head to the left, he vomited out the bile.


    ¡°What the...?¡± The curse hadn¡¯t left his lips when goosebumps crawled all over him. A warm, boiling current surged through his muscles and bones. Thankfully, the pain only lasted for a fraction of a moment. His whole body glistened with sweat.


    [Skill Gained!


    Cloak of Night (Elite): +1


    A veil of night conceals you, protects you, and restores you, though solely after nightfall.]


    A huge grin was about to split his face upon hearing the word Elite, but his lips twitched at the ¡®solely after nightfall¡¯ part.


    ¡°Kismat¡¯s teats!¡± he cursed. What did I do to deserve this?


    Despite the restriction, the skill seemed great. But then again, the description explained little. Harrow could only activate it and experience how remarkable it was, but that would have to wait until night-time.


    Sighing, he finally turned to notice the sharp mark on his right palm. It was the usual runic wheel for the most part¡ªexactly the same as all awakened received. The unusual part was the pupilless eye in its centre. Like any awakened mark, it wasn¡¯t erased, no matter how desperately he rubbed.


    ¡°All right, show me my profile,¡± he said, staring unblinkingly at it with unabashed intent.


    The light swirled in front of his eyes to form a disembodied illusion of runic texts.


    <hr>


    [Profile]


    Harrowin


    Path:


    Honour: Mark of the Sleepless


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.Rank: Awakened - Unformed Level 1


    Aspects (Uninvested Points: 4)


    <ul>


    <li>


    Physique: 5


    </li>


    <li>


    Mind: 3


    </li>


    <li>


    Spirit: 3


    </li>


    <li>


    Core: 1


    </li>


    </ul>


    Skills [1/8]:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Cloak of Night (Elite): +1


    </li>


    </ul>


    Relics: Duskripper


    <hr>


    ¡°Why is there something called Path?¡± he thought aloud.


    His eyes flashed over the four uninvested points and his aspects¡ªno surprise there to find Physique was his most prominent aspect, while everyone starts with one point in Core. It was through awakening that one obtained a core, so there was no time to train it up.


    Then he faltered on the skill tab. His eyes widened sharply as his heart skipped a beat, remembering the description of the [Mark of the Sleepless].


    ¡°Is this what unrestricted skilltree means?¡± he said. ¡°I can have all eight skills right now?¡±


    The profile definitely suggested so. But how do I even get more skills without advancing? I cannot afford a skill crystal even if I sold myself.


    Only horrifying monsters formed something like a characteristic, which sometimes gives one a skill, along with headaches and a dozen other issues.


    An awakened of the Unformed rank usually had only one skill slot, filled with the skill received on their awakening day. Unless they progressed to Level 25 and advanced to the next rank, there was no way of increasing the skill slot¡ªproving how essential the first skill was. Some skills were so poor they didn¡¯t help with progression.


    Conversely, some skills were so overwhelming that one could advance to the Formation Rank within a week.


    After mulling over it, Harrow decided he didn¡¯t fall into either group.


    Either I¡¯m awfully lucky, or royally shrewd, he thought.


    <div>


    Sighing, he paused on the last tab. He didn¡¯t remember having a relic. Those things were rare, even¡ª


    It can¡¯t be! Harrow swiftly fished out the sheathed dagger from his pocket, his expression incredulous.


    The ancient voice rang in his ears, freezing him in place.


    [Relic: Duskripper


    Rank: Ascended [VI]


    Description: An idea stolen from the realms of Dream and carved into a ceremonial knife.


    Enchantment:


    Sacrifice: The relic strengthens itself with each sacrifice.


    Plunder: Plunders essence from the stabbed target.]


    ¡°I have so many questions.¡± Ignoring the fact that the voice was as unreliable as ever, he wondered, What did it imply about my father leaving the relic for me?


    He didn¡¯t have an answer to that, but now he knew how to get a skill crystal, though only a fool would exchange a relic for a skill. Still, this should amount to an Epic rank skill.


    Unsheathing the knife, Harrow tested it by slashing at the nearest tree. The blade was too small to be handy for monster hunting, but the deep scars it carved into the thick bark of the humongous tree proved it was quite useful. There were also those two enchantments. Again, he had no clue exactly what they meant, but they implied he needed to stab something to find out.


    He would need to figure out more about that later, but for now, he needed to take care of his survival.


    The voice mentioned a trial¡ªhis Rite of Passage¡ªthough it hadn''t mentioned what he needed to do to pass. Trials felt like something that came hand in hand with dangers.


    ¡°I can do this,¡± he told himself, clutching the relic tight.


    After some more convincing himself, Harrow hit the path, vigilant and far slower than his usual pace. His observant eyes scrutinised every disturbance. Even the familiar chirping of the bugs made him cautious. The forest seemed never-ending. Tall trees, thick hedges, the unfamiliar sun high in the sky, and the stiff wind caressing his skin all heightened his anxiety.


    He moved stealthily, hiding behind trees. With towering trunks all around, enveloping the land in a wild shade, Harrow felt exposed and a collection of other unbridled emotions. The eerie silence was getting on his nerves.


    However, it was far from the dread he witnessed in the next instance.


    A sudden disturbance halted Harrow in his tracks as he instinctively hid behind a gigantic tree. Something crept ahead¡ªdark brown, thick as one of those tree trunks, twisting in an undulating motion as if some great mechanism was at work.


    But Harrow knew it was no machine. Machines didn¡¯t hiss like that. High-pitched squeaks and hisses gnawed at his ears. He caught his first glimpse of the horrifying creature, swallowing a deer in one gulp. The animal stuck in its neck in a huge bulge as the great serpent slithered and pushed it down.


    Harrow swallowed a breath, sweating cold. His heart lurched inside his chest as his palm moved to muffle his mouth, ending the instinctual scream before it could escape.


    The noise came to a rest, and Harrow didn¡¯t remain there to get a full view of the great serpent.


    I need to escape! his mind screamed.


    With the decision made, he turned his head and crept away as discreetly as possible. He didn¡¯t give the massive reptile another glance, his dread pumping sufficient adrenaline to keep moving until he lost track of distance. His pace quickened, and soon he was in a mad dash.


    Harrow ran like his life depended on it¡ªbecause it did. He didn¡¯t know if the snake had his trail or whether it gave chase, but he couldn¡¯t stop after witnessing something like that.


    He was unaware of how long he ran. When he couldn''t anymore, he called up his Profile, and invested all four points into Physique without batting an eye. Electric currents spasmed through his body, along with an impaling pain. They were right, one shouldn''t invest too many points when their aspects weren''t much to begin with.


    Gritting his teeth, Harrow bolted through the ominous forest. Easily he felt the sharp increase in his body, as trees blurred in his sight. He stumbled and fell a couple of times, unable to control his newfound prowess.


    Three was the number for average unawakened people. With 9 points in Physique, he might as well be thrice as stronger.


    Harrow only stopped when his legs couldn¡¯t endure any more. His muscles ached, filled with acid. Wheezing as though it was his last, Harrow leaned against a tree, heavy gasps escaping his lips.


    It didn''t look like the serpent gave chase. Relieved, he panted leaning against a tree, as his back dragged down onto the ground.


    With a sharp noise, something fell from the tree.


    It dropped in front of him, too big for a fruit, and there was no way a fruit moved like that. It was a head-sized creature that wasted no moment to lurch at him, working all of its legs.


    A giant ant?!

 Book 1 | Chapter 04: Beguiling Tree

    Before Harrow could confirm his guess, the creature shot at him.


    ¡°Solas, It¡¯s fast!¡±


    Oddly, the size of the ant didn¡¯t frighten him as much¡ªnot after what he had witnessed. Compared to the massive serpent, the ant was only a foot long and covered in a deep brown carapace. And the fact that it was an ant. Perhaps it would be frightening if it came in numbers, however, as a lone ant, it held little of his terror.


    It was agile, but not enough to evade his notice. Harrow kicked it as soon as it came within range, shoving it aside.


    Tor¡¯s balls, that hurts!


    Thankfully, the sight of the giant ant hurtling a dozen paces to crash into another tree was a damn satisfying one. The impact left it dead still on the ground.


    Harrow looked around and approached the ant. With an assessing foot, he nudged it. The ant lurched into motion, regaining a little of its mobility.


    ¡°Bloody hell!¡± Instinctively, he pinned his hurting foot on the head of the ant, forcing all his might over it. A delightful crunch sound followed as his foot dug into its shattered exoskeleton, dark purple blood smearing his barefoot. I¡¯m really missing my boot right now.


    [You have slain a Pincher Ant Lvl 2.]


    A smoky wave of something threaded out of the crushed creature and entered him. A trace of heat rose in his chest, and Harrow knew immediately what it was. Essence.


    Unfortunately, the quantity was too low to warrant a level-up.


    ¡°I guess it only amounted to this,¡± he said. Quickly, he wiped away all the filth from his foot in case the blood was contaminated. You could never know about these cursed creatures.


    After contemplating for a couple of minutes, Harrow decided he wouldn¡¯t question the incredulity of the situation. It was counterproductive. The time would be better invested in ensuring his survival¡ªwhich implied he would need to kill more of these creatures.


    The situation is completely absurd, perhaps absurd thinking will bear fruit.


    Bringing the knife out, Harrow struck at the already dead ant. ¡°Come on, do something. Sacrifice!¡±


    He was hoping to see at least one of the two enchantments¡ªSacrifice or Plunder¡ªactivate. Unfortunately, nothing happened.


    Maybe I need a live sacrifice.


    His eyes darted around his surroundings, easily finding more of those giant ants in the trees. They seemed to be sucking nutrients from the trunks, minding their own business, not bothering to attack him as the other one did.


    Hesitating a little, he kicked the tree trunk, trying to shake the ants into falling. That proved to be an impossible task, as the tree was at least four times thicker than his waist. And that was the smallest of the trees in the surroundings.


    He was not stupid enough to climb the trees and fight them on their turf, no matter how good of a climber he was. His eyes darted to the knife, and his mind wavered a bit. He would at least want to know what those enchantments could do.


    Clenching his jaw, Harrow targeted one at the lowest branch of a tree with a lone ant. He bit the hilt of the knife between his teeth and climbed up the tree. The ant didn¡¯t seem to notice his climb and continued to suck on the tree. It was only when he came near that it stopped and lurched at him.


    Harrow swatted it with a fist, causing it to fall onto the ground. Prepared to not let it flee, he jumped down, trusting his augmented physique to save him from any undue injury. The fall was nearly twenty feet, and he timed the landing well enough to remain unscathed.


    His worry about the ant fleeing seemed to have been unfounded. The giant ant had made him its target, and it bolted towards him, emitting a low screech. These were not like normal ants at all.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Clutching the relic in a reverse grip, he waited for it to strike. The ant lunged at his chest, becoming a brown blur. His dagger arm flashed just as menacingly, grazing over the carapace and biting into it. Purple blood bubbled out from the wound, but the ant was far from being dead.


    Finally, it seemed to remember the threat to its life and dashed in the other direction.


    ¡°No,¡± he barked, shooting after it, ¡°you are not going anywhere.¡±


    The bleeding ant jumped into a hedge, and Harrow followed. Thankfully, the wound slowed it down, or else he would have had no chance of catching up to it.


    He lunged on top of it, striking the blade into its back with a squelching crush.


    [Claim Sacrifice: Y | N]


    ¡°Yes,¡± he accepted without thinking.


    The monster churned under his knife, as smoke and heat radiated from it. To the naked eye, the creature melted into a burst of light and smoke, leaving him utterly transfixed.


    [You have slain an unformed creature, Pincher Ant Lvl 4.]


    [Essence plundered.]


    Heat rose in his chest, and now more of the essence channelled into his body. Unfortunately, even a level 4 ant was not enough to level him up.


    At least I got to test out the relic, he thought, sitting upright. The smoke vanished as soon as it came, leaving only a little of the purple blood.


    Harrow was about to look for his next target when something lurched out, causing him to recoil onto his butt. A tall green stem, as thick as his waist, rose ahead of him, its huge flower towering over him.


    He squinted at the one huge red flower on its head. It didn¡¯t look carnivorous, as it didn¡¯t attack him as he assumed. It remained a metre away from his head, hundreds of its red petals flapping at him in a greeting.


    His vigilance waned as a mesmerising scent permeated the air. Harrow found himself drawing his arms towards the irresistibly mesmerising flower.


    There was so much more for his two eyes to take in. All his insecurities, troubles, fatigue, and pain washed away as he stared at it, getting drunk on its hypnotic scent. Whatever it was, he wanted more. He wanted all of it.


    If Harrow had a canvas, brush, and colours, he would have made one of his masterpieces out of this view, though he was aware his meagre skill couldn¡¯t do justice to its beauty. One had to experience it first-hand to know, the fluorescent flower and its spores¡ª


    A tingling sensation spread to the back of his mind, chilling his spine. Even if the flower was beguiling to a fault, Harrow was not out of his mind to practise his poor painting skills on it.


    Something was very wrong with this plant. Thankfully, he was not too late to recog¡ª


    His eyes grew wide as the head of the stem lurched at him. The red petals turned jagged akin to daggers, while a dark hole loomed in the middle of the flower.


    Harrow lurched to his left to evade the flower head, but he wasn¡¯t nearly fast enough. The flower crashed onto his back, its sharp petals biting into his skin. Thankfully, the impact hurtled him away from it, and he rolled before the monstrous head could capture him. Unlike the pincer ant, agility was not one of its strengths.


    Harrow escaped safely, only to discover there was no dagger in his hand. He didn¡¯t even know when he had dropped it. The plant was so terrifyingly mesmerising and soothing that he failed to notice anything beyond it.


    The dagger lay a couple of paces away from the stem, while the misty spores in the surrounding air completely. He guessed the entranced state was probably due to the spores.


    ¡°Entrancing tree,¡± he groaned. Great, that¡¯s the thing I was waiting for.


    Harrow exhaled sharply and muffled his mouth and nostrils, hurrying far beyond the grasp of the plant monster. It appeared there was a limit to its reach, as the other part of the stem was rooted to the earth. Still, to escape the hypnotic spores, he had to move further away.


    Finally, he breathed fresh air as his mind reeled back to clarity. Harrow was mesmerised no more, nor did the flower seem beautiful to him. Contrary to being beautiful, it terrified the living daylights out of him. It lurched its unrelenting flower head in his direction, resembling a serpentine creature trying to gulp him down in one bite.


    Despite failing to trance him for the second time, the flower head didn¡¯t stop releasing the spores. It was effective¡ªnot just on him, but a large bug flew straight to its demise, intoxicated by the spores. The flower head didn¡¯t wait ceremoniously; it sucked the bug into the looming cavity at the centre of its petals.


    A chilling sensation ran down his spine as he witnessed it all. Its cavity was narrow, ill-equipped to devour a complete human, but he didn¡¯t like his chances.


    Unfortunately, Harrow dropped the only tool he could use to hurt it, kill it even. He could walk away, but he didn¡¯t want to leave the weapon, no matter how menacing the flower monster seemed. He would likely discover more monsters like this if he were to survive this trial.


    He could escape safely now, but what would he do against a monster that didn¡¯t have a movement restriction?


    Yeah, I need my tool back, he thought. However, it didn¡¯t seem like the monster would let him have it without taking a bite or two.


    Harrow watched as the monster devoured one bug after another, yet still more flew towards it. He impeded the advance of one of the ants with a crushing kick, as an idea formed in his mind¡ªan idea that would not only get him back his weapon but might as well kill the plant monster too.

 Book 1 | Chapter 05: Level ups!

    Before his bleeding even stopped, Harrow jumped at the opportunity presented to him.


    The hypnotic spores didn¡¯t affect him as much. However, the dull bugs weren¡¯t safe from their reach. Giant ants, bees, beetles, or cricket-like bugs flew to their deaths willingly, intoxicated by the spores.


    Harrow stayed clear of the paths of the more agile bugs¡ªespecially the bees. However, he didn¡¯t let any of the ants pass to their death. No, he killed them himself, squashing their shell-like exoskeletons with wild abandon, one after another.


    He kept at it for a quarter of an hour. His feet were smeared in purple fluid from all the hard work.


    By then, the plant monster had stopped emitting spores, though that hardly stopped the bugs from bolting to their deaths.


    Now that he was satisfied with a couple of dozen giant ant corpses, he turned his gaze to a beetle that had almost fled from the trap of the plant monster. The black beetle was twice as big as the largest ant he had killed but injured to the point that it couldn¡¯t fly straight.


    All that worked to his advantage. Harrow loomed behind it to shove his fist into its back. The injured shell cracked as he smashed it against the ground. Its struggle was finally rendered futile when Harrow leapt on top of it, squashing it with everything he had.


    [You have slain an Iron Beetle Lvl 4.]


    [Awakened Unformed Lvl 1 ¡ú Lvl 2]


    [+4 uninvested aspect points.]


    ¡°Finally!¡±


    Within mere seconds, the familiar current pulsated through his chest. This time he was prepared for it, so he could feel it stronger than the previous times. His whole body warmed up for a fraction of a moment before everything returned to normal. He would probably need to kill a couple of dozen beetles like this to reach Level 3¡ªor maybe something more menacing.


    Harrow had a perfect target in mind.


    Quickly, he invested all four points into his Physique, which elicited a sharp pain through his bones and muscles. Harrow squirmed on the ground, clenching his jaw to suppress the scream.


    [Physique: +13]


    The pain passed, leaving a relishing feeling of awe¡ªan awe at how lively he felt. Even the wounds he had received from the jagged petals closed up, though not completely healed.


    Harrow jumped to his feet and found himself soaring a couple of metres into the air, his body light as a feather. A grin split his scrawny face.


    Now it was time to deal with the freaking tree.


    After having the bugs as breakfast, the flower monster reverted to its beautiful state, recoiling its serpentine stem into the hedge. Harrow would be a fool to fall into its scheme again. Quietly, he collected a few of the ants he had killed and crept closer towards it. He rested six dead ants in a heap just beyond its reach and peered at where his relic lay.


    ¡°Hey there, nice day, isn¡¯t it?¡± he called, holding out a corpse. Maybe the monster plant had some form of intelligence, even if it couldn¡¯t communicate.


    ¡°I guess you¡¯re just not like most trees. How ¡¯bout this? I¡¯ll give you this tasty, delicious, not-so-juicy corpse of a giant ant in exchange for you refraining from eating me.¡± Harrow shook the corpse around, trying to gauge its attention. ¡°You know, it¡¯s quite special, freshly killed by yours truly, Harrow the fearless. I know you want it. Well, you can have it, just... be a little less vicious, okay?¡±


    Honestly, it felt stupid to talk to a tree, but it pushed aside the nervousness gnawing at his heart.


    Harrow took another cautionary step, his eyes drawn to the knife. He sucked in a deep breath and threw the ant at its head. The fiend lurched up off the hedge, and the maw opened in the middle of the petals as it devoured the corpse completely. It let out a high-pitched shrill. Satisfaction? No, it wanted more!


    ¡°I have more?¡± Harrow grinned, raising two ants and clutching them by their appendages. He prepared to throw them, dashing towards his weapon. ¡°Go and get it!¡±


    He threw the corpses in two different directions. No matter which one the plant monster chose, it had to reach for its food. That had been his plan. As the plant lurched to collect the ant to its left, Harrow bolted to where his weapon lay.


    The baits worked as Harrow lunged at his tool. He rolled over to swiftly fish out the knife. On the other hand, the plant monster caught onto the corpse sooner than he had anticipated.


    Harrow swore inwardly, but instead of trying to escape, he lunged towards the hedge where the stem stuck to the ground. That had been his plan, to begin with.


    The flower head didn¡¯t go for the second ant lying on the ground. No, it twisted its head to shoot for him. Its mouth opened in a screech, aiming to take a bite of his leg. Harrow lurched towards the stem as the maw missed him by only a small margin. Before it could attack again, he lunged at it, pinning the dagger to the green bark. Even if he couldn¡¯t kill it, he was confident of escaping in one piece. The beetle had done it, and its wit was literally nonexistent.


    The serpentine stem lurched. Harrow struck again, hacking the dagger continuously, using all of his augmented strength. The flower head reeled at him in self-preservation.


    Harrow waited for the Sacrifice option to expand before his eyes. But no such thing happened, much to his distress. So he could only double down on his plan and hack relentlessly at the bark, working for the utter destruction he sought.


    The blade had no trouble finding purchase either. It was an Ascended Relic, not just in name, even if it was ill-equipped for the job.


    [Essence Plundered.]


    [Essence Plundered.]This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    [Essence Plundered.]


    Finally, something! He wasted no time in celebration, twisting his legs around the stem and hacking without a care in the world. The undulating flower struck at his back constantly, but it couldn¡¯t quite find the elevation it needed to strike a blow that would dissuade Harrow from his work.


    ¡°God-fucking-damn!¡± It was agonising¡ªthe jagged petals tearing through his tunic to bite into his skin, worse than anything he had endured under Master Onearm and his disciples.


    Clenching his jaw in grim determination, he twisted his legs tighter around the stem and began hacking with ruthless efficiency.


    ¡°Bad tree!¡± Harrow shouted, yanking his dagger and plunging it repeatedly into the same spot. Dark green liquid poured out in a spray, its smell entrancing, melting his pain away. ¡°You could¡¯ve lived happily eating those bugs.¡±


    The flower head struck again, wounding him. His already torn shirt turned threadbare in mere seconds, but he worked through the pain, as though the monster had turned him into a true hater.


    Green liquid bubbled onto his palms and body, while the intoxicating aroma stunned his senses. His pain dulled, but his instincts screamed, forcing him to keep working.


    Before Harrow lost himself in the intoxication, the monster became sluggish. Its attacks barely mustered any force now. He was successful in penetrating it multiple times, enough to create a deep hole, causing the stem to dislocate.


    The flower monster screeched, and its scorching red petals distorted. Madness filled the plant monster as it hurled at him in a final desperate attack. The dagger-like teeth in its maw twisted and contorted, looking fiercer than ever.


    ¡°You know,¡± Harrow said, panting. Green liquid bubbled on his palms and body, while the intoxicating aroma numbed his senses. ¡°I¡¯m finally starting to understand you. You just want to eat, don¡¯t you?¡±


    He lunged to climb higher above the wounds he had inflicted, forcing all his weight and strength onto the stem to split it further. Its undulations ceased, unable even to carry its own weight. The creature couldn¡¯t muster any real attack anymore. It did try to strike with its mangled head, but it was too slow. Finally, the stem snapped, rendering all its madness futile.


    The plant wasn¡¯t dead yet, though he had almost completely severed its stem. A flood of juice poured from the crack. Did he need to sever it entirely or uproot it to kill it?


    Severing it completely was easily achievable, but he felt uprooting it might be counterproductive. Who knew how deep its roots extended into the earth?


    Thankfully, the Sacrificing enchantment finally triggered, relieving him of the burden. A prickly sensation came to his palm, and Harrow accepted it before the option even appeared.


    [Claiming Sacrifice!]


    [You have slain a Tainted Forestfiend: Rose Hunter - Level 7.]


    ¡°Whew!¡± A warm power surged within him again, driving away his exhaustion momentarily. But there was no level-up. ¡°All this for¡­¡±


    He winced as the green serpentine trunk melted into mist and light. Harrow fell to his knees, coughing violently. The tree monster vanished, but his arms were still drenched in green juice. It shimmered like nectar.


    [Rose Hunter¡¯s Root essence plundered.]


    A small white ball, uneven and oozing juice, appeared when the smoky mist cleared.


    ¡°At least there¡¯s something,¡± he rasped, picking up the uneven white ball and fixing his gaze on it, hoping the system would reveal its secret.


    [Rose Hunter¡¯s Root Essence:


    Hint: Alchemy material. Can be ingested directly to recover from essence exhaustion.]


    ¡°This is going to be useful,¡± he muttered. But his attention soon shifted to the buzzing noise behind him. Harrow squinted and turned to see a giant beetle flying towards him.


    Although the plant had vanished, its intoxicating nectar and spores had not. Most of it was smeared on his body. He sniffed the liquid on his arms, and his expression stiffened. He reeked of the same smell as the Rose Hunter¡ªand with alarming intensity.


    ¡°Kismet¡¯s teats!¡±


    The giant beetle, nearly twice the size of his head, hurtled at him. Harrow raised his dagger in defence, but its jet-black shell was too hard to crack. The dagger was deflected, so he followed up with a kick that flung the creature several metres away.


    Unfortunately, the dead flower monster hadn¡¯t summoned just one beetle. Dozens of ants from the surrounding trees converged on the scene. A smaller number of bugs, beetles, bees, and other flying insects joined their ranks soon enough.


    Half the swarm went for the remains on the ground. The rest made Harrow their primary target.


    He cursed his luck and quickly gathered all the bolts within reach. Before he could collect them into his quiver, he had to strike at one of the beetles attacking him. The strike felled it, but there were dozens more, assaulting him from all directions.


    [You have slain an unformed creature: Iron Beetle Level 3.]


    He didn¡¯t stay to find out what other creatures the nectar might summon. Collecting his wits, he made a run for it. The dumb insects gave chase, drawn by the intoxicating scent he carried.


    ¡°Solas!¡± he screamed as a sting bit into his back. It felt like an icy cold keel piercing his body, followed by an unbearable burning agony.


    He killed half a dozen of them, hacking with his dagger in wild abandon as he dashed, claiming essence and sacrifices alike. But the numbers were too overwhelming for him to handle. Harrow needed to find a way to escape their pursuit¡ªand he needed to do it fast. It would be a lot easier if he could remove the nectar from his body.


    [You have slain an unformed creature: Iron Beetle Level 3.]


    [You have slain an unformed creature: Pincher Ant Level 4.]


    ...


    [You have slain an unformed creature: Hunter Bee Level 5.]


    He bolted through the looming woods, twisting and turning among the towering trees. The buzzing of bugs never ceased, nor did his heart stop pounding. Something bit into his shoulder, and he jerked it off, swinging the dagger. The distinctive crunch told him it was another beetle.


    Lactic acid built up in his lower muscles, spasming with burning indignation, but he didn¡¯t stop. He couldn¡¯t stop. The insects were still buzzing in his ears, still after him.


    Harrow wheezed, panted, and cursed, almost certain now that if anyone was overseeing the trial, they hated him. Because this kind of bad luck could only be intentional.


    They were probably having a blast, laughing at his expense.


    [You have slain an unformed creature: Hunter Bee Level 3.]


    ...


    [You have slain an unformed creature: Pincher Ant Level 2.]


    [Awakened - Unformed Level 2 ¡ú Level 3]


    [+4 to uninvested Aspect points.]


    The only consolation was the power-up, driving some of his exhaustion and pain away. Once again, Harrow invested all four points into Physique, because his survival might very well depend on it.


    [Physique: +17]


    Powered up, he dashed with renewed vigour. The thick forest gradually gave way to rough, rocky terrain. After a few moments, he discerned he was on a ridge, which likely led to a stream. Hopefully.


    The ridge was high¡ªabout a few metres¡ªbut not high enough to pose any mortal danger, even if he mistimed his jump. Honestly, he wasn¡¯t sure of that as he decided to jump. Then again, what choice did he have? At least his augmented body would help.


    He knew how to swim, though diving had never been an option he entertained. First time for everything!


    Somewhat relieved, he charged and vaulted into the stream, screaming at the top of his lungs.


    This was merely an hour into this madness, and Harrow was already exhausted, delirious, beaten, and screaming pathetically to no end. He didn¡¯t even know¡ªor care¡ªwhat horrors beyond his comprehension awaited him next.

 Book 1 | Chapter 06: Binding

    ¡°I hate trees,¡± Harrow said, spitting out a mouthful of water. He wiggled his limbs, shaking off droplets of water that clung to his body as he emerged. ¡°And ants, and beetles, and those cursed bees.¡±


    At least his thirst was sated. The torn clothes clung to his body¡ªwet, heavy, and uncomfortable. Good thing he hadn¡¯t suffered any new injuries from the dive. The water had rinsed most of the sticky nectar that had smeared his hands and body. Still, he¡¯d swum long enough, scrubbing at his skin to remove all trace of it.


    The intoxicating smell had mostly washed away, though a trace of riveting aroma still wafted from him. The lingering scent was more like a strong perfume. Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t attract more unwanted bugs.


    The stings still ached, with patches of angry red spots, but they weren¡¯t as fatal as he had feared. He felt under the weather and quite lethargic. The level-up certainly helped with that. It might be crude maths, but he was easily four times stronger than he had ever been.


    Spotting a large, sun-warmed boulder on the riverbank, Harrow flopped down onto it, groaning as the hard surface pressed against his tired body. There were plenty of much smaller rocks scattered across the landscape. Towering trees loomed in the background, their branches swaying gently under the ominous sky. He rested, lifting his left arm into the air to shield his eyes from the sun¡¯s direct light.


    The steamy breeze curled around his wet clothes like a gentle caress. After a moment¡¯s thought, he pulled off his wet clothes and laid them out to dry.


    Harrow hadn¡¯t meditated in what felt like an eternity. Now, more than ever, he felt a need for calm, and only meditation could provide that. The space felt safe enough to try for a few minutes, but it was hard to clear his mind while he was still in pain. So he settled down for some rest and breathing exercises.


    His eyes wavered from time to time, while his stomach twisted in hunger. What I wouldn¡¯t do for a loaf of bread. Maybe some anaesthetics too.


    This should be a good time to bind the relic, he thought. The only reason he hadn¡¯t tried it the moment he learned it was a relic was because of the history related to it. Duskripper was something his father had left for him.


    Harrow didn¡¯t know the man enough to love or hate him, but the practical thought would be to bind the knife. Relics were, after all, beyond rare. On top of that, if he bound it, he wouldn¡¯t have to fear losing it.


    He considered losing it in the stream¡­ and felt binding would be the right option.


    Harrow had barely come to a decision when a loud croaking noise broke his train of thought.


    His mind snapped to attention, and he spun to find a large, fat, frog-like creature leaping out from the gnarled shrubs. With a few more leaps, it came straight towards him, ribbiting as it moved.


    He groaned and leapt to his feet, naked as the day he was born.


    The rotund red frog was nearly as tall as his waist, its skin greasy, reflecting the reddish glow of the sun. What worried Harrow more was when it opened its mouth wide to flick its long tongue in his direction. He lurched to his side, and thankfully, its lengthy tongue was unable to reach his skin. But its spit did.


    Most of the spit fell on the stone, but some grazed his arm. A sharp, burning sensation flared where it had touched him, as dark, wrinkly patches formed on his skin. Even the stone degraded a bit, white smoke rising from it.


    ¡°Tor¡¯s balls!¡±


    Harrow didn¡¯t check his swelling skin. Clutching the relic, he darted behind the large boulder to shield himself.


    The frog was huge, but it could certainly leap. Its tongue had an alarmingly long range. All he could do to avoid its advances was play a dangerous game of tag with it, ducking and running in a circle around the large boulder.


    He was merely trying to buy time at first, but soon he found the acid spit was growing slower and slower, while the ribbiting grew dire.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    He didn¡¯t know how its acid was formed, but this suggested there was a limit to its production. Capitalising on that fact, Harrow lunged at the frog from behind, Duskripper pinning into its neck.


    The creature struggled as he began ripping the knife downwards, twisting in its path. It leapt, taking him along with it. Harrow didn¡¯t let it shove him aside. Only a few seconds more and he would be able to¡ª


    [Claiming Sacrifice!]


    [Essence Plundered.]


    [You have slain a tainted creature: Arctic Frog Level 5.]


    The frog¡¯s corpse vanished into thick mist and a burst of light, dissipating into the air just like the other creatures had.


    ¡°You¡¯re not half bad,¡± he muttered, looking at the bloody knife.


    [Arctic Frog¡¯s acid gland plundered.]


    [Hint: Alchemy material.]


    The gland was large enough to be a fistful¡ªnot that he took it in his hands after reading what it was. It was soiled, with slimy liquid oozing off it.


    ¡°Now what do I do with it?¡±


    First, Harrow slipped into his trousers, surveying his surroundings. He found no more frogs or any other creatures nearby.


    Collecting a few fallen leaves from the nearby trees, he rolled the leaves around the gland before tearing his cloth to make a cord out of it. Binding the leaf-wrapped gland, he stowed it away in his pocket.


    The stinging from the acid burn dulled, but his skin felt oddly numb instead of its usual awareness.


    ¡°Monster plants, giant bugs, acid frogs. What else am I going to encounter next?¡±


    Finally, he turned his attention to the relic.


    To bind it, or not?


    The process was irreversible as far as he knew, so there was no undoing it. The choice was troublesome because if he bound one relic now, he wouldn¡¯t be able to bind another before reaching Level 100.


    I¡¯ll consider my survival first, before thinking about ascending.


    With the decision made, Harrow wasted no time cutting his palm, concentrating his willpower on connecting with the weapon.


    [Would you like to bind Duskripper to yourself: Y | N?]


    The voice of order came sooner than he had hoped. Harrow faltered for a moment before accepting it.


    Heat rose from his blood and the relic, as warm air swirled around him in a flood. A sudden thrust crashed him onto the ground, face down, utterly powerless against the working force.


    The dagger remained in his palm until smoke wafted out of it. Misty light ignited, and it dissolved much like the creatures he had slain. Unlike the dead creatures, the misty light drove straight into his chest. His awareness expanded.


    It took a moment or two for him to return to lucidity, and when he did, he could feel the weapon within him. It was an organ, much like a limb.


    A stray thought of summoning it occurred to him, and it appeared in his palm, materialising in shimmering mist.


    Harrow whistled.


    He dismissed it and re-summoned it repeatedly, becoming familiar with the motion. Satisfied with shuffling between summoning and dismissing, he left it in his palm, thinking about the dangers this wilderness posed.


    Now if only I can find something to fill my stomach.


    Harrow hurried beside the banks before trudging through a dense undergrowth. He spotted giant ants crawling up in the trees. Briefly, he considered killing a few more, maybe grinding for another level. Giant ants weren¡¯t much of a threat¡ªat least not at low levels, and certainly not without a swarming colony.


    He did kill a few, but their levels were close to his own and not enough to warrant a level-up. I¡¯d probably have to kill a hundred of them to get anywhere near Level 4.


    All the running and fighting had left him famished. Oddly enough, the level-up seemed to intensify the hunger rather than alleviate it. His search for edible food continued.


    He found the remains of the rose hunter before anything edible. Its body was completely gone, but the entrancing smell remained.


    A dozen bugs still lingered, their movements sluggish from intoxication. The nectar oozing from his body had all but dried up, so none targeted him. He dispatched a few insectoids until the rest scattered into the trees.


    Still no sign of a level-up.


    It seemed he needed to face more dangerous creatures¡ªhigher-level ones¡ªto speed up the process. On that note, a creature¡¯s level didn¡¯t always reflect the true threat it posed. A Level 4 giant ant was no match for a Level 4 wolf in terms of ferocity.


    It¡¯s their nature that matters, he guessed.


    Harrow returned to the path along the stream¡ªthe opposite direction this time. It was more open than the wilderness and offered a clear view of anything that might assault him. Not to mention the easy source of water.


    Soon enough, he stumbled upon another large red frog. Only this one was already locked in a fierce battle with a badger.


    Taking shelter behind a nearby tree, he peered at their fight. The Ironclaw Badger was small¡ªbarely half the size of the frog¡ªand seemed weaker too, and yet it was actually winning. Ignoring the searing burns from the frog¡¯s acidic venom, the badger attacked with savage ferocity, raking its claws across the amphibian¡¯s face.


    They fought with everything they had, completely oblivious to the fact that someone was watching from the shadows.


    Finally, some fortune on my path.